Neoptolemus, in Ennius, indeed, says that the study of philosophy was expedient for him; but that it required limiting to a few subjects, for that to give himself up entirely to it was what he did not approve of.
And for my part, Brutus, I am perfectly persuaded that it is expedient for me to philosophize; for what can I do better, especially as I have no regular occupation? But I am not for limiting my philosophy to a few subjects, as he does; for philosophy is a matter in which it is difficult to acquire a little knowledge without acquainting yourself with many, or all its branches, nor can you well take a few subjects without selecting them out of a great number; nor can anyone, who has acquired the knowledge of a few points, avoid endeavoring with the same eagerness to understand more.
But still, in a busy life, and in one mainly occupied with military matters, such as that of Neoptolemus was at that time, even that limited degree of acquaintance with philosophy may be of great use, and may yield fruit, not perhaps so plentiful as a thorough knowledge of the whole of philosophy, but yet such as in some degree may at times deliver us from the dominion of our desires, our sorrows, and our fears; just as the effect of that discussion which we lately maintained in my Tusculan villa seemed to be that a great contempt of death was engendered, which contempt is of no small efficacy towards delivering the mind from fear; for whoever dreads what cannot be avoided can by no means live with a quiet and tranquil mind.
But he who is under no fear of death, not only because it is a thing absolutely inevitable but also because he is persuaded that death itself has nothing terrible in it, provides himself with a very great resource towards a happy life. However, I am not tolerant that many will argue strenuously against us; and, indeed, that is a thing which can never be avoided, except by abstaining from writing at all.
For if my Orations, which were addressed to the judgment and approbation of the people (for that is a popular art, and the object of oratory is popular applause), have been criticized by some people who are inclined to withhold their praise from everything but what they are persuaded they can attain to themselves, and who limit their ideas of good speaking by the hopes which they conceive of what they themselves may attain to, and who declare, when they are overwhelmed with a flow of words and sentences, that they prefer the utmost poverty of thought and expression to that plenty and copiousness (from which arose the Attic kind of oratory, which they who professed it were strangers to, though they have now been some time silenced, and laughed out of the very courts of justice), what may I not expect, when at present I cannot have the least countenance from the people by whom I used to be upheld before?
There is often a sad divide between vaguely evoking philosophy and then putting in the actual effort of being philosophical, or a bitter irony when someone makes use of fuzzy philosophical concepts in order to reject the very significance of philosophy.
At first, I may assume this is a distinctly modern problem, and then Cicero shows me once again how there is nothing new under the sun. It seems to be a common weakness of human nature to only take something as far as it is immediately comfortable, and to cast it aside as soon as it requires the exercise of tender loving care.
As with all things in life, philosophy will offer its rewards in proportion to our commitments. Where it is treated as an amusing pastime, it may provide us with pleasant diversions from our usual troubles. Where it is treated as defining the core of who we are, it becomes a lasting solution for our most severe tribulations.
I know little about Neoptolemus, but from how Cicero describes him, I think I know many who are much like him. A little bit of learning is fine, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of the day-to-day business. Perhaps a smattering of this or that topic is expedient, though engaging with the full breadth and depth of philosophy might hinder the acts of winning wars, acquiring wealth, or building up fame.
There is, however, a completely different way of looking at it, such that the guidance of philosophy could radically modify how we even got about dealing with conflict, money, and status, and where we may well be tempted to forgo these entanglements as much as we can. If wisdom rules, then virtue becomes the highest good, and if virtue is the goal, then the rest will appear quite trivial.
In the first book of these Tusculan Disputations, Cicero and the Auditor did not arrive at an exhaustive account of what it means to die, and yet they nevertheless came to the insight that, whatever our ultimate fate may be, death does not have to be an evil, and can further be accepted as a good. In doing so, life itself is given a whole new level of meaning, in which dying well becomes a necessary part of living well.
Likewise, in this second book, an equally challenging question about the nature of suffering opens the door to an equally enlightening revelation about how pain need not be an obstacle to happiness, but can rather be transformed into an opportunity for happiness. As all good philosophers, Stoic or otherwise, come to understand, the appearance of opposition regularly gives way to an appreciation of harmony—an open-minded attitude makes this attainable.
By extension, if some people, especially the most influential and grandiose, ridicule the place of philosophy, I must be careful not to take offense or to consider them as my enemies; they are only doing what I have done time and time again, confusing a difficulty with an impossibility, or taking the unfamiliar as unreasonable.
Cicero knew this well from his own lifelong practice of rhetoric, facing the contempt of those who saw fine words in defense of principles as nothing more than a trickery to excuse iniquity. I may not be able to do properly it right now, though that should not deter me from striving to learn it for the future.
Eloquence of speech or precision in thinking are hardly wasted; the waste is in refusing to attempt either, presuming that I cannot do what I find so strenuous to do. It is not necessary to be a Cicero to be articulate, or a Socrates to be reflective; the best of us should be an inspiration, and not a discouragement, to the rest of us.
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