Musonius Rufus, Lectures and Fragments (tr Cora E. Lutz, 1947)
Discourse
1: That there is no need of giving many proofs for one problem.
Once when discussion turned upon
proofs or demonstrations, such as beginners must learn from their teachers of
philosophy in gaining a mastery of whatever they are studying, Musonius said
that there was no sense in seeking many proofs for each point, but rather
cogent and lucid ones. Thus just as the physician who prescribes many drugs for
his patients deserves less praise than the one who succeeds in helping them
with a few, so the philosopher who teaches his pupils with the use of many
proofs is less effective than the one who leads them to the desired goal with
few. And the pupil too, the quicker his intelligence, the fewer proofs he will
require, and the sooner he will assent to the conclusion of the argument in
question, provided it be sound. But those who require proofs at every point,
even where the matter is perfectly clear, or demand to have demonstrated at
length things that could be explained briefly are completely inept and
dull-witted.
The gods, we may assume, need no
proof of anything inasmuch as nothing to them lacks clearness or is obscure,
and it is only in reference to obscurity that there is any need of proof. Man,
however, must seek to find out that which is neither plain nor self-evident
through the medium of the plain and obvious. That is the function of proof.
Take for example the proposition that pleasure is not a good. At first sight we
do not recognize it as true, since in fact pleasure appeals to us as a good.
But starting from the generally accepted premise that every good is desirable
and adding to it a second equally accepted that some pleasures are not
desirable, we succeed in proving that pleasure is not a good: that is we prove
the unknown or unrecognized by means of the known or recognized. Or again, that
toil is not an evil is not on the face of it a persuasive proposition, while
its opposite, that toil is an evil, seems much more persuasive. But starting
from the known and accepted premise that every evil is a thing to be avoided,
and adding to it another obvious one, namely that many forms of toil are not in
the category of things to be avoided, we conclude that toil is not an
evil.
Since this, then, is the nature
of proof, when we consider that some men are quicker of wit and others duller,
that some are reared in better environment, others in worse, those of the
latter class being inferior in character and native disposition will require
more proofs and more diligent attention to be led to master the teachings in question
and to be molded by them; just as defective physiques, when the goal is to
restore perfect health, require very diligent and prolonged treatment.
On the other hand such pupils as
are of a finer nature and have enjoyed better training will more easily and
more quickly, and with few proofs, assent to sound reasoning and put it into
practice. How true this is we may readily recognize if we chance to know two
lads or young men, of whom one has been reared in luxury, his body effeminate,
his spirit weakened by soft living, and having besides a dull and torpid
disposition; the other reared somewhat in the Spartan manner, unaccustomed to
luxury, practiced in self-restraint, and ready to listen to sound reasoning. If
then we place these two young men in the position of pupils of a philosopher
arguing that death, toil, poverty, and the like are not evils, or again that
life, pleasure, wealth, and the like are not goods, do you imagine that both
will give heed to the argument in the same fashion, and that one will be
persuaded by it in the same degree as the other? Far from it.
The one reluctantly and slowly,
and fairly pried loose by a thousand arguments, will perhaps in the end give
sign of assent—I mean of course the dullard. The other quickly and readily will
accept the argument as cogent and relevant to himself, and will not require
many proofs nor a fuller treatment. Was not just such a lad that Spartan boy
who asked Cleanthes the philosopher if toil was not a good? He made it plain
that he was so well endowed by nature and by training for the practice of
virtue as to consider toil closer to the nature of good than of evil, in that
he asked whether toil was not perchance a good, as if it were conceded that it
was not an evil. Thereupon Cleanthes in surprise and admiration of the boy
replied,
"You are of noble blood,
dear child, so noble the words you speak."
Can you doubt that such a lad
would have been readily persuaded not to fear poverty nor death nor any of the
things which seem terrible, and again, not to seek after wealth nor life nor
pleasure?
To come back to the starting
point of my discussion, I repeat that it is mistaken zeal for the teacher, if
he is a true philosopher, to rehearse a multitude of arguments and proofs to
his pupils. He should rather touch upon each one with just measure, seek to
penetrate to the very intellect of his hearer, and present persuasive arguments
and such as cannot easily be refuted. But most of all his treatment should
consist in showing himself not only as one who utters words that are most
helpful, but also as one who acts consistently with them. As for the pupil, it
is his duty to attend diligently to what is said and to be on his guard lest he
accept unwittingly something false. But of what he accepts as truth, his effort
should not be directed toward learning numbers of proofs—far from it—but only
such as are plain and lucid. Finally whatever precepts enjoined upon him he is
persuaded are true, these must he follow out in his daily life. For only in
this way will philosophy be of profit to anyone, if to sound teaching he adds
conduct in harmony with it.
Discourse
2: That man is born with an inclination towards virtue.
All of us, he used to say, are so
fashioned by nature that we can live our lives free from error and nobly; not
that one can and another cannot, but all. The clearest evidence of this is the
fact that lawgivers lay down for all alike what may be done and forbid what may
not be done, exempting from punishment no one who disobeys or does wrong, not
the young nor the old, not the strong nor the weak, not anyone whomsoever. And
yet if the whole notion of virtue were something that came to us from without,
and we shared no part of it by birth, just as in activities pertaining to the
other arts no one who has not learned the art is expected to be free from
error, so in like manner in things pertaining to the conduct of life it would
not be reasonable to expect anyone to be free from error who had not learned
virtue, seeing that virtue is the only thing that saves us from error in daily
living.
Now in the care of the sick we
demand no one but the physician to be free from error, and in handling the lyre
no one but the musician, and in managing the helm no one but the pilot, but in
the conduct of life it is no longer only the philosopher whom we expect to be
free from error, though he alone would seem to be the only one concerned with
the study of virtue, but all men alike, including those who have never given
any attention to virtue. Clearly, then, there is no explanation for this other
than that the human being is born with an inclination toward virtue. And this
indeed is strong evidence of the presence of goodness in our nature, that all
speak of themselves as having virtue and being good.
For take the common man; when
asked whether he is stupid or intelligent, not one will confess to being
stupid; or again, when asked whether he is just or unjust, not one will say
that he is unjust. In the same way, if one asks him whether he is temperate or
intemperate, he replies at once that he is temperate; and finally, if one asks
whether he is good or bad, he would say that he is good, even though he can
name no teacher of virtue or mention any study or practice of virtue he has
ever made.
Of what, then, is this evidence
if not of the existence of an innate inclination of the human soul toward
goodness and nobleness, and of the presence of the seeds of virtue in each one
of us? Moreover, because it is entirely to our advantage to be good, some of us
deceive ourselves into thinking that we are really good, while others of us are
ashamed to admit that we are not. Why then pray, when one who has not learned
letters or music or gymnastics never claims to have knowledge of these arts nor
makes any pretense of knowing them, and is quite unable even to name a teacher
to whom he went, why, I say, does everyone profess that he has virtue? It is
because none of those other skills is natural to man, and no human being is
born with a natural faculty [for them, whereas an inclination toward virtue is
inborn in each one of us.
Discourse
3: That women too should study philosophy.
When
someone asked him if women too should study philosophy, he began to discourse
on the theme that they should, in somewhat the following manner. Women as well
as men, he said, have received from the gods the gift of reason, which we use
in our dealings with one another and by which we judge whether a thing is good
or bad, right or wrong. Likewise the female has the same senses as the male;
namely sight, hearing, smell, and the others. Also both have the same parts of
the body, and one has nothing more than the other. Moreover, not men alone, but
women too, have a natural inclination toward virtue and the capacity for
acquiring it, and it is the nature of women no less than men to be pleased by
good and just acts and to reject the opposite of these.
If
this is true, by what reasoning would it ever be appropriate for men to search
out and consider how they may lead good lives, which is exactly the study of
philosophy, but inappropriate for women? Could it be that it is fitting for men
to be good, but not for women? Let us examine in detail the qualities which are
suitable for a woman who would lead a good life, for it will appear that each
one of them would accrue to her most readily from the study of philosophy.
In
the first place, a woman must be a good housekeeper; that is a careful
accountant of all that pertains to the welfare of her house and capable of
directing the household slaves. It is my contention that these are the very
qualities that would be present particularly in the woman who studies philosophy,
since obviously each of them is a part of life, and philosophy is nothing other
than knowledge about life, and the philosopher, as Socrates said, quoting
Homer, is constantly engaged in investigating precisely this:
"Whatsoever of good and of evil is
wrought in thy halls."
But
above all a woman must be chaste and self-controlled; she must, I mean, be pure
in respect of unlawful love, exercise restraint in other pleasures, not be a
slave to desire, not be contentious, not lavish in expense, nor extravagant in
dress. Such are the works of a virtuous woman, and to them I would add yet
these: to control her temper, not to be overcome by grief, and to be superior
to uncontrolled emotion of every kind.
Now
these are the things which the teachings of philosophy transmit, and the person
who has learned them and practices them would seem to me to have become a
well-ordered and seemly character, whether man or woman. Well then, so much for
self-control. As for justice, would not the woman who studies philosophy be
just, would she not be a blameless life-partner, would she not be a sympathetic
helpmate, would she not be an untiring defender of husband and children, and
would she not be entirely free of greed and arrogance? And who better than the
woman trained in philosophy— and she certainly of necessity if she has really
acquired philosophy —would be disposed to look upon doing a wrong as worse than
suffering one (as much worse as it is the baser), and to regard being worsted
as better than gaining an unjust advantage? Moreover, who better than she would
love her children more than life itself? What woman would be more just than
such a one?
Now
as for courage, certainly it is to be expected that the educated woman will be
more courageous than the uneducated, and one who has studied philosophy than
one who has not; and she will not therefore submit to anything shameful because
of fear of death or unwillingness to face hardship, and she will not be
intimidated by anyone because he is of noble birth, or powerful, or wealthy,
no, not even if he be the tyrant of her city. For in fact she has schooled
herself to be high-minded and to think of death not as an evil and life not as
a good, and likewise not to shun hardship and never for a moment to seek ease
and indolence. So it is that such a woman is likely to be energetic, strong to
endure pain, prepared to nourish her children at her own breast, and to serve
her husband with her own hands, and willing to do things which some would
consider no better than slaves' work.
Would
not such a woman be a great help to the man who married her, an ornament to her
relatives, and a good example for all who know her? Yes, but I assure you, some
will say, that women who associate with philosophers are bound to be arrogant
for the most part and presumptuous, in that abandoning their own households and
turning to the company of men they practice speeches, talk like sophists, and
analyze syllogisms, when they ought to be sitting at home spinning. I should
not expect the women who study philosophy to shirk their appointed tasks for
mere talk any more than men, but I maintain that their discussions should be
conducted for the sake of their practical application.
For
as there is no merit in the science of medicine unless it conduces to the
healing of man's body, so if a philosopher has or teaches reason, it is of no
use if it does not contribute to the virtue of man's soul. Above all, we ought
to examine the doctrine which we think women who study philosophy ought to
follow; we ought to see if the study which presents modesty as the greatest
good can make them presumptuous, if the study which is a guide to the greatest
self-restraint accustoms them to live heedlessly, if what sets forth
intemperance as the greatest evil does not teach self-control, if what
represents the management of a household as a virtue does not impel them to
manage well their homes. Finally, the teachings of philosophy exhort the woman
to be content with her lot and to work with her own hands.
Discourse
4: Should daughters receive the same training as sons?
Once when the question arose as
to whether or not sons and daughters ought to be given the same education, he
remarked that trainers of horses and dogs make no distinction in the training
of the male and the female; for female dogs are taught to hunt just as the
males are, and one can see no difference in the training of mares, if they are
expected to do a horse's work, and the training of stallions. In the case of
man, however, it would seem to be felt necessary to employ some special and
exceptional training and education for males over females, as if it were not
essential that the same virtues should be present in both alike, in man and
woman, or as if it were possible to arrive at the same virtues, not through the
same, but through different instruction.
And yet that there is not one set
of virtues for a man and another for a woman is easy to perceive. In the first
place, a man must have understanding and so must a woman, or what pray would be
the use of a foolish man or woman? Then it is essential for one no less than
the other to live justly, since the man who is not just would not be a good
citizen, and the woman would not manage her household well if she did not do it
justly; but if she is unjust she will wrong her husband like Eriphyle in the
story. Again, it is recognized as right for a woman in wedlock to be
chaste, and so is it likewise for a man; the law, at all events, decrees the
same punishment for committing adultery as for being taken in adultery.
Gluttony, drunkenness, and other related vices, which are vices of excess and
bring disgrace upon those guilty of them, show that self-control is most
necessary for every human being, male and female alike; for the only way of
escape from wantonness is through self-control; there is no other.
Perhaps someone may say that
courage is a virtue appropriate to men only. That is not so. For a woman too of
the right sort must have courage and be wholly free of cowardice, so that she
will neither be swayed by hardships nor by fear; otherwise, how will she be
said to have self-control, if by threat or force she can be constrained to
yield to shame? Nay more, it is necessary for women to be able to repel attack,
unless indeed they are willing to appear more cowardly than hens and other
female birds which fight with creatures much larger than themselves to defend
their young. How then should women not need courage? That women have some
prowess in arms the race of the Amazons demonstrated when they defeated many
tribes in war. If, therefore, something of this courage is lacking in other
women, it is due to lack of use and practice rather than because they were not
endowed with it.
If then men and women are born
with the same virtues, the same type of training and education must, of
necessity, befit both men and women. For with every animal and plant
whatsoever, proper care must be bestowed upon it to produce the excellence
appropriate to it. Is it not true that, if it were necessary under like
circumstances for a man and a woman to be able to play the flute, and if,
furthermore, both had to do so in order to earn a living, we should give them
both exactly the same thorough training in flute playing; and similarly if it
were necessary for either to play the harp? Well then, if it is necessary for
both to be proficient in the virtue which is appropriate to a human being, that
is for both to be able to have understanding, and self-control, and courage,
and justice, the one no less than the other, shall we not teach them both alike
the art by which a human being becomes good? Yes, certainly we must do that and
nothing else.
"Come now," I suppose
someone will say, "do you expect that men should learn spinning the same
as women, and that women should take part in gymnastic exercises the same as
men? " No, that I should not demand. But I do say that, since in the human
race man's constitution is stronger and woman's weaker, tasks should be
assigned which are suited to the nature of each; that is the heavier tasks
should be given to the stronger and lighter ones to the weaker. Thus spinning
and indoor work would be more fitting for women than for men, while gymnastics
and outdoor work would be more suitable for men. Occasionally, however, some
men might more fittingly handle certain of the lighter tasks and what is
generally considered women's work, and again, women might do heavier tasks
which seem more appropriate for men whenever conditions of strength, need, or
circumstance warranted.
For all human tasks, I am inclined
to believe, are a common obligation and are common for men and women, and none
is necessarily appointed for either one exclusively, but some pursuits are more
suited to the nature of one, some to the other, and for this reason some are
called men's work and some women's. But whatever things have reference to
virtue, these one would properly say are equally appropriate to the nature of
both, inasmuch as we agree that virtues are in no respect more fitting for the
one than the other.
Hence I hold it reasonable that
the things which have reference to virtue ought to be taught to male and female
alike; and furthermore that straight from infancy they ought to be taught that
this is right and that is wrong, and that it is the same for both alike; that this
is helpful, that is harmful, that one must do this, one must not do that. From
this training understanding is developed in those who learn, boys and girls
alike, with no difference. Then they must be inspired with a feeling of shame
toward all that is base. When these two qualities have been created within
them, man and woman are of necessity self-controlled. And most of all the child
who is trained properly, whether boy or girl, must be accustomed to endure
hardship, not to fear death, not to be disheartened in the face of any
misfortune; he must in short be accustomed to every situation which calls for
courage. Now courage, it was demonstrated above, should be present in women
too. Furthermore to shun selfishness and to have high regard for fairness and,
being a human being, to wish to help and to be unwilling to harm one's fellow
men is the noblest lesson, and it makes those who learn it just.
What reason is there why it is
more appropriate for a man to learn this? Certainly if it is fitting for women
to be just, it is necessary for both to learn the same lessons which are in the
highest degree appropriate to the character of each and supremely important. If
it happens that a man knows a little something about a certain skill and a
woman not, or again she knows something and he not, that suggests no difference
in the education of either. But about the all-important things let not one know
and the other not, but let them know the same things. If you ask me what
doctrine produces such an education, I shall reply that as without philosophy
no man would be properly educated, so no woman would be. I do not mean that
women should possess technical skill and acuteness in argument. It would be
quite superfluous, since they will use philosophy for the ends of their life as
women. Even in men I do not prize this accomplishment too highly. I only urge
that they should acquire from philosophy goodness in conduct and nobility of
character. Now in very truth philosophy is training in nobility of character
and nothing else.
Discourse
5: Which is more effective, theory or practice?
At another time the problem arose
among us whether for the acquisition of virtue practice or theory is more
effective, understanding that theory teaches what is right conduct, while
practice represents the habit of those accustomed to act in accordance with
such theory. To Musonius, practice seemed to be more effective, and speaking in
support of his opinion, he asked one of those present the following question:
"Suppose that there are two physicians, one able to discourse very
brilliantly about the art of medicine but having no experience in taking care
of the sick, and the other quite incapable of speaking but experienced in
treating his patients according to correct medical theory. Which one," he
asked, "would you choose to attend you if you were ill?" He replied
that he would choose the doctor who had experience in healing.
Musonius then continued,
"Well, then, let us take another example of two men. One has sailed a
great deal and served as pilot on many boats, the other one has sailed very
little and has never acted as pilot. If the one who had never piloted a ship
should speak most ably on the methods of navigation, and the other very poorly
and ineffectively, which one would you employ as pilot if you were going on a
voyage?" The man said he would take the experienced pilot.
Again Musonius said, "Take
the case of two musicians. One knows the theory of music and discourses on it
most convincingly but is unable to sing or play the harp or the lyre; the other
is inferior in theory but is proficient in playing the harp and the lyre and in
singing as well. To which one would you give a position as musician, or which
one would you like to have as teacher for a child who does not know
music?" The man answered that he would choose the one who was skilled in
practice.
"Well, then," said
Musonius, "that being the case, in the matter of temperance and
self-control, is it not much better to be self-controlled and temperate in all
one's actions than to be able to say what one ought to do?" Here too the
young man agreed that it is of less significance and importance to speak well
about self-control than to practice self-control. Thereupon Musonius, drawing
together what had been said, asked, "How, now, in view of these
conclusions, could knowledge of the theory of anything be better than becoming
accustomed to act according to the principles of the theory, if we understand
that application enables one to act, but theory makes one capable of speaking
about it? Theory that teaches how one should act is related to application, and
comes first, since it is not possible to do anything really well unless its
practical execution is in harmony with theory. In effectiveness, however,
practice takes precedence over theory as being more influential in leading men
to action."
Discourse
6: On training
He was always earnestly urging
those who were associated with him to make practical application of his
teachings, using some such arguments as the following. Virtue, he said, is not
simply theoretical knowledge, but it is practical application as well, just
like the arts of medicine and music. Therefore, as the physician and the
musician not only must master the theoretical side of their respective arts but
must also train themselves to act according to their principles, so a man who
wishes to become good not only must be thoroughly familiar with the precepts
which are conducive to virtue but must also be earnest and zealous in applying
these principles.
How, indeed, could a person
immediately become temperate if he only knew that one must not be overcome by
pleasures, but was quite unpracticed in withstanding pleasures? How could one
become just when he had learned that one must love fairness but had never
exercised himself in avoidance of selfishness and greed? How could we acquire
courage if we had merely learned that the things that seem dreadful to the
average person are not to be feared, but had no experience in showing courage
in the face of such things? How could we become prudent if we had come to
recognize what things are truly good and what evil, but had never had practice
in despising things that only seem good?
Therefore upon the learning of
the lessons appropriate to each and every excellence, practical training must
follow invariably, if indeed from the lessons we have learned we hope to derive
any benefit. And moreover such practical exercise is the more important for the
student of philosophy than for the student of medicine or any similar art, the
more philosophy claims to be a greater and more difficult discipline than any
other study. The reason for this is that men who enter the other
professions have not had their souls corrupted beforehand and have not learned
the opposite of what they are going to be taught, but the ones who start out to
study philosophy have been born and reared in an environment filled with
corruption and evil, and therefore turn to virtue in such a state that they
need a longer and more thorough training.
How, then, and in what manner
should they receive such training? Since it so happens that the human being is
not soul alone, nor body alone, but a kind of synthesis of the two, the person
in training must take care of both, the better part, the soul, more zealously;
as is fitting, but also of the other, if he shall not be found lacking in any
part that constitutes man. For obviously the philosopher's body should be well
prepared for physical activity, because often the virtues make use of this as a
necessary instrument for the affairs of life. Now there are two kinds of
training, one which is appropriate for the soul alone, and the other which is
common to both soul and body. We use the training common to both when we
discipline ourselves to cold, heat, thirst, hunger, meager rations,
hard beds, avoidance of pleasures, and patience under suffering.
For by these things and others
like them the body is strengthened and becomes capable of enduring hardship,
sturdy and ready for any task; the soul too is strengthened since it is trained
for courage by patience under hardship and for self-control by abstinence from
pleasures. Training which is peculiar to the soul consists first of all in
seeing that the proofs pertaining to apparent goods as not being real goods are
always ready at hand and likewise those pertaining to apparent evils as not
being real evils, and in learning to recognize the things which are truly good
and in becoming accustomed to distinguish them from what are not truly good. In
the next place it consists of practice in not avoiding any of the things which
only seem evil, and in not pursuing any of the things which only seem good; in
shunning by every means those which are truly evil and in pursuing by every
means those which are truly good.
In summary, then, I have tried to
tell what the nature of each type of training is. I shall not, however,
endeavor to discuss how the training should be carried out in detail, by
analyzing and distinguishing what is appropriate for the soul and the body in
common and what is appropriate for the soul alone, but by presenting without
fixed order what is proper for each. It is true that all of us who have participated
in philosophic discussion have heard and apprehended that neither pain nor
death nor poverty nor anything else that is free from wrong is an evil, and
again that wealth, life, pleasure, or anything else that does not partake of
virtue is not a good. And yet, in spite of understanding this, because of the
depravity which has become implanted in us straight from childhood and because
of evil habits engendered by this depravity, when hardship comes we think an
evil has come upon us, and when pleasure comes our way we think that a good has
befallen us; we dread death as the most extreme misfortune; we cling to life as
the greatest blessing, and when we give away money we grieve as if we were
injured, but upon receiving it we rejoice as if a benefit had been conferred.
Similarly with the majority of
other things, we do not meet circumstances in accordance with right principles,
but rather we follow wretched habit. Since, then, I repeat, all this is the
case, the person who is in training must strive to habituate himself not to
love pleasure, not to avoid hardship, not to be infatuated with living, not to
fear death, and in the case of goods or money not to place receiving above
giving.
Discourse
7: That one should disdain hardships.
In order to support more easily
and more cheerfully those hardships that we may expect to suffer in behalf of
virtue and goodness, it is useful to recall what hardships people will endure
for unworthy ends. Thus for example consider what intemperate lovers undergo
for the sake of evil desires, and how much exertion others expend for the sake
of making profit, and how much suffering those who are pursuing fame endure,
and bear in mind that all of these people submit to all kinds of toil and
hardship voluntarily. Is it not then monstrous that they for no honorable
reward endure such things, while we for the sake of the ideal good—that is not
only the avoidance of evil such as wrecks our lives, but also the acquisition
of virtue, which we may call the provider of all goods—are not ready to bear
every hardship?
And yet would not anyone admit
how much better it is, in place of exerting oneself to win someone else's wife,
to exert oneself to discipline one's desires; in place of enduring hardships
for the sake of money, to train oneself to want little; instead of giving
oneself trouble about getting notoriety, to give oneself trouble how not to
thirst for notoriety; instead of trying to find a way to injure an envied
person, to inquire how not to envy anyone; and instead of slaving, as
sycophants do, to win false friends, to undergo suffering in order to possess
true friends?
Now, since, in general, toil and
hardship are a necessity for all men, both for those who seek the better ends
and for those who seek the worse, it is preposterous that those who are
pursuing the better are not much more eager in their efforts than those for
whom there is small hope of reward for all their pains. Yet when we see
acrobats face without concern their difficult tasks and risk their very lives
in performing them, turning somersaults over up-turned swords or walking ropes
set at a great height or flying through the air like birds, where one misstep
means death, all of which they do for a miserably small recompense, shall we
not be ready to endure hardship for the sake of complete happiness? For surely
there is no other end in becoming good than to become happy and to live happily
for the remainder of our lives.
One might reasonably reflect upon
characteristics even of certain animals which are very well calculated to shame
us into endurance of hardships. At all events, cocks and quails, although they
have no understanding of virtue as man has and know neither the good nor the
just and strive for none of these things, nevertheless fight against each other
and even when maimed stand up and endure until death so as not to submit the
one to the other.
How much more fitting, then, it
is that we stand firm and endure, when we know that we are suffering for some
good purpose, either to help our friends or to benefit our city, or to defend
our wives and children, or, best and most imperative, to become good and just
and self-controlled, a state which no man achieves without hardships. And so it
remains for me to say that the man who is unwilling to exert himself almost
always convicts himself as unworthy of good, since "we gain every good by
toil." These words and others like them he then spoke, exhorting and
urging his listeners to look upon hardship with disdain.
Discourse
8: That kings should also study
philosophy.
When one of the kings from Syria
once came to him (for at that time there were still kings in Syria, vassals of
the Romans), amongst many other things he had to say to the man were the
following words in particular. Do not imagine, he said, that it is more
appropriate for anyone to study philosophy than for you, nor for any other
reason than because you are a king. For the first duty of a king is to be able
to protect and benefit his people, and a protector and benefactor must know
what is good for a man and what is bad, what is helpful and what harmful, what
advantageous and what disadvantageous, inasmuch as it is plain that those who
ally themselves with evil come to harm, while those who cleave to good enjoy
protection, and those who are deemed worthy of help and advantage enjoy
benefits, while those who involve themselves in things disadvantageous and
harmful suffer punishment.
But to distinguish between good
and bad, advantageous and disadvantageous, helpful and harmful is the part of
none other than the philosopher, who constantly occupies himself with this very
question, how not to be ignorant of any of these things, and has made it his
art to understand what conduces to a man's happiness or unhappiness. Therefore
it appears that the king should study philosophy. 6Furthermore it is fitting for a king, or rather it is an
absolute necessity for him, to arbitrate justice as between subjects so that no
one may have more or less than his just deserts, but may receive honor or
punishment as he deserves.
But how would anyone who was not
just ever be able to manage this? And how would anyone ever be just if he did
not understand the nature of justice? Here again is a reason the king should
study philosophy, for without such study it would not be plain that he knew
justice and the just. For one cannot deny either that the one who has learned
it will understand justice better than the one who has not learned it, or that
all who have not studied philosophy are ignorant of its nature. The truth of
this statement appears from the fact that men disagree and contend with one
another about justice, some saying that it is here, others that it is there.
Yet about things of which men
have knowledge there is no difference of opinion, as for example about white
and black, or hot and cold, or soft and hard, but all think the same about them
and use the same words. In just the same way they would agree about justice if
they knew what it was, but in their very lack of agreement they reveal their
ignorance. Indeed I am inclined to think that you are not far from such
ignorance yourself, and you ought therefore more than anyone else to concern
yourself with this knowledge, the more disgraceful it is for a king than for a
private citizen to be ignorant about justice.
In the next place it is essential
for the king to exercise self-control over himself and demand self-control of
his subjects, to the end that with sober rule and seemly submission there shall
be no wantonness on the part of either. For the ruin of the ruler and the
citizen alike is wantonness. But how would anyone achieve self-control if he
did not make an effort to curb his desires, or how could one who was
undisciplined make others temperate? One can mention no study except philosophy
that develops self-control. Certainly it teaches one to be above pleasure and
greed, to admire thrift and to avoid extravagance; it trains one to have a
sense of shame, and to control one's tongue, and it produces discipline, order,
and courtesy, and in general what is fitting in action and in bearing. In an
ordinary man when these qualities are present they give him dignity and
self-command, but if they be present in a king they make him preeminently
godlike and worthy of reverence.
Now, since fearlessness and
intrepidity and boldness are the product of courage, how else would a man
acquire them than by having a firm conviction that death and hardships are not
evils? For these are the things, death and hardships, I repeat, which unbalance
and frighten men when they believe that they are evils; that they are not evils
philosophy is the only teacher. Consequently if kings ought to possess courage,
and they more than anyone else should possess it, they must set themselves to
the study of philosophy, since they cannot become courageous by any other
means.
It is also the prerogative of
kings (if they enjoy any whatever) to be invincible in reason and to be able to
prevail over disputants by their arguments, just as over their enemies by their
arms. Thus when kings are weak in this, it stands to reason that often they are
misled and forced to accept the false as the true, which is the price of folly
and dense ignorance. Now philosophy by its nature confers upon its devotees
perhaps more than anything else the ability to remain superior to others in
debate, to distinguish the false from the true, and to refute the one and to
confirm the other. Professional speakers, at any rate, whenever they enter into
the give and take of argument with philosophers one can see confused and
confounded and obliged to contradict themselves. And yet if such speakers,
whose business it is to practice debate, are caught because they are inferior
to the philosophers in argument, what is bound to happen to other men?
Therefore if it is the ambition of anyone who is a king to be powerful in
debate, he should study philosophy in order that he may not have to fear that
anyone will prevail over him in this, for a king should be completely fearless
and courageous and invincible.
In general it is of the greatest
importance for the good king to be faultless and perfect in word and action,
if, indeed, he is to be a "living law" as he seemed to the ancients,
effecting good government and harmony, suppressing lawlessness and dissension,
a true imitator of Zeus and, like him, father of his people. But how could
anyone be such a king if he were not endowed with a superior nature, given the
best possible education, and possessed of all the virtues which befit a man?
If, then, there is any other knowledge which guides man's nature to virtue and
teaches him to practice and associate with the good, it should be placed beside
philosophy and compared with it to see whether it or philosophy is better and
more capable of producing a good king. Then the man who wished to become a good
king would be wise to use the better one.
If, however, no other art
professes the teaching and transmission of virtue, though there are some which
are concerned solely with man's body and what is useful for it, while others
which touch the mind aim at everything else but making it self-controlled, yet
philosophy alone makes this its aim and occupies itself with this, how a man
may avoid evil and acquire virtue, if this I say is so, what else would be more
serviceable to a king who wished to be good than the study of philosophy? How
better or how otherwise could a man be a good ruler or live a good life than by
studying philosophy? For my part, I believe that the good king is straightway
and of necessity a philosopher, and the philosopher a kingly person.
Of these two propositions let us
examine the former: Is it possible for anyone to be a good king unless he is a
good man? No, it is not possible. But given a good man, would he not be
entitled to be called a philosopher? Most certainly, since philosophy is the
pursuit of ideal good. Therefore a good king is found to be forthwith and of
necessity a philosopher also. Now again that the philosopher is entirely kingly
you may understand from this. The attribute of a kingly person is obviously the
ability to rule peoples and cities well and to be worthy to govern men. Well,
then, who would be a more capable head of a city or more worthy to govern men
than the philosopher? For it behooves him (if he is truly a philosopher) to be
intelligent, disciplined, noble-minded, a good judge of what is just and of
what is seemly, efficient in putting his plans into effect, patient under
hardship. In addition to this, he should be courageous, fearless, resolute in
the face of things apparently disastrous, and besides beneficent, helpful, and
humane. Could anyone be found more fit or better able to govern than such a
man? No one. Even if he does not have many subjects obedient to him, he is not
for that reason less kingly, for it is enough to rule one's friends or one's
wife and children or, for that matter, only oneself.
For, indeed, a physician who
attends few patients is no less a physician than the one who attends many if,
to be sure, he has skill and experience in healing. In the same way the
musician who teaches only a few pupils is no less a musician than the one who
teaches many, provided he knows the art of music. Likewise the horseman who
trains only one or two horses is just as much a horseman as the one who trains
many if he is skilled in horsemanship. And so the title of kingly person belongs
to the one who has only one or two subjects just as well as to the one who has
many, only let him have the skill and ability to rule, so that he may deserve
the name of king. For this reason it seems to me that Socrates too called
philosophy the statesmanlike and royal discipline, because one who masters it immediately
becomes a statesman.
When Musonius said these things,
the king was glad at his words and told him that he was grateful for what he
said and added, "In return for this, ask of me whatever you wish for I
shall refuse you nothing." Then Musonius said, "The only favor I ask
of you is to remain faithful to this teaching, since you find it commendable,
for in this way and no other will you best please me and benefit
yourself."
Discourse
9: That exile is not an evil.
Hearing an exile lament because
he was living in banishment, Musonius consoled him in somewhat the following
way. Why, he asked, should anyone who was not devoid of understanding be
oppressed by exile? It does not in any way deprive us of water, earth, air, or
the sun and the other planets, or indeed, even of the society of men, for
everywhere and in every way there is opportunity for association with them.
What if we are kept from a certain part of the earth and from association with
certain men, what is so dreadful about that? Why, when we were at home, we did
not enjoy the whole earth, nor did we have contact with all men; but even now
in exile we may associate with our friends, that is to say the true ones and
those deserving of the name, for they would never betray or abandon us; but if
some prove to be sham and not true friends, we are better off separated from
them than being with them.
Tell me, is not the universe the
common fatherland of all men, as Socrates held? Well, then, you must not
consider it really being banished from your fatherland if you go from where you
were born and reared, but only being exiled from a certain city, that is if you
claim to be a reasonable person. For such a man does not value or despise any
place as the cause of his happiness or unhappiness, but he makes the whole
matter depend upon himself and considers himself a citizen of the city of God
which is made up of men and gods. Euripides speaks in harmony with this thought
when he says,
"As all the heavens are open
to the eagle's flight
So all the earth is for a noble man his fatherland."
So all the earth is for a noble man his fatherland."
Therefore, just as a man who was
living in his own country but in a different house from the one where he was
born would be thought silly and an object of laughter if he should weep and
wail because of this, so whoever considers it a misfortune because he is living
in another city and not the one where he happens to have been born would
rightly be considered foolish and stupid. Furthermore, how should exile be an
obstacle to the cultivation of the things that are one's own and to the
acquisition of virtue, when no one was ever hindered from the knowledge and
practice of what is needful because of exile? May it not even be true that
exile contributes to that end, since it furnishes men leisure and a greater
opportunity for learning the good and practicing it than formerly, in that they
are not forced by what only seems to be their fatherland into performing
political duties, and they are not annoyed by their kinsmen nor by men who only
seem to be their friends, who are skilful in fettering them and dragging them
away from the pursuit of better things?
In fact, there have been cases
where exile was an absolute blessing as it was to Diogenes, who by his exile
was transformed from an ordinary citizen into a philosopher, and instead of
sitting idly in Sinope, he busied himself in Greece, and in the pursuit of
virtue came to surpass the philosophers. To others who were in poor health as
the result of overindulgence and high living, exile has been a source of
strength because they were forced to live a more manly life. We even know of
some who were cured of chronic ailments in exile, as for instance, in our day
Spartiacus, the Lacedaemonian, who suffered long from a weak chest and for this
reason was often ill from high living, but when he stopped living a life of luxury,
he ceased to be ill. They say that others addicted to high living have got rid
of gout, although they were previously completely bed-ridden by the
disease—people whom exile compelled to become accustomed to living more simply
and by this very thing were brought back to health. Thus it appears that by
treating them better than they treat themselves, exile helps rather than
hinders health both of body and of spirit.
It is not true, moreover, that
exiles lack the very necessities of life. To be sure men who are idle and
unresourceful and unable to play the part of a man are generally in want and
without resources even when they are in their own country, but energetic and
hard working and intelligent men, no matter where they go, fare well and live
without want. We do not feel the lack of many things unless we wish to live
luxuriously:
"For what do mortals need
beside two things only,
The bread of Demeter and a drink of the Water-carrier,
Which are at hand and have been made to nourish us?"
The bread of Demeter and a drink of the Water-carrier,
Which are at hand and have been made to nourish us?"
Let me add that men who are worth
anything not only easily manage well so far as the necessities of life are
concerned, when they are in exile, but of ten acquire great fortunes. At any
rate Odysseus, in worse plight than any exile one may say, since he was alone
and naked and shipwrecked, when he arrived among strangers, the Phaeacians, was
nevertheless able to enrich himself abundantly. And when Themistocles was
banished from home, going to people who were not only not friendly, but actual
enemies and barbarians, the Persians, he received a gift of three cities, Myus,
Magnesia, and Lampsacus, as a source of livelihood. Dio of Syracuse too,
deprived by Dionysius the tyrant of all his possessions, when he was banished
from his country waxed so rich in exile that he raised a mercenary army, went
with it to Sicily, and freed the island of the tyrant. Who, then, if he were in
his right mind, looking at these cases would still maintain that banishment is
the cause of want for all exiles?
Furthermore, it is not at all
necessary for exiles to suffer illrepute because of their banishment, since
everyone knows that many trials are badly judged and many people are unjustly
banished from their country, and that in the past there have been cases of good
men who have been exiled by their countrymen, as for example from Athens
Aristides the Just and from Ephesus Hermodorus, because of whose banishment
Heraclitus bade the Ephesians, every grown man of them, go hang themselves. In
fact some exiles even became very famous, as Diogenes of Sinope and Clearchus,
the Lacedaemonian, who with Cyrus marched against Artaxerxes, not to mention
more. How, pray, could this condition in which some people have become more
renowned than before be responsible for ill-repute?
But, you insist, Euripides says
that exiles lose their personal liberty when they are deprived of their freedom
of speech. For he represents Jocasta asking Polynices her son what misfortunes
an exile has to bear. He answers,
"One greatest of all, that
he has not freedom of speech."
She replies,
"You name the plight of a
slave, not to be able to say what one thinks."
But I should say in rejoinder:
"You are right, Euripides, when you say that it is the condition of a
slave not to say what one thinks when one ought to speak, for it is not always,
nor everywhere, nor before everyone that we should say what we think. But that
one point, it seems to me, is not well-taken, that exiles do not have freedom
of speech, if to you freedom of speech means not suppressing whatever one
chances to think. For it is not as exiles that men fear to say what they think,
but as men afraid lest from speaking pain or death or punishment or some such
other thing shall befall them. Fear is the cause of this, not exile. For to many
people, nay to most, even though dwelling safely in their native city, fear of
what seem to them dire consequences of free speech is present. However, the
courageous man, in exile no less than at home, is dauntless in the face of all
such fears; for that reason also he has the courage to say what he thinks
equally at home or in exile." Such are the things one might reply to
Euripides.
But tell me, my friend, when
Diogenes was in exile at Athens, or when he was sold by pirates and came to
Corinth, did anyone, Athenian or Corinthian, ever exhibit greater freedom of
speech than he? And again, were any of his contemporaries freer than Diogenes?
Why, even Xeniades, who bought him, he ruled as a master rules a slave. But why
should I employ examples of long ago? Are you not aware that I am an exile?
Well, then, have I been deprived of freedom of speech? Have I been bereft of
the privilege of saying what I think? Have you or anyone else ever seen me
cringing before anyone just because I am an exile, or thinking that my lot is
worse now than formerly? No, I'll wager that you would say that you have never
seen me complaining or disheartened because of my banishment, for if I have
been deprived of my country, I have not been deprived of my ability to endure
exile.
The reflections which I employ
for my own benefit so as not to be irked by exile, I should like to repeat to
you. It seems to me that exile does not strip a man entirely, not even of the
things which the average man calls goods, as I have just shown. But if he is
deprived of some or all of them, he is still not deprived of the things which
are truly goods. Certainly the exile is not prevented from possessing courage
and justice simply because he is banished, nor self-control, nor understanding,
nor any of the other virtues which when present serve to bring honor and
benefit to a man and show him to be praiseworthy and of good repute, but when
absent, serve to cause him harm and dishonor and show him to be wicked and of
ill-repute. Since this is true, if you are that good man and have his virtues,
exile will not harm or degrade you, because the virtues are present in you
which are most able to help and to sustain you. But if you are bad, it is the
evil that harms you and not exile; and the misery you feel in exile is the
product of evil, not of exile. It is from this you must hasten to secure
release rather than from exile.
These things I used to repeat to
myself and I say them to you now. If you are wise, you will not consider that
exile is a thing to be dreaded, since others bear it easily, but evil. It makes
wretched every man in whom it is present. And neither of the two necessary
alternatives is a just cause for repining. For either you were banished justly
or unjustly. If justly, how can it be right or fitting to feel aggrieved at
just punishment? If unjustly, the evil involved is not ours, but falls upon
those who banished us,—if in fact you agree that doing a wrong (as they have
done) is the most hateful thing in the world, while suffering a wrong (as has
been our fate) in the eyes of the gods and of just men is held a ground not for
hate but for help.
Discourse
10: Will the philosopher prosecute anyone
for personal injury?
He said that he himself would
never prosecute anyone for personal injury nor recommend it to anyone else who
claimed to be a philosopher. For actually none of the things which people fancy
they suffer as personal injuries are an injury or a disgrace to those who
experience them, such as being reviled or struck or spit upon. Of these the
hardest to bear are blows. That there is nothing shameful or insulting about
them however is clear from the fact that Lacedaemonian boys are whipped
publicly, and they exult in it. If, then, the philosopher cannot despise blows
and insults, when he ought obviously to despise even death, what good would he
be? Well and good, you say, but the spirit of the man who does such things is
monstrous, executing his purpose to insult by jeering and a slap in the face,
or by abusive language or by some other such action.
You know, of course, that
Demosthenes holds that people can insult even by a glance and that such things
are intolerable and that men in one way or another are driven mad by them. So
it is that men who do not know what is really good and what is shameful, having
regard only for common opinion, think they are insulted if someone gives them a
malignant glance or laughs or strikes them or reviles them. But the wise and sensible
man, such as the philosopher ought to be, is not disturbed by any of these
things. He does not think that disgrace lies in enduring them, but rather in
doing them. For what does the man who submits to insult do that is wrong? It is
the doer of wrong who forthwith puts himself to shame, while the sufferer, who
does nothing but submit, has no reason whatever to feel shame or disgrace.
Therefore the sensible man would not go to law nor bring indictments, since he
would not even consider that he had been insulted.
Besides, to be annoyed or racked
about such things would be petty. Rather he will easily and
silently bear what has happened, since this befits one whose purpose is to be
noble-minded. Socrates, you remember, was clearly of this frame of mind who,
though publicly ridiculed by Aristophanes, was not angry, but when he happened
to meet him, asked him if he would like to use him for some other role. Can't
you imagine how quickly he would have flared up in anger at some petty abuse,
this man who showed no concern even when abused in the public theatre! And the
good Phocion, when his wife had been reviled by someone, so far from
prosecuting the fellow when he came in fear and asked forgiveness of Phocion,
saying that he did not know it was his wife whom he had offended, merely
replied, "But my wife has suffered nothing at your hands, though perhaps
some other woman has, so you have no need to apologize to me."
And I might mention many other
men who have experienced insult, some wronged by word, others by violence and
bodily harm, who do not appear to have defended their rights against their
assailants nor to have proceeded against them in any other way, but very meekly
bore their wrong. And in this they were quite right. For to scheme how to bite
back the biter and to return evil for evil is the act not of a human being but
of a wild beast, which is incapable of reasoning that the majority of wrongs
are done to men through ignorance and misunderstanding, from which man will
cease as soon as he has been taught.
But to accept injury not in a
spirit of savage resentment and to show ourselves not implacable toward those
who wrong us, but rather to be a source of good hope to them is characteristic
of a benevolent and civilized way of life. How much better a figure does the
philosopher make so conducting himself as to deem worthy of forgiveness anyone
who wrongs him, than to behave as if ready to defend himself with legal
procedure and indictments, while in reality he is behaving in an unseemly
manner and acting quite contrary to his own teaching. To be sure he says that a
good man can never be wronged by a bad man; but nevertheless he draws up an
indictment as having been wronged by bad men, while claiming to be accounted a
good man himself
Discourse
11: What means of livelihood are
appropriate for a philosopher?
There is also another means of
livelihood in no way inferior to this, indeed, perhaps it would not be
unreasonable to consider it even better for a strong person, namely earning a
living from the soil, whether one owns his own land or not. For many who are
farming land owned either by the state or by other private individuals are yet
able to support not only themselves but their wives and children as well; and
some in fact attain even a high degree of prosperity by hard work with their
own hands. For the earth repays most justly and well those who cultivate her,
returning many times as much as she received and furnishing an abundance of all
the necessities of life to anyone who is willing to work; and this she does
without violating one's dignity or self-respect. You may be sure that no one
who was not demoralized by soft living would say that the labor of the farmer
was degrading or unfit for a good man. How, I ask, could planting trees or plowing
or pruning vines not be honorable? Are not sowing seed and harvesting and
threshing all occupations for free men and befitting good men? Even keeping
flocks, as it did not disgrace Hesiod nor prevent him from being a poet and
beloved of the gods, so it would not prevent anyone else. In fact to me this is
the most agreeable of all aspects of farming, because it gives the spirit more
leisure to reflect on and to investigate the things that have to do with our
own development and training. For while, to be sure, the occupations which
strain and tire the whole body compel the mind to share in concentration upon
them, or at all events, upon the body, yet the occupations which require not
too much physical exertion do not hinder the mind from reflecting on some of
the higher things and by such reasoning from increasing its own wisdom—a goal
toward which every philosopher earnestly strives. For these reasons I recommend
particularly the life of a shepherd. But, speaking generally, if one devotes
himself to the life of philosophy and tills the land at the same time, I should
not compare any other way of life to his nor prefer any other means
of livelihood. For is it not "living more in accord with nature"
to draw one's sustenance directly from the earth, which is the nurse and mother
of us all, rather than from some other source? Is it not more like the life of
a man to live in the country than to sit idly in the city, like the sophists?
Who will say that it is not more healthy to live out of doors than to shun the
open air and the heat of the sun? Tell me, do you think it is more fitting for
a free man by his own labor to procure for himself the necessities of life or
to receive them from others? But surely it is plain that not to require
another's help for one's need is more dignified than asking for it.3How very good and happy and
blessed of heaven is the life of the soil, when along with it the goods of the
spirit are not neglected, the example of Myson of Chen may show, whom the god
called "wise," and Aglaus of Psophis whom he hailed as
"happy," both of whom lived on the land and tilled the soil with
their own hands, and held aloof from the life of the town. Is
not their example worthy of emulation and an incentive to follow in their
footsteps and to embrace the life of husbandry with a zeal like theirs?
What, perhaps someone may say, is
it not preposterous for an educated man who is able to influence the young to
the study of philosophy to work the land and to do manual labor just like a
peasant? Yes, that would be really too bad if working the land prevented him
from the pursuit of philosophy or from helping others to its attainment. But
since that is not so, pupils would seem to me rather benefited by not meeting
with their teacher in the city nor listening to his formal lectures and
discussions, but by seeing him at work in the fields, demonstrating by his own
labor the lessons which philosophy inculcates—that one should endure hardships,
and suffer the pains of labor with his own body, rather than depend upon
another for sustenance. What is there to prevent a student while he is working
from listening to a teacher speaking about self-control or justice or
endurance? For those who teach philosophy well do not need many words, nor is
there any need that pupils should try to master all this current mass of
precepts on which we see our sophists pride themselves; they are enough to
consume a whole life-time. But the most necessary and useful things it is not
impossible for men to learn in addition to their farm work, especially if they
are not kept at work constantly but have periods of rest. Now I know perfectly
well that few will wish to learn in this way, yet it would be better if the
majority of young men who say they are studying philosophy did not go near a philosopher,
I mean those spoiled and effeminate fellows by whose presence the good name of
philosophy is stained. For of the true lovers of philosophy, there is not one
who would not be willing to live with a good man in the country, even if the
place be very rude, since he would be bound to profit greatly from this sojourn
by living with his teacher night and day, by being away from the evils of the
city, which are an obstacle to the study of philosophy, and from the fact that
his conduct, whether good or bad, cannot escape observation—a great advantage
to those who are learning. Also to eat and drink and sleep under the
supervision of a good man is a great benefit. All these things, which would
come about inevitably from living together in the country, Theognis praised in
the verses where he says,
"Drink and eat and sit down
with good men, and win the approval of those whose influence and power is
great."
That he means that none others
but good men have great power for the good of men, if one eats and drinks and
sits down with them, he has shown in the following:
"From good men you will
learn good, but if you mingle with the bad you will destroy even such soul as
you had."
Therefore let no one say that
farming is an obstacle to learning or to teaching the lessons of duty, for it
can scarcely be such an obstacle, if we realize that under these conditions the
pupil lives in closest association with the teacher, and the teacher has the
pupil constantly at hand. And where this is the case, earning a living by
farming seems to be most suitable for a philosopher.
Discourse
12: On sexual indulgence.
Not
the least significant part of the life of luxury and self-indulgence lies also
in sexual excess; for example those who lead such a life crave a variety of
loves not only lawful but unlawful ones as well, not women alone but also men;
sometimes they pursue one love and sometimes another, and not being satisfied
with those which are available, pursue those which are rare and inaccessible,
and invent shameful intimacies, all of which constitute a grave indictment of
manhood. Men who are not wantons or immoral are bound to consider sexual
intercourse justified only when it occurs in marriage and is indulged in for
the purpose of begetting children, since that is lawful, but unjust and
unlawful when it is mere pleasure-seeking, even in marriage. But of all sexual
relations those involving adultery are most unlawful, and no more tolerable are
those of men with men, because it is a monstrous thing and contrary to nature.
But, furthermore, leaving out of consideration adultery, all intercourse with
women that is without lawful character is shameful and is practiced from lack
of self-restraint. So no one with any self-control would think of having
relations with a courtesan or a free woman apart from marriage, no, nor even
with his own maidservant. The fact that those relationships are not lawful or
seemly makes them a disgrace and a reproach to those seeking them; whence it is
that no one dares to do any of these things openly, not even if he has all but
lost the ability to blush, and those who are not completely degenerate dare to
do these things only in hiding and in secret. And yet to attempt to cover up
what one is doing is equivalent to a confession of guilt. "That's all very
well," you say, "but unlike the adulterer who wrongs the husband of the
woman he corrupts, the man who has relations with a courtesan or a woman who
has no husband wrongs no one for he does not destroy anyone's hope of
children." I continue to maintain that everyone who sins and does wrong,
even if it affects none of the people about him, yet immediately reveals
himself as a worse and a less honorable person; for the wrong-doer by the very
fact of doing wrong is worse and less honorable. Not to mention the injustice
of the thing, there must be sheer wantonness in anyone yielding to the temptation
of shameful pleasure and like swine rejoicing in his own vileness.1In this category belongs
the man who has relations with his own slave-maid, a thing which some people
consider quite without blame, since every master is held to have it in his
power to use his slave as he wishes. In reply to this I have just one thing to
say: if it seems neither shameful nor out of place for a master to have
relations with his own slave, particularly if she happens to be unmarried, let
him consider how he would like it if his wife had relations with a male slave.
Would it not seem completely intolerable not only if the woman who had a lawful
husband had relations with a slave, but even if a woman without a husband
should have? And yet surely one will not expect men to be less moral than
women, nor less capable of disciplining their desires, thereby revealing the
stronger in judgment inferior to the weaker, the rulers to the ruled. In fact,
it behooves men to be much better if they expect to be superior to women, for surely
if they appear to be less self-controlled they will also be baser characters.
What need is there to say that it is an act of licentiousness and nothing less
for a master to have relations with a slave? Everyone knows that.
That
the primary end of marriage is community of life with a view to the procreation
of children: The husband and wife, he used to say, should come together for the
purpose of making a life in common and of procreating children, and furthermore
of regarding all things in common between them, and nothing peculiar or private
to one or the other, not even their own bodies. The birth of a human being
which results from such a union is to be sure something marvelous, but it is
not yet enough for the relation of husband and wife, inasmuch as quite apart
from marriage it could result from any other sexual union, just as in the case
of animals. But in marriage there must be above all else perfect companionship
and mutual love of husband and wife, both in health and in sickness and under
all conditions, since it was with desire for this as well as for having
children that both entered upon marriage. Where, then, this love for each other
is perfect and the two share it completely, each striving to outdo the other in
devotion, the marriage is ideal and worthy of envy, for such a union is
beautiful. But where each looks only to his own interests and neglects the
other, or, what is worse, when one is so minded and lives in the same house but
fixes his attention elsewhere and is not willing to pull together with his
yoke-mate nor to agree, then the union is doomed to disaster and though they
live together, yet their common interests fare badly; eventually they separate
entirely or they remain together and suffer what is worse than loneliness.
Therefore
those who contemplate marriage ought to have regard neither for family, whether
either one is of highborn parents, nor for wealth, whether on either side there
are great possessions, nor for physical traits, whether one or the other has
beauty. For neither wealth nor beauty nor high birth is effective in promoting
partnership of interest or sympathy, nor again are they significant for
producing children. But as for the body it is enough for marriage that it be
healthy, of normal appearance, and capable of hard work, such as would be less
exposed to the snares of tempters, better adapted to perform physical labor,
and not wanting in strength to beget or to bear children. With respect to
character or soul one should expect that it be habituated to self-control and
justice, and in a word, naturally disposed to virtue. These qualities should be
present in both man and wife. For without sympathy of mind and character between
husband and wife, what marriage can be good, what partnership advantageous? How
could two human beings who are base have sympathy of spirit one with the other?
Or how could one that is good be in harmony with one that is bad? No more than
a crooked piece of wood could be fitted to a straight one, or two crooked ones
be put together. For the crooked one will not fit another crooked one, and much
less the opposite, a crooked with a straight one. So a wicked man is not
friendly to a wicked one, nor does he agree with him, and much less with a good
man.
Discourse
14: Is marriage a handicap to the pursuit
of philosophy?
Again when someone said that
marriage and living with a wife seemed to him a handicap to the pursuit of
philosophy, Musonius said that it was no handicap to Pythagoras, nor to
Socrates, nor to Crates, each of whom lived with a wife, and one could not
mention better philosophers than these. Crates, although homeless and
completely without property or possessions, was nevertheless married; furthermore,
not having a shelter of his own, he spent his days and nights in the public
porticoes of Athens together with his wife. How, then, can we, who have a home
to start with and some of us even have servants to work for us, venture to say
that marriage is a handicap for philosophy? Now the philosopher is indeed the
teacher and leader of men in all the things that are appropriate for men
according to nature, and marriage, if anything, is manifestly in accord with
nature. For, to what other purpose did the creator of mankind first divide our
human race into two sexes, male and female, then implant in each a strong
desire for association and union with the other, instilling in both a powerful
longing each for the other, the male for the female and the female for the
male? Is it not then plain that he wished the two to be united and live
together, and by their joint efforts to devise a way of life in common, and to
produce and rear children together, so that the race might never die? Tell me,
then, is it fitting for each man to act for himself alone or to act in the
interest of his neighbor also, not only that there may be homes in the city but
also that the city may not be deserted and that the common good may best be
served? If you say that each one should look out for his own interests alone,
you represent man as no different from a wolf or any other of the wildest
beasts which are born to live by violence and plunder, sparing nothing from
which they may gain some advantage, having no part in a life in common with
others, no part in cooperation with others, no share of any notion of justice.
If you will agree that man's nature most closely resembles the bee which cannot
live alone, for it dies when left alone, but bends its energies to the one
common task of his fellows and toils and works together with his neighbors; if
this is so, and in addition you recognize that for man evil consists in
injustice and cruelty and indifference to a neighbor's trouble, while virtue is
brotherly love and goodness and justice and beneficence and concern for the
welfare of one's neighbor—with such ideas, I say, it would be each man's duty
to take thought for his own city, and to make of his home a rampart for its
protection. But the first step toward making his home such a rampart is
marriage. Thus whoever destroys human marriage destroys the home, the city, and
the whole human race. For it would not last if there were no procreation of
children and there would be no just and lawful procreation of children without
marriage. That the home or the city does not depend upon women alone or upon
men alone, but upon their union with each other is evident. One could find no other
association more necessary nor more pleasant than that of men and women. For
what man is so devoted to his friend as a loving wife is to her husband? What
brother to a brother? What son to his parents? Who is so longed for when absent
as a husband by his wife, or a wife by her husband? Whose presence would do
more to lighten grief or increase joy or remedy misfortune? To whom is
everything judged to be common, body, soul, and possessions, except man and
wife? For these reasons all men consider the love of man and wife to be the
highest form of love; and no reasonable mother or father would expect to
entertain a deeper love for his own child than for the one joined to him in
marriage. Indeed how much the love of a wife for her husband surpasses the love
of parents for their children is clearly illustrated by the familiar story of
how Admetus, receiving from the gods the privilege of living twice the time
allotted to him if he could get someone else to die in his place, found his
parents unwilling to die for him although they were old, but his wedded wife
Alcestis, though still very young, readily accepted death ill her husband's
place.
How great and worthy an estate is
marriage is plain from this also, that gods watch over it, great gods, too, in
the estimation of men; first Hera (and for this reason we address her as the
patroness of wedlock) , then Eros, then Aphrodite, for we assume that all of
these perform the function of bringing together man and woman for the
procreation of children. Where, indeed, does Eros more properly belong than in
the lawful union of man and wife? Where Hera? Where Aphrodite? When would one
more appropriately pray to these divinities than when entering into marriage?
What should we more properly call the work of Aphrodite than the
joining of wife and husband? Why, then, should anyone say that such great
divinities watch over and guard marriage and the procreation of children,
unless these things are the proper concern of man?
Why should one say that they are
the proper concern of man but not the concern of the philosopher? Can it be
because the philosopher is worse than other men? Certainly he
ought not to be worse, but better and more just and more truly good. Or could
one say that the man who does not take an interest in his city is not worse and
more unjust than the man who does, the man who looks out only for his own
interests is not worse than the one who looks out for the common good? Or can
it be that the man who chooses the single life is more patriotic, more a friend
and partner of his fellow-man, than the man who maintains a home and rears
children and contributes to the growth of his city, which is exactly what a
married man does? It is clear, therefore, that it is fitting for a philosopher
to concern himself with marriage and having children. And if this is fitting,
how, my young friend, could that argument of yours that marriage is a handicap
for a philosopher ever be sound? For manifestly the study of philosophy is
nothing else than to search out by reason what is right and proper and by deeds
to put it into practice. Such, then, were the words he spoke at that time.
Discourse
15: Should every child that is born be
raised?
Is it not true that the
lawgivers, whose special function it was by careful search to discern what is
good for the state and what is bad, what promotes and what is detrimental to
the common good, all considered the increase of the homes of the citizens the
most fortunate thing for the cities and the decrease of them the most shameful
thing? And when the citizens had few or no children did they not regard it as a
loss, but when they had children, yes, plenty of them, did they not regard it
as a gain? So it was for this reason that they forbade women to suffer
abortions and imposed a penalty upon those who disobeyed; for this reason they
discouraged them from choosing childlessness and avoiding parenthood, and for
this reason they gave to both husband and wife a reward for large families, and
set a penalty upon childlessness. How, then, can we avoid doing wrong and
breaking the law if we do the opposite of the wish of the lawgivers, godlike
men and dear to the gods, whom it is considered good and advantageous to
follow? And certainly we do the opposite if we avoid having many children. How
can we help committing a sin against the gods of our fathers and against Zeus,
guardian of the race, if we do this? For just as the man who is unjust to
strangers sins against Zeus, god of hospitality, and one who is unjust to
friends sins against Zeus, god of friendship, so whoever is unjust to his own
family sins against the gods of his fathers and against Zeus, guardian of the
family, from whom wrongs done to the family are not hidden, and surely one who
sins against the gods is impious. And that raising many children is an
honorable and profitable thing one may gather from the fact that a man who has
many children is honored in the city, that he has the respect of his neighbors,
that he has more influence than his equals if they are not equally blest with
children. I need not argue that a man with many friends is more powerful than
one who has no friends, and so a man who has many children is more powerful
than one without any or with only a few children, or rather much more so, since
a son is closer than a friend. One may remark what a fine sight it is to see a
man or woman surrounded by their children. Surely one could not witness a
procession arrayed in honor of the gods so beautiful nor a choral dance
performed in order at a religious celebration so well worth seeing as a chorus
of children forming a guard of honor for their father or mother in the city of
their birth, leading their parents by the hand or dutifully caring for them in
some other way. What is more beautiful than this sight? What is more enviable
than these parents, especially if they are good people? For whom would one more
gladly join in praying for blessings from the gods, or whom would one be more
willing to assist in need? Very true, you say, but I am a poor man and quite
without means, and if I have many children, from what source should I find food
for them all? But pray, whence do the little birds, which are much poorer than
you, feed their young, the swallows and nightingales and larks and blackbirds?
Homer speaks of them in these words:
"Even as a bird carries to
her unfledged young whatever morsels she happens to come upon, though she fares
badly herself—"
Do these creatures surpass man in
intelligence? You certainly would not say that. In strength and endurance,
then? No, still less in that respect. Well, then, do they put away food and
store it up? Not at all, and yet they rear their young and find sustenance for
all that are born to them. The plea of poverty, therefore, is unjustified.
But what seems to me most
monstrous of all, some who do not even have poverty as an excuse, and in spite
of prosperity and even riches are so inhuman as not to rear later-born
offspring in order that those earlier born may inherit greater wealth—by such a
deed of wickedness planning prosperity for their surviving children. That these
may have a greater share of their father's goods, their parents rob them of
brothers, never having learned how much better it is to have many brothers than
to have many possessions. For possessions inspire intrigue on the part of the
neighbors, but brothers discourage intriguers. And possessions need support,
but brothers are the strongest supporters. One cannot compare a good friend to
a brother nor the help that others, friends and equals, give to that which a
brother gives. What good would one compare to the good will of a brother as a
pledge of security? What better disposed sharer of common goods could one find
than a good brother? Whose presence in misfortune would one desire more than
such a brother's? For my part I consider the man most enviable who lives amid a
number of like-minded brothers, and I consider most beloved of the gods the man
who has these blessings at home. Therefore I believe that each one of us ought
to try to leave brothers rather than money to our children so as to leave
greater assurances of blessings.
Discourse
16: Must one obey one’s parents under all
circumstances?
A certain young man who wished to
study philosophy, but was forbidden by his father to do so, put this question
to him "Tell me, Musonius, must one obey one's parents in all things, or
are there some circumstances under which one need not heed them?" And
Musonius replied, "That everyone should obey his mother and father seems a
good thing, and I certainly recommend it. However, let us see what this matter
of obedience is, or rather, first, what is the nature of disobedience, and let
us consider who the disobedient person is, if in this way we may better
understand what the nature of obedience is.
“Now then, take this case. If a
father who is not a physician and not experienced in matters of health or
sickness should prescribe for his invalid son something which was harmful and
injurious, and the son was aware of that fact, surely in not following his
father's prescription he is not disobeying and is not disobedient, is he? It
would not seem so. Or again, suppose the father himself were ill and should
demand wine and food which he ought not to have, and which probably would
aggravate his illness if he took it, and his son, realizing this, would not
give it to him, surely he is not disobeying his father, is he? Certainly one cannot
think so. And yet I fancy one would consider far less disobedient than in this
case, the man who, having a money-loving father, is ordered by him to steal or
make away with money entrusted to him, but does not carry out the order. Or do
you think that there are no fathers who give such orders to their children?
Well, I know a father so depraved that, having a son conspicuous for youthful
beauty, he sold him into a life of shame. If, now, that lad who was sold and
sent into such a life by his father had refused and would not go, should we say
that he was disobedient or that he was showing purity of character? Surely even
to ask the question is scarcely necessary. To be sure, disobedience and the
disobedient person are terms of reproach and shame, but refusing to do what one
ought not to do merits praise rather than blame. Therefore whether one's father
or the archon or even the tyrant orders something wrong or unjust or shameful,
and one does not carry out the order, he is in no way disobeying, inasmuch as
he does no wrong nor fails of doing right. He only disobeys who disregards and
refuses to carry out good and honorable and useful orders. Such is the
disobedient man.
“But the obedient person behaves
in just the opposite way and is completely different from him; he would be the
kind of man who listens to anyone who counsels what is fitting and follows it
voluntarily. That is the obedient man. Thus in relation to his parents also,
one is obedient when he does voluntarily whatever they counsel that is good and
fitting. For my part, moreover, I should say that anyone who did what was right
and expedient, even when his parents did not counsel it, was obeying his
parents, and in support of my reasoning, consider this. In my opinion the man
who does what his father desires and follows his father's wishes is obeying his
father; and he who does what he ought and pursues the better course is
following the wish of his father. How is that? Because surely all parents have
the interests of their children at heart, and because of that interest they
wish them to do what is right and advantageous. Consequently one who does what
is right and useful is doing what his parents wish and so is obedient to his
parents in doing it, even if his parents do not order him in so many words to
do these things. This one thing only and nothing else should he take into
consideration who wishes to obey his parents in each act—whether what he plans
to do is good and advantageous. Thus if such a conviction be entertained,
whatever a man's action may be, it is the act of one obedient to his parents.
“And so you, my young friend, do
not fear that you will disobey your father, if when your father bids you do
something which is not right, you refrain from doing it, or when he forbids you
to do something which is right you do not refrain from doing it. Do not let
your father be an excuse to you for wrongdoing whether he bids you do something
which is not right or forbids you to do what is right. For there is no
necessity for you to comply with evil injunctions, and you yourself seem not
unaware of this. You would certainly not submit to your father in musical
matters if, with no knowledge of music, he should order you to play the lyre
incorrectly, or if he knew nothing of grammar and you did, he should order you
to write and read, not as you had learned but otherwise; and if, finally, with
no knowledge of how to steer a ship, he should order you who did understand to
handle the helm in the wrong way, you would not heed him. Well, then, enough of
that.
“Now if your father, knowing
nothing about the subject, should forbid you who had learned and comprehended
what philosophy is to study philosophy, would you be bound to heed him, or
would you not rather be obligated to teach him better, since he is giving bad
advice? That seems to me to be the answer. Perhaps by using reason alone one
might persuade his father to adopt the attitude he ought in regard to
philosophy if the father's disposition is not too obstinate. If, however, he
should not be persuaded by argument and would not yield, yet even then the
conduct of his son will win him over if his son is truly putting his philosophy
into practice. For, as a student of philosophy he will certainly be most eager
to treat his father with the greatest possible consideration and will be most
well-behaved and gentle; in his relations with his father he will never be
contentious or self-willed, nor hasty or prone to anger; furthermore he will
control his tongue and his appetite whether for food or for sexual temptations,
and he will stand fast in the face of danger and hardships; and finally with
competence in recognizing the true good, he will not let the apparent good pass
without examination. As a result he will willingly give up all pleasures for
his father's sake, and for him he will accept all manner of hardships
willingly. To have such a son who would not offer prayers to the gods? Who,
having one, would not love him because of whom he had become an envied and most
blessed father in the eyes of all men of sound judgment?
“If, then, my young friend, with
a view to becoming such a man, as you surely will if you truly master the
lessons of philosophy, you should not be able to induce your father to permit
you to do as you wish, nor succeed in persuading him, reason thus: your father
forbids you to study philosophy, but the common father of all men and gods,
Zeus, bids you and exhorts you to do so. His command and law is that man be
just and honest, beneficent, temperate, high-minded, superior to pain, superior
to pleasure, free of all envy and all malice; to put it briefly, the law of
Zeus bids man be good. But being good is the same as being a philosopher. If
you obey your father, you will follow the will of a man; if you choose the
philosopher's life, the will of God. It is plain, therefore, that your duty
lies in the pursuit of philosophy rather than not. But, you say, your father
will restrain you and actually shut you up to prevent your study of philosophy.
Perhaps he will do so, but he will not prevent you from studying philosophy
unless you are willing; for we do not study philosophy with our hands or feet
or any other part of the body, but with the soul and with a very small part of
it, that which we may call the reason. This God placed in the strongest place
so that it might be inaccessible to sight and touch, free from all compulsion
and in its own power. Particularly if your mind is good your father will not be
able to prevent you from using it nor from thinking what you ought nor from
liking the good and not liking the base; nor again-from choosing the one and
rejecting the other. In the very act of doing this, you would be studying
philosophy, and you would not need to wrap yourself up in a worn cloak nor go
without a chiton nor grow long hair nor deviate from the ordinary practices of
the average man. To be sure, such things are well enough for professional
philosophers, but philosophy does not consist in them, but rather in thinking
out what is man's duty and meditating upon it.”
Discourse
17: What is the best viaticum for old
age?
At
another time when an old man asked him what was the best viaticum for old age,
he said, the very one that is best for youth too, namely to live by method and
in accord with nature. You would best understand what this means if you would
realize that mankind was not created for pleasure. For that matter, neither was
the horse or dog or cow created for pleasure, and all of these creatures are
much less valuable than man. Certainly a horse would not be considered to have
fulfilled its purpose by eating and drinking and mating at will, and doing none
of the things which are the proper work of a horse; no more would a dog if it
simply enjoyed all kinds of pleasures like the horse and did none of the things
for which dogs are considered good; nor would any other animal if kept from the
functions proper to it and allowed to have its fill of pleasures; in short,
according to this, nothing would be said to be living according to nature but
what by its actions manifests the excellence peculiar to its own nature. For the
nature of each guides it to its own excellence; consequently it is not
reasonable to suppose that when man lives a life of pleasure that he lives
according to nature, but rather when he lives a life of virtue. Then, indeed,
it is that he is justly praised and takes pride in himself and is optimistic
and courageous, characteristics upon which cheerfulness and serene joy
necessarily follow. In general, of all creatures on earth man alone resembles
God and has the same virtues that He has, since we can imagine nothing even in
the gods better than prudence, justice, courage, and temperance. Therefore, as
God, through the possession of these virtues, is unconquered by pleasure or
greed, is superior to desire, envy, and jealousy; is high-minded, beneficent, and
kindly (for such is our conception of God), so also man in the image of Him,
when living in accord with nature, should be thought of as being like Him, and
being like Him, being enviable, and being enviable, he would forthwith be
happy, for we envy none but the happy. Indeed it is not impossible for man to
be such, for certainly when we encounter men whom we call godly and godlike, we
do not have to imagine that these virtues came from elsewhere than from man's
own nature. If, then, by good fortune while still young, one had taken pains to
get right instruction, and had mastered thoroughly all those lessons which are
considered good, as well as their practical application, such a man in old age
using these inner resources would live according to nature, and he would bear
without complaint the loss of the pleasures of youth, nor would he fret at the
weakness of his body, and he would not be irked even when slighted by his
neighbors or neglected by his relatives and friends, since he would have a good
antidote for all these things in his own mind, namely his past training. If,
however, one should have shared less abundantly in early instruction but should
show an eagerness for better things and a capacity for following words
well-spoken, he would do well if he sought to hear relevant words from those
who have made it their business to know what things are harmful and what
helpful to men, and in what way one should avoid the former and obtain the
latter, and how one should patiently accept things which befall him that seem
to be evils, but are not really so. If he heard these things and acted upon
them (for to hear them without acting upon them would be most unprofitable), he
would manage old age very well, and in particular he would rid himself of the
fear of death - which more than all else terrifies and oppresses the aged, as
though they had forgotten that death is a debt which every man owes. Yet it is
certain that that which renders life most miserable for the aged is this very
thing, the fear of death, as even the orator Isocrates confessed. For they tell
that when someone asked how he was getting on, he replied that he was doing as
well as was reasonable for a man of ninety, but that he considered death the
worst of evils. And yet how could there have been any smattering of knowledge
or of acquaintance with true good and evil in the man who thought that an evil
which is the necessary sequel even to the best life? The best life, you will
agree, is that of a good man, and yet the end even of such a man is death.
Therefore, as I said before, if one in old age should succeed in mastering this
lesson, to wait for death without fear and courageously, he would have acquired
no small part of how to live without complaint and in accordance with nature.
He would acquire this by associating with men who were philosophers not in name
only but in truth, if he were willing to follow their teachings. So it is that
I tell you that the best viaticum for old age is the one I mentioned in the
beginning, to live according to nature, doing and thinking what one ought. For
so an old man would himself be most cheerful and would win the praise' of
others, and being thus, he would live happily and in honor. But if anyone
thinks that wealth is the greatest consolation of old age, and that to acquire
it is to live without sorrow, he is quite mistaken; wealth is able to procure
for man the pleasures of eating, and drinking and other sensual pleasures, but
it can never afford cheerfulness of spirit nor freedom from sorrow in one who
possesses it. Witnesses to this truth are many rich men who are full of sadness
and despair and think themselves wretched—evidence enough that wealth is not a
good protection for old age.
Discourse
18: On food.
On
the subject of food he used to speak frequently and very emphatically too, as a
question of no small significance, nor leading to unimportant consequences;
indeed he believed that the beginning and foundation of temperance lay in
self-control in eating and drinking. Once, putting aside other themes such as
he habitually discussed, he spoke somewhat as follows. As one should prefer
inexpensive food to expensive and what is abundant to what is scarce, so one
should prefer what is natural for men to what is not. Now food from plants of
the earth is natural to us, grains and those which though not cereals can
nourish man well, and also food (other than flesh) from animals which are
domesticated. Of these foods the most useful are those which can be used at
once without fire, since they are also most easily available; for example
fruits in season, some of the green vegetables, milk, cheese, and honey. Also
those which require fire for their preparation, whether grains or vegetables,
are not unsuitable, and are all natural food for man. On the other hand he
showed that meat was a less civilized kind of food and more appropriate for
wild animals. He held that it was a heavy food and an obstacle to thinking and
reasoning, since the exhalations rising from it being turbid darkened the soul.
For this reason also the people who make larger use of it seem slower in
intellect. Furthermore, as man of all creatures on earth is the nearest of kin
to the gods, so he should be nourished in a manner most like the gods. Now the
vapors rising from the earth and water are sufficient for them, and so, he
said, we ought to be nourished on food most like that, the lightest and purest;
for thus our souls would be pure and dry, and being so, would be finest and
wisest, as it seemed to Heraclitus when he said, " The clear dry soul is
wisest and best." But now, he said, we feed ourselves much worse than the
unreasoning brutes. For even if they, driven by appetite as by a lash, fall
upon their food, nevertheless they are not guilty of making a fuss about their
food and exercising ingenuity about it, but they are satisfied with what comes
their way, seeking satiety only, nothing more. But we contrive all kinds of
arts and devices to give relish to eating and to make more enticing the act of
swallowing. We have come to such a point of delicacy in eating and gourmanderie
that as some people have written books on music and medicine, so some have even
written books on cooking which aim to increase the pleasure of the palate, but
ruin the health. It is at all events a common observation that those who are
luxurious and intemperate in food have much less vigorous health. Some, in
fact, are like women who have the unnatural cravings of pregnancy; these men,
like such women, refuse the most common foods and have their digestion utterly
ruined. Thus, as worn-out iron constantly needs tempering, their appetites
continually demand being sharpened either by neat wine or a sharp sauce or some
sour relish. But no such man was the Laconian who, on seeing a man refuse to
eat a young peacock or other expensive bird that was placed before him, and
complain that he could not eat because of lack of appetite, remarked, "But
I could eat a vulture or a buzzard." Zeno of Citium even when he was ill
thought that no unusually delicate food should be brought him, and when the
attending physician ordered him to eat squab, he would not allow it, and said,
"Treat me as you would treat my slave Manes."For I imagine that he
thought there should be nothing more delicate in his treatment than for one of
his slaves if he were ill; for if they can be cured without receiving more
delicate fare, so can we. Surely a good man should be no more delicate than a
slave; and for that reason Zeno very likely thought he ought to beware of
delicacy in diet and not yield to it in the least, for if he once yielded he
would go the whole way, since in the matter of food and drink, pleasure
accelerates its pace alarmingly. The words spoken on that occasion concerning
food and nourishment seemed to us more unusual than the customary discourses day
by day.
Thoroughly shameful, he used to
say, are gluttony and high living, and no one will dare deny it; yet I have
observed very few aiming to shun these vices. On the contrary I notice that the
majority of people strive to obtain these same foods when they are not
available and when they are at hand are unable to refrain from them, and they
use them so lavishly when they have them that they make for the detriment of
their health. And yet what else is gluttony but intemperance in the matter of
nourishment, causing men to prefer what is pleasant in food to what is
beneficial? And high living is nothing but excess in table luxury. Now excess
is always evil, but here particularly it reveals its true nature in these
people since it makes them greedy like swine or dogs rather than men, and
incapable of behaving properly with hands, or eyes, or gullet, so completely
does the desire for pleasure in dainties of the table pervert them. How
shameful it is to behave toward food in this way we may learn from the fact
that we liken them to unreasoning animals rather than to intelligent human
beings. Now if this is shameful, the opposite must be altogether good; that is,
exercising moderation and decorum in eating, demonstrating one's self-control
there first of all, not an easy thing to do, but one which requires much
attention and practice. Why should this be? Because although there are many
pleasures which lure man into wrong-doing and force him to yield to them
contrary to what is good, pleasure in eating is probably the hardest of all to
combat. For other pleasures we encounter less often, and we can refrain from
some of them for months and whole years, but of necessity we are tempted by
this one every day and usually twice a day, since it is not possible for man to
live otherwise. Thus the oftener we are tempted by pleasure in eating, the more
dangers there are involved. And indeed at each meal there is not one hazard for
going wrong, but many. First of all, the man who eats more than he ought does
wrong, and the man who eats in undue haste no less, and also the man who
wallows in the pickles and sauces, and the man who prefers the sweeter foods to
the more healthful ones, and the man who does not serve food of the same kind
or amount to his guests as to himself. There is still another wrong in
connection with eating, when we indulge in it at an unseasonable time, and
although there is something else we ought to do, we put it aside in order to
eat. Since, then, these and even more vices are connected with eating, if a man
wishes to show self-control, he must be free of all of them and not be guilty
of any of them. To keep himself blameless and free from such errors one should
by constant practice accustom himself to choosing food not for enjoyment but
for nourishment, not to tickle his palate but to strengthen his body. Indeed
the throat was designed to be a passage for food, not an organ of pleasure, and
the stomach was made for the same purpose as the root was created in plants.
For just as the root nourishes the plant by taking food from without, so the
stomach nourishes the living being from the food and drink which are taken into
it. And again just as plants receive nourishment that they may survive, and not
for their pleasure, so in like manner food is to us the medicine of life.
Therefore it is fitting for us to eat in order to live, not in order to have
pleasure, if, at all events, we wish to keep in line with the wise words of
Socrates, who said that the majority of men live to eat but that he ate in
order to live. Certainly no reasonable being, whose ambition is to be a man,
will think it desirable to be like the majority who live to eat, and like them,
to spend his life in the chase after pleasure derived from food.
That God who made man provided
him food and drink for the sake of preserving his life and not for giving him
pleasure, one can see very well from this: when food is performing its real
function, it does not produce pleasure for man, that is in the process of
digestion and assimilation. At that time we are being nourished and renew our
strength, but we feel no sensation of pleasure; and yet there is a longer time
involved in this process than in eating. Surely if God had planned eating as a
pleasure for us, He would have had us enjoy it a longer time and not merely the
brief moment when we are swallowing. And yet for the sake of that brief moment
when we do experience pleasure, countless dainties are prepared, the sea is
sailed from end to end, cooks are more in demand than farmers; some even
squander the value of their estates to spread their tables, though their bodies
are not at all benefited by the costliness of the food. Quite the contrary,
people who eat the cheapest food are the strongest. Indeed you may notice that
slaves are usually stronger than their masters, country men than city men, the
poor than the rich, better able to do hard work, less fatigued by their labor,
less frequently ill, enduring more cheerfully cold, heat, lack of sleep, and
every such hardship. Furthermore, even if expensive and cheap food strengthened
the body equally well, nevertheless one ought to choose the cheaper food
because it is more conducive to temperance and more fitting for a good man. In
general for men of sense and reason, in respect of food, what is easy to procure
is better than what is hard to obtain, what requires no work than what requires
it, what is available than what is not at hand. But to sum up the question of
food, I maintain that its purpose should be to produce health and strength,
that one should for that purpose eat only that which requires no great outlay,
and finally that at table one should have regard for a fitting decorum and
moderation, and most of all should be superior to the common vices of filth and
greedy haste.
Discourse
19: On clothing and shelter.
Such
were his opinions on food. He also thought it best to provide moderate covering
for the body, not expensive and superfluous, for he said that one ought to use
clothing and shoes in exactly the same way as armor, that is for the protection
of the body and not for display. Therefore just as the most powerful weapons
and those best calculated to protect the bearer are the best, and not those
which attract the eye by their sheen, so likewise the garment or shoe which is
most useful for the body is best, and not one which causes the foolish to turn
and stare. For the covering should at once render the thing covered better and
stronger than its natural condition, rather than weaker and worse. Those, then,
who acquire smoothness and delicacy of skin by their clothing make their bodies
worse, inasmuch as plainly the pampered and soft body is much worse than one
that is sturdy and bears evidence of hard work. But those who strengthen and
invigorate the body by the clothing they wear, those, I say, are the only ones
who benefit the parts of the body so covered. It does not improve the
appearance of the body to cover it completely with many garments, to smother it
with tight wrappings, and to soften the hands and feet by close fitting gloves
or shoes unless perhaps in ca se of illness. It is not good to be entirely
without experience of cold and heat, but one ought in some degree to feel the
cold in winter and likewise the heat of the sun in summer and to seek the
shelter of shade as little as possible. Wearing one chiton is preferable to
needing two, and wearing none but only a cloak is preferable to wearing one.
Also going barefoot is better than wearing sandals, if one can do it, for
wearing sandals is next to being bound, but going barefoot gives the feet great
freedom and grace when they are used to it. It is for this reason that one sees
couriers wearing no sandals on the highways and the runners in a contest unable
to make the best speed if they have to run in sandals.
Since
we make houses too for a shelter, I argue that they ought to be made to satisfy
bare necessity, to keep out the cold and extreme heat and to be a protection
from the sun and the winds for those who need it. In general, whatever a
natural cave would offer, furnishing a moderate shelter for man, this our
houses ought to furnish for us, with just enough to spare to make a convenient
place for storing away man's food. What good are courtyards surrounded by
colonnades? What good are all kinds of colored paints? What good are
gold-decked rooms? What good are expensive stones, some fitted together on the
floor, others inlaid in the walls, some brought from a great distance, and at
the greatest expense? Are not all these things superfluous and unnecessary,
without which it is possible not only to live but also to be healthy? Are they
not the source of constant trouble, and do they not cost great sums of money
from which many people might have benefited by public and private charity? How
much more commendable than living a life of luxury it is to help many people.
How much nobler than spending money for sticks and stones to spend it on men.
How much more profitable than surrounding oneself with a great house to make
many friends, the natural result of cheerfully doing good. What would one gain
from a large and beautiful house comparable to what he would gain by conferring
the benefits of his wealth upon the city and his fellow citizens?
Discourse
20: On furnishings.
Related
to and in harmony with extravagance in houses is all the matter of furnishings
within the house—couches, tables, coverlets, drinking cups, and similar
objects—completely surpassing all needs and going far beyond necessity. There
are ivory and silver, yes, even golden couches, tables of similar materials,
coverlets of purple and other colors difficult to obtain, cups made of gold and
silver, some of marble or some similar material rivaling gold and silver in
costliness. All these things are eagerly sought for, although a pallet
furnishes us a place to lie on no worse than a silver or ivory couch, and a
rough cloak is quite as suitable to cover it as a purple or crimson coverlet;
it is possible for us to eat quite safely from a wooden table without longing
for one of silver. Yes, and one can drink from earthenware cups which are quite
as good for quenching the thirst as goblets of gold; and the wine which is
poured into them is not tainted, but yields a fragrance sweeter than from cups
of gold or silver. In general, one would rightly judge what is good and bad in
furnishings by these three criteria: acquisition, use, and preservation.
Whatever is difficult to obtain or not convenient to use or not easy to protect
is to be judged inferior; but what we acquire with no difficulty and use with
satisfaction and find easy to keep is superior. For this reason earthenware and
iron and similar vessels are much better than those of silver or gold, because
their acquisition is less trouble since they are cheaper, their usefulness is
greater since we can safely expose them to heat and fire (which cannot be done
with others) , and guarding them is less of a problem, for the inexpensive ones
are less likely to be stolen than the expensive ones. No small part of
preserving them too is keeping them clean, which is a more expensive matter
with costly ones. Just as a horse which is bought for a small price but is able
to fulfill many needs is more desirable than one which does little although he
was bought for a great price, so in the matter of furnishings the cheaper and
more serviceable are better than the more costly and less serviceable ones. Why
is it, then, that the rare and expensive pieces are sought after rather than
those which are available and cheap? It is because the things that are really
good and fine are not recognized, and in place of them those which only seem
good are eagerly sought by the foolish. As madmen often think that black is
white, so foolishness is next of kin to madness. Now we should find that the
best lawgivers— and I think first of all of Lycurgus, who drove extravagance
out of Sparta and substituted frugality, who preferred a life of deprivation as
a means of producing courage to a life of excess, and who did away with luxury
as a corrupting influence and considered the will to bear hardships the salvation
of the state. Testimony to this is the endurance of the Spartan ephebes, who
were made accustomed to bear hunger and thirst and cold, and even blows and
other hardships. Trained in such noble and austere habits the ancient
Lacedaemonians were the best of the Greeks and were so esteemed. Their very
poverty they caused to be more envied than the King's wealth. For my part,
then, I would choose sickness rather than luxury, for sickness harms only the
body, but luxury destroys both body and soul, causing weakness and impotence in
the body and lack of self-control and cowardice in the soul. Furthermore,
luxury begets injustice because it also begets covetousness. For no man of
extravagant tastes can avoid being lavish in expenditure, nor being lavish can
he wish to spend little; but in his desire for many things he cannot refrain
from acquiring them, nor again in his effort to acquire can he fail to be
grasping and unjust; for no man would succeed in acquiring much by just
methods. In still another way the man of luxurious habits would be unjust, for
he would hesitate to undertake the necessary burdens for his city without
abandoning his extravagant life, and if it seemed necessary to suffer
deprivation on behalf of his friends or relatives he would not submit to it,
for his love of luxury would not permit it. Nay more, there are times when
duties to the gods must be undertaken by the man who would be just toward them,
by performing sacrifices, initiatory rites, or some such other service. Here,
too, the wastrel will be found wanting. Thus he would in all ways be unjust
toward his city, toward his friends, and toward the gods, in failing to do what
it is his duty to do. So, then, as being also the cause of injustice, luxury
and extravagance must be shunned in every way.
Discourse
21: On cutting the hair.
He used to say that a man should
cut the hair from the head for the same reason that we prune a vine, that is
merely to remove what is useless. But just as the eyebrows or eyelashes which
perform a service in protecting the eyes should not be cut, so neither should
the beard be cut from the chin (for it is not superfluous), but it too has been
provided for us by nature as a kind of cover or protection. Moreover, the beard
is nature's symbol of the male just as is the crest of the cock and the mane of
the lion; so one ought to remove the growth of hair that becomes burdensome,
but nothing of the beard; for the beard is no burden so long as the body is
healthy and not afflicted with any disease for which it is necessary to cut the
hair from the chin. The remark of Zeno was well made that it is quite as
natural to cut the hair as it is to let it grow long, in order not to be
burdened by too much of it nor hampered for any activity. For nature plainly keeps
a more careful guard against deficiency than against excess, in both plants and
animals, since the removal of excess is much easier and simpler than the
addition of what is lacking. In both cases man's common sense ought to assist
nature, so as to make up the deficiencies as much as possible and fill them
out, and to lessen and eliminate the superfluous. Therefore the hair should be
cut only to get rid of too much of it and not for looks, as some think they
must, who shave their cheeks and imitate the beardless or, would you believe
it, boys who are just beginning to grow a beard, and the hair on the head they
do not cut all in the same way, but differently in front and behind. In fact
that which seems to them good-looking is quite the opposite and does not differ
from the efforts of women to make themselves beautiful. For they, you know,
plait some parts of their hair, some they let fall free, and some they arrange
in some other way in order to appear more beautiful. So men who cut their hair
are obviously doing it out of a desire to appear handsome to those whom they
wish to please, and so some of their hair they cut off completely, some they
arrange so as to be most pleasing to the women and boys by whom they want to be
admired. Nowadays there are even men who cut their hair to free themselves of
the weight of it and they also shave their cheeks. Clearly such men have become
slaves of luxurious living and are completely enervated, men who can endure
being seen as womanish creatures, hermaphrodites, something which real men
would avoid at all costs. How could hair be a burden to men? Unless, of course,
one should say that feathers are a burden to birds also.
Fragment
22
It is not possible to live well
today unless one thinks of it as his last.
Fragment
23
What
indictment can we make against tyrants when we ourselves are much worse than
they? For we have the same impulses as theirs but not the same opportunity to
indulge them.
Fragment
24
If
one were to measure what is agreeable by the standard of pleasure, nothing
would be pleasanter than self-control; and if one were to measure what is to be
avoided by pain, nothing would be more painful than lack of self-control.
Fragment
25
Musonius
said that there was no more shameful inconsistency than to recall the weakness
of the body under stress of pain, but to forget it in the enjoyment of
pleasure.
Fragment
26
One
begins to lose his hesitation to do unseemly things when one loses his
hesitation to speak of them.
Fragment
27
And
if you choose to hold fast to what is right, do not be irked by difficult
circumstances, but reflect on how many things have already happened to you in
life in ways that you did not wish, and yet they have turned out for the best.
Fragment
28
Choose to die well while it is
possible, lest shortly it may become necessary for you to die, but it will no
longer be possible to die well.
Fragment
29
One
who by living is of use to many has not the right to choose to die unless
by dying he may be of use to more.
Fragment
30
You
will earn the respect of all men if you begin by earning the respect of
yourself.
Fragment
31
Those
men do not live long who have become accustomed to say to their subjects in
defense of whatever they do, not, "It is my duty," but, "It is
my will."
Fragment
32
Do
not expect to enjoin right-doing upon men who are conscious of your own
wrong-doing.
Fragment
33
Toward
subjects one should strive to be regarded with awe rather than with fear. Reverence
attends the one, bitterness the other.
Fragment
34
The
treasures of Croesus and Cinyras we shall condemn as the last degree of
poverty. One man and one alone shall we consider rich, the man who has acquired
the ability to want for nothing always and everywhere.
Fragment
35
Since
the Fates have spun out the lot of death for all alike, he is blessed who dies
not late but well.
Fragment
36
And
further, of the notable sayings of Musonius that come to my mind, this is one,
Sulla, that those who want to be in health should spend their lives taking care
of themselves. For unlike hellebore, reason should not be cast forth with the
illness after it has affected a cure, but it should be allowed to remain in the
soul to keep and guard the judgment.
For the power of reason should not be compared
to drugs but to health-giving foods, since it introduces a good and healthy
frame of mind into those to whom it becomes habitual. On the other hand
admonitions and warnings made when the emotions are at their greatest heat
barely have any effect at all. They are not unlike those scents that revive
people who have fallen in a fit but do not cure the disease.
Fragment
37
The
notorious Rutilius coming up to Musonius in Rome said, "Zeus the Savior
whom you imitate and emulate does not borrow money." And Musonius with a
smile answered, "Neither does he lend." For Rutilius, while lending
money himself, was reproaching Musonius for borrowing.
Fragment
38
Of
the things that exist, God has put some in our control, others not in our
control. In our control he has put the noblest and most excellent part by
reason of which He is Himself happy, the power of using our impressions. For
when this is correctly used, it means serenity, cheerfulness, constancy; it also
means justice and law and self-control and virtue as a whole.
But
all other things He has not put in our control. Therefore we ought to become of
like mind with God and, dividing things in like manner, we ought in every way
to lay claim to the things that are in our control, but what is not in our
control we ought to entrust to the Universe and gladly yield to it whether it
asks for our children, our country, our body, or anything whatsoever.
Fragment
39
Who
of us does not marvel at the action of Lycurgus the Lacedaemonian? For when he
had been blinded in one eye by one of his fellow citizens and had received the
young man at the hands of the people to punish as he saw fit, he did not choose
to do this, but trained him instead and made a good man of him, and afterward
escorted him to the public theatre.
And
when the Lacedaemonians regarded him with amazement, he said: "This man I
received from you an insolent and violent creature; I return him to you a
reasonable man and a good citizen."
Fragment
40
But most of all the work of
nature is this: to make desire and impulse to act fit closely with perception
of that which is seemly and useful.
Fragment
41
To
share the common notion that we shall be despised by others if in every way we
do not strive to harm the first enemies we meet is the mark of mean-minded and
ignorant men.
For
we say that the despicable man is recognized among other things by his
inability to harm his enemies, but actually he is much more easily recognized
by his inability to help them.
Fragment
42
Of
such a character the Nature of the Universe was and is and will be, and it is
not possible for things that come into existence to come into existence
differently from the way they now do.
And
in this process of change and transformation, not only human beings and other
creatures of earth have had a part, but also the divine beings, and even the
four elements are changed and transformed upwards and downwards; that is, earth
becomes water and water air, and air is again transformed into ether; and there
is the same process of transformation downwards.
If
a man resolves to focus his thoughts on these things and persuades himself
willingly to accept the inevitable, he will lead a life well measured and in
harmony with the Universe.
Fragment
43
Thrasea
was in the habit of saying, "I should rather be put to death today than be
banished tomorrow."
What
then did Rufus say to him? "If you choose that as the heavier misfortune,
what a foolish choice to make! But if as the lighter, who has given you the
choice? Are you not willing to train yourself to be satisfied with what has
been given you?"
Fragment
44
Why
do we continue to be lazy and careless and sluggish and seek excuses for not
working hard and sitting up late to perfect our mastery of logical argument?
"Well,
if I have made a mistake in this problem, I haven't been guilty of killing my
own father, have I?"
“Stupid
boy, shall I show you where in this instance there was a father to kill? The
only possible error to make in this example is the one you have made.”
Yet
that was the very answer I once made to Rufus when he scolded me because I
could not find the missing member in a certain syllogism.
"It
is not as bad," I said, "as if I had set fire to the Capitol."
Whereupon
he answered, "In this case, you foolish fellow, the missing member is the
Capitol."
Are
these the only possible wrongs, burning the Capitol and killing one's father?
But using one's impressions without purpose or profit and quite at random and
failing to follow argument or demonstration or semblance of reason, and
completely missing what is to one's advantage or disadvantage in question and
answer —are none of these wrongs?
Fragment
45
And
in the same way to make trial of me, Rufus used to say, "Such and such a
thing will befall you at the hands of your master."
In
answer to him, I said that in such a case it would be kind of him to intercede
on my behalf.
"What!"
he exclaimed, "Do you mean that I should intercede on your behalf when I
can get the same result from you yourself?" For in truth what one can get
from himself it is superfluous and foolish as well to get from someone else.
Fragment
46
It
is not easy to produce an effect upon soft characters any more than it is to
pick up a soft cheese with a hook, but young men of sound nature, even if you
turn them away, hold to philosophy all the more.
For
that reason Rufus frequently discouraged pupils, using this as a means of
testing the superior and inferior ones. For he used to say, "Just as a
stone, even if you throw it upwards, will fall downwards because of its nature,
so the superior man, the more one repels him, the more he inclines toward his
own natural direction."
Fragment
47
On
the assassination of Galba someone said to Rufus, "Can you now hold that
the world is ruled by divine Providence?"
To
which he replied, "Did I ever for a moment build my argument, that the
world is ruled by a divine Providence, upon Galba?"
Fragment
48
Rufus
used to say, "If you have time to waste praising me, I am conscious that
what I say is worth nothing."
So
far from applause on our part, he spoke in such a way that each of us sitting
there felt that someone had gone to him and told him our faults, so accurately
he touched upon our true characters, so effectively he placed each one's faults
before his eyes.
Fragment
49
We
have it on good authority that Musonius the philosopher in his discourses was
accustomed to deprecate and repress applause on the part of his auditors.
"When
a philosopher," he said, "is exhorting, persuading, rebuking, or
discussing some aspect of philosophy, if the audience pour forth trite and
commonplace words of praise in their enthusiasm and unrestraint, if they even
shout, if they gesticulate, if they are moved and aroused, and swayed by the
charm of his words, by the rhythm of his phrases, and by certain rhetorical
repetitions, then you may know that both the speaker and his audience are
wasting their time, and that they are not hearing a philosopher speaking but a
flute player performing.”
“The mind," he said, "of a man who is
listening to a philosopher, if the things which are said are useful and helpful
and furnish remedies for faults and errors, has no leisure and time for profuse
and extravagant praise. The hearer, whoever he may be, unless he has completely
lost his moral sense, in listening to the philosopher's words must shudder and
feel secretly ashamed and repentant, and again experience joy and wonder and
even have varying facial expressions and changes of feeling as the
philosopher's speech affects him and touches his recognition of that part of
his soul which is sound and that which is sick.”
Moreover,
he used to say that great applause and admiration are to be sure not unrelated,
but that the greatest admiration yields silence rather than words. For that
reason he said the wisest of poets does not have those who listened to Ulysses
relating the wonderful tale of his hardships leap up and shout and cry out
their approval when he finished speaking, but he says that all kept silent as
if struck dumb and senseless because the pleasure they had in hearing him
affected their power of speech.
"Thus he spoke; but they all were
hushed and silent, and were held spellbound throughout the shadowy halls."
Fragment
50
"Musonius,"
Herodes said, "ordered a thousand sesterces to be given to a beggar of
this sort who was pretending to be a philosopher, and when several people told
him that the rascal was a bad and vicious fellow, deserving of nothing good,
Musonius, they say, answered with a smile, 'Well then he deserves money.'"
Fragment
51
When
I was still a boy at school, I heard that this Greek saying, which I here set
down, was uttered by Musonius the philosopher, and because the sentiment is
true and striking as well as neatly and concisely rounded out, I was very happy
to commit it to memory.
"If
one accomplishes some good though with toil, the toil passes, but the good
remains; if one does something dishonorable with pleasure, the pleasure passes,
but the dishonor remains."
Afterwards
I read that same sentiment in a speech of Cato's which was delivered at
Numantia to the knights. Although it is expressed a little less compactly and
concisely as compared with the Greek which I have quoted, yet because it is
earlier and more ancient, it may well seem more impressive.
The
words from his speech are the following: "Consider this in your hearts: if
you accomplish some good attended with toil, the toil will quickly leave you;
but if you do some evil attended with pleasure, the pleasure will quickly pass
away, but the bad deed will remain with you always."
Fragment
52
"To
relax (remittere) the
mind," said Musonius, "is to lose (amittere) it."
Fragment
53
Someone
who was urging me to take heart quoted a saying of Musonius.
"Musonius,"
said he, "wishing to rouse a man who was depressed and weary of life,
touched him and asked, 'What are you waiting for, why stand you idly gazing?
Until God in person shall come and stand by you and utter human speech? Cut off
the dead part of your soul and you will recognize the presence of God.'”
“Such,"
he said, "were the words of Musonius."
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