From “Lives of the Ancient Philosophers” translated by John Cormack.

DIOGENES the Cynic, son of Isecius, a banker, was born about the ninety-first Olympiad, in Sinope, a city of Paphlagonia. He was accused of having forged money in concert with his father; and Isecius was arrested and died in prison.

  Alarmed at the fate of his father, Diogenes fled to Athens. On arriving in that city, he inquired for Antisthenes; but the latter having resolved never to receive a scholar, repulsed him and beat him off with his stick. Diogenes was by no means discouraged at this treatment. “Strike, fear not,” said he to him, bowing his head; “you shall never find a stick hard enough to make me run off so long as you continue to speak.” Overcome at length by his importunity, Antisthenes yielded, and permitted him to become his scholar.

  Banished from his native country, and without resources, Diogenes was reduced to great indigence. Perceiving a mouse one day running briskly up and down, without any fear of being surprised by the approach of night, without any anxiety about a lodging place, and even without thinking of food, this reconciled him to his misery. He thereupon resolved to live at his ease and without constraint, and to dispense with everything which was not absolutely necessary for the preservation of life; he accordingly doubled his cloak, that, by rolling himself upon it, it might serve the twofold purpose of a bed and a coverlet.

  His movables consisted of a bag, a jug, and a staff; and wherever he went, he always carried his furniture along with him. His stick, however, he used only when he went to the country, or on some emergency; persons really lame, he said, were neither the deaf nor the blind, but those who had no bag.

  He always went barefoot, nor did he wear sandals even when the ground was covered with snow; he endeavored also to accustom himself to eat raw flesh, but this was a point of perfection to which he could never arrive.

  He entreated a person of his acquaintance to afford him some little hole in his lodging, to which he might occasionally retire; but, as he was dilatory in giving him a positive answer, he took possession of an earthen tub, which he always carried about with him, and which was the only house he ever had….

  He ate, and slept, and spoke without the slightest regard to circumstances, wherever chance placed him. Pointing one time to Jupiter’s porticoes, he exclaimed: “What an excellent dining room have the Athenians there built for me!”

  He sometimes made this remark: “When I consider the rulers, the physicians, the philosophers that the world contains, I am tempted to think man considerably elevated by his wisdom above the brutes; but when, on the other hand, I behold augurs, interpreters of dreams, and people who can be inflated with pride on account of their riches or honors, I cannot help looking upon him as the most foolish of all animals.”

  In taking a walk one day, he noticed a child drinking from the hollow of his hand, and became quite angry with himself at the sight. “What!” he exclaimed, “do children know better than I with what things a man should be contented?” Upon which he took his jug from the bag and instantly broke it in pieces as a superfluous article….

  Diogenes was one day discoursing on a very serious and important subject, when every one passed by without giving himself the least concern about what he was saying; upon this he began to sing, and the people then crowding about him he at once seized the opportunity to give them a severe reprimand, that they would flock around him and attend with eagerness to a mere trifle, while they would not for a moment listen to things of the greatest consequence.

  He expressed his astonishment at the folly of critics, in tormenting themselves so much to discover all the woes which Ulysses had suffered, while for their own miseries they had not the slightest concern.

  He blamed musicians for taking so much pains to adjust and tune their instruments, while they never once thought of regulating their own minds, with which they should have begun.

  He censured mathematicians for amusing themselves with contemplating the sun, moon, and stars, when they were at the same time ignorant of things at their feet. He no less severely inveighed against the orators, who paid great attention to speaking well, but gave themselves very little concern about acting well.

  He bitterly reproved those misers who make great pretenses to disinterestedness, and even praise those who despise riches, while their only object is to amass money….

  Plato was one day entertaining some friends of Dionysius the tyrant. Diogenes entering, fell upon his knees on a beautiful carpet with which the floor was covered: “I kneel,” said he, “to the pride of Plato.” “Yes,” replied the latter, “you do, Diogenes, but it is from another species of pride.”

  A sophist, wishing to display to Diogenes the subtility of his parts, thus addressed him: “You are not what I am. I am a man; and, consequently, you are not a man.” “This reasoning would have been perfectly just,” replied Diogenes, “had you begun with saying that you are not what I am; for then you must have concluded that you are yourself no man.”

  He was asked in what part of Greece he had seen wise men. “In Lacedæmonia,” said he, “I have seen children, but never could discover any men.”

  Walking out one day at noon, with a lighted torch in his hand, he was asked what he was in search of: “I am seeking,” said he, “for a man”; and on another occasion, he called out in the middle of the street, “Ho! men, men.” A great many people assembling round him, Diogenes beat them away with his stick, saying, “I was calling for men.”

  Demosthenes, as he was dining one day in a tavern, observed Diogenes passing, upon which he endeavored to conceal himself; but Diogenes perceiving him, said: “Do not try to conceal yourself; for the more you secrete yourself in a tavern, the further you penetrate into it.” On another occasion he saw some strangers who had come on purpose to see Demosthenes. “There!” said Diogenes, going straight up to them, and with a sneer pointing him out, “there he is! observe—mark him well; this is the great orator of Athens.”

  He one day entered, half shaven, into a company of young people who were enjoying themselves. After receiving a sound beating, he thought it prudent to retire; but, to revenge himself, he wrote on a small piece of paper the names of those who had beaten him, and, attaching it to one of his shoulders, went out into the streets to expose them, and bring them into contempt.

  A very bad man one day reproached him for his poverty: “I never saw any one punished,” said he, “for being poor, but I have seen many hanged for being villains.”

  He used to remark that things of the greatest value were often least esteemed; that while a statue, for example, cost three thousand crowns, a bushel of flour might be had for twenty pence. When ready to go into a bath one day he found the water very dirty: “Where,” said he, “are we to wash after bathing here?”

  Diogenes was once taken prisoner by the Macedonians, near Chæronea, and being brought to Philip, he asked him what he was: “I am,” he replied, “the witness of your insatiable greed.” The king was so pleased with this answer that he gave him his liberty, and allowed him to return.

  Diogenes considered that the wise could never be in want of anything, and that the whole world was at their disposal. “Everything,” said he, “belongs to the gods; the wise are the friends of the gods; but among friends all things are common: consequently, all things belong to the wise.” Whenever, therefore, he stood in need of anything, he used to say that he demanded it for a friend of the gods.

  Alexander, passing through Corinth, had a curiosity to see Diogenes, who happened to be there at the time; he found him basking in the sun in the grove of Craneum, where he was mending his tub. “I am,” said he to him, “the great king Alexander.” “And I,” replied the philosopher, “am the dog Diogenes.” “Are you not afraid of me?” continued Alexander. “Are you good or bad?” asked Diogenes. “Good,” rejoined Alexander. “And who need be afraid of one that is good?” answered Diogenes.

  Alexander admired the penetration and freedom of Diogenes; and after some conversation he said to him: “I see, Diogenes, that you are in want of many things, and I shall be happy to serve you; ask of me what you will.” “Retire, then, a little to one side,” replied Diogenes; “you are depriving me of the sun.”

  It is no wonder that Alexander stood astonished at seeing a man so completely above every human concern. “Which of the two is richer,” continued Diogenes: “he who is content with his cloak and his bag, or he for whom a whole kingdom does not suffice, and who is daily exposing himself to a thousand dangers in order to extend it?” The courtiers of the king were indignant that so great a monarch should thus honor such a dog as Diogenes, who did not even rise from his place. Alexander perceived it, and, turning about to them, said: “Were I not Alexander, I should wish to be Diogenes.”

  As Diogenes was one day going to Ægina, he was taken by pirates, who brought him to Crete and exposed him to sale. He did not appear to be in the least disconcerted, nor to feel the slightest uneasiness on account of his misfortune; but seeing one Xeniades, a corpulent and well-dressed man, “I must be sold to that person,” he exclaimed, “for I perceive he needs a master. Come, child,” said he to Xeniades, as he was advancing to examine him, “come, child, buy a man.”

  Being asked what he could do, he said he had the talent of commanding men. “Crier,” said he, “call out in the market, If any one needs a master, let him come here and purchase one.” The person selling him desired him not to sit. “Why, what matters it?” said Diogenes; “people buy fish in any posture; and it is very surprising that, though one will not buy even a pot without ringing it to know whether it be good metal, he will buy a man upon simply seeing him.” When the price had been fixed, he said to Xeniades: “Though I am now your slave, you must prepare to obey my will; for whether I serve you as physician or steward, as a slave or freeman, it matters not, my will must be done.”

  Xeniades confided to him the instruction of his children, a trust which Diogenes discharged with great fidelity. He made them commit to memory the finest passages of the poets, and also an abridgment of his own philosophy, which he drew up on purpose for them; he saw that they exercised themselves in running, wrestling, hunting, and horsemanship, and in the use of the bow and the sling; accustomed them to a very plain fare, and in their ordinary meals to drink nothing but water; had their heads closely shaven, and brought them with him into the streets carelessly dressed, and frequently without sandals or tunics. These children had a great affection for their teacher, and took particular care to recommend him to their parents.

  While Diogenes was in slavery, some of his friends used their interest to procure him his liberty. “Fools!” said he, “you are jesting; do you not know that the lion is not the slave of those who feed him? They who feed him are his slaves.”…

  He was reproached by one for having coined base money. “It is true,” said Diogenes, “that the time was when I was what you are now; but the time will never come that you will be what I am now.”

  Aristippus fell in with him one day when he was washing his herbs. “Diogenes,” said he to him, “if you knew how to make yourself agreeable to kings, you would not give yourself the trouble to wash herbs.” “And,” replied Diogenes, “if you knew the pleasure there is in washing herbs, you would not give yourself the trouble to please kings.”

  On another occasion he went into the school of a master who had very few scholars, but a great many figures of the muses and other divinities; “Counting the gods,” said Diogenes to him, “you have a goodly number of scholars.”

  “To what country do you belong?” inquired one of him. “I am,” replied he, “a citizen of the world”; hinting by this that a wise man should have no predilection for any particular country.

  Seeing a spendthrift passing, he asked him for a mina. “Why,” said the other, “do you ask a mina of me, when you are content with an obolus from another?” “Because,” said he, “they will give me something again; but it is very doubtful whether you will have it a second time in your power.”

  He was asked whether death were an evil. “Impossible!” he said, “seeing we do not feel it even when present.”

  Seeing an awkward fellow draw his bow, he immediately ran in before him: the person demanding of him why he did it, “For fear you should hit me,” he replied.

  Antisthenes being dangerously ill, Diogenes went to see him. “Do you need a friend?” said he to him; signifying by this that it is especially in affliction that true friends are wanted, for Diogenes knew that Antisthenes bore his distress with impatience.

  He went to him at another time with a poniard under his cloak. “Ah!” said Antisthenes to him on this occasion, “ah! what will deliver me from these excruciating pains?” “This,” exclaimed Diogenes, holding out the weapon. “I wish to be delivered from my malady,” said Antisthenes, “not to be deprived of my life.”

  Diogenes was told that a great many people made him the object of their ridicule. “What matters it?” he replied; “suppose they do; and so asses, when they show their teeth and grin, and seem to laugh, probably intend to ridicule them.” “But,” it was rejoined, “they give themselves no trouble about the asses.” “Neither do I,” he said, “give myself any trouble about them.”

  He was one day asked why every one called him a dog. “Because,” said he, “I flatter those who give me something, bark at those who give me nothing, and bite the wicked.”

  Being asked at another time to what species of the dog he belonged, “When hungry,” said he, “I partake of the nature of a greyhound, and caress everybody, but when my belly is full I belong to the mastiff kind, and bite everybody I meet.”

  Diogenes observing the rhetorician Anaximenes passing by, who was very fat and portly, “Give me,” said he to him, “a little of your redundant flesh; it will greatly oblige me, and ease you of a most uncomfortable burden.” When reproached for eating in the streets and market places he replied, “I am seized with hunger there as well as in other places.”

  Returning from Lacedæmonia to Athens, he was asked from whence he came. “I have come,” said he, “from among men, and I am going among women.”…

  The whole world, he said, was in slavery; that, while slaves obey their masters, the masters themselves are slaves to their passions.

  He was one day asked where he chose to be buried after his death. “In an open field,” he replied. “How!” said one; “are you not afraid of becoming food for birds of prey and wild beasts?” “Then I must have my stick with me,” said Diogenes, “to drive them away when they come.” “But,” resumed the other “you will be devoid of all sensation.” “If that be the case,” he answered, “it is no matter whether they eat me or not, seeing I shall be insensible to it.”

  Some say that, having arrived at the age of ninety, his death was occasioned by indigestion from eating a neat’s foot raw, others that, feeling himself burdened by age, he put an end to his life by holding his breath. His friends discovering him the next day muffled up in his cloak doubted at first whether he were not asleep; but being soon convinced that he was dead, there arose a great dispute among them as to who should bury him, and it was on the point of breaking out into open violence, when the magistrates and old men of Corinth opportunely arrived and appeased the disturbance.

  Diogenes was buried by the side of the gate lying towards the isthmus, and there was placed on his tomb a dog of Parian marble.

  The death of this philosopher happened in the first year of the one hundred and fourteenth Olympiad, and on the same day that Alexander died at Babylon.

  Diogenes was honored with several statues, accompanied by suitable inscriptions.