Cicero's Tusculan Disputations
trifling an evil that it may so effectually be got the better of by
virtue as quite to disappear. And I would have you think of this night
and day; for this argument will spread itself, and take up more room
some time or other, and not be confined to pain alone; for if the
motives to all our actions are to avoid disgrace and acquire honor, we
may not only despise the stings of pain, but the storms of fortune,
especially if we have recourse to that retreat which was pointed out in
our yesterday's discussion; for, as if some God had advised a man who
was pursued by pirates to throw himself overboard, saying, "There is
something at hand to receive you; either a dolphin will take you up, as
it did Arion of Methymna; or those horses sent by Neptune to Pelops
(who are said to have carried chariots so rapidly as to be borne up by
the waves) will receive you, and convey you wherever you please. Cast
away all fear." So, though your pains be ever so sharp and
disagreeable, if the case is not such that it is worth your while to
endure them, you see whither you may betake yourself. I think this will
do for the present. But perhaps you still abide by your opinion.
_A._ Not in the least, indeed; and I hope I am freed by these two days'
discourses from the fear of two things that I greatly dreaded.
_M._ To-morrow, then, for rhetoric, as we were saying. But I see we
must not drop our philosophy.
_A._ No, indeed; we will have the one in the forenoon, and this at the
usual time.
_M._ It shall be so, and I will comply with your very laudable
inclinations.
* * * * *
BOOK III.
ON GRIEF OF MIND.
I. What reason shall I assign, O Brutus, why, as we consist of mind and
body, the art of curing and preserving the body should be so much
sought after, and the invention of it, as being so useful, should be
ascribed to the immortal Gods; but the medicine of the mind should not
have been so much the object of inquiry while it was unknown, nor so
much attended to and cultivated after its discovery, nor so well
received or approved of by some, and accounted actually disagreeable,
and looked upon with an envious eye by many? Is it because we, by means
of the mind, judge of the pains and disorders of the body, but do not,
by means of the body, arrive at any perception of the disorders of the
mind? Hence it comes that the mind only judges of itself when that very
faculty by which it is judged is in a bad state. Had nature given us
faculties for discerning and viewing herself, and could we go through
life by keeping our eye on her--our best guide--there would be no
reason certainly why any one should be in want of philosophy or
learning; but, as it is, she has furnished us only with some feeble
rays of light, which we immediately extinguish so completely by evil
habits and erroneous opinions that the light of nature is nowhere
visible. The seeds of virtues are natural to our constitutions, and,
were they suffered to come to maturity, would naturally conduct us to a
happy life; but now, as soon as we are born and received into the
world, we are instantly familiarized with all kinds of depravity and
perversity of opinions; so that we may be said almost to suck in error
with our nurse's milk. When we return to our parents, and are put into
the hands of tutors and governors, we are imbued with so many errors
that truth gives place to falsehood, and nature herself to established
opinion.
II. To these we may add the poets; who, on account of the appearance
they exhibit of learning and wisdom, are heard, read, and got by heart,
and make a deep impression on our minds. But when to these are added
the people, who are, as it were, one great body of instructors, and the
multitude, who declare unanimously for what is wrong, then are we
altogether overwhelmed with bad opinions, and revolt entirely from
nature; so that they seem to deprive us of our best guide who have
decided that there is nothing better for man, nothing more worthy of
being desired by him, nothing more excellent, than honors and commands,
and a high reputation with the people; which indeed every excellent man
aims at; but while he pursues that only true honor which nature has in
view above all other objects, he finds himself busied in arrant
trifles, and in pursuit of no conspicuous form of virtue, but only some
shadowy representation of glory. For glory is a real and express
substance, not a mere shadow. It consists in the united praise of good
men, the free voice of those who form a true judgment of pre-eminent
virtue; it is, as it were, the very echo of virtue; and being generally
the attendant on laudable actions, should not be slighted by good men.
But popular fame, which would pretend to imitate it, is hasty and
inconsiderate, and generally commends wicked and immoral actions, and
throws discredit upon the appearance and beauty of honesty by assuming
a resemblance of it. And it is owing to their not being able to
discover the difference between them that some men ignorant of real
excellence, and in what it consists, have been the destruction of their
country and of themselves. And thus the best men have erred, not so
much in their intentions as by a mistaken conduct. What? is no cure to
be attempted to be applied to those who are carried away by the love of
money, or the lust of pleasures, by which they are rendered little
short of madmen, which is the case of all weak people? or is it because
the disorders of the mind are less dangerous than those of the body? or
because the body will admit of a cure, while there is no medicine
whatever for the mind?
III. But there are more disorders of the mind than of the body, and
they are of a more dangerous nature; for these very disorders are the
more offensive because they belong to the mind and disturb it; and the
mind, when disordered, is, as Ennius says, in a constant error: it can
neither bear nor endure anything, and is under the perpetual influence
of desires. Now, what disorders can be worse to the body than these two
distempers of the mind (for I overlook others), weakness and desire?
But how, indeed, can it be maintained that the mind cannot prescribe
for itself, when she it is who has invented the medicines for the body,
when, with regard to bodily cures, constitution and nature have a great
share, nor do all who suffer themselves to be cured find that effect
instantly; but those minds which are disposed to be cured, and submit
to the precepts of the wise, may undoubtedly recover a healthy state?
Philosophy is certainly the medicine of the soul, whose assistance we
do not seek from abroad, as in bodily disorders, but we ourselves are
bound to exert our utmost energy and power in order to effect our cure.
But as to philosophy in general, I have, I think, in my Hortensius,
sufficiently spoken of the credit and attention which it deserves:
since that, indeed, I have been continually either disputing or writing
on its most material branches; and I have laid down in these books all
the discussions which took place between myself and my particular
friends at my Tusculan villa. But as I have spoken in the two former of
pain and death, this book shall be devoted to the account of the third
day of our disputations.
We came down into the Academy when the day was already declining
towards afternoon, and I asked one of those who were present to propose
a subject for us to discourse on; and then the business was carried on
in this manner:
IV. _A._ My opinion is, that a wise man is subject to grief.
_M._ What, and to the other perturbations of mind, as fears, lusts,
anger? For these are pretty much like what the Greeks call [Greek:
pathe]. I might call them diseases, and that would be a literal
translation, but it is not agreeable to our way of speaking. For envy,
delight, and pleasure are all called by the Greeks diseases, being
affections of the mind not in subordination to reason; but we, I think,
are right in calling the same motions of a disturbed soul
perturbations, and in very seldom using the term diseases; though,
perhaps, it appears otherwise to you.
_A._ I am of your opinion.
_M._ And do you think a wise man subject to these?
_A._ Entirely, I think.
_M._ Then that boasted wisdom is but of small account, if it differs so
little from madness?
_A._ What? does every commotion of the mind seem to you to be madness?
_M._ Not to me only; but I apprehend, though I have often been
surprised at it, that it appeared so to our ancestors many ages before
Socrates; from whom is derived all that philosophy which relates to
life and morals.
_A._ How so?
_M._ Because the name madness[35] implies a sickness of the mind and
disease; that is to say, an unsoundness and an unhealthiness of mind,
which they call madness. But the philosophers call all perturbations of
the soul diseases, and their opinion is that no fool is ever free from
these; but all that are diseased are unsound; and the minds of all
fools are diseased; therefore all fools are mad. For they held that
soundness of the mind depends on a certain tranquillity and steadiness;
and a mind which was destitute of these qualities they called insane,
because soundness was inconsistent with a perturbed mind just as much
as with a disordered body.
V. Nor were they less ingenious in calling the state of the soul devoid
of the light of the mind, "a being out of one's mind," "a being beside
one's self." From whence we may understand that they who gave these
names to things were of the same opinion with Socrates, that all silly
people were unsound, which the Stoics have carefully preserved as being
derived from him; for whatever mind is distempered (and, as I just now
said, the philosophers call all perturbed motions of the mind
distempers) is no more sound than a body is when in a fit of sickness.
Hence it is that wisdom is the soundness of the mind, folly a sort of
unsoundness, which is insanity, or a being out of one's mind: and these
are much better expressed by the Latin words than the Greek, which you
will find the case also in many other topics. But we will discuss that
point elsewhere: let us now attend to our present subject. The very
meaning of the word describes the whole thing about which we are
inquiring, both as to its substance and character. For we must
necessarily understand by "sound" those whose minds are under no
perturbation from any motion as if it were a disease. They who are
differently affected we must necessarily call "unsound." So that
nothing is better than what is usual in Latin, to say that they who are
run away with by their lust or anger have quitted the command over
themselves; though anger includes lust, for anger is defined to be the
lust of revenge. They, then, who are said not to be masters of
themselves, are said to be so because they are not under the government
of reason, to which is assigned by nature the power over the whole
soul. Why the Greeks should call this mania, I do not easily apprehend;
but we define it much better than they, for we distinguish this madness
(_insania_), which, being allied to folly, is more extensive, from what
we call _furor_, or raving. The Greeks, indeed, would do so too, but
they have no one word that will express it: what we call _furor_, they
call [Greek: melancholia], as if the reason were affected only by a
black bile, and not disturbed as often by a violent rage, or fear, or
grief. Thus we say Athamas, Alcmaeon, Ajax, and Orestes were raving
(_furere_); because a person affected in this manner was not allowed by
the Twelve Tables to have the management of his own affairs; therefore
the words are not, if he is mad (_insanus_), but if he begins to be
raving (_furiosus_). For they looked upon madness to be an unsettled