M. And from these considerations we may get at a very probable definition of the temperate man, whom the Greeks call σώφρων: and they call that virtue σωφροσύνην, which I at one time call temperance, at another time moderation, and sometimes even modesty.
But I do not know whether that virtue may not be properly called frugality, which has a more confined meaning with the Greeks; for they call frugal men χρησίμους, which implies only that they are useful; but our name has a more extensive meaning, for all abstinence, all innocency (which the Greeks have no ordinary name for, though they might use the word ἀβλάβεια, for innocency is that disposition of mind which would offend no one) and several other virtues are comprehended under frugality; but if this quality were of less importance, and confined in as small a compass as some imagine, the surname of Piso would not have been in so great esteem.
But as we allow him not the name of a frugal man (frugi), who either quits his post through fear, which is cowardice; or who reserves to his own use what was privately committed to his keeping, which is injustice; or who fails in his military undertakings through rashness, which is folly—for that reason the word frugality takes in these three virtues of fortitude, justice, and prudence, though it is indeed common to all virtues, for they are all connected and knit together.
Let us allow, then, frugality itself to be another and fourth virtue; for its peculiar property seems to be, to govern and appease all tendencies to too eager a desire after anything, to restrain lust, and to preserve a decent steadiness in everything.
The vice in contrast to this is called prodigality (nequitia). Frugality, I imagine, is derived from the word fruge, the best thing which the earth produces; nequitia is derived (though this is perhaps rather more strained; still, let us try it; we shall only be thought to have been trifling if there is nothing in what we say) from the fact of everything being to no purpose (nequicquam) in such a man, from which circumstance he is called also Nihil, nothing.
Whoever is frugal, then, or, if it is more agreeable to you, whoever is moderate and temperate, such a one must of course be consistent; whoever is consistent, must be quiet; the quiet man must be free from all perturbation, therefore from grief likewise: and these are the properties of a wise man; therefore a wise man must be free from grief.
But I do not know whether that virtue may not be properly called frugality, which has a more confined meaning with the Greeks; for they call frugal men χρησίμους, which implies only that they are useful; but our name has a more extensive meaning, for all abstinence, all innocency (which the Greeks have no ordinary name for, though they might use the word ἀβλάβεια, for innocency is that disposition of mind which would offend no one) and several other virtues are comprehended under frugality; but if this quality were of less importance, and confined in as small a compass as some imagine, the surname of Piso would not have been in so great esteem.
But as we allow him not the name of a frugal man (frugi), who either quits his post through fear, which is cowardice; or who reserves to his own use what was privately committed to his keeping, which is injustice; or who fails in his military undertakings through rashness, which is folly—for that reason the word frugality takes in these three virtues of fortitude, justice, and prudence, though it is indeed common to all virtues, for they are all connected and knit together.
Let us allow, then, frugality itself to be another and fourth virtue; for its peculiar property seems to be, to govern and appease all tendencies to too eager a desire after anything, to restrain lust, and to preserve a decent steadiness in everything.
The vice in contrast to this is called prodigality (nequitia). Frugality, I imagine, is derived from the word fruge, the best thing which the earth produces; nequitia is derived (though this is perhaps rather more strained; still, let us try it; we shall only be thought to have been trifling if there is nothing in what we say) from the fact of everything being to no purpose (nequicquam) in such a man, from which circumstance he is called also Nihil, nothing.
Whoever is frugal, then, or, if it is more agreeable to you, whoever is moderate and temperate, such a one must of course be consistent; whoever is consistent, must be quiet; the quiet man must be free from all perturbation, therefore from grief likewise: and these are the properties of a wise man; therefore a wise man must be free from grief.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 3.8
If we look at philosophy in a merely clinical manner, where we are expected to memorize lists of facts without any concern for a deeper meaning, then all the detailed catalogues of the virtues will not do us one bit of good. Behind the many words, what is the common spirit?
I once did poorly on an exam because I had not correctly recited the textual order of Aristotle’s twelve ethical virtues, just as I was also belittled for suggesting in a paper that the Scholastics revered the same cardinal virtues as Plato. I’m afraid I don’t do so well when presented only with scattered technicalities: it seems to me more like pedantry than learning.
Hence, I am profoundly grateful when someone like Cicero takes the time to explain how the many virtues, despite their specific differences, are bound together within the whole of human excellence. Yes, it is indeed important to clarify why they arise from distinct aspects of our nature, and the finer points most certainly do matter, but for all the powers of my soul, I am one man, not three, or five.
Wisdom, for example, is the starting point for virtue, though it is hardly the end of it. From it will flow courage, temperance, and justice, and each of these, in turn, will strengthen and support the others. While our habits may exist to greater or lesser degrees, it is not ultimately possible to practice one of them in isolation from the rest.
In the previous chapter, Cicero showed how, using a Stoic model, grief is incompatible with courage, and now he considers how grief is further incompatible with temperance. The chain of reasoning goes something like this:
What is temperate is orderly. What is orderly is at peace. What is at peace does not capitulate to troubles. Grief is a form of capitulating to troubles, and so the temperate man does not capitulate to grief. But temperance is a necessary mark of wisdom, therefore the wise man does not capitulate to grief.
There is a rather involved discussion here on the subtle differences between the terms “temperance” and “frugality”, so I should not think that Cicero is dealing only in vague generalities, and while such a careful analysis of the language might be frivolous if left on its own, here it is explicitly employed in service to the bigger picture—not the forest for the trees, but the forest through the trees.
Briefly put, Cicero wishes to embrace a broader sense of self-control, which includes all the features of our life, not just our sensitive appetites. As such, he is showing the link between temperance and courage, as the rule over fear, and between temperance and justice, as the discipline in giving and receiving. Restraint applies across the board, and so we see how the virtues harmonize as one.
I might hesitate to relate temperance with frugality in the English language, for “frugal” will often imply stinginess, but them again, “temperate” will just as easily take on a puritanical association. I believe the more important point is to ensure that our precise use of words is in the service of a clear mode of thought, one that can inspire us to good living.
If we look at philosophy in a merely clinical manner, where we are expected to memorize lists of facts without any concern for a deeper meaning, then all the detailed catalogues of the virtues will not do us one bit of good. Behind the many words, what is the common spirit?
I once did poorly on an exam because I had not correctly recited the textual order of Aristotle’s twelve ethical virtues, just as I was also belittled for suggesting in a paper that the Scholastics revered the same cardinal virtues as Plato. I’m afraid I don’t do so well when presented only with scattered technicalities: it seems to me more like pedantry than learning.
Hence, I am profoundly grateful when someone like Cicero takes the time to explain how the many virtues, despite their specific differences, are bound together within the whole of human excellence. Yes, it is indeed important to clarify why they arise from distinct aspects of our nature, and the finer points most certainly do matter, but for all the powers of my soul, I am one man, not three, or five.
Wisdom, for example, is the starting point for virtue, though it is hardly the end of it. From it will flow courage, temperance, and justice, and each of these, in turn, will strengthen and support the others. While our habits may exist to greater or lesser degrees, it is not ultimately possible to practice one of them in isolation from the rest.
In the previous chapter, Cicero showed how, using a Stoic model, grief is incompatible with courage, and now he considers how grief is further incompatible with temperance. The chain of reasoning goes something like this:
What is temperate is orderly. What is orderly is at peace. What is at peace does not capitulate to troubles. Grief is a form of capitulating to troubles, and so the temperate man does not capitulate to grief. But temperance is a necessary mark of wisdom, therefore the wise man does not capitulate to grief.
There is a rather involved discussion here on the subtle differences between the terms “temperance” and “frugality”, so I should not think that Cicero is dealing only in vague generalities, and while such a careful analysis of the language might be frivolous if left on its own, here it is explicitly employed in service to the bigger picture—not the forest for the trees, but the forest through the trees.
Briefly put, Cicero wishes to embrace a broader sense of self-control, which includes all the features of our life, not just our sensitive appetites. As such, he is showing the link between temperance and courage, as the rule over fear, and between temperance and justice, as the discipline in giving and receiving. Restraint applies across the board, and so we see how the virtues harmonize as one.
I might hesitate to relate temperance with frugality in the English language, for “frugal” will often imply stinginess, but them again, “temperate” will just as easily take on a puritanical association. I believe the more important point is to ensure that our precise use of words is in the service of a clear mode of thought, one that can inspire us to good living.
—Reflection written in 9/1996
IMAGE: Theodoor Rombouts, The Cup Bearer (Allegory of Temperance) (c. 1630)
I think that, properly understood, frugality is a gateway to creativity and resourcefulness. It's using what you have well, not clinging to it. It's being thoughtful with your generosity, not denying it. Hoarding (including money) is not frugality, just as scrupulosity is not real Christianity.
ReplyDeleteBut yeah... connotation. I think real frugality is rapidly becoming a lost art. (As a stay at home housewife, this one hit me right where I live, lol. If it wasn't for the art of using what resources my family has well, I would have a lot less meaning in my day to day life).