CHAPTER XV. COUNSELS OF PERFECTION.
Project Gutenberg EPUB3 edition
Arnold, Edward Vernon
409. For every profession philosophy has appropriate precepts, beginning with the king. There came one day to Musonius a king of Syria, for in those times there were kings subject to the Roman empire. Musonius addressed him thus:
‘You ought to be a philosopher as much as I. Your wish is to protect and benefit your fellow-men; to do that, you must know what is good and what is evil. A king too must understand Justice; for wars and revolts come about because men quarrel about their rights. Also he must show Soberness and Courage, that he may be an example to his subjects[92]. The ancients thought that a king should be a living law (νόμος ἔμψυχος), and an imitator of Zeus. Only a good man can be a good king.’
The king was highly pleased, and asked him to name any boon he would. ‘Abide by my words,’ said Musonius, ‘that will be the best boon both for me and for you[93].’
Two precepts in particular are addressed to kings. The first, that they should encourage friends who will speak the truth to them. Even Augustus Caesar needed this lesson; bitterly as he lamented the deaths of Agrippa and Maecenas, he would not have allowed them to speak frankly had they lived[94]. The second, that they should practise clemency, following the example of Julius Caesar, who destroyed the evidence upon which he might have punished his enemies[95]. None does this virtue better become than kings and rulers[96].
Court life.
410. To the man of high rank it is natural to desire to move in the society of the great and the powerful. Epictetus gives us a striking description of the man who desires to be on the list of the ‘Caesaris amici,’ which he thinks to be a good, though experience shows that it is not such.
‘Of whom shall we inquire? What more trustworthy witness have we than this very man who is become Caesar’s friend? “Come forward and tell us, when did you sleep more quietly, now or before you became Caesar’s friend?” Immediately you hear the answer, “Stop, I entreat you, and do not mock me; you know not what miseries I suffer, and sleep does not come to me; but one comes and says, Caesar is already awake, he is now going forth; then come troubles and cares.” “Well, and did you sup with more pleasure, now or before?” Hear what he says about this also. He says that if he is not invited, he is pained; and if he is invited, he sups like a slave with his master, all the while being anxious that he does not say or do anything foolish. As befits so great a man, Caesar’s friend, he is afraid that he may lose his head. I can swear that no man is so stupid as not to bewail his own misfortunes the nearer he is in friendship to Caesar[97].’
It is exactly under these circumstances that a thorough training in philosophy is of really practical value.
‘When you are going in to any great personage, remember that another also from above sees what is going on, and that you ought to please him rather than that other. He then who sees from above asks you: “In the schools what used you to say about exile and bonds and death and disgrace?” “That they are things indifferent.” “And the end of life, what is it?” “To follow thee.” “Do you say this now also?” “I do.” Then go in to the great personage boldly and remember these things: and you will see what a youth is who has studied these things, when he is among men who have not studied them. I imagine that you will have such thoughts as these; “Why do we make such great and so many preparations for nothing? Is this the thing which is named power? All this is nothing[98].”’
Yet a wise man will never challenge the anger of the powerful; he will turn aside from it, as a sailor from a storm[99]. The virtuous affection of caution must be called in to help him, so many are his dangers. An independence of look, a slight raising of the voice, an outspoken expression, an appeal to public opinion, even unsought popularity are enough to excite suspicion[100]. Perhaps after all the poet may be the wisest, who advises good men to stay away from court altogether, for it is a place where there is no room for them[101].
Life in the city.
411. A common cause of moral corruption is the routine of city life. Here fashion dictates a round of occupations which are unnatural, but in which men and women are alike absorbed[102]. Half of the morning is absorbed in sleep[103]; then follows the visit to the public shows, which are centres of demoralisation[104], and conversation with numerous friends, each one of whom suggests some abandonment of principle[105]. In the clubs all the most worthless members of society foregather[106]. The baths, which were at one time simply constructed, and for the purpose of cleanliness, are now instruments of luxury; and the water is now so hot as to be better fitted for torture than pleasure[107]. For the evening meal there must always be some novelty discovered, even if it is only to begin with the dessert and end with the eggs[108]; even the order of the seasons must be inverted, that roses may adorn the table in winter[109]. Upon the ill-spent day follows a disorderly night, and a heavy headache the next morning[110]. From the temptations of such a life the adherent of Stoicism will gladly escape.
Life in the country.
412. A more real happiness is reserved for the man who gives up town life for that of the country. For it is most natural to win sustenance from the earth, which is our common mother, and liberally gives back many times over what is entrusted to her; and it is more healthy to live in the open than to be always sheltering in the shade. It matters little whether one works on one’s own land or on that of another; for many industrious men have prospered on hired land. There is nothing disgraceful or unbecoming in any of the work of the farm; to plant trees, to reap, to tend the vine, to thrash out the corn, are all liberal occupations. Hesiod the poet tended sheep, and this did not hinder him from telling the story of the gods. And pasturage is (says Musonius) perhaps the best of all occupations; for even farm work, if it is exhausting, demands all the energies of the soul as well as of the body, whereas whilst tending sheep a man has some time for philosophizing also.
It is true that our young men to-day are too sensitive and too refined to live a country life; but philosophy would be well rid of these weaklings. A true lover of philosophy could find no better discipline than to live with some wise and kindly man in the country, associating with him in work and in relaxation, at meals and in sleeping, and so ‘learning goodness,’ as Theognis tells us to do, ‘from the good[111].’
The householder.
413. Within the household the head of it is a little king, and needs to display the kingly virtues of Justice and Soberness. In his dealings with the perverse he must consider how far each man is capable of bearing the truth[112]. Indeed, willingness to listen to reproof is no small virtue; few words are best, so that the wrongdoer may be left as far as possible to correct his own ways[113]. Punishment must be reserved for extreme cases, and is always to be administered with calmness; it is felt more keenly when it comes from a merciful master[114]. Persistent kindness wins over even bad men[115]. It is further the privilege of the head of a household to distribute kindnesses to those below him. His wealth he must regard as given him in trust; he is only the steward of it, and must neither hoard nor waste; for he must give both a debit and a credit account of all[116]. But if the right use of money causes the possessor anxious thought, no trace of this should appear to others; giving should be without hesitation, and as a delight[117]. The good citizen will pay his taxes with special pleasure, because in his eyes the welfare of the community stands higher than his own or that of his family[118]; but he will not refuse a kindness even to an enemy who is in need[119]; and in giving a farthing to a beggar, he will imply by his manner that he is only paying what the other is entitled to as his fellow-man[120]. In short, he will give as he would like to receive[121], and with the feeling that the chief pleasure of ownership is to share with another[122].
Treatment of slaves.
414. The good householder will associate on easy terms with his slaves, remembering that they too are men, made of flesh and blood as he is himself[123]. It is however a difficult matter to decide whether a master should dine with his slave. Men of the old Roman type find this a disgraceful practice, but the philosopher should decide in its favour[124]. We do not need to inquire into a man’s social position, if his character is attractive[125]. Plato has well said that we cannot find a king who is not descended from a slave, or a slave who is not descended from a king[126]; and in fact many a Roman slave was far better educated than his master[127]. Even if we do not suppose that Seneca’s rule was commonly practised in great Roman houses, the suggestion itself throws a pleasing light on the position of a Roman slave. But if the master was thus called upon to ignore differences of social position, as much might be expected of the slave. With him it was doubtless an instinct to prize liberty, ‘the power of living as you like,’ as the dearest of possessions. Yet many a slave who won this reward by years of faithful service found that liberty delusive, and would have been wiser to stay in the home where he was valued[128].
Large families.
415. A question of pressing practical importance is that of large families (πολυπαιδία). Statesmen have always considered it best that the homes of citizens should be crowded with children; and for this reason the laws forbid abortion and the hindrance of conception; they demand fines for childlessness, and pay honours to those who bring up large families. Public opinion takes the same view; the father of many children is honoured as he goes about the city, and how charming is the sight of a mother surrounded by a swarm of children[129]! No religious procession is so imposing. For such parents every one feels sympathy, and every one is prepared to cooperate with them[130]. But nowadays even rich parents refuse to rear all their children, so that the first-born may be the richer. But it is better to have many brothers than few; and a brother is a richer legacy than a fortune. A fortune attracts enemies, but a brother helps to repel them[131].
Comfort in poverty.
416. We have now accompanied the man of mature years in his duties and his temptations: philosophy has also a word to speak with regard to his trials. It is well indeed if he is convinced that the buffets of fortune are no real evils; but this doctrine can be supplemented by other consolations. Of the most bitter of all sufferings, bereavement by the death of friends and children, we have already spoken; we may now consider two other conditions usually held to be evil, namely poverty and exile. In poverty the first comfort is in the observation that poor men are usually stronger in body than the rich[132], and quite as cheerful in mind[133]. Further the poor are free from many dangers which beset the rich; they can travel safely even when highwaymen are watching the road[134]. Poverty is an aid to philosophy, for a rich man, if he wishes to philosophize, must freely choose the life of the poor[135]. A poor man is not troubled by insincere friends[136]. In short, poverty is only hard for him who kicks against the pricks[137].
Comfort in exile.
417. The subject of exile has the special interest that in fact so many philosophers endured this evil. To the Stoic there is in principle no such thing as exile, since the whole world is his country; but he does not for this reason disregard other sources of consolation. Cicero was plainly miserable, not only when he was formally exiled, but also when he was away from Rome in an honourable position; Seneca at least made the attempt to bear exile more bravely. Is it then so hard to be away from one’s native place? Rome is crowded with strangers, who have come thither for pleasure or profit, study or novelty[138]. True, it is a beautiful town; but there is no place on earth so bare and unsightly, not even this Corsica to which Seneca is banished, but that some men choose it to reside in as a matter of taste[139]. Whole peoples have changed their abode, and we find Greek cities in the midst of barbarism, and the Macedonian language in India[140]; wherever he conquers the Roman dwells[141]. The exile has everywhere the company of the same stars above[142], of the same conscience within him[143]; even if he is separated from those near and dear to him, it is not for the first time, and he can still live with them in his thoughts and affections.
Old age.
418. Free or slave, rich or poor, powerful or insignificant, wherever a man stands in the order of society, old age comes at last and imperiously stops all ambitions. It is, in the general opinion, a time of sadness[144]; to associate it with pleasure is not scandalous, only because it is paradoxical[145]. Cicero’s work de Senectute shows how old age became attractive according to Roman tradition; Seneca is hardly so successful. With the fading of hope the stimulus to effort dies away in old age[146]; but though philosophy forbids idleness, nature cries out for rest. We cannot then approve when old men follow their professional occupations with undiminished zeal[147], and we must highly blame those who cannot quit their pleasures[148]. The great boon which old age brings is leisure; for this many great men, amongst them Augustus, have longed in vain[149]. This leisure gives the opportunity of making acquaintance with great men through their books, but better still, that of making acquaintance with our own selves.
Musonius’ ‘viaticum.’
419. ‘Give me,’ said one to Musonius, ‘a viaticum for old age.’ He replied as follows:
‘The rule is the same as for youth, to live methodically and according to nature[150]. Do not grieve because you are cut off from the pleasures of youth; for man is no more born for pleasure than any other animal: indeed man alone is an image of the deity[151], and has like excellences. And do not consider the divine excellences as beyond your reach; for we have no other notion of the gods than such as we derive from observing good men, whom therefore we call divine and godlike. He who has acquired in youth sound principles and systematic training will not be found to complain in old age of the loss of pleasures, of weakness of body, or because he is neglected by friends and acquaintance; he will carry about with him a charm against all these evils, namely his own education. But if he has not been rightly educated, he will do well to go to a friend wiser than himself, and listen to his teaching and profit by it. And specially he will ponder over death, how it comes in nature’s course to all, and therefore is no evil. With such thoughts he will be cheerful and contented, and so he will live a happy life. But let no one say that wealth brings happiness in old age; that it does not bring a contented spirit is witnessed every day by a crowd of rich old men, who are in bad temper and low spirits, and feel deeply aggrieved[152].’
Will-making.
420. When we see death before us there remains a last act to be performed. We look at the wealth which no longer belongs to us, and consider to whom it can most worthily be entrusted. We stand in the position of a judge who can no longer be bribed, and, with all the wisdom and good will that we have, we give this last verdict on those around us[153].
Death.
421. For death the whole of philosophy is a preparation; yet when it is no longer a matter of uncertain fear, but close at hand and sure, some last words are to be said. All this is in the course of nature, is according to the will of the Creator.
‘God opens the door and says to you, “Go.” “Go whither?” To nothing terrible, but to the place from which you came, to your friends and kinsmen, to the elements[154]. What there was in you of fire goes to fire; of earth, to earth; of air, to air; of water, to water. There is no Hades, nor Acheron, nor Cocytus, but all is full of gods and demons[155]. God has invited you; be content when he calls others to the feast in your place.’
The philosopher does not look forward to renewing his personal life, or to meeting again with parent, wife, or child. But death is a release from all his pains and troubles; and he who has striven to live his life well will know how to meet death also at its due time[156]. If it come to him in the shipwreck, he will not scream nor blame God; if in the arena, he will not shrink from his enemy, whether man or beast. In this last short crisis he will bear witness that he accepts contentedly his mortal lot[157].