THE SEVENTH LETTER [11]
reached the end of the whole course of
study or gained such power that he is not incapable of directing his
steps without the aid of a guide. This is the spirit and these are the
thoughts by which such a man guides his life, carrying out his work,
whatever his occupation may be, but throughout it all ever cleaving to
philosophy and to such rules of diet in his daily life as will give
him inward sobriety and therewith quickness in learning, a good
memory, and reasoning power; the kind of life which is opposed to this
he consistently hates. Those who have not the true philosophic temper,
but a mere surface colouring of opinions penetrating, like sunburn,
only skin deep, when they see how great the range of studies is, how
much labour is involved in it, and how necessary to the pursuit it
is to have an orderly regulation of the daily life, come to the
conclusion that the thing is difficult and impossible for them, and
are actually incapable of carrying out the course of study; while some
of them persuade themselves that they have sufficiently studied the
whole matter and have no need of any further effort. This is the
sure test and is the safest one to apply to those who live in luxury
and are incapable of continuous effort; it ensures that such a man
shall not throw the blame upon his teacher but on himself, because
he cannot bring to the pursuit all the qualities necessary to it. Thus
it came about that I said to Dionysios what I did say on that
occasion.
I did not, however, give a complete exposition, nor did Dionysios
ask for one. For he professed to know many, and those the most
important, points, and to have a sufficient hold of them through
instruction given by others. I hear also that he has since written
about what he heard from me, composing what professes to be his own
handbook, very different, so he says, from the doctrines which he
heard from me; but of its contents I know nothing; I know indeed
that others have written on the same subjects; but who they are, is
more than they know themselves. Thus much at least, I can say about
all writers, past or future, who say they know the things to which I
devote myself, whether by hearing the teaching of me or of others,
or by their own discoveries-that according to my view it is not
possible for them to have any real skill in the matter. There
neither is nor ever will be a treatise of mine on the subject. For
it does not admit of exposition like other branches of knowledge;
but after much converse about the matter itself and a life lived
together, suddenly a light, as it were, is kindled in one soul by a
flame that leaps to it from another, and thereafter sustains itself.
Yet this much I know-that if the things were written or put into
words, it would be done best by me, and that, if they were written
badly, I should be the person most pained. Again, if they had appeared
to me to admit adequately of writing and exposition, what task in life
could I have performed nobler than this, to write what is of great
service to mankind and to bring the nature of things into the light
for all to see? But I do not think it a good thing for men that
there should be a disquisition, as it is called, on this
topic-except for some few, who are able with a little teaching to find
it out for themselves. As for the rest, it would fill some of them
quite illogically with a mistaken feeling of contempt, and others with
lofty and vain-glorious expectations, as though they had learnt
something high and mighty.
On this point I intend to speak a little more at length; for
perhaps, when I have done so, things will be clearer with regard to my
present subject. There is an argument which holds good against the man
ventures to put anything whatever into writing on questions of this
nature; it has often before been stated by me, and it seems suitable
to the present occasion.
For everything that exists there are three instruments by which
the knowledge of it is necessarily imparted;
study or gained such power that he is not incapable of directing his
steps without the aid of a guide. This is the spirit and these are the
thoughts by which such a man guides his life, carrying out his work,
whatever his occupation may be, but throughout it all ever cleaving to
philosophy and to such rules of diet in his daily life as will give
him inward sobriety and therewith quickness in learning, a good
memory, and reasoning power; the kind of life which is opposed to this
he consistently hates. Those who have not the true philosophic temper,
but a mere surface colouring of opinions penetrating, like sunburn,
only skin deep, when they see how great the range of studies is, how
much labour is involved in it, and how necessary to the pursuit it
is to have an orderly regulation of the daily life, come to the
conclusion that the thing is difficult and impossible for them, and
are actually incapable of carrying out the course of study; while some
of them persuade themselves that they have sufficiently studied the
whole matter and have no need of any further effort. This is the
sure test and is the safest one to apply to those who live in luxury
and are incapable of continuous effort; it ensures that such a man
shall not throw the blame upon his teacher but on himself, because
he cannot bring to the pursuit all the qualities necessary to it. Thus
it came about that I said to Dionysios what I did say on that
occasion.
I did not, however, give a complete exposition, nor did Dionysios
ask for one. For he professed to know many, and those the most
important, points, and to have a sufficient hold of them through
instruction given by others. I hear also that he has since written
about what he heard from me, composing what professes to be his own
handbook, very different, so he says, from the doctrines which he
heard from me; but of its contents I know nothing; I know indeed
that others have written on the same subjects; but who they are, is
more than they know themselves. Thus much at least, I can say about
all writers, past or future, who say they know the things to which I
devote myself, whether by hearing the teaching of me or of others,
or by their own discoveries-that according to my view it is not
possible for them to have any real skill in the matter. There
neither is nor ever will be a treatise of mine on the subject. For
it does not admit of exposition like other branches of knowledge;
but after much converse about the matter itself and a life lived
together, suddenly a light, as it were, is kindled in one soul by a
flame that leaps to it from another, and thereafter sustains itself.
Yet this much I know-that if the things were written or put into
words, it would be done best by me, and that, if they were written
badly, I should be the person most pained. Again, if they had appeared
to me to admit adequately of writing and exposition, what task in life
could I have performed nobler than this, to write what is of great
service to mankind and to bring the nature of things into the light
for all to see? But I do not think it a good thing for men that
there should be a disquisition, as it is called, on this
topic-except for some few, who are able with a little teaching to find
it out for themselves. As for the rest, it would fill some of them
quite illogically with a mistaken feeling of contempt, and others with
lofty and vain-glorious expectations, as though they had learnt
something high and mighty.
On this point I intend to speak a little more at length; for
perhaps, when I have done so, things will be clearer with regard to my
present subject. There is an argument which holds good against the man
ventures to put anything whatever into writing on questions of this
nature; it has often before been stated by me, and it seems suitable
to the present occasion.
For everything that exists there are three instruments by which
the knowledge of it is necessarily imparted;