M. Wherefore, as I before said, the philosophers have all one method of cure, so that we need say nothing about what sort of thing that is which disturbs the mind, but we must speak only concerning the perturbation itself.
Thus, first, with regard to desire itself, when the business is only to remove that, the inquiry is not to be, whether that thing be good or evil which provokes lust, but the lust itself is to be removed; so that whether whatever is honest is the chief good, or whether it consists in pleasure, or in both these things together, or in the other three kinds of goods, yet should there be in any one too vehement an appetite for even virtue itself, the whole discourse should be directed to the deterring him from that vehemence.
But human nature, when placed in a conspicuous point of view, gives us every argument for appeasing the mind, and, to make this the more distinct, the laws and conditions of life should be explained in our discourse.
Therefore, it was not without reason that Socrates is reported, when Euripides was exhibiting his play called Orestes, to have repeated the first three verses of that tragedy—
“What tragic story men can mournful tell,
Whate’er from fate or from the gods befell,
That human nature can support—”
But, in order to persuade those to whom any misfortune has happened that they can and ought to bear it, it is very useful to set before them an enumeration of other persons who have borne similar calamities.
Indeed, the method of appeasing grief was explained in my dispute of yesterday, and in my book on Consolation, which I wrote in the midst of my own grief; for I was not myself so wise a man as to be insensible to grief, and I used this, notwithstanding Chrysippus’s advice to the contrary, who is against applying a medicine to the agitations of the mind while they are fresh; but I did it, and committed a violence on nature, that the greatness of my grief might give way to the greatness of the medicine.
Thus, first, with regard to desire itself, when the business is only to remove that, the inquiry is not to be, whether that thing be good or evil which provokes lust, but the lust itself is to be removed; so that whether whatever is honest is the chief good, or whether it consists in pleasure, or in both these things together, or in the other three kinds of goods, yet should there be in any one too vehement an appetite for even virtue itself, the whole discourse should be directed to the deterring him from that vehemence.
But human nature, when placed in a conspicuous point of view, gives us every argument for appeasing the mind, and, to make this the more distinct, the laws and conditions of life should be explained in our discourse.
Therefore, it was not without reason that Socrates is reported, when Euripides was exhibiting his play called Orestes, to have repeated the first three verses of that tragedy—
“What tragic story men can mournful tell,
Whate’er from fate or from the gods befell,
That human nature can support—”
But, in order to persuade those to whom any misfortune has happened that they can and ought to bear it, it is very useful to set before them an enumeration of other persons who have borne similar calamities.
Indeed, the method of appeasing grief was explained in my dispute of yesterday, and in my book on Consolation, which I wrote in the midst of my own grief; for I was not myself so wise a man as to be insensible to grief, and I used this, notwithstanding Chrysippus’s advice to the contrary, who is against applying a medicine to the agitations of the mind while they are fresh; but I did it, and committed a violence on nature, that the greatness of my grief might give way to the greatness of the medicine.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 4.29
As much as I might wish to carefully weigh the objects, my desire or aversion is about my own choices, not about the apparent merits of the circumstances. The classical philosophers, those who embraced the wisdom tradition, understood why we must take full charge of ourselves, instead of being tossed about by whatever seems appealing or abhorrent at the moment.
Even Descartes understood this: change your own thinking, before you rush off to change the world. We avoid this lesson at our own peril; as soon as we measure ourselves by things, we have unwittingly made ourselves slaves to those beguiling conditions.
When I feel a constant craving for this or that gratification, I can argue with myself, until I’m blue in the face, as to whether the prize is truly worthy of my longing. Sometimes it has been an enticing new job, and at other times it has been a bit of notoriety, and at one time it was about the affections of a woman. In my darkest of times, it has been a bottle of whiskey, or anything to make me forget myself completely for the next few days.
Now what did they all share in common? They all felt good to me, in some way, which was already an abandonment of the timeless truth that a man’s genuine good is in his thoughts and deeds, not in what may, or may not, happen to him. None of it was about money, or fame, or women, or booze. It was about the lust for a misguided model of success, and the fear of a misguided model of failure.
To avoid the snares of gratification and grief I did not have to acquire or discard certain accessories, to define myself by the presence or absence of mere accidents. The common thread was wayward desires and aversions, and the common cure was invariably a mastery of my passions. I am made to own them. They are not made to own me.
I am easily tempted to make all sorts of excuses, to offer ridiculous pretexts for my cowardice and intemperance. Yes, I know I should make a stand, but maybe allowing this now will improve my prospects later? Yes, I know I should refuse this luxury, but how can it hurt in the bigger picture? That comes from waffling, from looking to the lay of the land over the content of character.
We ultimately make our own happiness or misery, as every Greek tale should make abundantly clear. Cicero says that, contrary to the advice from Chrysippus, he skipped over the gentle coddling and went straight for the harsh medicine, finding himself a far better man as a result. Observe the many others, those we rightly call heroes, who seized their joy out of the depths of suffering—there is the power within all of us.
As much as I might wish to carefully weigh the objects, my desire or aversion is about my own choices, not about the apparent merits of the circumstances. The classical philosophers, those who embraced the wisdom tradition, understood why we must take full charge of ourselves, instead of being tossed about by whatever seems appealing or abhorrent at the moment.
Even Descartes understood this: change your own thinking, before you rush off to change the world. We avoid this lesson at our own peril; as soon as we measure ourselves by things, we have unwittingly made ourselves slaves to those beguiling conditions.
When I feel a constant craving for this or that gratification, I can argue with myself, until I’m blue in the face, as to whether the prize is truly worthy of my longing. Sometimes it has been an enticing new job, and at other times it has been a bit of notoriety, and at one time it was about the affections of a woman. In my darkest of times, it has been a bottle of whiskey, or anything to make me forget myself completely for the next few days.
Now what did they all share in common? They all felt good to me, in some way, which was already an abandonment of the timeless truth that a man’s genuine good is in his thoughts and deeds, not in what may, or may not, happen to him. None of it was about money, or fame, or women, or booze. It was about the lust for a misguided model of success, and the fear of a misguided model of failure.
To avoid the snares of gratification and grief I did not have to acquire or discard certain accessories, to define myself by the presence or absence of mere accidents. The common thread was wayward desires and aversions, and the common cure was invariably a mastery of my passions. I am made to own them. They are not made to own me.
I am easily tempted to make all sorts of excuses, to offer ridiculous pretexts for my cowardice and intemperance. Yes, I know I should make a stand, but maybe allowing this now will improve my prospects later? Yes, I know I should refuse this luxury, but how can it hurt in the bigger picture? That comes from waffling, from looking to the lay of the land over the content of character.
We ultimately make our own happiness or misery, as every Greek tale should make abundantly clear. Cicero says that, contrary to the advice from Chrysippus, he skipped over the gentle coddling and went straight for the harsh medicine, finding himself a far better man as a result. Observe the many others, those we rightly call heroes, who seized their joy out of the depths of suffering—there is the power within all of us.
—Reflection written in 1/1999
IMAGE: William-Adolphe Bouguereau, Orestes Pursued by the Furies (1862)
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