Book 4: On Other Perturbations of the Mind
I have often wondered, Brutus, on many occasions, at the ingenuity and virtues of our countrymen; but nothing has surprised me more than their development in those studies, which, though they came somewhat late to us, have been transported into this city from Greece.
For the system of auspices, and religious ceremonies, and courts of justice, and appeals to the people, the senate, the establishment of an army of cavalry and infantry, and the whole military discipline, were instituted as early as the foundation of the city by royal authority, partly too by laws, not without the assistance of the Gods. Then with what a surprising and incredible progress did our ancestors advance towards all kind of excellence, when once the republic was freed from the regal power!
Not that this is a proper occasion to treat of the manners and customs of our ancestors, or of the discipline and constitution of the city; for I have elsewhere, particularly in the six books I wrote on the Republic, given a sufficiently accurate account of them. But while I am on this subject, and considering the study of philosophy, I meet with many reasons to imagine that those studies were brought to us from abroad, and not merely imported, but preserved and improved; for they had Pythagoras, a man of consummate wisdom and nobleness of character, in a manner, before their eyes, who was in Italy at the time that Lucius Brutus, the illustrious founder of your nobility, delivered his country from tyranny.
As the doctrine of Pythagoras spread itself on all sides, it seems probable to me that it reached this city; and this is not only probable of itself, but it does really appear to have been the case from many remains of it. For who can imagine that, when it flourished so much in that part of Italy which was called Magna Graecia, and in some of the largest and most powerful cities, in which, first the name of Pythagoras, and then that of those men who were afterward his followers, was in so high esteem; who can imagine, I say, that our people could shut their ears to what was said by such learned men?
Besides, it is even my opinion that it was the great esteem in which the Pythagoreans were held, that gave rise to that opinion among those who came after him, that King Numa was a Pythagorean. For, being acquainted with the doctrine and principles of Pythagoras, and having heard from their ancestors that this king was a very wise and just man, and not being able to distinguish accurately between times and periods that were so remote, they inferred, from his being so eminent for his wisdom, that he had been a pupil of Pythagoras.
I have often wondered, Brutus, on many occasions, at the ingenuity and virtues of our countrymen; but nothing has surprised me more than their development in those studies, which, though they came somewhat late to us, have been transported into this city from Greece.
For the system of auspices, and religious ceremonies, and courts of justice, and appeals to the people, the senate, the establishment of an army of cavalry and infantry, and the whole military discipline, were instituted as early as the foundation of the city by royal authority, partly too by laws, not without the assistance of the Gods. Then with what a surprising and incredible progress did our ancestors advance towards all kind of excellence, when once the republic was freed from the regal power!
Not that this is a proper occasion to treat of the manners and customs of our ancestors, or of the discipline and constitution of the city; for I have elsewhere, particularly in the six books I wrote on the Republic, given a sufficiently accurate account of them. But while I am on this subject, and considering the study of philosophy, I meet with many reasons to imagine that those studies were brought to us from abroad, and not merely imported, but preserved and improved; for they had Pythagoras, a man of consummate wisdom and nobleness of character, in a manner, before their eyes, who was in Italy at the time that Lucius Brutus, the illustrious founder of your nobility, delivered his country from tyranny.
As the doctrine of Pythagoras spread itself on all sides, it seems probable to me that it reached this city; and this is not only probable of itself, but it does really appear to have been the case from many remains of it. For who can imagine that, when it flourished so much in that part of Italy which was called Magna Graecia, and in some of the largest and most powerful cities, in which, first the name of Pythagoras, and then that of those men who were afterward his followers, was in so high esteem; who can imagine, I say, that our people could shut their ears to what was said by such learned men?
Besides, it is even my opinion that it was the great esteem in which the Pythagoreans were held, that gave rise to that opinion among those who came after him, that King Numa was a Pythagorean. For, being acquainted with the doctrine and principles of Pythagoras, and having heard from their ancestors that this king was a very wise and just man, and not being able to distinguish accurately between times and periods that were so remote, they inferred, from his being so eminent for his wisdom, that he had been a pupil of Pythagoras.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 4.1
Cicero regularly returned to the topic of comparing Rome to Greece, and I once assumed this was because the Romans were working through a sort of intellectual inferiority complex. While there might still be something to this, I increasingly find that any contrast between societies serves us best when it moves beyond the many differences to a deeper awareness of what is held in common.
General observations can have their place, for they may describe prevailing trends, but I should be wary of allowing vague stereotypes to keep me from appreciating the subtlety and depth of a shared human nature. If I insist that the Greeks were philosophical and poetic, while the Romans were political and pragmatic, I will sadly overlook how any civilization is an attempt to find meaning and purpose in daily living, and I will continue to promote the false dichotomy that theory and practice are somehow at odds.
Though there may be little evidence of the early Romans pursuing any formal philosophy, Cicero’s speculation about the influence of the Pythagorean school from the Greek colonies in southern Italy reminds us to see the connections between peoples, and to avoid cookie-cutter platitudes. Even as Rome concentrated on establishing a constitution and forming military discipline, its traditions were only improved by contact with new ideas, which were themselves then adapted and developed. All of it, whatever its peculiar context, is about enhancing the virtues, which are at the heart of any human excellence.
As a child raised in two cultures, one European and the other American, I have long reflected on a distinction between the refined intellectualism of the old world and the no-nonsense utility of the new world. Yet while some take this as a tension, I have come to appreciate it as a complementarity, and for all my complaints about feeling like I am never really at home, this has permitted me to view both myself and my world from a wider perspective.
I would never, for example, claim that a European doesn’t know how to get the trains running on time, or that an American can’t think his way out a paper bag. What we might call “academic” philosophy is a relatively new phenomenon in the United States, but that hardly means those on the frontier were lacking in a set of coherently reasoned values.
I have read many convoluted attempts to give America some sort of scholarly legitimacy, though none of them are really necessary to establish the merits of our endeavors. A book about the Founding Fathers channeling Ancient wisdom from Egypt through the medium of Freemasonry is just as forced as the myth that King Numa was educated by Pythagoreans, when he lived over a century before their school was even founded. If I feel the need to ride on someone else’s coattails, I am not open to my own worth.
When or how the Romans were inspired by Pythagoras is less important than their willingness to choose their influences with care, and to adapt such principles into something distinctly for their own benefit. Teachings are only of use when they assist us in becoming better, and they are to be discarded when they tempt us to become worse—that is a universal rule, which no society can afford to ignore.
Cicero regularly returned to the topic of comparing Rome to Greece, and I once assumed this was because the Romans were working through a sort of intellectual inferiority complex. While there might still be something to this, I increasingly find that any contrast between societies serves us best when it moves beyond the many differences to a deeper awareness of what is held in common.
General observations can have their place, for they may describe prevailing trends, but I should be wary of allowing vague stereotypes to keep me from appreciating the subtlety and depth of a shared human nature. If I insist that the Greeks were philosophical and poetic, while the Romans were political and pragmatic, I will sadly overlook how any civilization is an attempt to find meaning and purpose in daily living, and I will continue to promote the false dichotomy that theory and practice are somehow at odds.
Though there may be little evidence of the early Romans pursuing any formal philosophy, Cicero’s speculation about the influence of the Pythagorean school from the Greek colonies in southern Italy reminds us to see the connections between peoples, and to avoid cookie-cutter platitudes. Even as Rome concentrated on establishing a constitution and forming military discipline, its traditions were only improved by contact with new ideas, which were themselves then adapted and developed. All of it, whatever its peculiar context, is about enhancing the virtues, which are at the heart of any human excellence.
As a child raised in two cultures, one European and the other American, I have long reflected on a distinction between the refined intellectualism of the old world and the no-nonsense utility of the new world. Yet while some take this as a tension, I have come to appreciate it as a complementarity, and for all my complaints about feeling like I am never really at home, this has permitted me to view both myself and my world from a wider perspective.
I would never, for example, claim that a European doesn’t know how to get the trains running on time, or that an American can’t think his way out a paper bag. What we might call “academic” philosophy is a relatively new phenomenon in the United States, but that hardly means those on the frontier were lacking in a set of coherently reasoned values.
I have read many convoluted attempts to give America some sort of scholarly legitimacy, though none of them are really necessary to establish the merits of our endeavors. A book about the Founding Fathers channeling Ancient wisdom from Egypt through the medium of Freemasonry is just as forced as the myth that King Numa was educated by Pythagoreans, when he lived over a century before their school was even founded. If I feel the need to ride on someone else’s coattails, I am not open to my own worth.
When or how the Romans were inspired by Pythagoras is less important than their willingness to choose their influences with care, and to adapt such principles into something distinctly for their own benefit. Teachings are only of use when they assist us in becoming better, and they are to be discarded when they tempt us to become worse—that is a universal rule, which no society can afford to ignore.
—Reflection written in 1/1999
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