(This down to
earth essay by Plutarch will interest anyone walking the philosophical path -
or any other spiritual path. Can we measure our progress along the path? Plutarch
thinks we can - and gives some tips on things to watch out for that indicate we
are making good progress along our own unique paths..... )
From Plutarch’s book: Moralia.
TRANSLATED
WITH NOTES & INDEX BY ARTHUR RICHARD SHILLETO, M.A.
Sometime
Scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge, Translator of Pausanias.
LONDON
GEORGE BELL AND SONS 1898
[Note
on Copyright: This work is now in the public domain.]
Essay
IX – is a down to earth essay by Plutarch giving practical advice to Young
Travellers, New Philosophers and Older Searchers titled:
‘How We May Become Aware of Our Progress
in Virtue’
‘Furthermore,
take care, in reading the writings of philosophers or hearing their speeches
that you do not attend to words more than things, nor get attracted more by
what is difficult and curious than by what is serviceable and solid and
useful.’
(from section § viii
below)
§ i. What amount of argument, Sossius Senecio, will make a man know that he is improving in respect to virtue, if his advances in it do not bring about some diminution in folly, but vice, weighing equally with all his good intentions, "acts like the lead that makes the net go down?" (See endnote 249) For neither in music nor grammatical knowledge could anyone recognize any improvement, if he remained as unskilful in them as before, and had not lost some of his old ignorance. Nor in the case of anyone ill would medical treatment, if it brought no relief or ease, by the disease somewhat yielding and abating, give any perception of improvement of health, till the opposite condition was completely brought about by the body recovering its full strength. But just as in these cases there is no improvement unless, by the abatement of what weighs them down till they rise in the opposite scale, they recognize a change, so in the case of those who profess philosophy no improvement or sign of improvement can be supposed, unless the soul lay aside and purge itself of some of its imperfection, and if it continue altogether bad until it become absolutely good and perfect. For indeed a wise man cannot in a moment of time change from absolute badness to perfect goodness, and suddenly abandon for ever all that vice, of which he could not during a long period of time divest himself of any portion. And yet you know, of course, that those who maintain these views frequently give themselves much trouble and bewilderment about the difficulty, that a wise man does not perceive that he has become wise, but is ignorant and doubtful that in a long period of time by little and little, by removing some things and adding others, there will be a secret and quiet improvement, and as it were passage to virtue. But if the change were so great and sudden that the worst man in the morning could become the best man at night, or should the change so happen that he went to bed vicious and woke up in the morning wise, and, having dismissed from his mind all yesterday's follies and errors, should say, "False dreams, away, you had no meaning then!" (250) who on earth could be ignorant of so great a change happening to himself, of virtue blazing forth so completely all at once? I myself am of opinion that anyone, like Caeneus, (251) who, according, to his prayer, got changed from a woman into a man, would sooner be ignorant of the transformation, than that a man should become at once, from a cowardly and senseless person with no powers of self-control, brave and sensible and perfect master of himself, and should in a moment change from a brutish life to a divine without being aware of it.
§ ii. That
was an excellent observation, Measure the stone by the mason's rule, not the
rule by the stone. (252) But the Stoics, not applying dogmas to facts but facts
to their own preconceived opinions, and forcing things to agree that do not by
nature, have filled philosophy with many difficulties, the greatest of which is
that all men but the perfect man are equally vicious, which has produced the
enigma called progress, one little short of extreme folly, since it makes those
who have not at once under its guidance given up all passions and disorders
equally unfortunate as those who have not got rid of a single vile propensity.
However they are their own confuters, for while they lay down in the schools
that Aristides was as unjust as Phalaris, and Brasidas as great a craven as
Dolon, and Plato actually as senseless as Meletus, in life and its affairs they
turn away from and avoid one class as implacable, while they make use of the
others and trust them in most important matters as most worthy people.
§ iii. But
we who see that in every kind of evil, but especially in a disordered and
unsettled state of mind, there are degrees of more and less (so that the
progress made differs in different cases, badness abating, as a shadow flees
away, under the influence of reason, which calmly illuminates and cleanses the
soul), cannot consider it unreasonable to think that the change will be
perceived, as people who come up out of some ravine can take note of the
progress they make upwards. Look at the case from the following point of view
first. Just as mariners sailing with full sail over the gaping (253) ocean measure
the course they have made by the time they have taken and the force of the
wind, and compute their progress accordingly, so anyone can compute his
progress in philosophy by his continuous and unceasing course, by his not
making many halts on the road, and then again advancing by leaps and bounds,
but by his quiet and even and steady march forward guided by reason. For the
words of the poet, "If to a little you keep adding a little, and do so
frequently, it will soon be a lot," (254) are not only true of the
increase of money, but are universally applicable, and especially to increase
in virtue, since reason invokes to her aid the enormous force of habit. On the
other hand the inconsistencies and dulnesses of some philosophers not only
check advance, as it were, on the road, but even break up the journey
altogether, since vice always attacks at its leisure and forces back whatever
yields to it. (255) The mathematicians tell us that planets, after completing
their course, become stationary; but in philosophy there is no such
intermission or stationary position from the cessation of progress, for its
nature is ever to be moving and, as it were, to be weighed in the scales,
sometimes being over weighted by the good preponderating, sometimes by the bad.
If, therefore, imitating the oracle given to the Amphictyones by the god,
"to fight against the people of Cirrha every day and every night,"
(256) you are conscious that night and day you ever maintain a fierce fight
against vice, not often relaxing your vigilance, or long off your guard, or
receiving as heralds to treat of peace (257) the pleasures, or idleness, or
stress of business, you may reasonably go forward to the future courageously
and confidently.
§ iv. Moreover,
if there be any intermissions in philosophy, and yet your later studies are
firmer and more continuous than your former ones, it is no bad indication that
your sloth has been expelled by labour and exercise; for the contrary is a bad
sign, when after a short time your lapses from zeal become many and continuous,
as if your zeal were dying away. For as in the growth of a reed, which shoots
up from the ground finely and beautifully to an even and continuous height,
though at first from its great intervals it is hindered and baffled in its
growth, and afterwards through its weakness is discouraged by any breath of
air, and though strengthened by many and frequent joints, yet a violent wind
gives it commotion and trembling, so those who at first make great launches out
into philosophy, and afterwards find that they are continually hindered and
baffled, and cannot perceive that they make any progress, finally get tired of
it and cry off. "But he who is as it were winged," (258) is by his
simplicity borne along to his end, and by his zeal and energy cuts through
impediments to his progress, as merely obstacles on the road. As it is a sign
of the growth of violent love, not so much to rejoice in the presence of the
loved one, for everyone does that, as to be distressed and grieved at his
absence, (259) so many feel a liking for philosophy and seem to take a
wonderful interest in the study, but if they are diverted by other matters and
business their passion evaporates and they take it very easily. "But whoever
is strongly smitten with love for his darling" (260) will show his
mildness and agreeableness in the presence of and joint pursuit of wisdom with
the loved one, but if he is drawn away from him and is not in his company you
will see him in a stew and ill at ease and peevish whether at work or leisure,
and unreasonably forgetful of his friends, and wholly impelled by his passion
for philosophy. For we ought not to rejoice at discourses only when we hear
them, as people like perfumes only when they smell them, and not to seek or
care about them in their absence, but in the same condition as people who are
hungry and thirsty are in if torn away from food and drink, we ought to follow
after true proficiency in philosophy, whether marriage, or wealth, or friendship,
or military service, strike in and produce a separation. For just as more is to
be got from philosophy, so much the more does what we fail to obtain trouble
us.
§ v. Either
precisely the same as this or very similar is Hesiod's (261) very ancient definition
of progress in virtue, namely, that the road is no longer very steep or
arduous, but easy and smooth and level, its roughness being toned down by
exercise, and casting the bright light of philosophy on doubt and error and
regrets, such as trouble those who give themselves to philosophy at the outset,
like people who leave a land they know, and do not yet descry the land they are
sailing to. For by abandoning the common and familiar, before they know and
apprehend what is better, they frequently flounder about in the middle and are
fain to return. As they say the Roman Sextius, giving up for philosophy all his
honours and offices in Rome, being afterwards discontented with philosophy from
the difficulties he met with in it at first, very nearly threw himself out of
window. Similarly they relate of Diogenes of Sinope, (262) when he began to be
a philosopher, that the Athenians were celebrating a festival, and there were
public banquets and shows and mutual festivities, and drinking and revelling
all night, and he, coiled up in a corner of the market-place intending to
sleep, fell into a train of thought likely seriously to turn him from his
purpose and shake his resolution, for he reflected that he had adopted without
any necessity a toilsome and unusual kind of life, and by his own fault sat
there debarred of all the good things. At that moment, however, they say a
mouse stole up and began to munch some of the crumbs of his barley-cake, and he
plucked up his courage and said to himself, in a railing and chiding fashion,
"What say you, Diogenes? Do your leavings give this mouse a sumptuous
meal, while you, the gentleman, wail and lament because you are not getting
drunk yonder and reclining on soft and luxurious couches?" Whenever such
depressions of mind are not frequent, and the mind when they take place quickly
recovers from them, after having put them to flight as it were, and when such
annoyance and distraction is easily got rid of, then one may consider one's
progress in virtue as a certainty.
§ vi. And
since not only the things that in themselves shake and turn them in the
opposite direction are more powerful in the case of weak philosophers, but also
the serious advice of friends, and the playful and jeering objections of
adversaries bend and soften people, and have ere now shaken some out of
philosophy altogether, it will be no slight indication of one's progress in
virtue if one takes all this very calmly, and is neither disturbed nor
aggravated by people who tell us and mention to us that some of our former
comrades are flourishing in kings' courts, or have married wives with dowries,
or are attended by a crowd of friends when they come down to the forum to
solicit some office or advocateship. He that is not moved or affected by all
this is already plainly one upon whom philosophy has got a right hold; for it
is impossible that we should cease to be envious of what most people admire,
unless the admiration of virtue was strongly implanted in us. For
over-confidence may be generated in some by anger and folly, but to despise
what men admire is not possible without a true and steady elevation of mind.
And so people in such a condition of mind, comparing it with that of others,
pride themselves on it, and say with Solon, "We would not change virtue for
wealth, for while virtue abides, wealth changes hands, and now one man, now
another, has it." (263) And Diogenes compared his shifting about from
Corinth to Athens, and again from Thebes to Corinth, to the different
residences of the King of Persia, as his spring residence at Susa, his winter
residence at Babylon, and his summer residence in Media. And Agesilaus said of
the great king, "How is he better than me, if he is not more
upright?" And Aristotle, writing to Antipater about Alexander, said,
"that he ought not to think highly of himself because he had many
subjects, for anyone who had right notions about the gods was entitled to think
quite as highly of himself." And Zeno, observing that Theophrastus was
admired for the number of his pupils, (264) said, "His choir is, I admit,
larger than mine, but mine is more harmonious."
§ vii. Whenever
then, by thus comparing the advantages of virtue with external things, you get
rid of envies and jealousies and those things which fret and depress the minds
of many who are novices in philosophy, this also is a great indication of your
progress in virtue. Another and no slight indication is a change in the style
of your discourses. For generally speaking all novices in philosophy adopt most
such as tend to their own glorification; some, like birds, in their levity and
ambition soaring to the height and brightness of physical things; others like
young puppies, as Plato (265) says, rejoicing in tearing and biting, betake
themselves to strifes and questions and sophisms; but most plunging themselves
into dialectics immediately store themselves for sophistry; and some collect
sentences (266) and histories and go about (as Anacharsis said he saw the
Greeks used money for no other purpose but to count it up), merely piling up
and comparing them, but making no practical use of them. Applicable here is
that saying of Antiphanes, which someone applied to Plato's pupils. Antiphanes
said playfully that in a certain city words were frozen directly they were
spoken, owing to the great cold, and were thawed again in the summer, so that
one could then hear what had been said in the winter. So he said of the words
which were spoken by Plato to young men, that most of them only understood them
late in life when they were become old men. And this is the condition people
are in in respect to all philosophy, until the judgement gets into a sound and
healthy state, and begins to adapt itself to those things which can produce
character and greatness of mind, and to seek discourses whose footsteps turn
inwards rather than outwards, to borrow the language of Æsop. (267) For as
Sophocles said he had first toned down the pompous style of Æschylus, then his
harsh and over-artificial method, and had in the third place changed his manner
of diction, a most important point and one that is most intimately connected
with the character, so those who go in for philosophy, when they have passed
from flattering and artificial discourses to such as deal with character and
emotion, are beginning to make genuine and modest progress in virtue.
§ viii. Furthermore,
take care, in reading the writings of philosophers or hearing their speeches,
that you do not attend to words more than things, nor get attracted more by
what is difficult and curious than by what is serviceable and solid and useful.
And also, in studying poems or history, let nothing escape you of what is said
to the point, which is likely either to correct the character or to calm the
passions. For as Simonides says the bee hovers among the flowers "making
the yellow honey," (268) while others value and pluck flowers only for
their beauty and fragrance, so of all that read poems for pleasure and
amusement he alone that finds and gathers what is valuable seems capable of
knowledge from his acquaintance with and friendship for what is noble and good.
(269) For those who study Plato and Xenophon only for their style, and cull out
only what is pure and Attic, and as it were the dew and the bloom, do they not
resemble people who love drugs for their smell and colour, but care not for
them as anodynes or purges, and are not aware of those properties? Whereas
those who have more proficiency can derive benefit not from discourses only,
but from sights and actions, and cull what is good and useful, as is recorded
of Æschylus and other similar kind of men. As to Æschylus, when he was watching
a contest in boxing at the Isthmus, and the whole theatre cried out upon one of
the boxers being beaten, he nudged with his elbow Ion of Chios, and said,
"Do you observe the power of training? The beaten man holds his peace,
while the spectators cry out." And Brasidas having caught hold of a mouse
among some figs, being bitten by it let it go, and said to himself,
"Hercules, there is no creature so small or weak that it will not fight
for its life!" And Diogenes, seeing a lad drinking water out of the palm
of his hand, threw away the cup which he kept in his wallet. So much does
attention and assiduous practice make people perceptive and receptive of what
contributes to virtue from any source. And this is the case still more with
those who mix discourses with actions, who not only, to use the language of
Thucydides, (270) "exercise themselves in the presence of danger,"
but also in regard to pleasures and strifes, and judgements, and advocateships,
and magistrateships make a display of their opinions, or rather form their
opinions by their practice. For we can no more think those philosophers who are
ever learning and busy and investigating what they have got from philosophy, and
then straightway publish it in the market-place or in the haunt of young men,
or at a royal supper-party, any more than we give the name of physicians to
those who sell drugs and mixtures. Nay rather such a sophist differs very
little at all from the bird described in Homer, (271) offering his scholars
like it whatever he has got, and as it feeds its callow young from its own
mouth, "though it goes ill with itself," so he gets no advantage or
food from what he has got for himself.
§ ix. We
must therefore see to it that our discourse be serviceable to ourselves, and
that it may not appear to others to be vain-glorious or ambitious, and we must
show that we are as willing to listen as to teach, and especially must we lay
aside all disputatiousness and love of strife in controversy, and cease
bandying fierce words with one another as if we were contending with one
another at boxing, and leave off rejoicing more in smiting and knocking down
one another than in learning and teaching. For in such cases moderation and
mildness, and to commence arguing without quarrelsomeness and to finish without
getting into a rage, and neither to be insolent if you come off best in the
argument, nor dejected if you come off worst, is a sufficient sign of progress
in virtue. Aristippus was an excellent example of this, when overcome in
argument by the sophistry of a man, who had plenty of assurance, but was
generally speaking mad or half-witted. Observing that he was in great joy and
very puffed up at his victory, he said, "I who have been vanquished in the
argument shall have a better night's rest than my victor." We can also
test ourselves in regard to public speaking, if we are not timid and do not
shrink from speaking when a large audience has unexpectedly been got together,
nor dejected when we have only a small one to harangue to, and if we do not,
when we have to speak to the people or before some magistrate, miss the
opportunity through want of proper preparation; for these things are recorded
both of Demosthenes and Alcibiades. As for Alcibiades, though he possessed a
most excellent understanding, yet from want of confidence in speaking he often
broke down, and in trying to recall a word or thought that slipped his memory
had to stop short. (272) And Homer did not deny that his first line was
unmetrical, (273) though he had sufficient confidence to follow it up by so
many other lines, so great was his genius. Much more then ought those who aim
at virtue and what is noble to lose no opportunity of public speaking, paying
very little attention to either uproar or applause at their speeches.
§ x. And
not only ought each to see to his discourses but also to his actions whether he
regards utility more than show, and truth more than display. For if a genuine
love for youth or maiden seeks no witnesses, but is content to enjoy its
delights privately, far more does it become the philosopher and lover of the
beautiful, who is conversant with virtue through his actions, to pride himself
on his silence, and not to need people to praise or listen to him. As that man
who called his maid in the house, and cried out to her, "See, Dionysia, I
am angry no longer," (274) so he that does anything agreeable and polite,
and then goes and spreads it about the town, plainly shows that he looks for
public applause and has a strong propensity to vain-glory, and as yet has no
acquaintance with virtue as a reality but only as a dream, restlessly roving
about amid phantoms and shadows, and making a display of whatever he does as
painters display a picture. It is therefore a sign of progress in virtue not
merely to have given to a friend or done a good turn to an acquaintance without
mentioning it to other people, but also to have given an honest vote among many
unjust ones, and to have withstood the dishonourable request of some rich man
or of some man in office, and to have been above taking bribes, and, by Zeus,
to have been thirsty all night and not to have drunk, or, like Agesilaus, (275)
to have resisted, though strongly tempted, the kiss of a handsome youth or
maiden, and to have kept the fact to oneself and been silent about it. For
one's being satisfied with one's own good opinion (276) and not despising it,
but rejoicing in it and acquiescing in it as competent to see and decide on
what is honourable, proves that reason is rooted and grounded within one, and
that, to borrow the language of Democritus, one is accustomed to draw one's
delights from oneself. And just as farmers behold with greater pleasure those
ears of corn which bend and bow down to the ground, while they look upon those
that from their lightness stand straight upright as empty pretenders, so also
among those young men who wish to be philosophers those that are most empty and
without any solidity show the greatest amount of assurance in their appearance
and walk, and a face full of haughtiness and contempt that looks down on
everybody, but when they begin to grow full and get some fruit from study they
lay aside their proud and vain (277) bearing. And just as in vessels that
contain water the air is excluded, so with men that are full of solid merit
their pride abates, and their estimate of themselves becomes a lower one, and
they cease to plume themselves on a long beard and threadbare cloak, (278) and
transfer their training to the mind, and are most severe and austere to
themselves, while they are milder in their intercourse with everybody else; and
they do not as before eagerly snatch at the name and reputation of philosopher,
nor do they write themselves down as such, but even if he were addressed by
that title by anyone else, an ingenuous young man would say, smiling and
blushing, "I am not a god: why do you liken me to the immortals?"
(279) For as Æschylus says, "I never can mistake the burning eye Of the
young woman that has once known man," (280) so to the young man who has
tasted of true progress in philosophy the following lines of Sappho are
applicable, "My tongue cleaves to the roof of my month, and a fire courses
all over my lean body," and his eye will be gentle and mild, and you would
desire to hear him speak. For as those who are initiated come together at first
with confusion and noise and jostle one another, but when the mysteries are
being performed and exhibited, they give their attention with awe and silence,
so also at the commencement of philosophy you will see round its doors much
confusion and assurance and prating, some rudely and violently jostling their
way to reputation, but he who once enters in, and sees the great light, as when
shrines are open to view, assumes another air and is silent and awe-struck, and
in humility and decorum follows reason as if she were a god. And the playful
remark of Menedemus seems to suit these very well. He said that the majority of
those who went to school at Athens became first wise, and then philosophers,
after that orators, and as time went on became ordinary kind of people, the
more they had to do with learning, so much the more laying aside their pride
and high estimate of themselves.
§ xi. Of
people that need the help of the physician some, if their tooth ache or even
finger smart, run at once to the doctor, others if they are feverish send for
one and implore his assistance at their own home, others who are melancholy or
crazy or delirious will not sometimes even see the doctor if he comes to their
house, but drive him away, or avoid him, ignorant through their grievous
disease that they are diseased at all. Similarly of those who have done what is
wrong some are incorrigible, being hostile and indignant and furious at those
who reprove and admonish them, while others are meeker and bear and allow
reproof. Now, when one has done what is wrong, to offer oneself for reproof, to
expose the case and reveal one's wrongdoing, and not to rejoice if it lies hid,
or be satisfied if it is not known, but to make confession of it and ask for
interference and admonishment, is no small indication of progress in virtue.
And so Diogenes said that one who wished to do what was right ought to seek
either a good friend or red-hot enemy, that either by rebuke or mild entreaty
he might flee from vice. But as long as anyone, making a display of dirt or
stains on his clothes, or a torn shoe, prides himself to outsiders on his
freedom from arrogance, and, by Zeus, thinks himself doing something very smart
if he jeers at himself as a dwarf or hunchback, but wraps up and conceals as if
they were ulcers the inner vileness of his soul and the deformities of his
life, as his envy, his malignity, his littleness, his love of pleasure, and
will not let anyone touch or look at them from fear of disgrace, such a one has
made little progress in virtue, yea rather none. But he that joins issue with
his vices, and shows that he himself is even more pained and grieved about them
than anyone else, or, what is next best, is able and willing to listen
patiently to the reproof of another and to correct his life accordingly, he
seems truly to be disgusted at his depravity and resolute to divest himself of
it. We ought certainly to be ashamed of and shun every appearance of vice, but
he who is more put about by his vice itself than by the bad reputation that
ensues upon it, will not mind either hearing it spoken against or even speaking
against it himself if it make him a better man. That was a witty remark of
Diogenes to a young man, who when seen in a tavern retired into the kitchen:
"The more," said he, "you retire, the more are you in the
tavern." (281) Even so the more a vicious man denies his vice, the more
does it insinuate itself and master him: as those people really poor who
pretend to be rich get still more poor from their false display. But he who is
really making progress in virtue imitates Hippocrates, who confessed publicly
and put into black and white that he had made a mistake about the sutures of
the skull, (282) for he will think it monstrous, if that great man declared his
mistake, that others might not fall into the same error, and yet he himself for
his own deliverance from vice cannot bear to be shown he is in the wrong, and
to confess his stupidity and ignorance. Moreover the sayings of Bion and Pyrrho
will test not so much one's progress as a greater and more perfect habit of
virtue. Bion maintained that his friends might think they had made progress,
when they could listen as patiently to abuse as to such language as the
following, "Stranger, you look not like a bad or foolish person,"
(283) "Health and joy go with you, may the gods give you happiness!"
(284) While as to Pyrrho they say, when he was at sea and in peril from a
storm, that he pointed out a little pig that was quietly enjoying some grain
that had been scattered about, and said to his companions that the man who did
not wish to be disturbed by the changes and chances of life should attain a
similar composedness of mind through reason and philosophy.
§ xii. Look
also at the opinion of Zeno, who thought that everybody might gauge his
progress in virtue by his dreams, if he saw himself in his dreams pleasing
himself with nothing disgraceful, and neither doing nor wishing to do anything
dreadful or unjust, but that, as in the clear depths of a calm and tranquil
sea, his fancy and passions were plainly shown to be under the control of
reason. And this had not escaped the notice of Plato, (285) it seems, who had
earlier expressed in form and outline the part that fancy and unreason played
in sleep in the soul that was by nature tyrannical, "for it attempts
incest," he says, "with its mother, and procures for itself unlawful
meats, and gives itself up to the most abandoned desires, such as in daytime
the law through shame and fear debars people from." As then beasts of
burden that have been well-trained do not, even if their driver let go the
reins, attempt to turn aside and leave the proper road, but go forward orderly
as usual, pursuing their way without stumbling, so those whose unreason has
become obedient and mild and tempered by reason, will not easily wish, either
in dreams or in illnesses, to deal insolently or lawlessly through their
desires, but will keep to their usual habits, which acquire their power and
force by attention. For if the body can by training make itself and its members
so subject to control, that the eyes in sorrow can refrain from tears, and the
heart from palpitating in fear, and the passions can be calm in the presence of
beautiful youths and maidens, is it not far more likely that the training of
the passions and emotions of the soul will allay, tame down, and mould their
propensities even in dreams? A story is told about the philosopher Stilpo,
(286) that he thought he saw in a dream Poseidon angry with him because he had
not sacrificed an ox to him, as was usual among the Megarians: (287) and that
he, not a bit frightened, said, "What are you talking about, Poseidon? Do
you come here as a peevish boy, because I have not with borrowed money filled
the town with the smell of sacrifice, and have only sacrificed to you out of
what I had at home on a modest scale?" Then he thought that Poseidon
smiled at him, and held out his right hand, and said that for his sake he would
give the Megarians a large shoal of anchovies. Those, then, that have such
pleasant, clear, and painless dreams, and no frightful, or harsh, or malignant,
or untoward apparition, may be said to have reflections of their progress in
virtue; whereas agitation and panics and ignoble flights, and boyish delights,
and lamentations in the case of sad and strange dreams, are like the waves that
break on the coast, the soul not having yet got its proper composure, but being
still in course of being moulded by opinions and laws, from which it escapes in
dreams as far as possible, so that it is once again set free and open to the
passions. Do you investigate all these points too, as to whether they are signs
of progress in virtue, or of some habit which has already a settled constancy
and strength through reason.
§ xiii. Now
since entire freedom from the passions is a great and divine thing, and
progress in virtue seems, as we say, to consist in a certain remissness and
mildness of the passions, we must observe the passions both in themselves and
in reference to one another to gauge the difference: in themselves as to
whether desire, and fear, and rage are less strong in us now than formerly,
through our quickly extinguishing their violence and heat by reason; and in
reference to one another as to whether we are animated now by modesty more than
by fear, and by emulation more than by envy, and by love of glory rather than
by love of riches, and generally speaking whether—to use the language of
musicians—it is in the Dorian more than in the Lydian measures that we err
either by excess or deficiency, (288) whether we are plainer in our manner of
living or more luxurious, whether we are slower in action or quicker, whether
we admire men and their discourses more than we should or despise them. For as
it is a good sign in diseases if they turn aside from vital parts of the body,
so in the case of people who are making progress in virtue, when vice seems to
shift to milder passions, it is a sign it will soon die out. When Phrynis added
to the seven chords two chords more, the Ephors asked him which he preferred to
let them cut off, the upper or lower ones; (289) so we must cut off both above
and below, if we mean to attain, to the mean and to due proportion: for
progress in virtue first diminishes the excess and sharpness of the passions,
"That sharpness for which madmen are so vehement," as Sophocles says.
§ xiv. I
have already said that it is a very great indication of progress in virtue to
transfer our judgement to action, and not to let our words remain merely words,
but to make deeds of them. A manifestation of this is in the first place
emulation as regards what we praise, and a zeal to do what we admire, and an
unwillingness either to do or allow what we censure. To illustrate my meaning
by an example, it is probable that all Athenians praised the daring and bravery
of Miltiades; but Themistocles alone said that the trophy of Miltiades would
not let him sleep, but woke him up of a night, and not only praised and admired
him, but manifestly emulated and imitated his glorious actions. Small,
therefore, can we think the progress we have made, as long as our admiration
for those who have done noble things is barren, and does not of itself incite
us to imitate them. For as there is no strong love without jealousy, so there
is no ardent and energetic praise of virtue, which does not prick and goad one
on, and make one not envious but emulous of what is noble, and desirous to do
something similar. For not only at the discourses of a philosopher ought we, as
Alcibiades said, (290) to be moved in heart and shed tears, but the true
proficient in virtue, comparing his own deeds and actions with those of the
good and perfect man, and grieved at the same time at the knowledge of his own
deficiency, yet rejoicing in hope and desire, and full of impulses that will
not let him rest, is, as Simonides says, "Like sucking foal running by
side of dam," (291) being desirous all but to coalesce with the good man.
For it is a special sign of true progress in virtue to love and admire the
disposition of those whose deeds we emulate, and to resemble them with a
goodwill that ever assigns due honour and praise to them. But whoever is
steeped in contentiousness and envy against his betters, let him know that he may
be pricked on by a jealous desire for glory or power, but that he neither
honours nor admires virtue.
§ xv. Whenever,
then, we begin so much to love good men that we deem happy, "not
only," as Plato (292) says, "the temperate man himself, but also the
man who hears the words that flow from his wise lips," and even admire and
are pleased with his figure and walk and look and smile, and desire to adapt
ourselves to his model and to stick closely to him, then may we think that we
are making genuine progress. Still more will this be the case, if we admire the
good not only in prosperity, but like lovers who admire even the lispings and
paleness of those in their flower, (293) as the tears and dejection of Panthea
in her grief and affliction won the affections of Araspes, (294) so we fear
neither the exile of Aristides, nor the prison of Anaxagoras, nor the poverty
of Socrates, nor the condemnation of Phocion, but think virtue worthy our love
even under such trials, and join her, ever chanting that line of Euripides,
"Unto the noble everything is good." (295) For the enthusiasm that
can go so far as not to be discouraged at the sure prospect of trouble, but
admires and emulates what is good even so, could never be turned away from what
is noble by anybody. Such men ever, whether they have some business to
transact, or have taken upon them some office, or are in some critical
conjuncture, put before their eyes the example of noble men, and consider what
Plato would have done on the occasion, what Epaminondas would have said, how
Lycurgus or Agesilaus would have dealt; that so, adjusting and re-modelling
themselves, as it were, at their mirrors, they may correct any ignoble
expression, and repress any ignoble passion. For as those that have learnt the
names of the Idæan Dactyli (296) make use of them to banish their fear by
quietly repeating them over, so the bearing in mind and remembering good men,
which soon suggests itself forcibly to those who have made some progress in
virtue in all their emotions and difficulties, keeps them upright and not
liable to fall. Let this also then be a sign to you of progress in virtue.
§ xvi. In
addition to this, not to be too much disturbed, nor to blush, nor to try and
conceal oneself, or make any change in one's dress, on the sudden appearance of
a man of distinction and virtue, but to feel confident and go and meet such a
one, is the confirmation of a good conscience. It is reported that Alexander,
seeing a messenger running up to him full of joy and holding out his right hand,
said, "My good friend, what are you going to tell me? Has Homer come to
life again?" For he thought that his own exploits required nothing but
posthumous fame. (297) And a young man improving in character instinctively
loves nothing better than to take pride and pleasure in the company of good and
noble men, and to display his house, his table, his wife, his amusements, his
serious pursuits, his spoken or written discourses; insomuch that he is grieved
when he remembers that his father or guardian died without seeing him in that
condition in life, and would pray for nothing from the gods so much, as that
they could come to life again, and be spectators of his life and actions; as,
on the contrary, those that have neglected their affairs, and come to ruin, cannot
look upon their relatives even in dreams without fear and trembling.
§ xvii. Add,
if you please, to what I have already said, as no small indication of progress
in virtue, the thinking no wrong-doing small, but being on your guard and heed
against all. For as people who despair of ever being rich make no account of
small expenses, thinking they will never make much by adding little to little,
(298) but when hope is nearer fruition, then with wealth increases the love of
it, (299) so in things that have respect to virtue, not he that generally
assents to such sayings as "Why trouble about hereafter?" "If
things are bad now, they will some day be better," (300) but the man who
pays heed to everything, and is vexed and concerned if vice gets pardon, when
it lapses into even the most trifling wrongdoing, plainly shows that he has
already attained to some degree of purity, and deigns not to contract
defilement from anything whatever. For the idea that we have nothing of any
importance to bring disgrace upon, makes people inclined to what is little and
careless. (301) To those who are building a stone wall or coping it matters not
if they lay on any chance wood or common stone, or some tombstone that has
fallen down, as bad workmen do, heaping and piling up pell-mell every kind of
material; but those who have made some progress in virtue, whose life "has
been wrought on a golden base," (302) like the foundation of some holy or
royal building, undertake nothing carelessly, but lay and adjust everything by
the line and level of reason, thinking the remark of Polycletus superlatively
good, that that work is most excellent, where the model stands the test of the
nail. (303)
Endnotes:
249 See Erasmus, Adagia, "Eadem
pensari trutina."
250 Euripides, "Iphigenia in
Tauris," 569. 251 See Ovid, "Metamorphoses," xii. 189, sq.
252 See Erasmus, "Adagia," p.
1103.
253 Compare Shakspere,
"Tempest," A. i. Sc. i. 63, "And gape at widest to glut
him."
254 Hesiod, "Works and Days,"
361, 362. Quoted again by our author, "On Education," § 13.
255 "In via ad virtutem qui non
progreditur, is non stat et manet, sed regreditur."—Wyttenbach.
256 Adopting the reading of Hercher.
See Pausanias, x. 37, where the oracle is somewhat different.
257 For the town which parleys
surrenders.
258 From Homer, "Iliad," xix.
386.
259 Compare Aristotle, Rhetoric, i. 11.
και ἀρχή δὲ τοῦ ἔρωτος γίγνεται αὕτη πᾶσιν, ὅταν μὴ μόνον παρόντος χαίρωσιν,
ἀλλὰ και ἀπόντος μεμνημένοι ἔρῶσιν.
260 The line is a Fragment of
Sophocles.
261 See Hesiod, "Works and
Days," 289-292.
262 The well-known Cynic philosopher.
263 Bergk. fr. 15. Compare Homer,
"Iliad," vi. 339. νίκη δ᾽ ἐπαμείβεται ἄνδρας.
264 We are told by Diogenes Läertius,
v. 37, that Theophrastus had 2000 hearers sometimes at once.
265 "Republic," vii. p. 539,
B.
266 Sentences borrowed from some author
or other, such, as we still possess from the hands of Hermogenes and
Aphthonius; compare the collection of bon-mots of Greek courtesans in Athenæus.
267 A reference to Æsop's Fable, Λέων
και Ἀλώπηξ. Cf. Horace, "Epistles," i. i. 73-75.
268 This passage is alluded to also in
"On Love to one's Offspring."
§ ii. 269 Madvig's text.
270 Thucydides, i. 18.
271 Homer, "Iliad," ix. 323,
324. Quoted also in "On Love to One's Offspring," § ii.
272 The remark about Demosthenes has
somehow slipped out, as Wyttenbach has suggested.
273 Does this refer to Πηληίαδεω before
Ἀχιλῆος in "Iliad," i. 1?
274 An allusion to some passage in a
Play that has not come down to us.
275 Compare our Author, De Audiendis
Poetis, § xi. ὥσπερ ὁ Ἀγησίλαοσ οὐκ ὑπέμεινεν ὑπὸ τοῦ καλοῦ φιληθῆναι
προσιόντος.
276 Reading with Madvig and Hercher, τὸ
γὰρ αὺτὸν, sq.
277 Literally cork-like, so vain,
empty. So Horace, "levior cortice," "Odes," iii. 9, 22.
278 Marks of a philosopher among the
ancients. Compare our Author, "How one may discern a flatterer from a
friend,"
§ vii. 279 "Odyssey," xvi.
187.
280 Æschylus, "Toxotides,"
Fragm. 224. Quoted again by our author, "On Love,"
§ xxi. 281 "Turpe habitum fuisse
in caupona conspici, et hoc exemplo apparet, et alia sunt indicia. Isocrates
Orat. Areopagitica laudans antiquorum Atheniensium mores, p. 257: ἐν καπηλείῳ
δὲ φαγεῖν ἢ πιεῖν οὐδεὶς ἃν οἰκέτης ἐπιεικὴς ἐτὸλμησε: quem locum citans
Athenæus alia etiam adfert xiii. p. 566, F."—Wyttenbach.
282 Wyttenbach compares Quintilian,
"Institut. Orat." iii. 6, p. 255: "Nam et Hippocrates clarus
arte medicinæ videtur honestissime fecisse, qui quosdam errores suos, ne
posteri errarent, confessus est."
283 Homer, "Odyssey," vi.
187.
284 Homer, "Odyssey," xxiv.
402.
285 Plato, "Republic," ix. p.
571, D.
286 A somewhat similar story about
Stilpo is told in Athenæus, x. p. 423, D.
287 So Haupt and Herscher very
ingeniously for ἱερεῦσιν.
288 Adopting the suggestion of
Wyttenbach as to the reading. The Dorian measure was grave and severe, the
Lydian soft and effeminate.
289 See our author, "Apophthegmata
Laconica," p. 220 C.
290 Plato, "Symposium," p.
25, E.
291 This line is quoted again by our
author, "On Moral Virtue,"
§ vii. 292 Plato, "Laws," iv.
p. 711, E.
293 See those splendid lines of
Lucretius, iv. 1155-1169.
294 "Res valde celebrata ex
Institutione Cyri Xenophontea, v. 1, 2; vi. 1, 17."—Wyttenbach.
295 This line is very like a Fragment
in the "Danae" of Euripides. Dind. (328).
296 On these see Pausanias, v. 7.
297 Such as Homer could have brought.
Compare Horace, "Odes," iv. ix. 25-28; and Cicero, "pro Archia,"
x. "Magnus ille Alexander—cum in Sigeo ad Achillis tumulum adstitisset, O
fortunate, inquit, adolescens, qui tuæ virtutis Homerum præconem
inveneris."
298 Contrary to Hesiod's saw,
"Works and Days," 361, 362.
299 So Juvenal, xiv. 138-140.
300 Like Horace's "Non si male
nunc, et olim Sic erit." "Odes," ii. x. 16, 17.
301 Noblesse oblige in fact.
302 Pindar, Frag. 206.
303 Like Horace's factus ad unguem, because
the sculptor tries its polish and the niceness of the joints by drawing his
nail over the surface. Casaub. Pers. i. 64; Horace, "Sat." i. v. 32,
33; A. P. 294; Erasmus, "Adagia," p. 507.
