The Republic and The Laws (Oxford World's Classics) (21 page)

Finally, if goodness is pursued for the sake of other things, there must be something better than goodness. So is it money or high office or beauty or health? Such things, even when present, are not significant; and how long they are going to
remain
present is quite unknowable. Or is it pleasure (a most disgraceful suggestion)? But it is in scorning and rejecting pleasure that goodness is most convincingly revealed.

52

You see how long the series of topics and arguments is, and how each is linked to the one before? Indeed I would have run on much longer had I not restrained myself.

QUINTUS:
In what direction, may I ask? For, as far as your talk is concerned, I would gladly run on with you.

MARCUS:
Towards the ultimate good,
*
which is the standard and goal of every action. It is a matter of lively controversy and disagreement among the best thinkers; yet at long last one must come to a decision about it.

ATTICUS:
How can that be done now that Lucius Gellius is no longer alive?

53

MARCUS:
What on earth has that to do with it?

ATTICUS:
I remember hearing in Athens from my dear Phaedrus that your friend Gellius, when he went to Greece as proconsul after his praetorship, brought together all the philosophers who were then in Athens and urged them with great earnestness to put an end to their controversies; if they genuinely wished to stop wasting their lives in futile squabbles, agreement could be reached; at the same time he promised to lend them his assistance in the hope of achieving that end.

MARCUS:
Yes, that was a joke, Pomponius, and it has caused many a laugh. But I’d be more than happy to serve as an arbitrator
*
between the Old Academy
*
and Zeno.

ATTICUS:
How do you mean?

MARCUS:
Because they differ about one thing only; on everything else they agree wonderfully.

ATTICUS: YOU
don’t say! Is there really just one point of dispute?

MARCUS:
Well, only one
relevant
point. Whereas the Old Academy held that everything in conformity with nature that helped us in life was good, Zeno thought that nothing was good unless it was honourable.

54

ATTICUS:
Well, that’s no small disagreement, even if it’s not the sort to cause a total breach.

MARCUS:
You would be right if their disagreement were one of substance rather than words.

ATTICUS:
So you agree with my friend Antiochus
*
(I do not presume to call him my teacher). I once lived with him, and he almost dragged me out of our garden and brought me to within a few short steps of the Academy.

MARCUS:
He was certainly a wise and sharp man, and of his type a consummate thinker; he was also, as you know, a friend of mine. Whether I agree with him in everything or not is a matter which I shall consider presently. All I am saying now is that this whole dispute can be settled.

ATTICUS:
How do you make
that
out?

55

MARCUS:
If, like Aristo of Chios, Zeno had said that only the honourable was good and only the base was bad, and that all other things were entirely neutral, and that it didn’t make the slightest difference whether they were present or not, then he would have been in serious dispute with Xenocrates, Aristotle, and the whole Platonic school; and they would have differed on a crucial issue affecting the whole theory of ethics. But as it is, while the Old Academy called what is honourable the highest good, Zeno calls it the only good. Likewise they called disgrace the worst evil, he calls it the only one. He classifies riches, health, and beauty as advantageous things,
*
not as good things, and poverty, ill-health, and pain as disadvantageous things, not as evils. In this he believes the same as Xenocrates and Aristotle but uses different terms. Yet from this disagreement (which is one of words, not of substance) a dispute has arisen about ultimate ends.
*
In this dispute, since the Twelve Tables do not permit squatters to obtain the rights of possessors
*
within five feet
*
of a boundary, we will not allow the ancient possessions of the Academy to be grazed on by this clever man, and we shall determine the ends in question not as a single judge according to the Mamilian Law
*
but as a Board of Three in accordance with the Twelve Tables.

ATTICUS:
So what verdict do we bring in?

56

MARCUS:
We find that the markers laid down by Socrates
*
should be sought out and respected.

QUINTUS:
You are already using the terms of civil law and statutes most effectively, Marcus—a subject on which I look forward to hearing your exposition. The decision you have made is indeed important, as 1 have often heard you say. But there is no doubt about it: the highest good
*
is either to live according to nature (i.e. to enjoy a life of moderation governed by moral excellence) or to follow nature and live, so to speak, by her law (i.e. as far as possible to omit nothing in order to achieve what nature requires, which means the same as this:
*
to live, as it were, by the code of moral excellence). Hence I’m inclined to think that this question
[about ends]
can never be decided—certainly not in our present discussion, if we are to complete what we set out to do.

MARCUS:
I was following that detour quite happily!

57

QUINTUS:
There’ll be another opportunity. Now let’s get on with what we started, especially as it’s not affected by this dispute about ultimate good and evil.

MARCUS:
A very sensible suggestion, Quintus. What I’ve said up to now . . .
[In the lost portion Cicero is apparently asked to apply what has been said about justice to moral theory.]

QUINTUS:
... (I am not asking) you to discuss the laws of Lycurgus or Solon or Charondas or Zaleucus, or those of our own Twelve Tables, or the resolutions of the people; but I expect you, in what you say today, to provide a code of living and a system of training for nations and individuals alike.

MARCUS:
What you are looking for, Quintus, is certainly within the scope of this discussion; I wish it were also within my powers! There is no doubt that, as the law should correct wickedness and promote goodness, a code of conduct may be derived from it. That is why wisdom is the mother of all good things; the love of her gives us the word ‘philosophy’ from the Greek. Of all the gifts which the immortal gods have bestowed on human life none is richer or more abundant or more desirable. In addition to everything else, she alone taught us this most difficult lesson, namely to know ourselves—a precept of such power and significance that it was ascribed, not to any mortal, but to the god of Delphi.

58

The person who knows himself will first of all realize that he possesses something divine, and he will compare his own inner nature to a kind of holy image placed within a temple. His thoughts and actions will always be worthy of that priceless gift of the gods; and when he inspects and tests himself thoroughly he will see how well he has been equipped by nature on entering life, and what implements he has for acquiring and obtaining wisdom. At the beginning he will have conceived in his mind and spirit dim perceptions, so to speak, of everything. When these have been illuminated with the guidance of wisdom, he now realizes that he has the makings of a good man, and for that very reason a happy one.
*

59

Once the mind, on perceiving and recognizing the virtues, has ceased to serve and gratify the body, and has expunged pleasure like a kind of discreditable stain; and once it has put behind it all fear of pain and death, and entered a loving fellowship with its own kind, regarding as its own kind all who are akin to it by nature; and once it has begun to worship the gods in a pure form of religion, and has sharpened the edge of the moral judgement, like that of the eyes, so that it can choose the good and reject its opposite (a virtue which is called prudence from pro-vision)— what can be described or conceived as more blessed than such a mind?

60

And when that same mind examines the heavens, the earth, the 61 sea, and the nature of all things, and perceives where those things have come from and to where they will return, when and how they are due to die, what part of them is mortal and perishable, and what is divine and everlasting; and when it almost apprehends the very god who governs and rules them, and realizes that it itself is not a resident in some particular locality surrounded by man-made walls, but a citizen of the whole world
*
as though it were a single city; then, in the majesty of these surroundings, in this contemplation and comprehension of nature, great God! how well it will know itself, as the Pythian Apollo commanded, how it will disdain, despise, and count as nothing
*
those things that are commonly deemed so precious!

61

Moreover, it will surround all these things with a kind of stockade
*
consisting of verbal reasoning, expertise in judging what is true and false, and the art, as it were, of understanding the logical consequences of everything and what objections it encounters. And when it realizes that it has been born to join a fellowship of citizens, it will decide to use, not just that subtle method of arguing, but also a more expansive and continuous style
*
of speech. With such an instrument it will rule nations, reinforce laws, castigate the wicked, protect the good, praise eminent men, issue instructions for security and prestige in language which will persuade fellow-citizens; it will be able to inspire them to honourable actions and restrain them from disgrace; to console the afflicted, and to hand on the deeds and counsels of brave and wise men, along with the infamy of the wicked, in words that will last for ever. Those are the powers, so manifold and so momentous, that can be discerned in a human being by those who wish to know themselves. And the parent and nurse of those powers is wisdom.

62

ATTICUS:
All you say in her honour is impressive and true; but what is the object of all this?

MARCUS:
First of all, Pomponius, it has a bearing on the subjects which we are now about to deal with, and which we regard as profoundly important. For they will not have that importance unless they are seen to derive from truths of the most far-reaching kind. Secondly, I take pleasure in praising philosophy, and I hope I am right in refusing to pass over in silence a subject which I study devotedly and which has made me whatever I am.

63

ATTICUS:
Quite right. Your tribute was well deserved and from the heart; and, as you say, it was right to include it in this discussion.

ATTICUS:
Well, we’ve walked far enough now; and you have to start another section of your talk. So shall we have a change of scene and find somewhere to sit down on that island in the Fibrenus (I believe that’s what the other river is called)? Then we can turn our attention to the rest of the discussion.

MARCUS:
By all means. That place is a favourite haunt of mine, whether I’m reading, writing, or just thinking.

ATTICUS:
As far as I’m concerned, I can’t get too much of it, especially now that it’s summer. I think nothing of splendid villas with their marble floors and coffered ceilings. As for the artificial channels which our friends call ‘Niles’ or ‘Euripuses’,
*
you can’t help laughing at them when faced with scenery like this. A little while ago, when you were talking about law and justice, you saw nature as the key to everything. Similarly, nature is queen of all those places, where we go in search of mental relaxation and delight. I used to wonder (for I thought there was nothing here except rocks
*
and mountains, and indeed your speeches and poems gave me that impression)—I used, as I say, to wonder why you were so fond of this place; now, however, I wonder why, when you’re out of town, you go anywhere else.

MARCUS:
Yes, when it’s possible to get away for more than a day or two, especially at this time of year, I head for this beautiful and healthy spot. Unfortunately, it rarely
is
possible. But I suppose I love it for another reason too—one which will not weigh with you, Titus.

ATTICUS:
Really? What’s that?

MARCUS:
Well, to tell you the truth, this is the actual country where I, and my brother here, were born. Yes, we come from a very old local family; we are associated with the place by religious and ancestral ties; and there are many traces of our forebears in the district. Why, I need go no further than that villa. You see how it is now. It was rebuilt, thanks to my father’s enthusiasm, on a more lavish scale. As he was in poor health, he spent most of his time here among his books. I was born in this very place, you know, when my grandfather was alive and the house was a small one in the old-fashioned style, like Curius’ home in the Sabine country. So there’s something deep in my heart and soul which gives me, perhaps, a special affection for the spot. As you will recall, that eminently sensible man
*
is said to have refused immortality so that he might see Ithaca once again.

ATTICUS:
That’s a good reason, I think, for being fond of the place and coming here in preference to anywhere else. I myself have now become more attached to that house—yes, really—and indeed to the whole locality in which you were born and bred. For we are in some way moved by places associated with those whom we love and respect. Why even in my beloved Athens I do not enjoy the splendid buildings and the superb works of ancient art as much as the recollection of those outstanding men—where they each used to live and sit and conduct their discussions. I even gaze at their tombs with reverence. So from now on I shall think more kindly of this place because you were born here.

4

MARCUS:
Well I’m glad that I’ve shown you what is virtually my cradle.

ATTICUS:
And I’m glad to have seen it. But what did you mean by saying a few moments ago that this place, by which I assume you mean Arpinum, is your actual country? Have you
two
countries? Surely we all have just one? Or can it be that the country of Cato, that fount of wisdom, was not Rome but Tusculum?
*

5

MARCUS:
Yes, I maintain that he and all people from small towns have two countries, one by nature and the other by citizenship. By being born in Tusculum Cato was admitted to Roman citizenship. So he was a Tusculan by birth and a Roman by citizenship. One of his countries was local, the other legal. Your Attic friends, before Theseus ordered them all to leave the countryside and move into the city (or the
astu
, as it is called) belonged both to their own towns and to Attica. In the same way we think of our country both as our place of birth and as the one which admitted us to citizenship. But the one which takes its name from the state as a whole should have first place in our affections. That is the country for which we should be willing to die, to which we should devote ourselves heart and soul, and on whose altar we should dedicate and consecrate all that is ours. Yet the one which gave us birth is dear to us in a way not very different from that which took us in. And so I shall always insist that this is my country, even though the other is greater and includes this within it.*

ATTICUS:
So our friend Pompey the Great was right when, during his defence of Ampius (which he shared with you) he stated in court, in my hearing, that our country owed an enormous debt of gratitude to this town, in that her two saviours
*
had come from it. So I think I am now persuaded that this place which gave you birth is also your mother-country.

6

But we’re now on the island. What could be more delightful? Like the bow of a ship, it cuts through the Fibrenus, dividing the river into two streams of equal width, which lap against its sides. Then, flowing quickly by, they soon come together again, enclosing an area large enough for a fair-sized wrestling-place. After that, as if its duty and function were to provide us with a venue for our debate, it immediately tumbles into the Liris, losing its less famous name as though it were joining an aristocratic family, and making the Liris much colder. Though I’ve visited many rivers, I’ve never come across one colder than this. I can hardly bear to dip my foot in it, as Socrates does in Plato’s
Phaedrus
*

MARCUS:
That’s right. But I imagine that your Tyamis
*
in 7 Epirus, which Quintus often speaks of, is in no way inferior in beauty.

QUINTUS:
Yes indeed. You mustn’t assume that anything is more impressive than our friend Atticus’ Amaltheum
*
with its plane trees. But if no one objects, let’s sit down here in the shade and resume our discussion at the point where we left off.

MARCUS:
You’re quite right to dun me, Quintus, though I thought I had escaped. You won’t allow any debts to remain outstanding!

QUINTUS:
Make a start, then; we’re giving you the whole of the day.