Ch. 20
In what manner reason contemplates itself.
Every art, and every faculty, contemplates certain things as its principal objects. Whenever,
therefore, it is of the same nature with the objects of
its contemplation, it necessarily contemplates itself
too; but where it is of a different nature, it cannot
contemplate itself. The art of shoemaking, for instance, is exercised upon leather, but is itself entirely
distinct from the materials it works upon; therefore
it does not contemplate itself. Again, grammar is
exercised on articulate speech. Is the art of grammar itself, then, articulate speech? By no means.
Therefore, it cannot contemplate itself. To what purpose, then, is reason appointed by nature? To a
proper use of the phenomena of existence. And
what is reason? The art of systematizing these phenomena. Thus, by its nature, it becomes contemplative of itself too.
Again, what subjects of contemplation belong to
prudence? Good and evil, and that which is indifferent. What, then, is prudence itself? Good. What
imprudence? Evil.
You see, then, that it necessarily contemplates both
itself and its contrary. Therefore, the first and greatest work of a philosopher is to try to distinguish
the phenomena of existence, and to admit none untried. Even in money, where our interest seems to
be concerned, you see what an art we have invented,
and how many ways an assayer uses to try its value, -
by the sight, the touch, the smell, and, lastly, the hearing. He throws the piece down, and attends to the
jingle; and is not contented with its jingling only
once, but, by frequent attention to it, trains his ear
for sound. So, when we think it of consequence
whether we are deceived or not, we use the utmost
attention to discern those things which may deceive
us. But, yawning and slumbering over our poor neglected reason, we are imposed upon by every appearance, nor know the mischief done. Would you know,
then, how very languidly you are affected by good and
evil, and how vehemently by things indifferent, consider how you feel with regard to bodily blindness,
and how with regard to being deceived; and you
will find that you are far from being moved, as you
ought, in relation to good and evil.
" But trained powers and much labor and learning
are here needed."
What then? Do you expect the greatest of arts to
be acquired by slight endeavors? And yet the principal doctrine of the philosophers is in itself short.
If you have a mind to know it, read Zeno, and you
will see. It is not a long story to say, "Our end is to
serve the gods," and " The essence of good consists in
the proper use of the phenomena of existence." If
you say, what then is God; what are phenomena;
what is particular, what universal nature, - here the
long story comes in. And so, if Epicurus should
come and say that good lies in the body, here, too,
it will be a long story; and it will be necessary to hear
what is the principal, and substantial, and essential
part in us. It is unlikely that the good of a snail
should be placed in the shell; and is it likely that
the good of a man should? You yourself, Epicurus,
have in you something superior to this. What is that
in you which deliberates, which examines, which recognizes the body as the principal part? Why light
your lamp, and labor for us, and write so many books?
That we may not be ignorant of the truth? But what
are we? What are we to you? Thus the doctrine
becomes a long story.