Xenophon, Memorabilia of Socrates 13

I go further: if, short of being guilty of any wrong himself, Socrates saw the evil doings of others with approval, reason were he should be held blameworthy. 

Listen then: Socrates was well aware that Critias was attached to Euthydemus, aware too that he was endeavoring to deal by him after the manner of those wantons whose love is carnal of the body. From this endeavor he tried to deter him, pointing out how illiberal a thing it was, how ill befitting a man of honor to appear as a beggar before him whom he loved, in whose eyes he would fain be precious, ever petitioning for something base to give and base to get. 

But when this reasoning fell on deaf ears and Critias refused to be turned aside, Socrates, as the story goes, took occasion of the presence of a whole company and of Euthydemus to remark that Critias appeared to be suffering from a swinish affection, or else why this desire to rub himself against Euthydemus like a herd of piglings scraping against stones.

The hatred of Critias to Socrates doubtless dates from this incident. He treasured it up against him, and afterwards, when he was one of the Thirty and associated with Charicles as their official lawgiver, he framed the law against teaching the art of words merely from a desire to vilify Socrates. He was at a loss to know how else to lay hold of him except by leveling against him the vulgar charge against philosophers, by which he hoped to prejudice him with the public. 

It was a charge quite unfounded as regards Socrates, if I may judge from anything I ever heard fall from his lips myself or have learnt about him from others. But the animus of Critias was clear. 

At the time when the Thirty were putting citizens, highly respectable citizens, to death wholesale, and when they were egging on one man after another to the commission of crime, Socrates let fall an observation: "It would be sufficiently extraordinary if the keeper of a herd of cattle who was continually thinning and impoverishing his cattle did not admit himself to be a sorry sort of herdsman, but that a ruler of the state who was continually thinning and impoverishing the citizens should neither be ashamed nor admit himself to be a sorry sort of ruler was more extraordinary still." 

The remark being reported to the government, Socrates was summoned by Critias and Charicles, who proceeded to point out the law and forbade him to converse with the young. 

"Was it open to him," Socrates inquired of the speaker, "in case he failed to understand their commands in any point, to ask for an explanation?" 

"Certainly," the two assented. 

Then Socrates: "I am prepared to obey the laws, but to avoid transgression of the law through ignorance I need instruction: is it on the supposition that the art of words tends to correctness of statement or to incorrectness that you bid us abstain from it? For if the former, it is clear we must abstain from speaking correctly, but if the latter, our endeavor should be to amend our speech."

To which Charicles, in a fit of temper, retorted: "In consideration of your ignorance, Socrates, we will frame the prohibition in language better suited to your intelligence: we forbid you to hold any conversation whatsoever with the young." 

Then Socrates: "To avoid all ambiguity then, or the possibility of my doing anything else than what you are pleased to command, may I ask you to define up to what age a human being is to be considered young?" 

"For just so long a time," Charicles answered, "as he is debarred from sitting as a member of the Council, as not having attained to the maturity of wisdom; accordingly you will not hold converse with any one under the age of thirty."

Socrates: "In making a purchase even, I am not to ask, what is the price of this? if the vendor is under the age of thirty?"

Charicles: "Tut, things of that sort: but you know, Socrates, that you have a way of asking questions, when all the while you know how the matter stands. Let us have no questions of that sort."

Socrates: "Nor answers either, I suppose, if the inquiry concerns what I know, as, for instance, where does Charicles live? or where is Critias to be found?"

"Oh yes, of course, things of that kind," replied Charicles, while Critias added: "But at the same time you had better have done with your shoemakers, carpenters, and coppersmiths. These must be pretty well trodden out at heel by this time, considering the circulation you have given them." 

Socrates: "And am I to hold away from their attendant topics also—the just, the holy, and the like?"

"Most assuredly," answered Charicles, "and from cowherds in particular; or else see that you do not lessen the number of the herd yourself." 

Thus the secret was out. The remark of Socrates about the cattle had come to their ears, and they could not forgive the author of it. 

—from Xenophon, Memorabilia 1.2 

Epictetus, Discourses 1.25.9

“Tear his toga off him.” 

 

Why bring him in? Take his toga. Tear that.

 

“I have done you an outrage.” 

 

May it turn out to your good. 

 

These were the principles that Socrates practiced: that is why his face always wore the same expression. But we are fain to study and practice everything except how to be free men and untrammeled.

 

“The philosophers talk paradoxes.” 

 

But are there no paradoxes in the other arts? Nay, what is more paradoxical than to lance a man's eye that he may see? If one told this to a person unskilled in the physician's art, would he not laugh at him who said it?

 

Is it surprising then that in philosophy also many truths seem paradoxical to those who are unskilled? 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.25 

 

The only real battle I fight is with myself. Whenever I moan about this or that having been taken from me, I must remember that it wasn’t mine to begin with, and so no one can be blamed for violating my dignity. Yes, the tyrant seizes property, thereby injuring his own soul, while my soul is only injured if I too am obsessed with the accumulation of wealth. 

 

How much I care for something follows directly from my own estimation of its value. I’d prefer to stay warm, but you are free to rip the shirt from my back if you must, though you can’t rip away my integrity. If that shirt wasn’t essential to my sense of self-respect, I don’t need to fret. 

 

Observe, in this regard, how often the grasping man is not satisfied with his physical spoils, and further wishes to see his victim mentally crushed. I am not, however, obliged to grant him his wish; I can retain a peace of mind within, regardless of his scheming without. 

 

Such serenity is not a state of separation, but rather a joy that comes from being connected to Nature in all the ways that truly count. Am I attending to my own virtues? Am I forgiving of another’s vices? Then my demeanor can always be peaceful. Socrates had a rapier wit, and yet he never felt the need to get nasty, facing any hardships with a calm and grateful disposition. 

 

Strike out at me, or ignore me completely, and it is still within my power to wish you well. 

 

I seem to notice more and more how many people switch between two expressions: either a haggard look of dread, or a forced grin of histrionics. Neither is necessary, as the whims of fortune do not call for either despair or dissimulation. 

 

I am slowly getting the knack for recognizing the face of a sage, to whatever tribe he might belong, by becoming attuned to those little signs of composure and amity. It is hard to find a scoundrel who can manage to fake the bright eyes and the relaxed smile—genuine philosophy can’t be contrived. 

 

The bitterness would like to creep its way back in, and so I protest about philosophy being a waste of time, and how the eggheads are always contradicting themselves anyway. Am I expected to believe that I can be happy without being pampered, or that I am even capable of meeting hatred with love? What nonsense! 

 

Yet, as with so many aspects of life, a patient discipline reveals a harmony where I may have presumed a conflict. My own good is never in opposition to the good of my neighbor. My conscience works through circumstances, not against them. My reverence for the rule of Providence is the pinnacle of my freedom.  

—Reflection written in 3/2001 

IMAGES: 

Antonio Zanchi, Socrates (c. 1680) 

 

Antonio Zanchi, The Death of Socrates (c. 1690)  

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 76

A good man loves to sit at a good man's table. 

IMAGE: Frederick George Cotman, One of the Family (1880)

Sayings of Ramakrishna 172

The Knowledge of God may be likened to a man, while the Love of God is like a woman. 

Knowledge has entry only up to the outer rooms of God, but no one can enter into the inner mysteries of God save a lover, for a woman has access even into the harem of the Almighty. 

The Wisdom of Solomon 14:12-31

[12] For the idea of making idols was the beginning of fornication,

and the invention of them was the corruption of life,
[13] for neither have they existed from the beginning
nor will they exist forever.
[14] For through the vanity of men they entered the world,
and therefore their speedy end has been planned.
[15] For a father, consumed with grief at an untimely bereavement,
made an image of his child, who had been suddenly
taken from him;
and he now honored as a god what was once a dead human being,
and handed on to his dependents secret rites and initiations.
[16] Then the ungodly custom, grown strong with
time, was kept as a law,
and at the command of monarchs graven images were worshiped.
[17] When men could not honor monarchs in their
presence, since they lived at a distance,
they imagined their appearance far away,
and made a visible image of the king whom they honored,
so that by their zeal they might flatter the
absent one as though present.
[18] Then the ambition of the craftsman impelled
even those who did not know the king to intensify
their worship.
[19] For he, perhaps wishing to please his ruler,
skilfully forced the likeness to take more beautiful form,
[20] and the multitude, attracted by the charm of his work,
now regarded as an object of worship the one
whom shortly before they had honored as a man.
[21] And this became a hidden trap for mankind,
because men, in bondage to misfortune or to royal authority,
bestowed on objects of stone or wood the name
that ought not to be shared.
[22] Afterward it was not enough for them to err
about the knowledge of God,
but they live in great strife due to ignorance,
and they call such great evils peace.
[23] For whether they kill children in their initiations,
or celebrate secret mysteries,
or hold frenzied revels with strange customs,
[24] they no longer keep either their lives or their marriages pure,
but they either treacherously kill one another,
or grieve one another by adultery,
[25] and all is a raging riot of blood and murder,
theft and deceit, corruption, faithlessness, tumult, perjury,
[26] confusion over what is good, forgetfulness of favors,
pollution of souls, sex perversion,
disorder in marriage, adultery, and debauchery.
[27] For the worship of idols not to be named
is the beginning and cause and end of every evil.
[28] For their worshipers either rave in exultation,
or prophesy lies,
or live unrighteously, or readily commit perjury;
[29] for because they trust in lifeless idols
they swear wicked oaths and expect to suffer no harm.
[30] But just penalties will overtake them on two counts:
because they thought wickedly of God in devoting
themselves to idols,
and because in deceit they swore unrighteously
through contempt for holiness.
[31] For it is not the power of the things by which men swear,
but the just penalty for those who sin,
that always pursues the transgression of the unrighteous. 

IMAGE: Nicolas Poussin, The Adoration of the Golden Calf (c. 1634) 

Epictetus, Discourses 1.25.8

“Nay, but I want to sit where the senators sit.”

 

Do you see that you are making a strait place for yourself and squeezing yourself?

 

“How else then shall I have a good view in the amphitheater?” 

 

Man, do not go to the show and you will not be crushed. Why do you trouble yourself? Or wait a little, and when the show is done, sit down in the senators' seats and sun yourself. 

 

For remember this, and it is true universally, that it is we who straiten and crush ourselves—that is to say, it is our judgements which straiten and crush us. 

 

For instance, what does it mean to be slandered? Stand by a stone and slander it: what effect will you produce? 

 

If a man then listens like a stone, what advantage has the slanderer? But if the slanderer has the weakness of him that he slanders to work upon, then he does achieve something. 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.25 

 

I work from fatally flawed assumptions, and the damage is then compounded by not even being fully aware of how deeply those false premises are imbedded in my thinking. The smaller decisions are informed by the larger context of meaning, such that a foolish misstep at the beginning leads to being hopelessly lost by the end. 

 

I just need to reflect backwards in my chain of reasoning, and I will find that the stages become increasingly dim and distorted as I return to the source. 

 

It first seems fairly clear that I need to have more money, for example, because it will help me to acquire more property—and yet a moment of consideration reveals how the presence or absence of things has never made me happy or miserable, only how I choose to utilize the presence or absence of things. Could it be I have missed a critical distinction? 

 

Or I take it for granted that pleasure should always be pursued, and pain should always be avoided—until I think of the many times I have harmed myself by means of a pleasure or helped myself by means of a pain. Why am I confusing gratification with fulfillment? 

 

But I must surely be on track when I treat my social standing as a measure of my personal worth, since we all know that the best people are also the most admired people. I am then troubled, however, by the way I suspected that last line was a lie before I even finished writing it—so why do I recklessly continue to act upon it? 

 

Apparently, I need to go back and review my work; once again, those old-fashioned teachers in grammar school were offering some sound advice, in ways I did not anticipate. 

 

Sitting in the company of bigwigs does not make me a better man, and sharing in their amusements does not increase my character. Indeed, the very longing for such diversions, as if they were ends in themselves, is a type of self-imposed slavery, where a dependence upon conditions beyond my control overwhelms the integrity of my own judgments. 

 

I wonder why it feels like the demands of the world are crushing me, but they are doing nothing of the sort, for the demands are solely a consequence of my own surrender. I have failed to cultivate my first principles, and I shouldn’t be surprised when I can’t see my way past the tangled weeds. 

 

I have occasionally caught myself yelling at both my computer and my car, irked that my insults won’t make them conform to my will. They have no awareness, of course, though I can learn to be as resilient in my freedom as they are in their passivity. 

 

A stone is indifferent to slander or temptation because it doesn’t know any better, and I can be indifferent to slander or temptation precisely because I should know better. 

 

I think of the herds of feral cats who have taken over so many of Rome’s ancient monuments. They go where they wish and lounge about as they please, with no worries about where the rich or the poor sat in the Colosseum. No senator ever had it so good. 

—Reflection written in 3/2001 

Virtues on Tapestry

Anonymous Dutch, The Cardinal Virtues: Prudence, Fortitude, Temperance, Justice  (c. 1550) 

Stoic Snippets 160

Turn the body inside out, and see what kind of thing it is; and when it has grown old, what kind of thing it becomes, and when it is diseased. 

Short lived are both the praiser and the praised, and the rememberer and the remembered: and all this in a nook of this part of the world; and not even here do all agree, no, not any one with himself: and the whole earth too is a point. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 8.21 

The Art of Peace 89

Even the most powerful human being has a limited sphere of strength. 

Draw him outside of that sphere and into your own, and his strength will dissipate. 

Dhammapada 241-243

The taint of prayers is non-repetition; the taint of houses, non-repair; the taint of the body is sloth; the taint of a watchman, thoughtlessness. 

Bad conduct is the taint of woman, greediness the taint of a benefactor; tainted are all evil ways in this world and in the next. 

But there is a taint worse than all taints—ignorance is the greatest taint. O mendicants! throw off that taint, and become taintless! 

Epictetus, Discourses 1.25.7

The order comes, “Do not dwell in Nicopolis.” 

 

I will not. 

 

“Nor in Athens.” 

 

I give up Athens.

 

“Nor in Rome.” 

 

I give up Rome.

 

“Dwell in Gyara.” 

 

I dwell in Gyara: but this seems to me a very smoky room indeed, and I depart where no one shall hinder me from dwelling: for that dwelling is open to every man. 

 

And beyond the last inner tunic, which is this poor body of mine, no one has any authority over me at all. 

 

That is why Demetrius said to Nero, “You threaten me with death, but Nature threatens you.” 

 

If I pay regard to my poor body, I have given myself over as a slave; and if I value my wretched property I am a slave, for thereby I show at once what power can master me. 

 

Just as when the snake draws in its head I say, “Strike the part of him which he guards,” so you may be sure that your master will trample on that part of you which you wish to guard. 

 

When you remember this, whom will you flatter or fear anymore? 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.25 

 

It can’t be said often enough: the Stoic life is only as possible or as difficult as I choose to make it. I repeat this one to myself whenever I become deluded about the weight of circumstances. 

 

If I gripe about how I can’t do it, what I am really saying is that I don’t want to do it. If the priorities of my judgments are in order, the rest will follow.

 

Where I am, what I own, and who I know are just the settings for my happiness, not the causes of my happiness; the Peripatetic would here distinguish between the material causes and the efficient causes. Any old state of affairs, from the humble to the grand, can equally offer the means for living well. 

 

Of course the force of habits, in one direction or another, will have a mighty influence, and yet who is ultimately responsible for consciously forming those habits? 

 

I am hardly a vagabond, though I have now lived in a number of different places, among very different sorts of people, and none of them have ever failed me, even as I have failed a number of them. I may find this one convenient and gratifying, or that one inconvenient and frustrating, but whether I have become a better man in the process has always been a consequence of my mindset. 

 

Gyara, or Gyaros, is a rather desolate island in the Aegean Sea, and the Romans were fond of using it as a place of exile for their most hated offenders. 

 

Musonius Rufus, the mentor of Epictetus, spent some time there, and he made the most of it by continuing to practice and teach his philosophy, despite the scarcity of water and the absence of any refined society. In the recent past, the island housed Greek political prisoners, and it is now completely abandoned, home only to a population of seals. 

 

As much as I would obviously never prefer it, what would become of me if I were locked in a supermax prison like ADX Florence, or ended up in a Chinese re-education and labor camp? The better question might be: do I have the necessary convictions to maintain my humanity? I decide that, not my jailers, wherever my guilt may lie. 

 

My nerves are cracking, and my body is breaking—the flesh has its limits. It still remains within my power to shuffle off this mortal coil with a commitment to the virtues. You cannot hinder me from going out with my best efforts at prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice. 

 

The tyrant, big or small, does not pose a threat to me; he is constrained to injuring himself. In turn, as I have learned from my many errors, I hope that he also learns from his. 

 

Once I bind myself to a dependence on externals, however, I make myself vulnerable to his leverage. I can’t blame him for being the oppressor, for I have painted a bright target on my chest. 

 

The anxiety passes when the reckoning is reformed. 

—Reflection written in 3/2001 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 75

A mean man's generosity is a generous man's meanness. 

Sayings of Heraclitus 63

The way of man has no wisdom, but that of God has. 

IMAGE: Luca Giordano, The Dream of Solomon (c. 1695) 

Epictetus, Discourses 1.25.6

How far, then, must we submit to such commands? So far as is expedient; that is, so far as I am true to what is becoming and consistent. 

 

There are, however, some severe and sour-tempered persons who say, “I cannot dine with this fellow, and put up with his daily narrative of how he fought in Mysia. ‘I told you, brother, how I mounted the hill: now I begin again at the siege.’”

 

Another says, “I would rather dine and hear him babble on to his heart's content.” 

 

It is for you to compare these estimates: only do nothing in the spirit of one burdened and afflicted, who believes himself in an evil case: for no one compels you to this. 

 

Suppose someone made the room full of smoke. If the smoke is moderate I will stay; if excessive, I go out: for one must remember and hold fast to this, that the door is open. 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.25 

 

How much can I handle? At what point might the pressure break me? 

 

While I may try to ignore it, that question is still nagging at me, and it leaves me with a sort of cold terror. For all the mind’s power of self-determination, there comes a time when the system can take no more, and the constraints of the body will no longer permit the soul to do its work. 

 

But why should this be so troubling? When that moment arrives, and it will most certainly arrive, it can be met with dignity and conviction. Even though it will be my final circumstance, it still remains a circumstance, and like all the others what matters is how I choose to face it. It happens on its own terms, and I in turn resolve to act on mine. 

 

When I can no longer live according to my conscience, then it is right for me to go. Providence does not ask me to endure anything that is impossible for me to bear. 

 

Furthermore, I catch myself seriously underestimating my strength to carry on, and most of the things I believe to be intolerable are only so because of my distorted attitude; I call them obstacles when they should be opportunities. 

 

If, as the Stoics argue, I am defined by the content of my character, which is exclusively within my authority, how do I suffer harm from any other occurrence? Only my own inhibitions are keeping me from total liberty.

 

I might say that I cannot put up with a man’s foolish ramblings, but I know on the inside why that isn’t true. His words offend me because I allow them to do so; in themselves they are just words. Let him have his say, and I can then practice the arts of patience and compassion. 

 

I might complain that a pain, whether physical or emotional, is killing me. Well, if it does, then I am done with it, but if it doesn’t, I retain the option to keep it in its place. Let the impression unfold as it must, and I can then unfold as I should, paying some much-needed attention to the increase of my fortitude and constancy. 

 

This is not a matter of grinding my teeth and clenching my fists, but of going with the flow of events, not against them. I am never in an evil case, only in a despondent mindset. 

 

It may seem an odd thing to say, but I feel oddly comforted by the image of the smoky room. If it is merely an inconvenience, I commit to staying put. Once I can no longer breathe, I make my exit. There is no shame in having done one’s best, and then the honorable departure is a relief. 

—Reflection written in 3/2001 

IMAGE: Egbert van der Poel, Peasant Fleeing a Burning Barn (c. 1655) 

Tidbits from Montaigne 45

I find that the best goodness I have has some tincture of vice. 

—Michel de Montaigne, Essays 2.20 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 171

A lover and a knower of God were once passing through a forest. On their way they saw a tiger at a distance. 

The Gñânin or knower of God said, "There is no reason why we should flee; the Almighty God will certainly protect us." 

At this the lover said, "No, brother, come let us run away. Why should we trouble the Lord for what can be accomplished by our own exertions?" 

Epictetus, Discourses 1.25.5

In fact, we must behave in life as we do with hypothetical arguments. “Let us assume it is night.”

 

Granted.

 

“What follows? Is it day?”

 

No, for I have already assented to the assumption that it is night.

 

“Let us assume that you believe that it is night.”

 

Granted.

 

“Now believe that it really is night.”

 

This does not follow from the hypothesis.

 

So too it is in life. “Let us assume that you are unfortunate.” 

 

Granted.

 

“Are you then unfortunate?”

 

Yes.

 

“What then, are you in misery?” 

 

Yes.

 

“Now, believe that you are in an evil case.”

 

This does not follow from the hypothesis: and Another forbids me. 

—from Epictetus, Discourses 1.25 

 

I notice how the Stoics had a special fondness for employing hypothetical arguments, and I have found this incredibly useful in my own musings, because a broader view of the many possibilities in turn gives me a deeper appreciation for what must always remain the same. This could be totally different, and that could be completely turned around, but through it all Nature keeps to a steady course. 

 

People of a liberal bent often encourage me to try everything, and people of a conservative bent often warn me to play it safe, so the advantage of mentally mulling over the options can provide me with most of the benefits and few of the risks. I do not, for example, have to become an adulterer to know something about why this wouldn’t be such a good idea. 

 

I can consider the situation as if it were the case, and in the process I learn how my reactions continue to point me back to that same old moral compass. The range of potencies highlights the state of what persists as actual.

 

I can imagine that it is night, and so I will conjecture that it is not day, and I can imagine that it is day, and so I will conjecture that it is not night. If, however, you ask me to assert that it really is night at high noon, I must stand my ground—there is a clear line between contingency and necessity. 

 

Far from being just an academic exercise, drawing that line has decidedly practical ramifications. By analogy, I can apply the contrast between hypothetical and factual arguments to the distinction between the variability of circumstances and the permanence of principles. 

 

As I read that over, it sounds a bit highfalutin, so I’ll try again. The way things happen to me can, and most certainly will, change, sometimes radically and unexpectedly. My instincts are likely to respond with immediate feelings of fear, anger, or sorrow. Yet through all of that, there is absolutely nothing that forces me to modify my judgments about the true and the good. 

 

Can I accept that this condition could be altered in an instant? Check. 

 

Do I perceive how it may well bring me pain? Gotcha. 

 

Do I now need to surrender my happiness? Hold your horses. 

 

It is indeed possible for something to be taken away. It is indeed possible for impressions to be unpleasant, perhaps intensely so. Nevertheless, I am not required to abandon my thinking and my choices to the whims of fortune. Wherever I can act with sincere virtue, I preserve the source of my own happiness. 

 

Whatever might be the case, the serene mind is under no obligation to call it ruinous—the good and the evil are in the estimation. 

 

To see the day turning into night and the night turning into day only highlights the primacy of boldly acting with understanding and love. 

—Reflection written in 3/2001 

Epictetus, Golden Sayings 159

Remember that in life you should order your conduct as at a banquet. 

Has any dish that is being served reached you? Stretch forth your hand and help yourself modestly. 

Does it pass you by? Seek not to detain it. 

Has it not yet come? Send not forth your desire to meet it, but wait until it reaches you. 

Deal thus with children, thus with wife; thus with office, thus with wealth—and one day you will be meet to share the Banquets of the Gods. 

But if you do not so much as touch that which is placed before you, but despise it, then shall you not only share the Banquets of the Gods, but their Empire also. 

IMAGE: Antonio Verrio, The Banquet of the Gods (c. 1680)