14. _But marriage_, said he, _and the begetting of children,-are these to be received by the Cynic among his chief purposes?_
Give me, said Epictetus, a city of wise men, and perhaps no one will easily come to the Cynic way: for whose sake should he embrace it?
However, if we do suppose such a thing, there is nothing to hinder his marrying and begetting children; for his wife will be even such another, and his father-in-law such another, and thus will his children be brought up. But things being as they now are, as it were in order of battle, must not the Cynic be given wholly and undistracted to the service of G.o.d, being able to go about among men, and not bound to private duties, nor entangled in ties which, if he transgress, he can no longer preserve the aspect of honesty and goodness; and if he obey them, he hath lost that of the missionary, the spy, the herald of the G.o.ds?
For see! he must needs observe a certain conduct towards his father-in-law, and he hath somewhat to render also to the rest of his wife"s kin and to his wife herself. And for the rest, he is shut off from Cynicism by the care for sickness, or means of livelihood. For one thing alone, he must have a vessel for warming water for his little child, where he may wash it in the bath; and wool for his wife when she has been delivered, and oil, and a couch, and a drinking cup-already a number of utensils-and other affairs and distractions. Where shall I thenceforth find that king, whose business is the common weal?
"Warden of men, and with so many cares."
_Il._ ii. 25.
on whom it lies to oversee all men, the married, and parents, and who useth his wife well, and who ill, and who wrangles, and what household is well-ordered, and what not; going about as a physician, and feeling pulses-"thou hast a fever, thou a headache, thou the gout; do thou fast, do thou eat, do thou avoid the bath, thou needest the knife, thou the cautery?" Where is the place for leisure to one who is bound to private duties? Must he not provide raiment for his children? yea, and send them to the schoolmaster with their tablets and writing instruments? and have a bed ready for them, since a man cannot be a Cynic from the womb? Else were it better to cast them away at once than kill them in this way. See, now, to what we have brought our Cynic-how we have taken away his kingship from him! _True, but Crates married._ Thou speakest of a circ.u.mstance that arose from love, and adducest a wife who was another Crates.[11] But our inquiry is concerning common marriages, and how men may be undistracted; and thus inquiring, we do not find it, in this condition of the world, a purpose of chief concern for a Cynic.
15. _How, then_, said he, _shall he still be preserving the community?_ G.o.d help thee! Whether do they best serve mankind who fill their own place by bringing into the world two or three screaming children, or those who, as far they may, oversee all men, what they do, how they live, wherewith they concern themselves, and what duties they neglect?
And were the Thebans more benefited by as many as left their little children behind, or by Epaminondas, who died childless? And did Priam, who begat fifty good-for-nothing sons, or Danaus, or aeolus,[12] better serve the community than Homer? Shall, then, the command of an army or the writing of poems withdraw a man from marriage and fatherhood, and he shall not be thought to have gained nothing for his childlessness, but the kingship of a Cynic shall be not worth what it costs? It may be we do not perceive his greatness, nor do we worthily conceive of the character of Diogenes; but we turn away our eyes to the present Cynics, "watch-dogs of the dining-room,"[13] who in nothing resemble those others, save perchance in breaking wind; but in no other thing. For else these things would not have moved us, nor should we have marveled if a Cynic will not marry nor beget children. Man! he hath begotten all mankind, he hath all men for his sons, all women for his daughters; so doth he visit all and care for all. Thinkest thou that he is a mere meddler and busybody in rebuking those whom he meets? As a father he doth it, as a brother, and as servant of the Universal Father, which is G.o.d.
16. If it please thee, ask of me also whether he shall have to do with affairs of public polity? Fool! dost thou seek a greater polity than that in whose affairs he is already concerned? Will it be greater if he come forward among the Athenians to say something about ways or means-he, whose part it is to discourse with all men, Athenians, Corinthians, Romans alike, not concerning means or ways, nor concerning peace or war, but about happiness and unhappiness, about good-fortune and ill-fortune, about slavery and freedom? And of a man that hath his part in so great a polity will you ask me if he shall attend to public affairs? Ask me also if he shall be a ruler; and again I shall say, Thou fool, what rule can be greater than his?
17. And to such a man there is need also of a certain kind of body. For if he shall appear consumptive, meager, and pale, his witness hath not the same emphasis. Not only by showing forth the things of the spirit must he convince foolish men that it is possible, without the things that are admired of them, to be good and wise, but also in his body must he show that plain and simple and open-air living are not mischievous even to the body: "Behold, even of this I am a witness, I and my body."
So Diogenes was wont to do, for he went about radiant with health, and with his very body he turned many to good. But a Cynic that men pity seems to be a beggar-all men turn away from him, all stumble at him.
For he must not appear squalid; so that neither in this respect shall he scare men away; but his very austerity should be cleanly and pleasing.
18. Much grace of body, then, must belong to the Cynic, and also quickness of mind, else he is a mere clot of slime and nothing else; for he must be ready and apt to meet all that may befall him. Thus when one said to Diogenes: _Thou art that Diogenes who thinkest there are no G.o.ds_, he replied, _And how may that be, seeing I hold thee hateful to the G.o.ds?_ And again, when Alexander stood beside him, as he was lying asleep, and said:
"Not all night must a man of counsel sleep,"
he answered, ere he was yet awake:
"Warden of men, and with so many cares."[14]
19. But before all things must his ruling faculty be purer than the sun, else he must needs be a gambler and cheater, who, being himself entangled in some iniquity, will reprove others. For, see how the matter stands: to these kings and tyrants, their spearmen and their arms give the office of reproving men, and the power to punish transgressors, yea, though they themselves be evil; but to the Cynic, instead of arms and spearmen, his conscience giveth this power. When he knows that he has watched and labored for men, and lain down to sleep in purity, and sleep hath left him yet purer; and that his thoughts have been the thoughts of one dear to the G.o.ds, of a servant, and a sharer in the rule of Zeus; and he hath had ever at hand that
"Lead me, O Zeus, and thou Destiny,[15]
and,
"If thus it be pleasing to the G.o.ds, so may it be"-
wherefore, then, shall he not take heart to speak boldly to his brothers, to his children, in a word, to all his kin? For this reason, he that is in this state is no meddler or busybody, for when he overlooks human affairs he meddles not with foreign matters, but with his own affairs. Else, name the general a busybody when he overlooks his soldiers, and reviews them, and watches them, and punishes the disorderly. But if you have a flat cake under your cloak while you reprove others, I say, get hence rather into a corner, and eat what thou hast stolen-what are other men"s concerns to thee? For what art thou-the bull of the herd? or the queen bee? Show me the tokens of thy supremacy, such as nature hath given her. But if thou art a drone claiming sovereignty over the bees, thinkest thou not that thy fellow-citizens will overthrow thee, as bees do the drones?
20. And truly the Cynic must be so long-suffering as that he shall seem to the mult.i.tude insensate and a stone. Him doth none revile, nor smite, nor insult; but his body hath he given to any man to use at will. For he remembers that the worse must needs be vanquished by the better, whereinsoever it is the worse; and the body is worse than the mult.i.tude-the weaker than the stronger. Never, then, doth he go down to any contest where it is possible for him to be vanquished, but he yields up all that is not his own, and contends for nothing that is subject to others. But where there is question of the will and the use of appearances, then you shall see how many eyes he hath, so that you may say that compared with him Argus was blind. Is his a.s.sent ever hasty; or his desire idle; or his pursuit in vain; or his avoidance unsuccessful; or his aim unfulfilled? doth he ever blame, or cringe, or envy? This is his great study and his design; but as regards all other things, he lies on his back and snores, for all is peace. There is no thief of his will, nor tyrant; but of his body? yea; and of his chattels? yea, and also of his authority and his honors. What, then, are these things to him? So when one may seek to make him afraid on account of them-_Go hence_, he saith to him, _and find out little children; it is to these that masks are dreadful, but I know they are made of clay, and that inside them there is nothing._
21. On such a matter art thou now meditating. Therefore, if it please thee, in G.o.d"s name delay it yet awhile, and see first what ability thou hast for it. For mark what Hector speaks to Andromache: _Go_, he saith, _rather into the house and weave_-
"For war"s the care Of every man, and more than all of me."
-_Il._ vi. 490.
Thus he knew where lay his own ability and her incapacity.
END OF BOOK I.
_BOOK II._
CHAPTER I.
ON GENUINE AND BORROWED BELIEFS.
1. The master-argument seems to start from propositions such as these:[1] There being a mutual contradiction among these three propositions-(1) "Every past event is necessarily true," and (2) "An impossibility cannot follow a possibility," and (3) "Things are possible which neither are nor will be true," Diodorus, perceiving this contradiction, made use of the force of the first two in order to prove that nothing is possible which neither is nor will be true. And, again, one will hold these two, (3) that a thing is possible which neither is nor will be true, and (2) that an impossibility cannot follow from a possibility; but by no means that every past thing is necessarily true, and thus those of the school of Cleanthes appear to think, whom Antipater strongly defended. But some hold the other two, (3) that a thing is possible that neither is nor will be true, and (1) that every past event is necessarily true; but maintain that an impossibility may follow from a possibility. But all three it is impossible to hold at once, because of their mutual contradiction.
2. Now, if any one inquire of me, _And which of these dost thou hold?_ I shall answer him that I do not know, but I have received this account, that Diodorus holds certain of them, and I think the followers of Panthoides and Cleanthes certain others, and those of Chrysippus yet others. _And thyself?_ Nay, it is no affair of mine to try my own thoughts, and to compare and estimate statements, and to form some opinion of my own upon the matter.[2] And thus I differ no whit from the grammarians. Who was Hector"s father? _Priam._ And his brothers?
_Alexander and Deiphobus._ And their mother, who was she? _Hecuba. That is the account I have received._ From whom? _From Homer; and I think h.e.l.lanicus has written of them, and maybe others too._ And I; what better have I to say about the master-argument? But if I am a vain man, and especially at a banquet, I shall amaze all the company by recounting those who have written on it;-for Chrysippus wrote on it wonderfully in his first book "On Possibilities;" and Cleanthes wrote a separate treatise on it, and so did Archedemus. And Antipater wrote too, not only in his book "On Possibilities," but also separately in those on the master-argument. Have you not read the work? No! Then read it. And what good will it do him to read it? He will become yet more of a babbler and a nuisance than he is now, for what else hath the reading of it done for you? What opinion have you formed for yourself on the matter? Nay, but you will tell us all about Helen, and Priam, and the island of Calypso, that never existed, nor ever will.
3. And in Homer, indeed, it is no great matter if you have simply mastered the account, and formed no opinion of your own. But in ethics this is even much more often the case than in other matters. Tell me concerning good and evil things! Listen to him, then, with his-
"Me to Ciconia brought the wind from Troy."
-_Od._ ix, 39.
_Of things some are good, some evil, and some indifferent. Now the good things are the virtues, and those that have the nature of virtue, and the evil things the vices, and those that have the nature of vice; and the indifferent things are between these, as wealth, health, life, death, pleasure, affliction._ And how do you know this? Because h.e.l.lanicus affirms it in his history of the Egyptians; for as well say this as that Diogenes has it in his Ethics, or Chrysippus, or Cleanthes.
But have you tested any of their sayings, and formed an opinion for yourself? Show me how you are wont to bear a storm at sea. Do you remember the difference between good and evil when the sail clatters, and some vexatious man comes to you as you are shrieking, and says-
--"Tell me, by the G.o.ds, what you were lately saying, Is it any vice to be shipwrecked? Hath it anything of the nature of vice?"
Would you not lay hold of a stick and shake it in his face: _Let us alone, man; we are perishing, and you come to mock us!_ And do you remember the difference if you are accused of something and Caesar sends for you? If one should come to you when you enter, pale and trembling, and should say, "Why do you tremble, man? what is your business concerned with? Doth Caesar there within dispense virtue and vice to those who go in to him? _Why_, you will say; _must you too mock me in my calamities?_
--"Nevertheless, tell me, O Philosopher, why you tremble-is it not merely death that you are in danger of, or imprisonment, or bodily suffering, or exile, or disgrace? What else? Is it any vice? or anything of the nature of vice?"
And you will reply somewhat to this effect: _Let me alone, man; my own evils are enough for me._
And truly you say well, for your own evils are enough for you; which are meanness, cowardice, and your false pretenses when you sat in the school of philosophy. Why did you deck yourself in others" glory? Why did you call yourself a Stoic?
4. Watch yourselves thus in the things that ye do, and ye shall see of what school ye are. And the most of you will be found Epicureans, but some few Peripatetics,[4] and those but slack. For where is the proof that ye hold virtue equal to all other things, or indeed superior? Show me a Stoic, if ye have one. Where or how can ye? But persons that repeat the phrases of Stoicism, of these ye can show us any number. And do they repeat those of the Epicureans any worse? and are they not equally accurate in the Peripatetic? Who is, then, a Stoic? As we say that a statue is Pheidian which is wrought according to the art of Pheidias, show me a man that is wrought according to the opinions he utters! Show me one that is sick and yet prosperous, in peril and prosperous, dying and prosperous, in exile and prosperous, in evil repute and prosperous.
Show him to me! by the G.o.ds! fain would I see a Stoic! And have ye none that is fully wrought out; then show me at least one that is in hand to be wrought-one that even leaneth towards these things. Do me this favor-grudge not an old man a sight that I have never seen yet. Think ye that I would have you show me the Zeus of Pheidias or the Athene-a work all ivory and gold? Nay; but let one show me a man"s soul that longs to be like-minded with G.o.d, and to blame neither G.o.ds nor men, and not to fail in any effort or avoidance, and not to be wrathful nor envious, nor jealous, but-for why should I make rounds to say it?-that desires to become a G.o.d from a man, and in this body of ours, this corpse, is mindful of his fellowship with Zeus. Show me that man. But ye cannot! Why, then, will ye mock yourselves and cheat others? Why wrap yourselves in others" garb, and go about, like thieves that steal clothes from the bath, with names and things that in nowise belong to you?
5. And now I am your teacher and ye are being taught by me. And I have this aim-to perfect you, that ye be unhindered, uncompelled, unembarra.s.sed, free, prosperous, happy, looking unto G.o.d alone in all things great and small. And ye are here to learn these things, and to do them. And wherefore do ye not finish the work, if ye have indeed such an aim as behooves you, and if I, besides the aim, have such ability as behooves me? What is here lacking? When I see a carpenter, and the wood lying beside him, I look for some work. And now, here is the carpenter, here is the wood-what is yet lacking? Is the thing such as cannot be taught? It can. Is it, then, not in our power? Yea, this alone of all things is. Wealth is not in our power, nor health, nor repute, nor any other thing, save only the right use of appearances. This alone is by nature unhindered; this alone is unembarra.s.sed. Wherefore, then, will ye not make an end? Tell me the reason. For either the fault lies in me, or in you, or in the nature of the thing. But the thing itself is possible, and indeed the only thing that is in our power. It remains that I am to blame, or else ye are; or, to speak more truly, both of us. What will ye, then? Let us at length begin to entertain such a purpose among us, and let the past be past. Only let us make a beginning: trust in me, and ye shall see.
CHAPTER II.
THE GAME OF LIFE.