"Then it was that Philosophy, as Cicero has well said, made her first descent from heaven, and was led by Socrates into the towns and houses of men. Hitherto occupied with speculations as to the nature of hidden things, she now studied the manners and lives of men, and discussed virtues and vices, things good and useful, and the contrary. But Socrates did not primarily think of introducing this novel feature into philosophy, nor did he propose to teach anything, nor even aspire to the name of philosopher, which then only belonged to those who made physics or metaphysics the study of their lives. He openly proclaimed his ignorance of all things, and in his conversation with others simply discussed the affairs of his neighbours, and the topics of the day. He preferred this amusement to the real study of philosophy, or any other science or art; and being naturally more inclined to act than speculate, he only adopted this manner of life, because shut out from a more congenial employment. He was always more willing to converse with young and handsome persons than with others; in this way he hoped to gain at least esteem, where he would far rather have had love."
And since all the schools of Greek philosophy are traceable directly or indirectly to the Socratic school, Ottonieri asserted that the flat nose and satyr-like visage of a highly intellectual and warm-hearted man were the origin of all Greek philosophy, and, consequently, the philosophy of modern times. He also said that in the writings of his followers, the individuality of Socrates is comparable to those theatrical masks of the ancients, which always retained their name, character, and identity, but the rôle of which varied in each distinct performance.
He left behind him no philosophical or other writings for public benefit. Being asked one day why he did not give written as well as verbal expression to his philosophical views, he replied: "Reading is a conversation held with the writer. Now, as in fêtes and public entertainments, they who take no active part in the spectacle or performance soon become tired, similarly in conversation men prefer to speak rather than listen. And books necessarily resemble those people who take all the speaking to themselves, and never listen to others. Consequently, to atone for their monopoly of talking, they ought to say many fine and excellent things, expressing them in a remarkable manner. Every book that does not do this inspires the same feeling of aversion as an insatiable chatterer."
[1] A fictitious personage.
CHAPTER II.
Ottonieri made no distinction between business and pleasure. However serious his occupation, he called it pastime. Only once, having been idle temporarily, he confessed he had then experienced no amusement.
He said that our truest pleasures are due to the imagination. Thus, children construct a world out of nothing, whereas men find nothing in the world. He compared those pleasures termed real to an artichoke, all the leaves of which must be masticated in order to reach the pith. He added that such artichokes as these are very rare; and that many others resemble them in exterior, but within are void of kernel. He for his part, finding the leaves unpalatable, determined to abstain from both leaves and kernel.
Being asked what was the worst moment of life, he said: "Except those of pain or fear, the worst moments are, in my opinion, those spent in pleasure. For the anticipation and recollection of these last, which fill up the remainder of life, are better and more delightful than the pleasures themselves." He also made a comparison between pleasures and odours. The latter he considered usually leave behind a desire to experience them again, proportioned to their agreeableness; and he regarded the sense of smell as the most difficult to satisfy of all our senses. Again, he compared odours to anticipations of good things; and said that odoriferous foods are generally more pleasing to the nose than the palate, for their scent originates savoury expectations which are seldom sufficiently realised. He explained why sometimes he was so impatient about the delay of a pleasure sure to occur sooner or later, by saying that he feared the enjoyment he should derive from it would be of diminished force, on account of the exaggerated anticipation conceived by his mind. For this reason he endeavoured in the meantime to forget the coming good, as though it were an impending misfortune.