Vanitas 93

Antonio de Pereda, Vanitas (c. 1660) 

Stoic Snippets 267

Contemplate the forms of things bare of their coverings; the purposes of actions; consider what pain is, what pleasure is, and death, and fame; who is to himself the cause of his uneasiness; how no man is hindered by another; that everything is opinion. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.8 

Chuang Tzu 6.5

In this way they were one and the same in all their likings and dislikings. Where they liked, they were the same; where they did not like, they were the same. 

In the former case where they liked, they were fellow-workers with the Heavenly in them; in the latter where they disliked, they were co-workers with the Human in them. 

The one of these elements in their nature did not overcome the other. Such were those who are called the True men. 

Death and life are ordained, just as we have the constant succession of night and day; in both cases from Heaven. Men have no power to do anything in reference to them; such is the constitution of things. 

There are those who specially regard Heaven as their father, and they still love It, distant as It is; how much more should they love That which stands out, Superior and Alone! 

Some specially regard their ruler as superior to themselves, and will give their bodies to die for him; how much more should they do so for That which is their true Ruler! 

When the springs are dried up, the fishes collect together on the land. Than that they should moisten one another there by the damp about them, and keep one another wet by their slime, it would be better for them to forget one another in the rivers and lakes. 

And when men praise Yâo and condemn Kieh, it would be better to forget them both, and seek the renovation of the Tâo. 

Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.5

A. I do not think virtue can possibly be sufficient for a happy life.
 
M. But my friend Brutus thinks so, whose judgment, with submission, I greatly prefer to yours.
 
A. I make no doubt of it; but your regard for him is not the business now: the question is now, what is the real character of that quality of which I have declared my opinion. I wish you to dispute on that. 
 
M. What! Do you deny that virtue can possibly be sufficient for a happy life? 
 
A. It is what I entirely deny. 
 
M. What! Is not virtue sufficient to enable us to live as we ought, honestly, commendably, or, in fine, to live well? 
 
A. Certainly sufficient. 
 
M. Can you, then, help calling any one miserable who lives ill? Or will you deny that anyone who you allow lives well must inevitably live happily? 
 
A. Why may I not? For a man may be upright in his life, honest, praiseworthy, even in the midst of torments, and therefore live well. Provided you understand what I mean by well; for when I say well, I mean with constancy, and dignity, and wisdom, and courage; for a man may display all these qualities on the rack; but yet the rack is inconsistent with a happy life. 
 
M. What, then? Is your happy life left on the outside of the prison, while constancy, dignity, wisdom, and the other virtues, are surrendered up to the executioner, and bear punishment and pain without reluctance? 
 
A. You must look out for something new if you would do any good. These things have very little effect on me, not merely from their being common, but principally because, like certain light wines that will not bear water, these arguments of the Stoics are pleasanter to taste than to swallow. 
 
As when that assemblage of virtues is committed to the rack, it raises so reverend a spectacle before our eyes that happiness seems to hasten on towards them, and not to suffer them to be deserted by her. 
 
But when you take your attention off from this picture and these images of the virtues to the truth and the reality, what remains without disguise is, the question whether anyone can be happy in torment? 
 
Wherefore let us now examine that point, and not be under any apprehensions, lest the virtues should expostulate, and complain that they are forsaken by happiness. 

 
For if prudence is connected with every virtue, then prudence itself discovers this, that all good men are not therefore happy; and she recollects many things of Marcus Atilius, Quintus Caepio, Marcus Aquilius; and prudence herself, if these representations are more agreeable to you than the things themselves, restrains happiness when it is endeavoring to throw itself into torments, and denies that it has any connection with pain and torture. 

—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.5 

I enjoy how the Auditor seems to have a little more spunk this time around, willing to dig in his heels on the tension between virtue and happiness. Nor is he merely being stubborn, as he argues for a grounded awareness of the fact that life will not necessarily shower us with blessings, just because we choose to be good. While something may sound fine in the grand theory, it also needs to work in the gritty practice. 
 
The objection is timeless, for all of us know how doing the right thing does not always feel like the most fulfilling thing. Indeed, we may be tempted to believe that there is even a contradiction between morality and success, that no good deed goes unpunished, that nice guys finish last. While this may not diminish the glory of righteousness, it still means that the man of character has no guarantee of ever being content with his lot. 
 
From the perspective of a philosophy geek, it bears a certain resemblance to the challenge presented by Immanuel Kant: do your duty, whatever the consequences, but don’t expect it to bring you bliss. I can appreciate the heroic gesture, and yet I can’t help but find it tragic. It makes for a fractured world, a world of noble causes and broken hearts. 
 
Now the Auditor is no relativist or hedonist, since he isn’t denying the existence of a higher moral law; he is simply pointing out how some other law appears to decide whether we will be happy. Perhaps there is a reason why the most heroic people end up looking so somber and severe, burdened with pain while they fearlessly cling to their principles. 
 
Observe how Cicero appeals to both authority and shame; were those rhetorical tricks he learned from the teachings of Carneades? The Auditor will have none of it. There is no avoiding the reality that no man can be satisfied while he is being tortured on the rack. Tell me how the holy martyr died with total integrity, and I will remind you how he was also in terrible agony—no reasonable man calls that happiness! 
 
I once knew a psychology student who made a similar claim, and he pointed to saints like Sebastian or Lawrence as instances of sexual masochism, the only possible explanation for finding joy in the midst of suffering. Indeed, how could we think otherwise, if we measure our satisfaction by the presence of pleasure and the absence of pain? But I am getting too far ahead of myself . . . 
 
And the Auditor will not budge after calls upon lofty ideals, insisting that philosophers like the Stoics make it all sound far too easy. Again, this fellow is plucky—might Cicero be deliberately testing his mettle? Whether or not I agree with his conclusions, he presents his case with clarity and conviction, to the point where I find myself nodding my head, equally irritated by the experts pontificating from their cozy armchairs. 
 
If the three examples from Roman history are too obscure, I can immediately think of so many cases closer to home. For every one who finds a life of integrity joined with comfort, there are dozens and dozens who try to be honest and end up in the gutter. I think it no accident that the sleaziest person I know is showered with fame and fortune, while the most decent person I know can never get a break. 
 
Once you remind me of the details about why life doesn’t seem fair, I once again have my doubts. I have sympathy with the Auditor, and I am eager to hear Cicero’s reply. 

—Reflection written in 2/1999 

Wisdom from the Early Cynics, Diogenes 35

Being asked what was the right time to marry, Diogenes replied, "For a young man not yet: for an old man never at all." 

Being asked what he would take to be soundly cuffed, he replied, "A helmet." 

Seeing a youth dressing with elaborate care, he said, "If it's for men, you're a fool; if for women, a knave." 

One day he detected a youth blushing. "Courage," said he, "that is the hue of virtue." 

One day after listening to a couple of lawyers disputing, he condemned them both, saying that the one had no doubt stolen, but the other had not lost anything. 

To the question what wine he found pleasant to drink, he replied, "That for which other people pay." 

When he was told that many people laughed at him, he made answer, "But I am not laughed down." 

—Diogenes Laërtius, 6.54 

IMAGE: Jacob Jordaens, Diogenes Searching for an Honest Man (c. 1642) 

Wisdom from the Early Stoics, Zeno of Citium 75

Again, the Stoics say that the wise man will take part in politics, if nothing hinders him—so, for instance, Chrysippus in the first book of his work On Various Types of Life—since thus he will restrain vice and promote virtue. 

Also, they maintain, he will marry, as Zeno says in his Republic, and beget children. 

Moreover, they say that the wise man will never form mere opinions, that is to say, he will never give assent to anything that is false; that he will also play the Cynic, Cynicism being a short cut to virtue, as Apollodorus calls it in his Ethics; that he will even turn cannibal under stress of circumstances. 

They declare that he alone is free and bad men are slaves, freedom being power of independent action, whereas slavery is privation of the same; though indeed there is also a second form of slavery consisting in subordination, and a third which implies possession of the slave as well as his subordination; the correlative of such servitude being lordship; and this too is evil. 

Moreover, according to them not only are the wise free, they are also kings; kingship being irresponsible rule, which none but the wise can maintain: so Chrysippus in his treatise vindicating Zeno’s use of terminology. 

For he holds that knowledge of good and evil is a necessary attribute of the ruler, and that no bad man is acquainted with this science. 

Similarly the wise and good alone are fit to be magistrates, judges, or orators, whereas among the bad there is not one so qualified. 

Furthermore, the wise are infallible, not being liable to error. They are also without offense; for they do no hurt to others or to themselves. 

At the same time they are not pitiful and make no allowance for anyone; they never relax the penalties fixed by the laws, since indulgence and pity and even equitable consideration are marks of a weak mind, which affects kindness in place of chastizing. Nor do they deem punishments too severe. 

—Diogenes Laërtius, 7.121-123 

IMAGE: Raphael, The Judgment of Solomon (c. 1519) 

Dhammapada 402

Him I call indeed a Brahmana who, even here, knows the end of his suffering, has put down his burden, and is unshackled. 

Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.4

Nor was Pythagoras the inventor only of the name, but he enlarged also the thing itself, and, when he came into Italy after this conversation at Phlius, he adorned that Greece, which is called Great Greece, both privately and publicly, with the most excellent institutions and arts; but of his school and system I shall, perhaps, find another opportunity to speak. 
 
But numbers and motions, and the beginning and end of all things, were the subjects of the ancient philosophy down to Socrates, who was a pupil of Archelaus, who had been the disciple of Anaxagoras. These made diligent inquiry into the magnitude of the stars, their distances, courses, and all that relates to the heavens. 
 
But Socrates was the first who brought down philosophy from the heavens, placed it in cities, introduced it into families, and obliged it to examine into life and morals, and good and evil. 
 
And his different methods of discussing questions, together with the variety of his topics, and the greatness of his abilities, being immortalized by the memory and writings of Plato, gave rise to many sects of philosophers of different sentiments, of all which I have principally adhered to that one which, in my opinion, Socrates himself followed; and argue so as to conceal my own opinion, while I deliver others from their errors, and so discover what has the greatest appearance of probability in every question. 
 
And this custom Carneades adopted with great copiousness and acuteness, and I myself have often given in to it on many occasions elsewhere, and in this manner, too, I disputed lately, in my Tusculan villa; indeed, I have sent you a book of the four former days’ discussions; but the fifth day, when we had seated ourselves as before, what we were to dispute on was proposed thus. . . . 

—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.4 
 
Philosophers may not have always gone by the same name, and they may have approached their understanding from very different angles, but what they all shared in common was a calling to explain, not merely to describe. 
 
They always dug down deep, and that sometimes had a way of shaking things up. Listening to them probably didn’t make you any richer or more popular, though it always left you just a little bit better and wiser, if only from looking at the world in a totally unfamiliar manner. 
 
I doubt that Socrates was literally the first to “do” philosophy on the streets, or that he invented the method, equally enlightening and annoying, of stimulating awareness by debating inconvenient questions. He was, however, the first to so notably draw attention to himself for being a gadfly, and our cultural tradition would never be the same without him. 
 
To be honest, I was initially offended by Socrates, failing to distinguish him from your garden-variety intellectual bully. It took me some time to recognize what he was really up to, and as a result I would also never be the same without him. If I recall correctly, it was actually Xenophon who finally allowed me to see Socrates as more than just a mouthpiece for Plato. 
 
Cicero here highlights the very same Socratic qualities that have been so influential for me: an unwavering insistence on critical thinking, and an absolute commitment to an informed conscience. We are all, each and every one of us, adrift in this life without the knowledge to judge right from wrong, and any philosophy that fails to address this vital need doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. 
 
When I grow tired of the endless bickering among the ideological tribes, it helps me to remember how all of their efforts are ultimately attempts at fulfilling the noble mission of Socrates, which points to the unity behind so much fracturing. Yes, there comes a point when two principles can no longer coexist, but far more of our disagreements are about matters of stress, concerning distinctions where we are sadly talking past one another. 
 
I can respect why Cicero, for example, was guided by the Academic Skepticism of Carneades, just as I am pleased to see him further open his mind to the teachings of the Stoics. Take what you need and leave the rest. The end results in practice do not justify the quarrelling about the theory; what at first looks like a contradiction can well turn out to be a complement. 
 
How can I blame Cicero for questioning the dogmatism of the Stoics? I imagine that some of them were insufferable in their elitism. Perhaps it is more prudent to settle for what is likely than to idly speculate about what is beyond our grasp. 
 
At the same time, I am drawn to the formulations of Stoicism for three reasons: the quest for a certainty in knowledge, the immanence of Divine Providence, and the primacy of virtue in human affairs. I think it no accident that these themes correspond to the three branches of inquiry in Stoicism: logic, physics, and ethics. 
 
It is a good sign when one follower of Socrates finds something of value from another follower of Socrates, regardless of the attached “-isms”. This final book of the Tusculan Disputations, on the sufficiency of virtue, is a step in the right direction. 

—Reflection written in 2/1999 

IMAGE: William Blake, Socrates, A Visionary Head (c. 1820) 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 178

Be patient under your afflictions, that you may be able to endure your happiness. 

IMAGE: Christoph Murer, Patience (c. 1600) 

Songs of Innocence 5

The Little Black Boy (1789) 

William Blake (1757-1827) 

My mother bore me in the southern wild,
And I am black, but O! my soul is white;
White as an angel is the English child: 
But I am black as if bereav'd of light.

My mother taught me underneath a tree 
And sitting down before the heat of day,
She took me on her lap and kissed me,
And pointing to the east began to say. 

Look on the rising sun: there God does live 
And gives his light, and gives his heat away. 
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning joy in the noonday.

And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love, 
And these black bodies and this sun-burnt face
Is but a cloud, and like a shady grove.

For when our souls have learn'd the heat to bear 
The cloud will vanish we shall hear his voice. 
Saying: come out from the grove my love & care,
And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.

Thus did my mother say and kissed me, 
And thus I say to little English boy. 
When I from black and he from white cloud free,
And round the tent of God like lambs we joy: 

I'll shade him from the heat till he can bear, 
To lean in joy upon our fathers knee. 
And then I'll stand and stroke his silver hair,
And be like him and he will then love me. 

Cosmos 18

Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.3

But, indeed, who can dispute the antiquity of philosophy, either in fact or name? For it acquired this excellent name from the ancients, by the knowledge of the origin and causes of everything, both divine and human. 

 
Thus those seven Σόφοι, as they were considered and called by the Greeks, have always been esteemed and called wise men by us; and thus Lycurgus many ages before, in whose time, before the building of this city, Homer is said to have lived, as well as Ulysses and Nestor in the heroic ages, are all handed down to us by tradition as having really been what they were called, wise men; nor would it have been said that Atlas supported the heavens, or that Prometheus was bound to Caucasus, nor would Cepheus, with his wife, his son-in-law, and his daughter have been enrolled among the constellations, but that their more than human knowledge of the heavenly bodies had transferred their names into an erroneous fable. 
 
From whence all who occupied themselves in the contemplation of nature were both considered and called wise men; and that name of theirs continued to the age of Pythagoras, who is reported to have gone to Phlius, as we find it stated by Heraclides Ponticus, a very learned man, and a pupil of Plato, and to have discoursed very learnedly and copiously on certain subjects with Leon, prince of the Phliasii; and when Leon, admiring his ingenuity and eloquence, asked him what art he particularly professed, his answer was, that he was acquainted with no art, but that he was a philosopher. 
 
Leon, surprised at the novelty of the name, inquired what he meant by the name of philosopher, and in what philosophers differed from other men; on which Pythagoras replied:  
 
“That the life of man seemed to him to resemble those games which were celebrated with the greatest possible variety of sports and the general concourse of all Greece. For as in those games there were some persons whose object was glory and the honor of a crown, to be attained by the performance of bodily exercises, so others were led thither by the gain of buying and selling, and mere views of profit; but there was likewise one class of persons, and they were by far the best, whose aim was neither applause nor profit, but who came merely as spectators through curiosity, to observe what was done, and to see in what manner things were carried on there. 
 
“And thus,” said he, “we come from another life and nature unto this one, just as men come out of some other city, to some much frequented mart; some being slaves to glory, others to money; and there are some few who, taking no account of anything else, earnestly look into the nature of things; and these men call themselves studious of wisdom, that is, philosophers: and as there it is the most reputable occupation of all to be a looker-on without making any acquisition, so in life, the contemplating things, and acquainting one’s self with them, greatly exceeds every other pursuit of life." 

—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.3 
 
Along with the general disdain for philosophy, there is also a common assumption that folks in the past were woefully ignorant. While our progress in the natural sciences, and therefore also in technology, is readily apparent, it does not follow that the ancients were clueless about the depths of human nature. If anything, I sometimes wonder if our material prosperity actually tempts us to become philosophically lazy, therefore putting us in greater danger of being morally adrift. 
 
I now see why my best teachers joked about how the Greeks had already worked out most everything I ever needed to know concerning the true, the good, and the beautiful, such that anything which came afterwards was just a footnote. I hardly subscribe to the belief that people were somehow “better” in the old days, but I do recognize why we all stand on the shoulders of giants. It is remarkable, and frustrating, how every generation has to relearn those very same lessons, over and over again. 
 
Just as it is difficult to improve on the Ten Commandments, I am hard-pressed to find more solid guidelines for daily living than the sayings of the Seven Sages, or the collected insights of the Delphic Maxims. Such wisdom springs forth organically from the best of any primal culture or tradition, as a consequence of the simple fact that a rational animal is defined by the pressing need for meaning and purpose. 
 
In this sense, for example, I will claim that truly appreciating the Iliad—as distinct from merely reading the words—can prepare a young mind for most any struggle that life is sure to bring. It isn’t true just because it’s old, yet it is perennial because our distant ancestors were fulfilling that most human basic calling to unravel the reasons why. 
 
I have always been a bit baffled by Pythagoras, since I like my philosophy as clear as possible, and his thoughts had so much mystery about them. I suppose that is exactly as he wished it, however, a sort of blend between a philosophical school and a religion of secrets. From what little I can claim to understand, I am intrigued how the order of the Universe is expressed in the harmony of numbers, to be examined across the board, in the study of mathematics, music, astronomy, or ethics. 
 
And the response given by Pythagoras to Leon is worthy of a genuine sage, from any time or place: some people want to be admired, and other people want to get rich, but the philosopher is content simply to understand. Though we become instinctively engrossed in the means, and so we believe we must constantly be acquiring more, the lover of wisdom is focused on the ends, and so he looks behind the immediate impressions. 
 
It is that way at the games, and it is that way in the marketplace, and it is that way in all walks of life. When I went to college, I noticed how the vocal majority viewed their studies as instruments for fortune, or for fame, or for some combination of these two, and only a silent minority did not give much thought to such diversions, committed first and foremost to the improvement of their souls. 
 
You can imagine who was regularly accused of being “useless”, but the beautiful irony is that it takes the judgment of a philosopher, who explores the roots of the causes, to discover whether celebrity and money will actually bring us benefit or harm. We should be careful about what we assume, especially when the direction of a whole life depends upon it. 

—Reflection written in 2/1999 

IMAGE: Pythagoras 

Pathways

Michael Leunig 77

Birds for My Mother 12

This blog is already eclectic, and eccentric, enough as it is, so restraint will be in order regarding any further depictions of birds. . . . 

For those who can't get enough of our fine feathered friends, the old family practice of sending their pictures as a mark of affection has two wonderful sources that have served us well: 

John James Audubon's Birds of America 

 http://audubon.library.pitt.edu

The National Audubon Society's Guide to North American Birds 

https://www.audubon.org/bird-guide

Images from the daily family bird e-mail can always be found at the Stoic Breviary Pinterest page: 

https://www.pinterest.com/stoicbreviary/a-stoic-breviary/ 

Maxims of Goethe 70

The man who acts never has any conscience; no one has any conscience but the man who thinks. 

IMAGE: Francois Chifflart, Conscience (1877) 

Xenophon, Memorabilia of Socrates 38

At another time, seeing Nicomachides on his way back from the elections of magistrates, Socrates asked him: "Who are elected generals, Nicomachides?" 

And he: "Is it not just like them, these citizens of Athens—just like them, I say—to go and elect, not me, who ever since my name first appeared on the muster-roll have literally worn myself out with military service—now as a captain, now as a colonel—and have received all these wounds from the enemy, look you!" 

At the same time, and suiting the action to the word, he bared his arms and proceeded to show the scars of ancient wounds. 

"They elect not me," he went on, "but, if you please, Antisthenes! Who never served as a hoplite in his life nor in the cavalry ever made a brilliant stroke, that I ever heard tell of; no! In fact, he has got no science at all, I take it, except to amass stores of wealth." 

"But still," returned Socrates, "surely that is one point in his favor—he ought to be able to provide the troops with supplies." 

Nicomachides: "Well, for the matter of that, merchants are good hands at collecting stores; but it does not follow that a merchant or trader will be able to command an army." 

"But," rejoined Socrates "Antisthenes is a man of great pertinacity, who insists on winning, and that is a very necessary quality in a general. Do not you see how each time he has been choragos (choirmaster) he has been successful with one chorus after another?" 

Nicomachides: "Bless me! Yes; but there is a wide difference between standing at the head of a band of singers and dancers and a troop of soldiers." 

Socrates: "Still, without any practical skill in singing or in the training of a chorus, Antisthenes somehow had the art to select the greatest proficients in both." 

Nicomachides: "Yes, and by the same reasoning we are to infer that on a campaign he will find proficients, some to marshal the troops for him and others to fight his battles?" 

Socrates: "Just so. If in matters military he only exhibits the same skill in selecting the best hands as he has shown in matters of the chorus, it is highly probable he will here also bear away the palm of victory; and we may presume that if he expended so much to win a choric victory with a single tribe, he will be ready to expend more to secure a victory in war with the whole state to back him." 

Nicomachides: "Do you really mean, Socrates, that it is the function of the same man to provide efficient choruses and to act as commander-in-chief?" 

Socrates: "I mean this, that, given a man knows what he needs to provide, and has the skill to do so, no matter what the department of things may be—house or city or army—you will find him a good chief and director of the same."  

Then Nicomachides: "Upon my word, Socrates, I should never have expected to hear you say that a good housekeeper and steward of an estate would make a good general." 

Socrates: "Come then, suppose we examine their respective duties, and so determine whether they are the same or different." 

Nicomachides: "Let us do so." 

Socrates: "Well then, is it not a common duty of both to procure the ready obedience of those under them to their orders?" 

Nicomachides: "Certainly." 

Socrates: "And also to assign to those best qualified to perform them their distinctive tasks?" 

"That, too, belongs to both alike," he answered. 

Socrates: "Again, to chastise the bad and reward the good belongs to both alike, methinks?" 

Nicomachides: "Decidedly." 

Socrates: "And to win the kindly feeling of their subordinates must surely be the noble ambition of both?" 

"That too," he answered.

Socrates: "And do you consider it to the interest of both alike to win the adherence of supporters and allies?" 

Nicomachides: "Without a doubt."

Socrates: "And does it not closely concern them both to be good guardians of their respective charges?" 

Nicomachides: "Very much so." 

Socrates: "Then it equally concerns them both to be painstaking and prodigal of toil in all their doings?" 

Nicomachides: "Yes, all these duties belong to both alike, but the parallel ends when you come to actual fighting." 

Socrates: "Yet they are both sure to meet with enemies?" 

Nicomachides: "There is no doubt about that." 

Socrates: "Then is it not to the interest of both to get the upper hand of these?" 

Nicomachides: "Certainly; but you omit to tell us what service organization and the art of management will render when it comes to actual fighting." 

Socrates: "Why, it is just then, I presume, it will be of most service, for the good economist knows that nothing is so advantageous or so lucrative as victory in battle, or to put it negatively, nothing so disastrous and expensive as defeat. 

"He will enthusiastically seek out and provide everything conducive to victory, he will painstakingly discover and guard against all that tends to defeat, and when satisfied that all is ready and ripe for victory he will deliver battle energetically, and what is equally important, until the hour of final preparation has arrived, he will be cautious to deliver battle. 

"Do not despise men of economic genius, Nicomachides; the difference between the devotion requisite to private affairs and to affairs of state is merely one of quantity. For the rest the parallel holds strictly, and in this respect preeminently, that both are concerned with human instruments: which human beings, moreover, are of one type and temperament, whether we speak of devotion to public affairs or of the administration of private property. 

"To fare well in either case is given to those who know the secret of dealing with humanity, whereas the absence of that knowledge will as certainly imply in either case a fatal note of discord." 

—from Xenophon, Memorabilia 3.4 

Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.2

But the amendment of this fault, and of all our other vices and offences, is to be sought for in philosophy: and as my own inclination and desire led me, from my earliest youth upward, to seek her protection, so, under my present misfortunes, 
 
I have had recourse to the same port from whence I set out, after having been tossed by a violent tempest. O Philosophy, thou guide of life! Thou discoverer of virtue and expeller of vices! What had not only I myself, but the whole life of man, been without you? 
 
To you it is that we owe the origin of cities; you it was who called together the dispersed race of men into social life; you united them together, first, by placing them near one another, then by marriages, and lastly, by the communication of speech and languages. 
 
You have been the inventress of laws; you have been our instructress in morals and discipline; to you we fly for refuge; from you we implore assistance; and as I formerly submitted to you in a great degree, so now I surrender up myself entirely to you. For one day spent well, and agreeably to your precepts, is preferable to an eternity of error. 
 
Whose assistance, then, can be of more service to me than yours, when you have bestowed on us tranquility of life, and removed the fear of death? But Philosophy is so far from being praised as much as she has deserved by mankind, that she is wholly neglected by most men, and actually evil spoken of by many. 
 
Can any person speak ill of the parent of life, and dare to pollute himself thus with parricide, and be so impiously ungrateful as to accuse her whom he ought to reverence, even were he less able to appreciate the advantages which he might derive from her? 
 
But this error, I imagine, and this darkness has spread itself over the minds of ignorant men, from their not being able to look so far back, and from their not imagining that those men by whom human life was first improved were philosophers; for though we see philosophy to have been of long standing, yet the name must be acknowledged to be but modern. 

—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.2 
 
I have grown so weary of constantly defending the dignity of philosophy, that a part of me simply wishes to cry out, “Yeah, what he just said!” 
 
But I know my frustration is a sign that I am letting the naysayers get to me, that I am taking the ridicule and the eye-rolling far too personally. I don’t like to be blamed when I simply don’t understand, and so I should be patient enough in extending that same courtesy to others. I think of how often I get angry because of my ignorance, or I hurl out insults because of my insecurities. Once again, the error is in my estimation. 
 
If I say that a loyalty to philosophy is my greatest mission, you might assume it is because I sometimes get paid to be a teacher. Yes, that is where I find myself professionally, for better or for worse, but the most precious moments in my life were not in a classroom, and certainly not at any conference. Philosophy, for me, is a way of life, where the possibility of helping someone else in bearing his burden is what actually makes that very life worth living. 
 
We are here to carry one another, and understanding is the key. Don’t tell me it’s just love that matters, since there can be no love without first nurturing the understanding. It is in this sense, and not in some academic manner, that philosophy is the means for every one of us, from the peasant to the king, to become whole. Philosophy is the ultimate motivator, the impetus for action, and the composure for when not to act. It is the reason to live with joy, and the reason to die in peace. It is the source of every law that was just, and the bane of every law that was unjust. 
 
How can this be, if I cannot buy it at the market, or record it on a spreadsheet? Philosophy stands behind absolutely everything else we do, whether we are immediately conscious of it or not. It provides the measure for all of our choices, such that the contrast between a sound and an unsound philosophy, a set of lazy assumptions or a critical awareness, hangs upon a willingness to follow principles instead of preferences. 
 
You say that you don’t need to think clearly, only to feel vigorously? That is itself a judgment and a hasty one at that. You say that you are content to have no greater purpose? That you are still breathing right now, and have not ended yourself out of despair, is a sign that you do indeed have aspirations. As a creature of reason and will, avoiding philosophy is like avoiding oxygen. 
 
Though I regularly get myself in trouble when I dabble in theology, such that the supposed experts warn me about being a heretic, I think it fitting to speak of Wisdom as a woman. God has no limitations of gender, of course, but I can see why the seed of existence is, by analogy, masculine, and the act of nurturing that existence is, by analogy, feminine. 
 
Philosophy is like a mother to me, and no decent man will have the spite to abandon his mother. The father and the mother go together, and they are there to offer themselves for the child. 
 
The fancy name of “philosopher” didn’t come until much later, and yet I can assure you that the very first person to walk this Earth, whoever it might have been, was innately philosophical from the beginning, from the instant a new mind was awakened. 

—Reflection written in 2/1999 

IMAGE: Anonymous Swiss, Allegory of Wisdom (c. 1600) 

The Continence of Scipio 7

Karel van Mander the Elder, The Continence of Scipio (1600) 

Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.1

Book 5: Whether Virtue Alone Be Sufficient for a Happy Life   

 
This fifth day, Brutus, shall put an end to our Tusculan Disputations: on which day we discussed your favorite subject. For I perceive from that book which you wrote for me with the greatest accuracy, as well as from your frequent conversation, that you are clearly of this opinion, that virtue is of itself sufficient for a happy life: and though it may be difficult to prove this, on account of the many various strokes of fortune, yet it is a truth of such a nature that we should endeavor to facilitate the proof of it. 
 
For among all the topics of philosophy, there is not one of more dignity or importance. For as the first philosophers must have had some inducement to neglect everything for the search of the best state of life: surely, the inducement must have been the hope of living happily, which impelled them to devote so much care and pains to that study. 
 
Now, if virtue was discovered and carried to perfection by them, and if virtue is a sufficient security for a happy life, who can avoid thinking the work of philosophizing excellently recommended by them, and undertaken by me? 
 
But if virtue, as being subject to such various and uncertain accidents, were but the slave of fortune, and were not of sufficient ability to support herself, I am afraid that it would seem desirable rather to offer up prayers, than to rely on our own confidence in virtue as the foundation for our hope of a happy life. 
 
And, indeed, when I reflect on those troubles with which I have been so severely exercised by fortune, I begin to distrust this opinion; and sometimes even to dread the weakness and frailty of human nature, for I am afraid lest, when nature had given us infirm bodies, and had joined to them incurable diseases and intolerable pains, she perhaps also gave us minds participating in these bodily pains, and harassed also with troubles and uneasinesses, peculiarly their own. 
 
But here I correct myself for forming my judgment of the power of virtue more from the weakness of others, or of myself perhaps, than from virtue itself: for she herself (provided there is such a thing as virtue; and your uncle Brutus has removed all doubt of it) has everything that can befall mankind in subjection to her; and by disregarding such things, she is far removed from being at all concerned at human accidents; and, being free from every imperfection, she thinks that nothing which is external to herself can concern her. 
 
But we, who increase every approaching evil by our fear, and every present one by our grief, choose rather to condemn the nature of things than our own errors. 

—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.1 
 
While popular culture tells me to mock the virtues, my pesky conscience is prodding me to cling to them all the more tightly. Intense passions rush ahead, but a serenity of understanding lags behind. If the good life really is as simple as doing everything with prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice, then why is the world making it so hard for me to keep up? 
 
Cicero was thankfully a grounded thinker, and so he was acutely aware of the obstacles we face in choosing character over convenience. How can we be truly certain about our assessment of human nature? Might the weight of fortune become so great as to make a genuine commitment impossible? Will there always be a conflict between our duties and our pleasures? It is one thing to read about this in a book, and quite another to attempt it in the daily grind. 
 
I can, at least, begin with an awareness of happiness as the highest goal of my life, to which all other pursuits are subject. If philosophy does indeed seek to make some sense of this notion, however vague it may at first appear, then it ends up being the most important task on my to-do list. The love of wisdom may not help me to rise up the corporate ladder, but it will be the only hope for keeping me out of abject misery, regardless of the office they assign to me. 
 
A student once asked me why the ancients wasted their time on philosophy, when merely managing to survive was so much harder for them than it is for us now—why even bother with such a luxury? I suggested that it was precisely because meaning and value are not indulgences at all, but absolute necessities, especially when the going gets tough. 
 
Such “primitive” philosophers had their heads on straight, since the urgency of their calling was the source of its very purity. We are in good company when we follow from their examples, and when we build upon their insights. 
 
Nevertheless, the cynical and jaded fellow inside of me continues to worry that we are on a fool’s errand. On my bad days, I am convinced that people are inherently wicked, and I end up sounding like a two-bit Bertrand Russell, when he scornfully claimed that he couldn’t find anyone who was reasonable, except, of course, for himself. I become convinced that my circumstances, far from being indifferent to me, are actually out to get me. I hear merely the criticisms, and so I have no confidence in my power to become a better man. 
 
It doesn’t help when the folks who preach loudly about the virtues end up being sanctimonious vultures, filling their pockets and stroking their egos through the obedience of the confused and the desperate. The ideal of morality seems pathetic when it relies upon such foppish champions. 
 
And then Cicero knocks the self-pity out of me, by reminding me what all of those complaints share in common. The have nothing to do with the choices other people happen to make, or with the grand design of the Universe, or with those who distort what is right in order to promote something wrong. They rather have everything to do with my own failings, my doubts and fears about my capacity to put my money where my mouth is. 
 
I will not blame Nature; I will correct my unwillingness to follow her. There is no need to torture myself over it, just an acceptance of where the real responsibility lies. I am called to rise to the ideal, which is the fulfillment of who I am, instead of allowing the diversions to confuse me. 

—Reflection written in 2/1999 

IMAGE: Dirc van Delft, The Four Cardinal Virtues (c. 1400)