Diogenes and Alexander

Gilbert Highet

Lying on the bare earth, shoeless, bearded, half-naked, he looked like a beggar or a lunatic. He was one, but not the other. He had opened his eyes with the sun at dawn, scratched, done his business like a dog at the roadside, washed at the public fountain, begged a piece of breakfast bread and a few olives, eaten them squatting on the ground, and washed them down with a few handfuls of water scooped from the spring. (Long ago he had owned a rough wooden cup, but he threw it away when he saw a boy drinking out of his hollowed hands.) Having no work to go to and no family to provide for, he was free. As the market place filled up with shoppers and merchants and slaves and foreigners, he had strolled through it for an hour or two. Everybody knew him, or knew of him. They would throw sharp questions at him and get sharper answers. Sometimes they threw bits of food, and got scant thanks; sometimes a mischievous pebble, and got a shower of stones and abuse. They were not quite sure whether he was mad or not. He knew they were mad, each in a different way; they amused him. Now he was back at his home.

It was not a house, not even a squatter's hut. He thought everybody lived far too elaborately, expensively, anxiously.

What good is a house? No one needs privacy; natural acts are not shameful; we all do the same things, and need not hide them. No one needs beds and chairs and such furniture: the animals live healthy lives and sleep on the ground. All we require, since nature did not dress us properly, is one garment to keep us warm, and some shelter from rain and wind. So he had one blanket—to dress him in the daytime and cover him at night—and he slept in a cask. His name was Diogenes. He was the founder of the creed called Cynicism (doggishness); he spent much of his life in the rich, lazy, corrupt Greek city of Corinth, mocking and satirizing its people, and occasionally converting one of them.

His home was not a barrel made of wood; too expensive. It was a storage jar made of earthenware, no doubt discarded because a break had made it useless. He was not the first to inhabit such a thing. But he was the first who ever did so by choice, out of principle.

Diogenes was not a lunatic. He was a philosopher who wrote plays and poems and essays expounding his doctrine; he talked to those who cared to listen; he had pupils who admired him. But he taught chiefly by example. All should live naturally, he said, for what is natural is normal and cannot possibly be evil or shameful.

Live without conventions, which are artificial and false; escape complexities and extravagances: only so can you live a free life. The rich man believes he possesses his big house with its many rooms and its elaborate furniture, his expensive clothes, his horses and servants and his bank accounts. He does not.

He depends on them, he worries about them, he spends most of his life's energy looking after them; the thought of losing them makes him sick with anxiety. They possess him. He is their slave. In order to procure a quantity of false, perishable goods he has sold the only true, lasting good, his own independence.

There have been many men who grew tired of human society with its complications, and went away to live simply—on a small farm, in a quiet village, or in a hermit's cave. Not so Diogenes. He was a missionary. His life's aim was clear to him: it was "to restamp the currency": to take the clean metal of human life, to erase the old false conventional markings, and to imprint it with its true values.

The other great philosophers of the fourth century BC, such as Plato and Aristotle, taught mainly their own private pupils. But for Diogenes, laboratory and specimens and lecture halls and pupils were all to be found in a crowd of ordinary people.

Therefore, he chose to live in Athens or Corinth, where travelers from all over the Mediterranean world constantly came and went. And, by design, he publicly behaved in such ways as to show people what real life was.

He thought most people were only half-alive, most men only half-men. At bright noonday he walked through the market place carrying a lighted lamp and inspecting the face of everyone he met. They asked him why. Diogenes answered "I'm trying to find a man."

To a gentleman whose servant was putting on his shoes for him, Diogenes said, "You won't be really happy until he wipes your nose for you: that will come after you lose the use of your hands."

Once there was a war scare so serious that it stirred even the lazy, profit-happy Corinthians. They began to drill, clean their weapons, and rebuild their neglected fortifications. Diogenes took his old cask and began to roll it up and down. "When you are all so busy," he said, "I feel I ought to do something!"

And so he lived—like a dog, some said, because he cared nothing for the conventions of society, and because he showed his teeth and barked at those he disliked. Now he was lying in the sunlight, contented and happy, happier (he himself used to boast) than the Shah of Persia.

Although he knew he was going to have an important visitor, he would not move.

The little square began to fill with people—page boys, soldiers, secretaries, officers, diplomats, they all gradually formed a circle around Diogenes. He looked them over, as a sober man looks at a crowd of tottering drunks and shook his head. He knew who they were. They were the servants of Alexander, the conqueror of Greece, the Macedonian king, who was visiting his new realm.

Only twenty, Alexander was far older and wiser than his years. Like all Macedonians he loved drinking, but he could usually handle it; and toward women, he was nobly restrained and chivalrous. Like all Macedonians he loved fighting; he was a magnificent commander, but he was not merely a military automaton. He could think. At thirteen, he had become a pupil of the greatest mind in Greece, Aristotle, who gave him the best of Greek culture. He taught Alexander poetry: the young prince slept with the Iliad under his pillow and longed to emulate Achilles, who brought the mighty power of Asia to ruin. He taught him philosophy, in particular the shapes and uses of political power. And he taught him the principles of scientific research: during his invasion of Persia, Alexander took with him a large corps of scientists, and shipped hundreds of zoological specimens back to Greece for study.

Indeed, it was from Aristotle that Alexander learned to seek out everything strange which might be instructive.

Now Alexander was in Corinth to take command of the League of Greek States, which his father Philip had created. He was welcomed and honored and flattered. He was the man of the hour, of the century; he was unanimously appointed commander-in-chief of a new expedition against old, rich, corrupt Asia. Nearly everyone crowded to Corinth in order to congratulate him, to seek employment with him, even simply to see him. Only Diogenes, although he lived in Corinth, did not visit the new monarch. With that generosity which Aristotle had taught him, Alexander determined to call upon Diogenes.

With his handsome face, his fiery glance, his strong body, his purple and gold cloak, and his air of destiny, he moved through the parting crowd toward the Dog's kennel. When a king approaches, all rise in respect. Diogenes merely sat up on one elbow. When a monarch enters a place, all greet him with a bow or an acclamation. Diogenes said nothing.

There was a silence. Alexander spoke first, with a kindly greeting.

Looking at the poor broken cask, the single ragged garment, and the rough figure lying on the ground, he said: "Is there anything I can do for you, Diogenes?"

Yes, said the Dog. "Stand to one side. You're blocking the sunlight."

There was an amazed silence. Slowly, Alexander turned away. A titter broke out from the elegant Greeks. The Macedonian officers, after deciding that Diogenes was not worth the trouble of kicking, were starting to guffaw and nudge one another. Alexander was still silent. To those nearest him he said quietly, "If I were not Alexander, I should be Diogenes." They took it as a paradox. But Alexander meant it. He understood Cynicism as the others could not. He was what Diogenes called himself, a "citizen of the world." Like Diogenes, he admired the heroic figure of Hercules, who labored to help mankind while all others toiled and sweated only for themselves. He knew that of all men then alive in the world only Alexander the conqueror and Diogenes the beggar were free.

第欧根尼和亚历山大

吉尔伯特·海特

他躺在光溜溜的地上，光着脚，胡子拉碴的，半裸着身子，看起来活像个乞丐或者疯子——他确实是一个乞丐，但不是疯子。伴着黎明的阳光，他睁开了眼睛，搔了搔痒，接着像狗一样在路边撒了泡尿，然后在公共喷泉边抹了把脸，讨了块早餐面包和几颗橄榄，然后蹲在地上吃了起来，又从泉口捧了几把水将食物送入肚中。（很久以前，他曾有过一个粗糙的木杯，但是当他看见一个男孩用空手捧水喝时，他就把杯子扔掉了。）他不用去做工，也没有家庭要养，他是自由的。集市上熙熙攘攘，等到处是店主、商人、奴隶和外国人的时候，他也会在那儿溜达一两个小时。每个人都认识他，或者听说过他。他们会向他提些尖锐的问题，而得到的却是更尖锐的回答。有时，他们给他扔点儿食物，但却很少得到感谢；有时，他们恶作剧地向他扔块鹅卵石，他就还之以无数石块，且破口大骂。他们不太确定他是否疯了。但他却知道他们疯了，各有各的疯法；他们让他觉得很有意思。现在他要回自己家了。

他的家不是房子，甚至连个破旧的窝棚也算不上。他认为人们的生活太讲究，过于奢侈、太煞费苦心了。

房子有什么用？没有人需要私人空间，自然的行为并不可耻；我们都干着同样的事，不需要把它们隐藏起来。没人需要床、椅子之类的家具：动物睡在地上也过着健康的生活。因为大自然没有给我们配备合适的衣服，因此我们只需要一件衣服来抵御严寒，以及一个借以遮风避雨的住处。所以他只有一张毯子——白天披在身上，晚上盖在身上——而他就睡在一个桶里。他叫第欧根尼，是被称之为“犬儒主义哲学”的奠基人。他把自己一生的大多数时间花在了希腊科林斯这座富裕、懒惰和腐败的城市中，嘲笑和讥讽那里的人，偶尔也改造一两个，使他们改变原来的信仰。

他的家还不是一个木桶，那太贵了，那是一个泥土做的储物缸。这是一个破桶，显然是人们弃之不用的。住这样的地方他并不是第一个，但他确实是第一个自愿这么做的人，这是出于他自己做人的原则而已。

第欧根尼并不是疯子。他是一个哲学家，写过很多的剧本、诗歌和散文来阐述自己的主张，谁愿意听他的主张，他就讲给谁听。他有敬仰他的弟子。但他主要以自己的行为来教育学生。他说，所有人都应当活得自然些，因为自然的东西才是正常的，而且不可能变得邪恶或可耻。

抛开那些造作虚伪的习俗，摆脱那些繁文缛节和奢侈享受，只有这样人们才能过上自由的生活。富人自认为拥有深宅大院，精工细作的家具，华服骏马，成群的仆人和大笔的银行存款，其实他并非真正拥有，他依赖这些东西，为这些东西操心，一生中大部分精力都花在照看这些东西上了；一想到失去这些东西他便会过于焦虑以致患病。它们支配了他，他成了这些东西的奴隶。为了得到一些虚假、浮华的东西，他出卖了他唯一真实而永恒的财富——他自己的独立性。

很多人对人类社会的错综复杂感到厌倦，于是离群索居，躲到一边去过简朴的生活——或在一个小农场里耕种，或在安静的小村庄里度日，抑或在洞穴里隐居。第欧根尼没有那样做。他是一个传教士，他有明确的目标，那就是“重铸货帀”：提取人类生活的精华，揭除陈规陋习的假面具，重新印上人类生活的真正价值。

公元前4世纪的其他伟大哲学家，如柏拉图和亚里士多德，主要给自己的学生讲道。但是对于第欧根尼来说，他的实验室、标本、大课堂和学生都存在于芸芸众生中间。

因此，他决定住在雅典或科林斯，那里常有地中海沿岸国家的游客来来往往。在这些地方，他有意在众人面前展示自己的生活方式，目的是向世人显示什么才是真正的生活。

他认为大多数人没有充分利用自己的生命，都只是半个人。在一个阳光灿烂的中午，他拿着一盏灯穿过集市，仔细审视他遇见的每一个人的脸。人们问他为什么这样做，他回答说我在找一个完整的人。”

有一次，见到一个绅士正让仆人帮他穿鞋，第欧根尼对他说，你只有等仆人帮你擦鼻涕时才会真正感到幸福：不过这要等到你的双手残废以后。”

曾经有一场恐怖的战争——它甚至激发了那些懒惰的、唯利是图的科林斯人。他们开始训练、磨刀擦枪，重建荒废已久的防御工事。第欧根尼带上他的旧木桶，把它滚来滚去。“你们都这么忙，”他说，“我觉得我也该干点什么。”

他就是这样活着——有人说他像狗一样，因为他毫不顾及社会习俗，还因为他对那些他不喜欢的人龇牙咧嘴，对他们咆哮。现在他躺在阳光下，心满意足，比波斯国王还幸福（他过去经常这样自夸）

尽管他知道马上就要有贵客来访，可是他也懒得挪动一下身子。

小广场上人越来越多——侍童、士兵、秘书、军官、外交官们渐渐开始围在第欧根尼的周围，形成了一个圈。他抬眼望去，就像一个清醒的人注视着一群东倒西歪的醉鬼一样，然后他摇了摇头。他知道这些是什么人，他们是亚历山大的仆人，这位征服了希腊的马其顿国王，正在视察他的新王国。

亚历山大才20岁，但他看上去比他的年龄要成熟和睿智得多。他像所有马其顿人一样爱喝酒，但是通常他能够控制自己；他对待女性彬彬有礼，不失骑士风度。他像所有马其顿人一样热衷打仗。他是个了不起的指挥官，但并非只是一台战争机器。他善于思考，13岁时就成了希腊最伟大的思想家亚里士多德的学生，亚里士多德教会他希腊文化的精髓，教他诗歌。这位年轻的国王非常喜欢荷马的诗，睡觉时都将《伊利亚特》放在枕头下，并渴望效仿阿基里斯能够将亚细亚强大的力量摧毁。亚里士多德也教他哲学，特别是政治权势的形式和运用。他还向他传授科学研究的方法：当亚历山大入侵波斯时，他带去了一大批科学家，并将成千上万种动物标本运回希腊研究。

事实上，正是从亚里士多德那里，亚历山大学会了探究一切可能具有启发意义的奇怪事物。

现在，亚历山大来到了科林斯接管由他父亲菲利普缔造的“希腊城市联邦”。他受到人们的欢迎、尊敬和追捧。他是那个时刻、那个世纪科林斯的名人，他被大家一致推举担任新远征军的指挥官，去抵抗那个古老的、富裕的、腐败的亚细亚。几乎所有的人都涌到科林斯向他表示祝贺，到他身边谋职，还有的仅仅是为了看他一眼。只有第欧根尼没有去拜见这位新的君主，尽管他就住在科林斯。出于学自亚里士多德的慷慨宽容，亚历山大决定去拜访第欧根尼。

亚历山大相貌英俊，目光炯炯，一副强健的身躯，身披紫色镶金斗篷，带着命运主宰者的气派，穿过自动分开的人群，向那“狗窝”走去。当国王驾临时，所有人都会尊敬地站起身来，而第欧根尼只是用手肘支撑起上身。当君主进入某处时，所有人都会向他鞠躬欢呼以示敬意，但第欧根尼却一声不吭。

一阵沉默过后，亚历山大先开口了，友善地向对方问好。

他看了看那个破破烂烂的桶以及第欧根尼那唯一一件破破烂烂的衣服，还有那躺在地上不修边幅的人，他问道第欧根尼，有什么需要我帮忙的吗？”

“好吧，”那只“狗”说，“闪到一边去，你挡住了我的阳光。”

人们惊讶得说不出话来。亚历山大慢慢地转过身来。举止优雅的希腊人当即发出一阵窃笑。马其顿军官觉得第欧根尼不值得自己用脚踢打，于是也互相用肘轻推着哄笑起来。这时，亚历山大仍然沉默着。接着，他平静地对离自己最近的人说如果我不是亚历山大，我愿做第欧根尼。”他们以为这话自相矛盾。但亚历山大说此话自有他的道理。他能理解别人不理解的“犬儒主义”。像第欧根尼自封的一样，亚历山大也是一位“世界公民”。和第欧根尼一样，他也崇拜英雄赫拉克勒斯。当别人都只为自己的利益费尽心机时，赫拉克勒斯却在为人类而摩顶放踵。亚历山大知道所有的世人中，只有他们——征服者亚历山大和乞丐第欧根尼——是自由的。

Key Words:

mischievous   ['mistʃivəs]    

adj. 调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的

rough     [rʌf]

adj. 粗糙的，粗略的，粗暴的，艰难的，讨厌的，不适的

abuse     [ə'bju:s, ə'bju:z]     

n. 滥用，恶习

vt. 滥用，辱骂，虐待

fountain  ['fauntin]

n. 喷泉，源泉，储水容器，泉水

v. 使像喷

amused  [ə'mju:zd]      

adj. 有趣的

scant      [skænt]  

adj. 不充分的，不足的 v. 减缩，限制，忽略

pebble    ['pebl]    

n. 鹅卵石

occasionally   [ə'keiʒənəli]    

adv. 偶尔地

garment ['gɑ:mənt]     

n. 衣服

vt. 给 ... 披上衣服，覆上

cynicism ['sinisizəm]    

n. 愤世嫉俗，讥笑，冷言冷语 Cynicism:犬儒主

blanket   ['blæŋkit]      

n. 毛毯，覆盖物，排字版

vt. 用毯子裹，

inhabit    [in'hæbit]      

v. 居住于，占据，栖息

doctrine  ['dɔktrin]

n. 教义，主义，学说，（政府政策的）正式声明

jar   [dʒɑ:]     

n. 不和谐，刺耳声，震动，震惊，广口瓶

storage   ['stɔridʒ] 

n. 贮藏，存储，保管，保管费，仓库，[计]存储器

corrupt   [kə'rʌpt] 

adj. 腐败的，堕落的

vt. 使 ...

privacy   ['praivəsi]

n. 隐私，隐居，秘密

constantly      ['kɔnstəntli]    

adv. 不断地，经常地

contented      [kən'tentid]    

adj. 满足的，心安的 动词content的过去式和过

drill  [dril]

n. 钻孔机，钻子，反复操练，播种机

v. 钻

boast      [bəust]   

v. 吹牛，自夸，说大话

particular       [pə'tikjulə]     

adj. 特殊的，特别的，特定的，挑剔的

merely    ['miəli]    

adv. 仅仅，只不过

chivalrous      ['ʃivəlrəs]

adj. 骑士的，有骑士风度的

mighty    ['maiti]   

adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的

military   ['militəri] 

adj. 军事的

n. 军队

realm      [relm]    

n. 王国，领域

circle       ['sə:kl]    

n. 圈子，圆周，循环

v. 环绕，盘旋，包围

commander   [kə'mɑ:ndə]   

n. 司令官，指挥官

sober      ['səubə]  

adj. 清醒的，沉着冷静的，稳重的，颜色暗淡的

restrained      [ri'streind]     

adj. 克制的，受限制的；拘谨的 v. 抑制；约束

generosity     [.dʒenə'rɔsiti] 

n. 慷慨，大方

glance    [glɑ:ns]  

v. 一瞥，扫视，匆匆一看，反光，闪烁，掠过

corrupt   [kə'rʌpt] 

adj. 腐败的，堕落的

vt. 使 ...

bow [bau]     

n. 弓

n. 鞠躬，蝴蝶结，船头

monarch ['mɔnək] 

n. 帝王，统治者，元首/nn. 君王斑点蝶

command      [kə'mɑ:nd]    

n. 命令，指挥，控制

v. 命令，指挥，支配

elbow     ['elbəu]  

n. 手肘，急弯，扶手

v. 用手肘推开，推挤

merely    ['miəli]    

adv. 仅仅，只不过

silence    ['sailəns] 

n. 沉默，寂静

vt. 使安静，使沉默

determined    [di'tə:mind]    

adj. 坚毅的，下定决心的

figure     ['figə]     

n. 图形，数字，形状; 人物，外形，体型

silence    ['sailəns] 

n. 沉默，寂静

vt. 使安静，使沉默

heroic     [hi'rəuik]

adj. 英雄的，英勇的，巨大的

paradox  ['pærədɔks]   

n. 悖论，矛盾(者)

conqueror     ['kɔŋkərə]

n. 征服者，胜利者

rough     [rʌf]

adj. 粗糙的，粗略的，粗暴的，艰难的，讨厌的，不适的

garment ['gɑ:mənt]     

n. 衣服

vt. 给 ... 披上衣服，覆上

labored   ['leibəd]  

adj. 吃力的；费劲的；不自然的 v. 工作；劳动；分

elegant   ['eligənt] 

adj. 优雅的，精美的，俊美的

参考资料：