ON ENDS BOOK I By Cicero -
Translated by
Major Points:
My dear Brutus, — The following essay, I am well aware, attempting as it does to
present in a Latin dress subjects that philosophers of consummate ability and
profound learning have already handled in Greek, is sure to encounter criticism
from different quarters. Certain persons, and those not without some pretension
to letters, disapprove of the study of philosophy altogether. Others do not so
greatly object to it provided it be followed in dilettante fashion; but they do
not think it ought to engage so large an amount of one's interest and attention.
A third class, learned in Greek literature and contemptuous of Latin, will say
that they prefer to spend their time in reading Greek. Lastly, I suspect there
will be some who will wish to divert me to other fields of authorship, asserting
that this kind of composition, though a graceful recreation, is beneath the
dignity of my character and position. To all of these objections I suppose I
ought to make some brief reply. The indiscriminate censure of philosophy has
indeed been sufficiently answered already in the book which I wrote in praise of
that study, in order to defend it against a bitter attack that had been made
upon it by Hortensius. The favourable reception which that volume appeared to
obtain from yourself and from others whom I considered competent to sit in
judgment encouraged me to embark upon further undertakings; for I did not wish
to be thought incapable of sustaining the interest that I had aroused. The
second class of critics, who, however much they approve of philosophy,
nevertheless would rather have it less eagerly prosecuted, are asking for a
restraint that it is not easy to practise. The study is one that when once taken
up admits of no restriction or control. In fact, the attitude of the former
class, who attempt to dissuade us from philosophy altogether, seems almost less
unreasonable than that of those who would set limits to what is essentially
unlimited, and expect us to stop half‑way in a study that increases in value the
further it proceeds. If Wisdom be attainable, let us not only win but enjoy it;
or if attainment be difficult, still there is no end to the search for truth,
other than its discovery. It were base to flag in the pursuit, when the object
pursued is so supremely lovely. Indeed if we like writing, who would be so
churlish as to debar us from it? Or if we find it a labour, who is to set limits
to another man's exertions? No doubt it is kind of Chremes in Terence's play to
wish his new neighbour not
To dig or plough or any burden bear: for it is not industry in general, but toil
of a menial kind, from which he would deter him; but only a busybody would take
exception to an occupation which, like mine, is a labour of love.
A more difficult task therefore is to deal with the objection of those who
profess a contempt for Latin writings as such. What astonishes me first of all
about them is this, — why should they dislike their native language for serious
and important subjects, when they are quite willing to read Latin plays
translated word for word from the Greek? Who has such a hatred, one might almost
say for the very name of Roman, as to despise and reject the Medea of Ennius por
the Antiope of Pacuvius, and give as his reason that though he enjoys the
corresponding plays of Euripides he cannot endure books written in Latin? What,
he cries, am I to read The Young Comrades of Caecilius, or Terence's Maid of
Andros, when I might be reading the same two comedies of Menander? With this
sort of person I disagree so strongly, that, admitting the Electra of Sophocles
to be a masterpiece, I yet think Atilius's poor translation of it worth my while
to read. 'An iron writer,' Licinius called him; still, in my opinion, a writer
all the same, and therefore deserving to be read. For to be entirely unversed in
our own poets argues either the extreme of mental inactivity or else a
refinement of taste carried to the point of caprice. To my mind no one can be
styled a well-read man who does not know our native literature. If we read
Would that in forest glades — just as readily as the same passage in the Greek,
shall we object to having Plato's discourses on morality and happiness set
before the reader in Latin? And supposing that for our part we do not fill the
office of a mere translator, but, while preserving the doctrines of our chosen
authorities, add thereto our own criticism and our own arrangement: what ground
have these objectors for ranking the writings of Greece above compositions that
are at once brilliant in style and not mere translations from the Greek
originals? Perhaps they will rejoin that the subject has already been dealt with
by the Greeks already. But then what reason have they for reading the multitude
of Greek authors either that one has to read? Take Stoicism: what aspect of it
has Chrysippus left untouched? Yet we read Diogenes, Antipater, pMnesarchus,
Panaetius, and many others, not least our friend Posidonius. Again, Theophrastus
handles topics previously treated by Aristotle, yet he gives us no small
pleasure all the same. Nor do the Epicureans cease from writing as the spirit
moves them on the same questions on which Epicurus and the ancients wrote. If
Greek writers find Greek readers when presenting the same subject in a different
setting, why should not Romans be read by Romans?
Yet even supposing I gave a direct translation of Plato or Aristotle, exactly as
our poets have done with the plays, would it not, pray, be a patriotic service
to introduce those transcendent intellects to the acquaintance of my
fellow-countrymen? As a matter of fact, however, this has not been my procedure
hitherto, though I do not feel I am debarred from adopting it. Indeed I
expressly reserve the right of borrowing certain passages, if I think fit, and
particularly from the philosophers just mentioned, when an appropriate occasion
offers for so doing; just as Ennius regularly borrows from Homer, and Afranius
from Menander. Nor yet shall I object, like our Lucilius, to all the world's
reading what I write. I only wish his Persius were alive to‑day! and still more
Scipio and Rutilius, in fear of whose criticism Lucilius protests that he writes
for the public of Tarentum, Consentia and Sicily. This no doubt is neat enough,
like the rest of Lucilius; but there were not such learned critics in his day,
to tax his best efforts; and also his writings are in a lighter vein: they show
consummate wit, but no great erudition. I, however, need not be afraid of any
reader, if I am so bold as to dedicate my book to you, who rival even the Greeks
as a philosopher. Still, you yourself challenged me to the venture, by
dedicating to me your delightful essay On Virtue. But I have no doubt that the
reason why some people take a dislike to Latin literature is that they have
happened to meet with certain illiterate and uncouth productions which are bad
Greek books in worse Latin versions. I have no quarrel with these persons,
provided that they also refuse to read the Greek writers on the same subjects.
But given a noble theme, and a refined, dignified and graceful style, who would
not read a Latin book? Unless it be some one ambitious to be styled a Greek
out-and‑out, as Albucius was greeted by Scaevola when the latter was prisoner at
Athens. I am again referring to Lucilius, who relates the anecdote with much
neatness and point; he puts the following excellent lines into the mouth of
Scaevola:
"You vow'd, Albucius, that to suit ye
'Twas as a Greek we must repute ye;
'Roman' and 'Sabine' being names
Your man of ton and taste disclaims!
You scorn'd to own your native town, —
Which bore such captains of renown
As Pontius and Tritannus bold,
Who in the van Rome's ensigns hold.
And so, at Athens when I lay,
And your respects you came to pay,
My worship, humouring your freak,
Gave you good-morrow straight in Greek,
With 'Chaire, Titus!' 'Chaire,' bawl
Guards, aides-de‑camp, javelin‑men and all!
— Hence comes it that Albucius hates me,
Hence as his bitterest foe he rates me.”
Mucius's sarcasm was however deserved. But for my part I can never cease
wondering what can be the origin of the exaggerated contempt for home products
that is now fashionable. It would of course be out of place to attempt to prove
it here, but in my opinion, as I have often argued, the Latin language, so far
from having a poor vocabulary, as is commonly supposed, is actually richer than
the Greek. When have we, that is to say when have our competent orators or
poets, at all events since they have had models to copy, ever lacked any of the
resources either of the florid or the chaste style?
In my own case, just as I trust I have done my duty, at the post to which the
Roman people appointed me, by my political activities, and the toils and dangers
I have undergone, so it is assuredly incumbent on me also to use my best
endeavours, with such zeal, enthusiasm and energy as I possess, to promote the
advancement of learning among my fellow-countrymen. Nor need I be greatly
concerned to join issue with any who prefer to read Greek, provided that they
actually do read it and do not merely pretend to do so. It is my business to
serve those who desire to enjoy literature in both languages, or who, if books
in their own are available, do not feel any great need of Greek ones. Those
again who would rather have me write on other subjects may fairly be indulgent
to one who has written much already — in fact no one of our nation more — and
who perhaps will write still more if his life be prolonged. And even were it not
so, anyone who has been a careful student of my philosophical writings will
pronounce that none of them are better worth reading than the present treatise.
For what problem does life offer so important as all the topics of philosophy,
and especially the questions raised in these volumes — What is the End, the
final and ultimate aim, which gives the standard for all principles of
well-being and of right conduct? What does Nature pursue as the thing supremely
desirable, what does she avoid as the ultimate evil? It is a subject on which
the most learned philosophers disagree profoundly; who then can think it
derogatory to such esteem as each may assign to me, to investigate what is the
highest good and the truest rule in every relationship of life? Are we to have
our leading statesmen debating such topics as whether the offspring of a female
slave is to be considered as belonging to the party who has hired her, Publius
Scaevola and Manius Manilius upholding one opinion and Marcus Brutus the
contrary (not but what such discussions raise nice points of law, as well as
being of practical importance for the business of life; and we read and shall
continue to read with pleasure the treatises in question and others of the same
nature); and shall these questions which cover the entire range of conduct be
neglected? Legal subjects are no doubt more popular, but philosophy is
unquestionably richer in interest. However, this is a point that may be left to
the reader to decide. In the present work we believe we have given a more or
less exhaustive exposition of the whole subject of the Ends of Goods and Evils.
The book is intended to contain so far as possible a complete account, not only
of the views that we ourselves accept, but also of the doctrines enunciated by
all the different schools of philosophy.
To begin with what is easiest, let us first pass in review the system of
Epicurus, which to most men is the best known of any. Our exposition of it, as
you shall see, will be as accurate as any usually given even by the professed
adherents of his school. For our object is to discover the truth, not to refute
someone as an opponent.
An elaborate defence of the hedonistic theory of Epicurus was once delivered by
Lucius Torquatus, a student well versed in all the systems of philosophy; to him
I replied, and Gaius Triarius, a youth of remarkable learning and seriousness of
character, assisted at the discussion. Both of these gentlemen had called to pay
me their respects at my place at Cumae. We first exchanged a few remarks about
literature, of which both were enthusiastic students.
Then Torquatus said, "As we have for once found you at leisure, I am resolved to
hear the reason why you regard my master Epicurus, not indeed with hatred, as
those who do not share his views mostly do, but at all events with disapproval.
I myself consider him as the one person who had discerned the truth, and who has
delivered men from the gravest errors and imparted to them all there is to know
about well-being and happiness. The fact is, I think that you are like our
friend Triarius, and dislike Epicurus because he has neglected the graces of
style that you find in your Plato, Aristotle and Theophrastus. For I can
scarcely bring myself to believe that you think his opinions untrue."
"Let me assure you, Torquatus," said I, "that you are entirely mistaken. With
your master's style I have no fault to find. He expresses his meaning
adequately, and gives me a plain intelligible statement. Not that I despise
eloquence in a philosopher if he has it to offer, but I should not greatly
insist on it if he has not. But his matter I do not find so satisfactory, and
that in more points than one. However, 'many men, many minds': so it is possible
that I am mistaken.”
"What is it, pray," he said, "to which you take exception? For I recognize you
as a just critic, provided you really know what his doctrines are."
"Oh," said I, "I know the whole of Epicurus's opinions well enough, — unless you
think that Phaedrus or Zeno did not tell me the truth. I have heard both of them
lecture, though to be sure they convinced me of nothing but their own devotion
to the system. Indeed I regularly attended those professors, in company with our
friend Atticus, who for his part had an admiration for them both, and a positive
affection for Phaedrus. Every day we used to discuss together in private what we
had heard at lecture, and there was never any dispute as to what I could
understand; the question was, what I could accept as true."
"Well then, what is the point?" said he; "I should very much like to know what
it is that you disagree with."
"Let me begin," I replied, "with the subject of Natural Philosophy, which is
Epicurus's particular boast. Here, in the first place, he is entirely
second-hand. His doctrines are those of Democritus, with a very few
modifications. And as for the latter, where he attempts to improve upon his
original, in my opinion he only succeeds in making things worse. Democritus
believes in certain things which he terms 'atoms,' that is, bodies so solid as
to be indivisible, moving about in a vacuum of infinite extent, which has
neither top, bottom nor middle, neither centre nor circumference. The motion of
these atoms is such that they collide and so cohere together; and from this
process result the whole of the things that exist and that we see. Moreover,
this movement of the atoms must not be conceived as starting from a beginning,
but as having gone on from all eternity. Epicurus for his part, where he follows
Democritus, does not generally blunder.
Still, there is a great deal in each of them with which I do not agree, and
especially this: in the study of Nature there are two questions to be asked,
first, what is the matter out of which each thing is made, second, what is the
force by which it is made; now Democritus and Epicurus have discussed the
question of matter, but they have not considered the question of force or the
efficient cause. But this is a defect shared by both; I now come to the lapses
peculiar to Epicurus.
He believes that these same indivisible solid bodies are borne by their own
weight perpendicularly downward, which he holds is the natural motion of all
bodies; but thereupon this clever fellow, being met with the difficulty that if
they all traveled downwards in a straight line, and, as I said, perpendicularly,
no one atom would ever be able to overtake any other atom, accordingly
introduced an idea of his own invention: he said that the atom makes a very tiny
swerve, — the smallest divergence possible; and so are produced entanglements
and combinations and cohesions of atoms with atoms, which result in the creation
of the world and all its parts, and of all that in them is. Now not only is the
whole of this affair a piece of childish fancy, but it does not even achieve the
result that its author desires. The swerving is itself an arbitrary fiction; for
Epicurus says the atoms swerve without a cause, — yet this is the capital
offense in a natural philosopher, to speak of something taking place uncaused.
Then also he gratuitously deprives the atoms of what he himself declared to be
the natural motion of all heavy bodies, namely, movement in a straight line
downwards, and yet he does not attain the object for the sake of which this
fiction was devised. For, if all the atoms swerve, none will ever come to cohere
together; or if some serve while others travel in a straight line, by their own
natural tendency, in the first place this will be tantamount to assigning to the
atoms their different spheres of action, some to travel straight and some
sideways; while secondly (and this is a weak point with Democritus also) this
riotous hurly-burly of atoms could not possibly result in the ordered beauty of
the world we know.
It is also unworthy of a natural philosopher to deny the infinite divisibility
of matter; an error that assuredly Epicurus would have avoided, if he had been
willing to let his friend Polyaenus teach him geometry instead of making
Polyaenus himself unlearn it. Democritus, being an educated man and well versed
in geometry, thinks the sun is of vast size; Epicurus considers it perhaps a
foot in diameter, for he pronounces it to be exactly as large as it appears, or
a little larger or smaller. Thus where Epicurus alters the doctrines of
Democritus, he alters them for the worse; while for those ideas which he adopts,
the credit belongs entirely to Democritus, — the atoms, the void, the images, or
as they call them, eidōla, whose impact is the cause not only of vision but also
of thought; the very conception of infinite space, apeiria as they term it, is
entirely derived from Democritus; and again the countless numbers of worlds that
come into existence and pass out of existence every day. For my own part I
reject these doctrines altogether; but still I could wish that Democritus, whom
every one else applauds, had not been vilified by Epicurus who took him as his
sole guide.
"Turn next to the second division of philosophy, the department of Method and of
Dialectic, which is termed Logikē. Of the whole armour of Logic your founder, as
it seems to me, is absolutely destitute. He does away with Definition; he has no
doctrine of Division or Partition; he gives no rules for Deduction or
Syllogistic Inference, and imparts no method for resolving dilemmas or for
detecting Fallacies of Equivocation. The Criteria of reality he places in
sensation; once let the senses accept something as true that is false, and every
possible criterion of truth and falsehood seems to him to be immediately
destroyed. . . .
He lays the very greatest stress upon that which, as he declares, Nature herself
decrees and sanctions, that is the feelings of pleasure and pain. These he
maintains lie at the root of every act of choice and of avoidance. This is the
doctrine of Aristippus, and it is upheld more cogently and more frankly by the
Cyrenaics; but nevertheless it is in my judgment a doctrine in the last degree
unworthy of the dignity of man. Nature, in my own opinion at all events, has
created and endowed us for higher ends. I may possibly be mistaken; but I am
absolutely convinced that the Torquatus who first won that surname did not wrest
the famous necklet from his foe in the hope of getting from it any physical
enjoyment, nor did he fight the battle of the Veseris against the Latins in this
third consulship for the sake of pleasure. Indeed in sentencing his son to be
beheaded, it would seem that he actually deprived himself of a great deal of
pleasure; for he sacrificed his natural instincts of paternal affection to the
claims of state and of his military office.
"Then, think of the Titus Torquatus who was consul with Gnaeus Octavius; when he
dealt so sternly with the son who had passed out of his paternal control through
his adoption by Decius Silanus — when he summoned him into his presence to
answer to the charge preferred against him by a deputation from Macedonia, of
accepting bribes while prisoner in that province — when, after hearing both
sides of the case, he gave judgment that he found his son guilty of having
conducted himself in office in a manner unworthy of his ancestry, and banished
him for ever from his sight, — think you he had any regard for his own pleasure?
But I pass over the dangers, the toils, the actual pain that all good men endure
for country and for friends, not only not seeking pleasure, but actually
renouncing pleasures altogether, and preferring to undergo every sort of pain
rather than be false to any portion of their duty.
Let us turn to matters seemingly less important, but equally conclusive. What
actual pleasure do you, Torquatus, or does Triarius here, derive from
literature, from history and learning, from turning the pages of the poets and
committing vast quantities of verse to memory? Do not tell me that these
pursuits are in themselves a pleasure to you, and that so were the deeds I
mentioned to the Torquati. That line of defence was never taken by Epicurus or
Metrodorus, nor by any one of them if he possessed any intelligence or had
mastered the doctrines of your school. Again, as to the question often asked,
why so many men are Epicureans, though it is not the only reason, the thing that
most attracts the crowd is the belief that Epicurus declares right conduct and
moral worth to be intrinsically and of themselves delightful, which means
productive of pleasure. These worthy people do not realize that, if this is
true, it upsets the theory altogether. If it were admitted that goodness is
spontaneously and intrinsically pleasant, even without any reference to bodily
feeling, then virtue would be desirable for its own sake, and so also would
knowledge; but this Epicurus by no means allows.
"These then," said I, "are the doctrines of Epicurus that I cannot accept. For
the rest, I could desire that he himself had been better equipped with learning
(since even you must recognize that he is deficient in that liberal culture
which confers on its possessor the title of an educated man) or at all events
that he had not deterred others from study. Although I am aware that he has not
succeeded in deterring you."
I had spoken rather with the intention of drawing out Torquatus than of
delivering a discourse of my own. But Triarius interposed, with a smile: "Why,
you have practically expelled Epicurus altogether from the philosophic choir.
What have you left to him except that, whatever his style may be, you find his
meaning intelligible? His doctrines in Natural Philosophy were second-hand, and
in your opinion unsound at that; and his attempts to improve on his authority
only made things worse. Dialectic he had none. His identification of the Chief
Good with pleasure in the first place was in itself an error, and secondly this
also was not original; for it had been said before, and said better, by
Aristippus. To crown all you added that Epicurus was a person of no education."
"Well, Triarius," I rejoined, "when one disagrees with a man, it is essential to
say what it is that one objects to in his views. What should prevent me from
being an Epicurean, if I accepted the doctrines of Epicurus? Especially as the
system is an exceedingly easy one to master. You must not find fault with
members of opposing schools for criticizing each other's opinions; though I
always feel that insult and abuse, or ill‑tempered wrangling and bitter,
obstinate controversy are beneath the dignity of philosophy.”
"I am quite of your mind," said Torquatus; "it is impossible to debate without
criticizing, but it is equally impossible to debate properly with ill‑temper or
obstinacy. But I have something I should like to say in reply to all this, if it
will not weary you."
“Do you suppose," said I, "that I should have said what I have, unless I wanted
to hear you?"
"Then would you like me to make a rapid review of the whole of Epicurus's
system, or to discuss the single topic of pleasure, which is the one main
subject of dispute?”
"Oh," I said, "that must be for you to decide." "Very well then," said he, "this
is what I will do, I will expound a single topic, and that the most important.
Natural Philosophy we will postpone; though I will undertake to prove to you
both your swerve of the atoms and size of the sun, and also that very many
errors of Democritus were criticized and corrected by Epicurus. But on the
present occasion I will speak about pleasure; not that I have anything original
to contribute, yet I am confident that what I say will command even your
acceptance." "Be assured," I said, "that I shall not be obstinate, but will
gladly own myself convinced if you can prove your case to my satisfaction." "I
shall do so," he rejoined, "provided you are as fair-minded as you promise. But
I prefer to employ continuous discourse rather than question and answer." "As
you please," said I. So he began.
"I will start then," he said, "in the manner approved by the author of the
system himself, by settling what are the essence and qualities of the thing that
is the object of our inquiry; not that I suppose you to be ignorant of it, but
because this is the logical method of procedure. We are inquiring, then, what is
the final and ultimate Good, which as all philosophers are agreed must be of
such a nature as to be the end to which all other things are means, while it is
not itself a means to anything else. This Epicurus finds in pleasure; pleasure
he holds to be the Chief Good, pain the Chief Evil. This he sets out to prove as
follows: every animal, as soon as it is born, seeks for pleasure, and delights
in it as the Chief Good, while it recoils from pain as the Chief Evil, and so
far as possible avoids it. This it does as long as it remains unperverted, at
the prompting of Nature's own unbiased and honest verdict. Hence Epicurus
refuses to admit any necessity for argument or discussion to prove that pleasure
is desirable and pain to be avoided. These facts, he thinks, are perceived by
the senses, as that fire is hot, snow white, honey sweet, none of which things
need be proved by elaborate argument: it is enough merely to draw attention to
them. (For there is a difference, he holds, between formal syllogistic proof of
a thing and a mere notice or reminder: the former is the method for discovering
abstruse and recondite truths, the latter for indicating facts that are obvious
and evident.) Strip mankind of sensation, and nothing remains; it follows that
Nature herself is the judge of that which is in accordance with or contrary to
nature. What does Nature perceive or what does she judge of, beside pleasure and
pain, to guide her actions of desire and of avoidance? Some members of our
school however would refine upon this doctrine; these say that it is not enough
for the judgment of good and evil to rest with the senses; the facts that
pleasure is in and for itself desirable and pain in and for itself to be avoided
can also be grasped by the intellect and the reason. Accordingly they declare
that the perception that the one is to be sought after and the other avoided is
a notion naturally implanted in our minds. Others again, with whom I agree,
observing that a great many philosophers do advance a vast array of reasons to
prove why pleasure should not be counted as a good nor pain as an evil, consider
that we had better not be too confident of our case; in their view it requires
elaborate and reasoned argument, and abstruse theoretical discussion of the
nature of pleasure and pain.
"But I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of reprobating pleasure
and extolling pain arose. To do so, I will give you a complete account of the
system, and expound the actual teachings of the great explorer of truth, the
master-builder of human happiness. No one rejects, dislikes or avoids pleasure
itself, because it is pleasure, but because those who do not know how to pursue
pleasure rationally encounter consequences that are extremely painful. Nor again
is there anyone who loves or pursues or desires to obtain pain of itself,
because it is pain, but because occasionally circumstances occur in which toil
and pain can procure him some great pleasure. To take a trivial example, which
of us ever undertakes laborious physical exercise, except to obtain some
advantage from it? But who has any right to find fault with a man who chooses to
enjoy a pleasure that has no annoying consequences, or one who avoids a pain
that produces no resultant pleasure? On the other hand, we denounce with
righteous indignation and dislike men who are so beguiled and demoralized by the
charms of the pleasure of the moment, so blinded by desire, that they cannot
foresee the pain and trouble that are bound to ensue; and equal blame belongs to
those who fail in their duty through weakness of will, which is the same as
saying through shrinking from toil and pain. These cases are perfectly simple
and easy to distinguish. In a free hour, when our power of choice is
untrammelled and when nothing prevents our being able to do what we like best,
every pleasure is to be welcomed and every pain avoided. But in certain
emergencies and owing to the claims of duty or the obligations of business it
will frequently occur that pleasures have to be repudiated and annoyances
accepted. The wise man therefore always holds in these matters to this principle
of selection: he rejects pleasures to secure other greater pleasures, or else he
endures pains to avoid worse pains.
"This being the theory I hold, why need I be afraid of not being able to
reconcile it with the case of the Torquati my ancestors? Your references to them
just now were historically correct, and also showed your kind and friendly
feeling towards myself; but pall the same I am not to be bribed by your flattery
of my family, and you will not find me a less resolute opponent. Tell me, pray,
what explanation do you put upon their actions? Do you really believe that they
charged an armed enemy, or treated their children, their own flesh and blood, so
cruelly, without a thought for their own interest or advantage? Why, even wild
animals do not act in that way; they do not run amok so blindly that we cannot
discern any purpose in their movements and their onslaughts. Can you then
suppose that those heroic men performed their famous deeds without any motive at
all? What their motive was, I will consider later on: for the present I will
confidently assert, that if they had a motive for those undoubtedly glorious
exploits, that motive was not a love of virtue in and for itself. — He wrested
the necklet from his foe. — Yes, and saved himself from death. — But he braved
great danger. — Yes, before the eyes of an army. — What did he get by it? —
Honour and esteem, the strongest guarantees of security in life. — He sentenced
his own son to death. — If from no motive, I am sorry to be the descendant of
anyone so savage and inhuman; but if his purpose was by inflicting pain upon
himself to establish his authority as a commander, and to tighten the reins of
discipline during a very serious war by holding over his army the fear of
punishment, then his action aimed at ensuring the safety of his fellow-citizens,
upon which he knew his own depended. And this is a principle of wide
application. People of your school, and especially yourself, who are so diligent
a student of history, have found a favourite field for the display of your
eloquence in precalling the stories of brave and famous men of old, and in
praising their actions, not on utilitarian grounds, but on account of the
splendour of abstract moral worth. But all of this falls to the ground if the
principle of selection that I have just mentioned be established, — the
principle of forgoing pleasures for the purpose of getting greater pleasures,
and enduring pains for the sake of escaping greater pains.
"But enough has been said at this stage about the glorious exploits and
achievements of the heroes of renown. The tendency of all the virtues to produce
pleasure is a topic that will be treated in its own place later on. At present I
shall proceed to expound the essence and qualities of pleasure itself, and shall
endeavour to remove the misconceptions of ignorance and to make you realize how
serious, how temperate, how austere is the school that is supposed to be
sensual, lax and luxurious. The pleasure we pursue is not that kind alone which
directly affects our physical being with a delightful feeling, — a positively
agreeable perception of the senses; on the contrary, the greatest pleasure
according to us is that which is experienced as a result of the complete removal
of pain. When we are released from pain, the mere sensation of complete
emancipation and relief from uneasiness is in itself a source of gratification.
But everything that causes gratification is a pleasure (just as everything that
causes annoyance is a pain). Therefore the complete removal of pain has
correctly been termed a pleasure. For example, when hunger and thirst are
banished by food and drink, the mere fact of getting rid of uneasiness brings a
resultant pleasure in its train. So generally, the removal of pain causes
pleasure to take its place. Epicurus consequently maintained that there is no
such thing as a neutral state of feeling intermediate between pleasure and pain;
for the state supposed by some thinkers to be neutral, being characterized as it
is by entire absence of pain, is itself, he held, a pleasure, and, what is more,
a pleasure of the highest order. A man who is conscious of his condition at all
must necessarily feel pleasure or pain. But complete absence of pain Epicurus
considers to be the limit and highest point of pleasure; beyond this point
pleasure may vary in kind, but it cannot vary in intensity or degree. Yet at
Athens, so my father used to tell me when he wanted to air his wit at the
expense of the Stoics, in the Ceramicus there is actually a statue of Chrysippus
seated and holding out one hand, the gesture being intended to indicate the
delight which he used to take in the following little syllogism: 'Does your hand
want anything, while it is in its present condition?' Answer: 'No, nothing.' —
'But if pleasure were a good, it would want pleasure.' — 'Yes, I suppose it
would.' — 'Therefore pleasure is not a good.' An argument, as my father
declared, which not even a statue would employ, if a statue could speak; because
though it is cogent enough as an objection to the Cyrenaics, it does not touch
Epicurus. For if the only kind of pleasure were that which so to speak tickles
the senses, an influence permeating them with a feeling of delight, neither the
hand nor any other member could be satisfied with the absence of pain
unaccompanied by an agreeable and active sensation of pleasure. Whereas if, as
Epicurus holds, the highest pleasure be to feel no pain, Chrysippus'
interlocutor, though justified in making his first admission, that phis hand in
that condition wanted nothing, was not justified in his second admission, that
if pleasure were a good, his hand would have wanted it. And the reason why it
would not have wanted pleasure is, that to be without pain is to be in a state
of pleasure.
"The truth of the position that pleasure is the ultimate good will most readily
appear from the following illustration. Let us imagine a man living in the
continuous enjoyment of numerous and vivid pleasures alike of body and of mind,
undisturbed either by the presence or the prospect of pain: what possible state
of existence could we describe as being more excellent or more desirable? One so
situated must possess in the first place a strength of mind that is proof
against all fear of death or of pain; he will know that death means complete
unconsciousness, and that pain is generally light if long and short if strong,
so that its intensity is compensated by brief duration and its continuance by
diminishing severity. Let such a man moreover have no dread of any supernatural
power; let him never suffer the pleasures of the past to fade away, but
constantly renew their enjoyment in recollection, — and his lot will be one
which will not admit of further improvement. Suppose on the other hand a person
crushed beneath the heaviest load of mental and of bodily anguish to which
humanity is liable. Grant him no hope of ultimate relief in view; also give him
no pleasure either present or in prospect. Can one describe or imagine a more
pitiable state? If then a life full of pain is the thing most to be avoided, it
follows that to live in pain is the highest evil; and this position implies that
a life of pleasure is the ultimate good. In fact the mind possesses nothing in
itself upon which it can rest as final. Every fear, every sorrow can be traced
back to pain; there is no other thing besides pain which is of its own nature
capable of causing either anxiety or distress.
"Pleasure and pain moreover supply the motives of desire and of avoidance, and
the springs of conduct generally. This being so, it clearly follows that actions
are right and praiseworthy only as being a means to the attainment of a life of
pleasure. But that which is not itself a means to anything else, but to which
all else is a means, is what the Greeks term the Telos, the highest, ultimate or
final Good. It must therefore be admitted that the Chief Good is to live
agreeably.
"Those who place the Chief Good in virtue alone are beguiled by the glamour of a
name, and do not understand the true demands of nature. If they will consent to
listen to Epicurus, they will be delivered from the grossest error. Your school
dilates on the transcendent beauty of the virtues; but were they not productive
of pleasure, who would deem them either praiseworthy or desirable? We esteem the
art of medicine not for its interest as a science but for its conduciveness to
health; the art of navigation is commended for its practical and not its
scientific value, because it conveys the rules for sailing a ship with success.
So also Wisdom, which must be considered as the art of living, if it effected no
result would not be desired; but as it is, it is desired, because it is the
artificer that procures and produces pleasure. (The meaning that I attach to
pleasure must by this time be clear to you, and you must not be biased against
my argument owing to the discreditable associations of the term.) The great
disturbing factor in man's life is ignorance of good and evil; mistaken ideas
about these frequently rob us of our greatest pleasures, and torment us with the
most cruel pain of mind. Hence we need the aid of Wisdom, to rid us of our fears
and appetites, to root out all our errors and prejudices, and to serve as our
infallible guide to the attainment of pleasure. Wisdom alone can banish sorrow
from our hearts and protect us from alarm and apprehension; put yourself to
school with her, and you may live in peace, and quench the glowing flames of
desire. For the desires are incapable of satisfaction; they ruin not individuals
only but whole families, nay often shake the very foundations of the state. It
is they that are the source of hatred, quarrelling and strife, of sedition and
of war. Nor do they only flaunt themselves abroad, or turn their blind
onslaughts solely against others; even when prisoned within the heart they
quarrel and fall out among themselves; and this cannot but render the whole of
life embittered. Hence only the Wise Man, who prunes away all the rank growth of
vanity and error, can possibly live untroubled by sorrow and by fear, content
within the bounds that nature has set. Nothing could be more useful or more
conducive to well-being than Epicurus's doctrine as to the different classes of
the desires. One kind he classified as both natural and necessary, a second as
natural without being necessary, and a third as neither natural nor necessary;
the principle of classification being that the necessary desires are gratified
with little trouble or expense; the natural desires also require but little,
since nature's own riches, which suffice to content her, are both easily
procured and limited in amount; but for the imaginary desires no bound or limit
can be discovered. If then we observe that ignorance and error reduce the whole
of life to confusion, while Wisdom alone is able to protect us from the
onslaughts of appetite and the menaces of fear, teaching us to bear even the
affronts of fortune with moderation, and showing us all the paths that lead to
calmness and peace, why should we hesitate to avow that Wisdom is to be desired
for the sake of the pleasures it brings and Folly to be avoided because of its
injurious consequences?
"The same principle will lead us to pronounce that Temperance also is not
desirable for its own sake, but because it bestows peace of mind, and soothes
the heart with a tranquillizing sense of harmony. For it is temperance that
warns us to be guided by reason in what we desire and avoid. Nor is it enough to
judge what it is right to do or to leave undone; we also need to abide by our
judgment. Most men however lack tenacity of purpose; their resolution weakens
and succumbs as soon as the fair form of pleasure meets their gaze, and they
surrender themselves prisoners to their passions, failing to foresee the
inevitable result. Thus for the sake of a pleasure at once small in amount and
unnecessary, and one which they might have procured by other means or even
denied themselves altogether without pain, they incur serious disease, or loss
of fortune, or disgrace, and not infrequently become liable to the penalties of
the law and of the courts of justice. Those on the other hand who are resolved
so to enjoy their pleasures as to avoid all painful consequences therefrom, and
who retain their faculty of judgment and avoid being seduced by pleasure into
courses that they perceive to be wrong, reap the very highest pleasure by
forgoing pleasure. Similarly also they often voluntarily endure pain, to avoid
incurring greater pain by not doing so. This clearly proves that Intemperance is
not undesirable for its own sake, while Temperance is desirable not because it
renounces pleasures, but because it procures greater pleasures.
"The same account will be found to hold good of Courage. The performance of
labours, the undergoing of pains, are not in themselves attractive, nor are
endurance, industry, watchfulness, nor yet that much lauded virtue,
perseverance, nor even courage; but we aim at these virtues in order to live
without anxiety and fear and so far as possible to be free from pain of mind and
body. The fear of death plays havoc with the calm and even tenor of life, and to
bow the head to pain and bear it abjectly and feebly is a pitiable thing; such
weakness has caused many men to betray their parents or their friends, some
their country, and very many utterly to ruin themselves. So on the other hand a
strong and lofty spirit is entirely free from anxiety and sorrow. It makes light
of death, for the dead are only as they were before they were born. It is
schooled to encounter pain by recollecting that pains of great severity are
ended by death, and slight ones have frequent intervals of respite; while those
of medium intensity lie within our own control: we can bear them if they are
endurable, or if they are not, we may serenely quit life's theatre, when the
play has ceased to please us. These considerations prove that timidity and
cowardice are not blamed, nor courage and endurance praised, on their own
account; the former are rejected because they beget pain, the latter coveted
because they beget pleasure.
"It remains to speak of Justice, to complete the list of the virtues; but this
admits of practically the same treatment as the others. Wisdom, Temperance and
Courage I have shown to be so closely linked with Pleasure that they cannot
possibly be severed or sundered from it. The same must be deemed to be the case
with Justice. Not only does Justice never cause anyone harm, but on the contrary
it always adds some benefit, partly owing to its essentially tranquillizing
influence upon the mind, partly because of the hope that it warrants of a
never-failing supply of the things that uncorrupted nature really needs. And
just as Rashness, Licence and Cowardice ever torment the mind, ever awaken
trouble and discord, so Unrighteousness, when firmly rooted in the heart, causes
restlessness by the mere fact of its presence; and if once it has found
expression in some deed of wickedness, however secret the act, yet it can never
feel assured that it will always remain undetected. The usual consequences of
crime are, first suspicion, next gossip and rumour, then comes the accuser, then
the judge; many wrongdoers have even turned evidence against themselves, as
happened in your consulship. And even if any think themselves well fenced and
fortified against detection by their fellow‑men, they still dread the eye of
heaven, and fancy that the pangs of anxiety night and day gnawing at their
hearts are sent by Providence to punish them. But what can wickedness contribute
ptowards lessening the annoyances of life, commensurate with its effect in
increasing them, owing to the burden of a guilty conscience, the penalties of
the law and the hatred of one's fellows? Yet nevertheless some men indulge
without limit their avarice, ambition and love of power, lust, gluttony and
those other desires, which ill‑gotten gains can never diminish but rather must
inflame the more; insomuch that they appear proper subjects for restraint rather
than for reformation. Men of sound natures, therefore, are summoned by the voice
of true reason to justice, equity and honesty. For one without eloquence or
resources dishonesty is not good policy, since it is difficult for such a man to
succeed in his designs, or to make good his success when once achieved. On the
other hand, for the rich and clever generous conduct seems more in keeping, and
liberality wins them affection and good will, the surest means to a life of
peace; especially as there really is no motive for transgressing: since the
desires that spring from nature are easily gratified without doing any man
wrong, while those that are imaginary ought to be resisted, for they set their
affections upon nothing that is really wanted; while there is more loss inherent
in Injustice itself than there is profit in the gains it brings. Hence Justice
also cannot correctly be said to be desirable in and for itself; it is so
because it is so highly productive of gratification. For esteem and affection
are gratifying, because they render life safer and fuller of pleasure. Hence we
hold that Unrighteousness is to be avoided not simply on account of the
disadvantages that result from being unrighteous, but even far more because when
it dwells in a man's heart it never suffers him to breathe freely or know a
moment's rest.
"If then even the glory of the Virtues, on which all the other philosophers love
to expatiate so eloquently, has in the last resort no meaning unless it be based
on pleasure, whereas pleasure is the only thing that is intrinsically attractive
and alluring, it cannot be doubted that pleasure is the one supreme and final
Good and that a life of happiness is nothing else than a life of pleasure.
"The doctrine thus firmly established has corollaries which I will briefly
expound. () The Ends of Goods and Evils themselves, that is, pleasure and pain,
are not open to mistake; where people go wrong is in not knowing what things are
productive of pleasure and pain. () Again, we aver that mental pleasures and
pains arise out of bodily ones (and therefore I allow your contention that any
Epicureans who think otherwise put themselves out of court; and I am aware that
many do, though not those who can speak with authority); but although men do
experience mental pleasure that is agreeable and mental pain that is annoying,
yet both of these we assert arise out of and are based upon bodily sensations.
() Yet we maintain that this does not preclude mental pleasures and pains from
being much more intense than those of the body; since the body can feel only
what is present to it at the moment, whereas the mind is also cognizant of the
past and of the future. For granting that pain of body is equally painful, yet
our sensation of pain can be enormously increased by the belief that some evil
of unlimited magnitude and duration threatens to befall us hereafter. And the
same consideration may be transferred to pleasure: a pleasure is greater if not
accompanied by any apprehension of evil. This therefore clearly appears, that
intense mental pleasure or distress contributes more to our happiness or misery
than a bodily pleasure or pain of equal duration. () But we do not agree that
when pleasure is withdrawn uneasiness at once ensues, unless the pleasure
happens to have been replaced by a pain: while on the other hand one is glad to
lose a pain even though no active sensation of pleasure comes in its place: a
fact that serves to show how great a pleasure is the mere absence of pain. But
just as we are elated by the anticipation of good things, so we are delighted by
their recollection. Fools are tormented by the memory of former evils; wise men
have the delight of renewing in graceful remembrance the blessings of the past.
We have the power both to obliterate our misfortunes in an almost perpetual
forgetfulness and to summon up pleasant and agreeable memories of our successes.
But when we fix our mental vision closely on the events of the past, then sorrow
or gladness ensues according as these were evil or good.
"Here is indeed a royal road to happiness — open, simple, and direct! For
clearly man can have no greater good than complete freedom from pain and sorrow
coupled with the enjoyment of the highest bodily and mental pleasures. Notice
then how the theory embraces every possible enhancement of life, every aid to
the attainment of that Chief Good which is our object. Epicurus, the man whom
you denounce as a voluptuary, cries aloud that no one can live pleasantly
without living wisely, honourably and justly, and of one wisely, honourably and
justly without living pleasantly. For a city rent by faction cannot prosper, nor
a house whose masters are at strife; much less then can a mind divided against
itself and filled with inward discord taste any particle of pure and liberal
pleasure. But one who is perpetually swayed by conflicting and incompatible
counsels and desires can know no peace or calm. Why, if the pleasantness of life
is diminished by the more serious bodily diseases, how much more must it be
diminished by the diseases of the mind! But extravagant and imaginary desires,
for riches, fame, power, and also for licentious pleasures, are nothing but
mental diseases. Then, too, there are grief, trouble and sorrow, which gnaw the
heart and consume it with anxiety, if men fail to realize that the mind need
feel no pain unconnected with some pain of body, present or to come. Yet there
is no foolish man but is afflicted by some one of these diseases; therefore
there is no foolish man that is not unhappy. Moreover, there is death, the stone
of Tantalus ever hanging over men's heads; and superstition, that poisons and
destroys all peace of mind. Besides, they do not recollect their past nor enjoy
their present blessings; they merely look forward to those of the future, and as
these are of necessity uncertain, they are consumed with agony and terror; and
the climax of their torment is when they perceive too late that all their dreams
of wealth or station, power or fame, have come to nothing. For they never attain
any of the pleasures, the hope of which inspired them to undergo all their
arduous toils. Or look again at others, petty, narrow-minded men, or confirmed
pessimists, or spiteful, envious, ill‑tempered creatures, unsociable, abusive,
brutal; others again enslaved to the follies of love, impudent or reckless,
wanton, headstrong and yet irresolute, always changing their minds. Such
failings render their lives one unbroken round of misery. The conclusion is that
no foolish man can be happy, nor any wise man fail to be happy. This is a truth
that we establish far more conclusively than do the Stoics. For they maintain
that nothing is good save that vague phantom which they entitle Moral Worth, a
title more splendid than substantial; and say that Virtue resting on this Moral
Worth has no need of pleasure, but is herself her own sufficient happiness.
"At the same time this Stoic doctrine can be stated in a form which we do not
object to, and indeed ourselves endorse. For Epicurus thus presents his Wise Man
who is always happy: his desires are kept within bounds; death he disregards; he
has a true conception, untainted by fear, of the Divine nature; he does not
hesitate to depart from life, if that would better his condition. Thus equipped
he enjoys perpetual pleasure, for there is no moment when the pleasures he
experiences do not outbalance the pains; since he remembers the past with
gratitude, grasps the present with a full realization of its pleasantness, and
does not rely upon the future; he looks forward to it, but finds his true
enjoyment in the present. Also he is entirely free from the vices that I
instanced a few moments ago, and he derives no inconsiderable pleasure from
comparing his own existence with the life of the foolish. More, any pains that
the Wise Man may encounter are never so severe but that he has more cause for
gladness than for sorrow. Again, it is a fine saying of Epicurus that 'the Wise
Man is but little interfered pwith by fortune: the great concerns of life, the
things that matter, are controlled by his own wisdom and reason'; and that 'no
greater pleasure could be derived from a life of infinite duration than is
actually afforded by this existence which we know to be finite.' Logic, on which
your school lays such stress, he held to be of no effect either as a guide to
conduct or as an aid to thought. Natural Philosophy he deemed all‑important.
This science explains to us the meaning of terms, the nature of predication, and
the law of consistency n contradiction; secondly, a thorough knowledge of the
facts of nature relieves us of the burden of superstition, frees us from fear of
death, and shields us against the disturbing effects of ignorance, which is
often in itself a cause of terrifying apprehensions; lastly, to learn what
nature's real requirements are improves the moral character also. Besides, it is
only by firmly grasping a well-established scientific system, observing the Rule
or Canon that has fallen as it were from heaven so that all men may know it —
only by making that hope always to stand fast in our belief, unshaken by the
eloquence of any man. On the other hand, without a full understanding of the
world of nature it is impossible to maintain the truth of our sense-perceptions.
Further, every mental presentation has its origin in sensation: so that no
certain knowledge will be possible, unless all sensations are true, as the
theory of Epicurus teaches that they are. Those who deny the validity of
sensation and say that nothing can be perceived, having excluded the evidence of
the senses, are unable even to expound their own argument. Besides, by
abolishing knowledge and science they abolish all possibility of rational life
and action. Thus Natural Philosophy supplies courage to face the fear of death;
resolution to resist the terrors of religion; peace of mind, for it removes all
ignorance of the mysteries of nature; self-control, for it explains the nature
of the desires and distinguishes their different kinds; and, as I showed just
now, the Canon or Criterion of Knowledge, which Epicurus also established, gives
a method of discerning truth from falsehood.
"There remains a topic that is pre‑eminently germane to this discussion, I mean
the subject of Friendship. Your school maintains that if pleasure be the Chief
Good, friendship will cease to exist. Now Epicurus's pronouncement about
friendship is that of all the means to happiness that wisdom has devised, none
is greater, none most are fruitful, none more delightful than this. Nor did he
only commend this doctrine by his eloquence, but far more by the example of his
life and conduct. How great a thing such friendship is, is shown by the mythical
stories of antiquity. Review the legends from the remotest ages, and, copious
and varied as they are, you will barely find in them three pairs of friends,
beginning with Theseus and ending with Orestes. Yet Epicurus in a single house
and that a small one maintained a whole company of friends, united by the
closest sympathy and affection; and this still goes on in the Epicurean school.
But to return to our subject, for there is no need of personal instances: I
notice that the topic of friendship has been treated by Epicureans in three
ways. Some have denied that pleasures affecting our friends are in themselves to
be desired by us in the same degree as we desire our own pleasures. This
doctrine is thought by some critics to undermine the foundations of friendship;
however, its supporters defend their position, and in my opinion have no
difficulty in making good their ground. They argue that friendship can no more
be sundered from pleasure than can the virtues, which we have discussed already.
A solitary, friendless life must be beset by secret dangers and alarms. Hence
reason itself advises the acquisition of friends; their possession gives
confidence, and a firmly rooted hope of winning pleasure. And just as hatred,
jealousy and contempt are hindrances to pleasure, so friendship is the most
trustworthy preserver and also creator of pleasure alike for our friends and for
ourselves. It affords us enjoyment in the present, and it inspires us with hopes
for the near and distant future. Thus it is not possible to secure uninterrupted
gratification in life without friendship, nor yet to preserve friendship itself
unless we love our friends as much as ourselves. Hence this unselfishness does
occur in friendship, while also friendship is closely linked with pleasure. For
we rejoice in our friends' joy as much as in our own, and are equally pained by
their sorrows. Therefore the Wise Man will feel exactly the same towards his
friend as he does towards himself, and will exert himself as much for his
friend's pleasure as he would for his own. All that has been said about the
essential connection of the virtues with pleasure must be repeated about
friendship. Epicurus well said (I give almost his exact words): 'The same creed
that has given us courage to overcome all fear of everlasting or long-enduring
evil hereafter, has discerned that friendship is our strongest safeguard in this
present term of life.' — Other Epicureans though by no means lacking in insight
are a little less courageous in defying the opprobrious criticisms of the
Academy. They fear that if we hold friendship to be desirable only for the
pleasure that it affords to ourselves, it will be thought that it is crippled
altogether. They therefore say that the first advances and overtures, and the
original inclination to form an attachment, are prompted by the desire for
pleasure, but that when the progress of the intercourse has led to intimacy, the
relationship blossoms into an affection strong enough to make us love our
friends for their own sake, even though no practical advantage accrues from
their friendship. Does not familiarity endear to us localities, temples, cities,
gymnasia and playing-grounds, horses and hounds, gladiatorial shows and fights
with wild beasts? Then how much more natural and reasonable that this should be
able to happen in our intercourse with our fellow‑men! — () The third view is
that wise men have made a sort of compact to love their friends no less than
themselves. We can understand the possibility of this, and we often see it
happen. Clearly no more effective means to happiness could be found than such an
alliance.
"All these considerations go to prove not only that the theory of friendship is
not embarrassed by the identification of the Chief Good with pleasure, but also
that without this no foundation for friendship whatsoever can be found.
"If then the doctrine I have set forth is clearer and more luminous than
daylight itself; if it is derived entirely from Nature's source; if my whole
discourse relies throughout for confirmation on the unbiased and unimpeachable
evidence of the senses; if lisping infants, nay even dumb animals, prompted by
Nature's teaching, almost find voice to proclaim that there is no welfare but
pleasure, no hardship but pain — and their judgment in these matters is neither
sophisticated nor biased — ought we not to feel the greatest gratitude to him
who caught this utterance of Nature's voice, and grasped its import so firmly
and so fully that he has guided all sane-minded men into the paths of peace and
happiness, calmness and repose? You are pleased to think him uneducated. The
reason is that he refused to consider any education worth the name that did not
help to school us in happiness. Was he to spend his time, as you encourage
Triarius and me to do, in perusing poets, who give us nothing solid and useful,
but merely childish amusement? Was he to occupy himself like Plato with music
and geometry, arithmetic and astronomy, which starting from false premises
cannot be true, and which moreover if they were true would contribute nothing to
make our lives pleasanter and therefore better? Was he, I say, to study arts
like these, and neglect the master art, so difficult and correspondingly so
fruitful, the art of living? No! Epicurus was not uneducated: the real
philistines are those who ask us to go on studying till old age the subjects
that we ought to be ashamed not to have learnt in boyhood." Thus concluding, he
added: "I have explained my own view, but solely with the object of learning
what your verdict is. I have never hitherto had a satisfactory opportunity of
hearing it."