A. But the one of these two propositions is undeniable, that they who are under no apprehensions, who are noways uneasy, who covet nothing, who are lifted up by no vain joy, are happy: and therefore I grant you that.
But as for the other, that is not now in a fit state for discussion; for it has been proved by your former arguments that a wise man is free from every perturbation of mind.
M. Doubtless, then, the dispute is over; for the question appears to have been entirely exhausted.
A. I think, indeed, that that is almost the case.
M. But yet that is more usually the case with the mathematicians than philosophers. For when the geometricians teach anything, if what they have before taught relates to their present subject, they take that for granted which has been already proved, and explain only what they had not written on before.
But the philosophers, whatever subject they have in hand, get together everything that relates to it, notwithstanding they may have dilated on it somewhere else.
Were not that the case, why should the Stoics say so much on that question, “Whether virtue was abundantly sufficient to a happy life?” when it would have been answer enough that they had before taught that nothing was good but what was honorable; for, as this had been proved, the consequence must be that virtue was sufficient to a happy life; and each premise may be made to follow from the admission of the other, so that if it be admitted that virtue is sufficient to secure a happy life, it may also be inferred that nothing is good except what is honorable.
They, however, do not proceed in this manner; for they would separate books about what is honorable, and what is the chief good; and when they have demonstrated from the one that virtue has power enough to make life happy, yet they treat this point separately; for everything, and especially a subject of such great consequence, should be supported by arguments and exhortations which belong to that alone.
For you should have a care how you imagine philosophy to have uttered anything more noble, or that she has promised anything more fruitful or of greater consequence, for, good gods! does she not engage that she will render him who submits to her laws so accomplished as to be always armed against fortune, and to have every assurance within himself of living well and happily—that he shall, in short, be forever happy? But let us see what she will perform?
In the meanwhile, I look upon it as a great thing that she has even made such a promise.
For Xerxes, who was loaded with all the rewards and gifts of fortune, not satisfied with his armies of horse and foot, nor the multitude of his ships, nor his infinite treasure of gold, offered a reward to anyone who could find out a new pleasure; and yet, when it was discovered, he was not satisfied with it; nor can there ever be an end to lust.
I wish we could engage anyone by a reward to produce something the better to establish us in this belief.
But as for the other, that is not now in a fit state for discussion; for it has been proved by your former arguments that a wise man is free from every perturbation of mind.
M. Doubtless, then, the dispute is over; for the question appears to have been entirely exhausted.
A. I think, indeed, that that is almost the case.
M. But yet that is more usually the case with the mathematicians than philosophers. For when the geometricians teach anything, if what they have before taught relates to their present subject, they take that for granted which has been already proved, and explain only what they had not written on before.
But the philosophers, whatever subject they have in hand, get together everything that relates to it, notwithstanding they may have dilated on it somewhere else.
Were not that the case, why should the Stoics say so much on that question, “Whether virtue was abundantly sufficient to a happy life?” when it would have been answer enough that they had before taught that nothing was good but what was honorable; for, as this had been proved, the consequence must be that virtue was sufficient to a happy life; and each premise may be made to follow from the admission of the other, so that if it be admitted that virtue is sufficient to secure a happy life, it may also be inferred that nothing is good except what is honorable.
They, however, do not proceed in this manner; for they would separate books about what is honorable, and what is the chief good; and when they have demonstrated from the one that virtue has power enough to make life happy, yet they treat this point separately; for everything, and especially a subject of such great consequence, should be supported by arguments and exhortations which belong to that alone.
For you should have a care how you imagine philosophy to have uttered anything more noble, or that she has promised anything more fruitful or of greater consequence, for, good gods! does she not engage that she will render him who submits to her laws so accomplished as to be always armed against fortune, and to have every assurance within himself of living well and happily—that he shall, in short, be forever happy? But let us see what she will perform?
In the meanwhile, I look upon it as a great thing that she has even made such a promise.
For Xerxes, who was loaded with all the rewards and gifts of fortune, not satisfied with his armies of horse and foot, nor the multitude of his ships, nor his infinite treasure of gold, offered a reward to anyone who could find out a new pleasure; and yet, when it was discovered, he was not satisfied with it; nor can there ever be an end to lust.
I wish we could engage anyone by a reward to produce something the better to establish us in this belief.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.7
This last book of the Tusculan Disputations regularly tempts me to get caught up in various digressions, probably because the subject of virtue as the highest good has become so dear to my heart. Yet no question could be more critical than the source of our happiness, so the student of philosophy can somewhat forgive himself for attending to the winding details, as long as he doesn’t get himself all turned around and tied up in knots.
To his credit, the Auditor proceeds slowly and carefully. He rightly isolates the premises that happiness is a freedom from troubles, and that wisdom does indeed produce a peace of mind. So what is stopping him from joining the two, arriving at the conclusion that our inner virtues are all we require to be satisfied?
For myself, I know that I sometimes fail to make the connection on account of my sloth, unwilling to admit a total responsibility for my life. On a purely intellectual level, however, it is prudent to be cautious, given how much is at stake. It’s a shame how often a vague definition or a sloppy argument will bring us such compounded misery down the line. It is better to be safe than sorry.
I had to laugh out loud when I read Cicero’s contrast between the mathematicians and the philosophers. While a proof in geometry can briefly reference what has previously been established, the student of philosophy is inclined to dwell on each component, returning to it time and time again, squinting at it from different angles, like a customer suspiciously eyeing the wares at a shop. Such caution can be both a blessing and a curse.
I understand, for instance, why the Stoic will pause at equating what is honorable and what is virtuous, given how easy it is to treat either term broadly or narrowly. If I speak of honor as being praised, then not all honored things are necessarily good things, but if I speak of it as what is in itself worthy of being praised, that makes a world of difference. If I speak of virtue as a mere social appearance, I am easily misled, but if I speak of it as a habit of character, I am now on the narrow path.
As quick as we are in citing the “good”, we are too fond of jumping into murky water, rushing ahead before we are absolutely clear about what we mean. Yes, sometimes scholars just like to hear themselves talk, though sometimes we eventually learn to appreciate their fussiness. We would, of course, be angry at an accountant if he hadn’t been thorough in checking his numbers.
And far beyond promising us the best possible tax refund, philosophy promises to guide us to the best possible life; it would be one thing to lose a car or a home, and quite another to lose happiness itself. I am rightly suspicious of the guarantees offered by lawyers and salesmen, so you must forgive me if I am reluctant to trust in the fruits of learning.
Then I remember how I have everything to gain, and philosophy has nothing to lose: wisdom gives of itself without demanding any return, for the profit to one part of Nature is inseparable from the profit to the whole. When reason tells me how I can become impervious to fortune, I should make the effort to listen.
Philosophy has more power than any emperor. Instead of growing peeved at her subtle assignments, an expression of profound gratitude is long overdue.
This last book of the Tusculan Disputations regularly tempts me to get caught up in various digressions, probably because the subject of virtue as the highest good has become so dear to my heart. Yet no question could be more critical than the source of our happiness, so the student of philosophy can somewhat forgive himself for attending to the winding details, as long as he doesn’t get himself all turned around and tied up in knots.
To his credit, the Auditor proceeds slowly and carefully. He rightly isolates the premises that happiness is a freedom from troubles, and that wisdom does indeed produce a peace of mind. So what is stopping him from joining the two, arriving at the conclusion that our inner virtues are all we require to be satisfied?
For myself, I know that I sometimes fail to make the connection on account of my sloth, unwilling to admit a total responsibility for my life. On a purely intellectual level, however, it is prudent to be cautious, given how much is at stake. It’s a shame how often a vague definition or a sloppy argument will bring us such compounded misery down the line. It is better to be safe than sorry.
I had to laugh out loud when I read Cicero’s contrast between the mathematicians and the philosophers. While a proof in geometry can briefly reference what has previously been established, the student of philosophy is inclined to dwell on each component, returning to it time and time again, squinting at it from different angles, like a customer suspiciously eyeing the wares at a shop. Such caution can be both a blessing and a curse.
I understand, for instance, why the Stoic will pause at equating what is honorable and what is virtuous, given how easy it is to treat either term broadly or narrowly. If I speak of honor as being praised, then not all honored things are necessarily good things, but if I speak of it as what is in itself worthy of being praised, that makes a world of difference. If I speak of virtue as a mere social appearance, I am easily misled, but if I speak of it as a habit of character, I am now on the narrow path.
As quick as we are in citing the “good”, we are too fond of jumping into murky water, rushing ahead before we are absolutely clear about what we mean. Yes, sometimes scholars just like to hear themselves talk, though sometimes we eventually learn to appreciate their fussiness. We would, of course, be angry at an accountant if he hadn’t been thorough in checking his numbers.
And far beyond promising us the best possible tax refund, philosophy promises to guide us to the best possible life; it would be one thing to lose a car or a home, and quite another to lose happiness itself. I am rightly suspicious of the guarantees offered by lawyers and salesmen, so you must forgive me if I am reluctant to trust in the fruits of learning.
Then I remember how I have everything to gain, and philosophy has nothing to lose: wisdom gives of itself without demanding any return, for the profit to one part of Nature is inseparable from the profit to the whole. When reason tells me how I can become impervious to fortune, I should make the effort to listen.
Philosophy has more power than any emperor. Instead of growing peeved at her subtle assignments, an expression of profound gratitude is long overdue.
—Reflection written in 2/1999
IMAGE: Johannes van Mildert, Honos (c. 1615)
No comments:
Post a Comment