Cicero's Tusculan Disputations
anger should not be real, still they think his words and gestures ought
to wear the appearance of it, so that the action of the orator may
excite the anger of his hearer. And they deny that any man has ever
been seen who does not know what it is to be angry; and they name what
we call lenity by the bad appellation of indolence. Nor do they commend
only this lust (for anger is, as I defined it above, the lust of
revenge), but they maintain that kind of lust or desire to be given us
by nature for very good purposes, saying that no one can execute
anything well but what he is in earnest about. Themistocles used to
walk in the public places in the night because he could not sleep; and
when asked the reason, his answer was, that Miltiades's trophies kept
him awake. Who has not heard how Demosthenes used to watch, who said
that it gave him pain if any mechanic was up in a morning at his work
before him? Lastly, they urge that some of the greatest philosophers
would never have made that progress in their studies without some
ardent desire spurring them on.--We are informed that Pythagoras,
Democritus, and Plato visited the remotest parts of the world; for they
thought that they ought to go wherever anything was to be learned. Now,
it is not conceivable that these things could be effected by anything
but by the greatest ardor of mind.
XX. They say that even grief, which we have already said ought to be
avoided as a monstrous and fierce beast, was appointed by nature, not
without some good purpose, in order that men should lament when they
had committed a fault, well knowing they had exposed themselves to
correction, rebuke, and ignominy; for they think that those who can
bear ignominy and infamy without pain have acquired a complete impunity
for all sorts of crimes; for with them reproach is a stronger check
than conscience. From whence we have that scene in Afranius borrowed
from common life; for when the abandoned son saith, "Wretched that I
am!" the severe father replies,
Let him but grieve, no matter what the cause.
And they say the other divisions of sorrow have their use; that pity
incites us to hasten to the assistance of others, and to alleviate the
calamities of men who have undeservedly fallen into them; that even
envy and detraction are not without their use, as when a man sees that
another person has attained what he cannot, or observes another to be
equally successful with himself; that he who should take away fear
would take away all industry in life, which those men exert in the
greatest degree who are afraid of the laws and of the magistrates, who
dread poverty, ignominy, death, and pain. But while they argue thus,
they allow indeed of these feelings being retrenched, though they deny
that they either can or should be plucked up by the roots; so that
their opinion is that mediocrity is best in everything. When they
reason in this manner, what think you--is what they say worth attending
to or not?
_A._ I think it is. I wait, therefore, to hear what you will say in
reply to them.
XXI. _M._ Perhaps I may find something to say; but I will make this
observation first: do you take notice with what modesty the Academics
behave themselves? for they speak plainly to the purpose. The
Peripatetics are answered by the Stoics; they have my leave to fight it
out, who think myself no otherwise concerned than to inquire for what
may seem to be most probable. Our present business is, then, to see if
we can meet with anything in this question which is the probable, for
beyond such approximation to truth as that human nature cannot proceed.
The definition of a perturbation, as Zeno, I think, has rightly
determined it, is thus: That a perturbation is a commotion of the mind
against nature, in opposition to right reason; or, more briefly, thus,
that a perturbation is a somewhat too vehement appetite; and when he
says somewhat too vehement, he means such as is at a greater distance
from the constant course of nature. What can I say to these
definitions? The greater part of them we have from those who dispute
with sagacity and acuteness: some of them expressions, indeed, such as
the "ardors of the mind," and "the whetstones of virtue," savoring of
the pomp of rhetoricians. As to the question, if a brave man can
maintain his courage without becoming angry, it may be questioned with
regard to the gladiators; though we often observe much resolution even
in them: they meet, converse, they make objections and demands, they
agree about terms, so that they seem calm rather than angry. But let us
admit a man of the name of Placideianus, who was one of that trade, to
be in such a mind, as Lucilius relates of him,
If for his blood you thirst, the task be mine;
His laurels at my feet he shall resign;
Not but I know, before I reach his heart,
First on myself a wound he will impart.
I hate the man; enraged I fight, and straight
In action we had been, but that I wait
Till each his sword had fitted to his hand.
My rage I scarce can keep within command.
XXII. But we see Ajax in Homer advancing to meet Hector in battle
cheerfully, without any of this boisterous wrath. For he had no sooner
taken up his arms than the first step which he made inspired his
associates with joy, his enemies with fear; so that even Hector, as he
is represented by Homer,[49] trembling, condemned himself for having
challenged him to fight. Yet these heroes conversed together, calmly
and quietly, before they engaged; nor did they show any anger or
outrageous behavior during the combat. Nor do I imagine that Torquatus,
the first who obtained this surname, was in a rage when he plundered
the Gaul of his collar; or that Marcellus's courage at Clastidium was
only owing to his anger. I could almost swear that Africanus, with whom
we are better acquainted, from our recollection of him being more
recent, was noways inflamed by anger when he covered Alienus Pelignus
with his shield, and drove his sword into the enemy's breast. There may
be some doubt of L. Brutus, whether he was not influenced by
extraordinary hatred of the tyrant, so as to attack Aruns with more
than usual rashness; for I observe that they mutually killed each other
in close fight. Why, then, do you call in the assistance of anger?
Would courage, unless it began to get furious, lose its energy? What!
do you imagine that Hercules, whom the very courage which you would try
to represent as anger raised to heaven, was angry when he engaged the
Erymanthian boar, or the Nemaean lion? Or was Theseus in a passion when
he seized on the horns of the Marathonian bull? Take care how you make
courage to depend in the least on rage. For anger is altogether
irrational, and that is not courage which is void of reason.
XXIII. We ought to hold all things here in contempt; death is to be
looked on with indifference; pains and labors must be considered as
easily supportable. And when these sentiments are established on
judgment and conviction, then will that stout and firm courage take
place; unless you attribute to anger whatever is done with vehemence,
alacrity, and spirit. To me, indeed, that very Scipio[50] who was chief
priest, that favorer of the saying of the Stoics, "That no private man
could be a wise man," does not seem to be angry with Tiberius Gracchus,
even when he left the consul in a hesitating frame of mind, and, though
a private man himself, commanded, with the authority of a consul, that
all who meant well to the republic should follow him. I do not know
whether I have done anything in the republic that has the appearance of
courage; but if I have, I certainly did not do it in wrath. Doth
anything come nearer madness than anger? And indeed Ennius has well
defined it as the beginning of madness. The changing color, the
alteration of our voice, the look of our eyes, our manner of fetching
our breath, the little command we have over our words and actions, how
little do all these things indicate a sound mind! What can make a worse
appearance than Homer's Achilles, or Agamemnon, during the quarrel? And
as to Ajax, anger drove him into downright madness, and was the
occasion of his death. Courage, therefore, does not want the assistance
of anger; it is sufficiently provided, armed, and prepared of itself.
We may as well say that drunkenness or madness is of service to
courage, because those who are mad or drunk often do a great many
things with unusual vehemence. Ajax was always brave; but still he was
most brave when he was in that state of frenzy:
The greatest feat that Ajax e'er achieved
Was, when his single arm the Greeks relieved.
Quitting the field; urged on by rising rage,
Forced the declining troops again t'engage.
Shall we say, then, that madness has its use?
XXIV. Examine the definitions of courage: you will find it does not
require the assistance of passion. Courage is, then, an affection of
mind that endures all things, being itself in proper subjection to the
highest of all laws; or it may be called a firm maintenance of judgment
in supporting or repelling everything that has a formidable appearance,
or a knowledge of what is formidable or otherwise, and maintaining
invariably a stable judgment of all such things, so as to bear them or
despise them; or, in fewer words, according to Chrysippus (for the
above definitions are Sphaerus's, a man of the first ability as a
layer-down of definitions, as the Stoics think. But they are all pretty
much alike: they give us only common notions, some one way, and some
another). But what is Chrysippus's definition? Fortitude, says he, is
the knowledge of all things that are bearable, or an affection of the
mind which bears and supports everything in obedience to the chief law
of reason without fear. Now, though we should attack these men in the
same manner as Carneades used to do, I fear they are the only real
philosophers; for which of these definitions is there which does not
explain that obscure and intricate notion of courage which every man
conceives within himself? And when it is thus explained, what can a
warrior, a commander, or an orator want more? And no one can think that
they will be unable to behave themselves courageously without anger.
What! do not even the Stoics, who maintain that all fools are mad, make
the same inferences? for, take away perturbations, especially a
hastiness of temper, and they will appear to talk very absurdly. But
what they assert is this: they say that all fools are mad, as all
dunghills stink; not that they always do so, but stir them, and you
will perceive it. And in like manner, a warm-tempered man is not always
in a passion; but provoke him, and you will see him run mad. Now, that
very warlike anger, which is of such service in war, what is the use of
it to him when he is at home with his wife, children, and family? Is
there, then, anything that a disturbed mind can do better than one
which is calm and steady? Or can any one be angry without a
perturbation of mind? Our people, then, were in the right, who, as all
vices depend on our manners, and nothing is worse than a passionate
disposition, called angry men the only morose men.[51]
XXV. Anger is in no wise becoming in an orator, though it is not amiss
to affect it. Do you imagine that I am angry when in pleading I use any
extraordinary vehemence and sharpness? What! when I write out my
speeches after all is over and past, am I then angry while writing? Or
do you think AEsopus was ever angry when he acted, or Accius was so when
he wrote? Those men, indeed, act very well, but the orator acts better
than the player, provided he be really an orator; but, then, they carry
it on without passion, and with a composed mind. But what wantonness is