Cicero's Tusculan Disputations
wit. Could he, then, be happy who occasioned the death of these men? So
far from it, that he seems to be miserable, not only for having
performed these actions, but also for acting in such a manner that it
was lawful for him to do it, though it is unlawful for any one to do
wicked actions; but this proceeds from inaccuracy, of speech, for we
call whatever a man is allowed to do lawful. Was not Marius happier, I
pray you, when he shared the glory of the victory gained over the
Cimbrians with his colleague Catulus (who was almost another Laelius;
for I look upon the two men as very like one another), than when,
conqueror in the civil war, he in a passion answered the friends of
Catulus, who were interceding for him, "Let him die?" And this answer
he gave, not once only, but often. But in such a case, he was happier
who submitted to that barbarous decree than he who issued it. And it is
better to receive an injury than to do one; and so it was better to
advance a little to meet that death that was making its approaches, as
Catulus did, than, like Marius, to sully the glory of six consulships,
and disgrace his latter days, by the death of such a man.
XX. Dionysius exercised his tyranny over the Syracusans thirty-eight
years, being but twenty-five years old when he seized on the
government. How beautiful and how wealthy a city did he oppress with
slavery! And yet we have it from good authority that he was remarkably
temperate in his manner of living, that he was very active and
energetic in carrying on business, but naturally mischievous and
unjust; from which description every one who diligently inquires into
truth must inevitably see that he was very miserable. Neither did he
attain what he so greatly desired, even when he was persuaded that he
had unlimited power; for, notwithstanding he was of a good family and
reputable parents (though that is contested by some authors), and had a
very large acquaintance of intimate friends and relations, and also
some youths attached to him by ties of love after the fashion of the
Greeks, he could not trust any one of them, but committed the guard of
his person to slaves, whom he had selected from rich men's families and
made free, and to strangers and barbarians. And thus, through an unjust
desire of governing, he in a manner shut himself up in a prison.
Besides, he would not trust his throat to a barber, but had his
daughters taught to shave; so that these royal virgins were forced to
descend to the base and slavish employment of shaving the head and
beard of their father. Nor would he trust even them, when they were
grown up, with a razor; but contrived how they might burn off the hair
of his head and beard with red-hot nutshells. And as to his two wives,
Aristomache, his countrywoman, and Doris of Locris, he never visited
them at night before everything had been well searched and examined.
And as he had surrounded the place where his bed was with a broad
ditch, and made a way over it with a wooden bridge, he drew that bridge
over after shutting his bedchamber door. And as he did not dare to
stand on the ordinary pulpits from which they usually harangued the
people, he generally addressed them from a high tower. And it is said
that when he was disposed to play at ball--for he delighted much in
it--and had pulled off his clothes, he used to give his sword into the
keeping of a young man whom he was very fond of. On this, one of his
intimates said pleasantly, "You certainly trust your life with him;"
and as the young man happened to smile at this, he ordered them both to
be slain, the one for showing how he might be taken off, the other for
approving of what had been said by smiling. But he was so concerned at
what he had done that nothing affected him more during his whole life;
for he had slain one to whom he was extremely partial. Thus do weak
men's desires pull them different ways, and while they indulge one,
they act counter to another.
XXI. This tyrant, however, showed himself how happy he really was; for
once, when Damocles, one of his flatterers, was dilating in
conversation on his forces, his wealth, the greatness of his power, the
plenty he enjoyed, the grandeur of his royal palaces, and maintaining
that no one was ever happier, "Have you an inclination," said he,
"Damocles, as this kind of life pleases you, to have a taste of it
yourself, and to make a trial of the good fortune that attends me?" And
when he said that he should like it extremely, Dionysius ordered him to
be laid on a bed of gold with the most beautiful covering, embroidered
and wrought with the most exquisite work, and he dressed out a great
many sideboards with silver and embossed gold. He then ordered some
youths, distinguished for their handsome persons, to wait at his table,
and to observe his nod, in order to serve him with what he wanted.
There were ointments and garlands; perfumes were burned; tables
provided with the most exquisite meats. Damocles thought himself very
happy. In the midst of this apparatus, Dionysius ordered a bright sword
to be let down from the ceiling, suspended by a single horse-hair, so
as to hang over the head of that happy man. After which he neither cast
his eye on those handsome waiters, nor on the well-wrought plate; nor
touched any of the provisions: presently the garlands fell to pieces.
At last he entreated the tyrant to give him leave to go, for that now
he had no desire to be happy[61]. Does not Dionysius, then, seem to
have declared there can be no happiness for one who is under constant
apprehensions? But it was not now in his power to return to justice,
and restore his citizens their rights and privileges; for, by the
indiscretion of youth, he had engaged in so many wrong steps and
committed such extravagances, that, had he attempted to have returned
to a right way of thinking, he must have endangered his life.
XXII. Yet, how desirous he was of friendship, though at the same time
he dreaded the treachery of friends, appears from the story of those
two Pythagoreans: one of these had been security for his friend, who
was condemned to die; the other, to release his security, presented
himself at the time appointed for his dying: "I wish," said Dionysius,"
you would admit me as the third in your friendship." What misery was it
for him to be deprived of acquaintance, of company at his table, and of
the freedom of conversation! especially for one who was a man of
learning, and from his childhood acquainted with liberal arts, very
fond of music, and himself a tragic poet--how good a one is not to the
purpose, for I know not how it is, but in this way, more than any
other, every one thinks his own performances excellent. I never as yet
knew any poet (and I was very intimate with Aquinius), who did not
appear to himself to be very admirable. The case is this: you are
pleased with your own works; I like mine. But to return to Dionysius.
He debarred himself from all civil and polite conversation, and spent
his life among fugitives, bondmen, and barbarians; for he was persuaded
that no one could be his friend who was worthy of liberty, or had the
least desire of being free.
XXIII. Shall I not, then, prefer the life of Plato and Archytas,
manifestly wise and learned men, to his, than which nothing can
possibly be more horrid, or miserable, or detestable?
I will present you with an humble and obscure mathematician of the same
city, called Archimedes, who lived many years after; whose tomb,
overgrown with shrubs and briers, I in my quaestorship discovered, when
the Syracusans knew nothing of it, and even denied that there was any
such thing remaining; for I remembered some verses, which I had been
informed were engraved on his monument, and these set forth that on the
top of the tomb there was placed a sphere with a cylinder. When I had
carefully examined all the monuments (for there are a great many tombs
at the gate Achradinae), I observed a small column standing out a little
above the briers, with the figure of a sphere and a cylinder upon it;
whereupon I immediately said to the Syracusans--for there were some of
their principal men with me there--that I imagined that was what I was
inquiring for. Several men, being sent in with scythes, cleared the
way, and made an opening for us. When we could get at it, and were come
near to the front of the pedestal, I found the inscription, though the
latter parts of all the verses were effaced almost half away. Thus one
of the noblest cities of Greece, and one which at one time likewise had
been very celebrated for learning, had known nothing of the monument of
its greatest genius, if it had not been discovered to them by a native
of Arpinum. But to return to the subject from which I have been
digressing. Who is there in the least degree acquainted with the Muses,
that is, with liberal knowledge, or that deals at all in learning, who
would not choose to be this mathematician rather than that tyrant? If
we look into their methods of living and their employments, we shall
find the mind of the one strengthened and improved with tracing the
deductions of reason, amused with his own ingenuity, which is the one
most delicious food of the mind; the thoughts of the other engaged in
continual murders and injuries, in constant fears by night and by day.
Now imagine a Democritus, a Pythagoras, and an Anaxagoras; what
kingdom, what riches, would you prefer to their studies and amusements?
For you must necessarily look for that excellence which we are seeking
for in that which is the most perfect part of man; but what is there
better in man than a sagacious and good mind? The enjoyment, therefore,
of that good which proceeds from that sagacious mind can alone make us
happy; but virtue is the good of the mind: it follows, therefore, that
a happy life depends on virtue. Hence proceed all things that are
beautiful, honorable, and excellent, as I said above (but this point
must, I think, be treated of more at large), and they are well stored
with joys. For, as it is clear that a happy life consists in perpetual
and unexhausted pleasures, it follows, too, that a happy life must
arise from honesty.
XXIV. But that what I propose to demonstrate to you may not rest on
mere words only, I must set before you the picture of something, as it
were, living and moving in the world, that may dispose us more for the
improvement of the understanding and real knowledge. Let us, then,
pitch upon some man perfectly acquainted with the most excellent arts;
let us present him for awhile to our own thoughts, and figure him to
our own imaginations. In the first place, he must necessarily be of an
extraordinary capacity; for virtue is not easily connected with dull
minds. Secondly, he must have a great desire of discovering truth, from
whence will arise that threefold production of the mind; one of which
depends on knowing things, and explaining nature; the other, in
defining what we ought to desire and what to avoid; the third, in
judging of consequences and impossibilities, in which consists both
subtlety in disputing and also clearness of judgment. Now, with what
pleasure must the mind of a wise man be affected which continually
dwells in the midst of such cares and occupations as these, when he
views the revolutions and motions of the whole world, and sees those
innumerable stars in the heavens, which, though fixed in their places,
have yet one motion in common with the whole universe, and observes the
seven other stars, some higher, some lower, each maintaining their own
course, while their motions, though wandering, have certain defined and
appointed spaces to run through! the sight of which doubtless urged and
encouraged those ancient philosophers to exercise their investigating
spirit on many other things. Hence arose an inquiry after the