The Continence of Scipio 14

Francois Lemoyne, The Continence of Scipio (1726) 

Man's Search for Meaning 21

This intensification of inner life helped the prisoner find a refuge from the emptiness, desolation and spiritual poverty of his existence, by letting him escape into the past. When given free rein, his imagination played with past events, often not important ones, but minor happenings and trifling things. His nostalgic memory glorified them and they assumed a strange character. 

Their world and their existence seemed very distant and the spirit reached out for them longingly: In my mind I took bus rides, unlocked the front door of my apartment, answered my telephone, switched on the electric lights. Our thoughts often cantered on such details, and these memories could move one to tears. 

As the inner life of the prisoner tended to become more intense, he also experienced the beauty of art and nature as never before. Under their influence he sometimes even forgot his own frightful circumstances. 

If someone had seen our faces on the journey from Auschwitz to a Bavarian camp as we beheld the mountains of Salzburg with their summits glowing in the sunset, through the little barred windows of the prison carriage, he would never have believed that those were the faces of men who had given up all hope of life and liberty. Despite that factor—or maybe because of it—we were carried away by nature's beauty, which we had missed for so long.

In camp, too, a man might draw the attention of a comrade working next to him to a nice view of the setting sun shining through the tall trees of the Bavarian woods (as in the famous water color by Dürer), the same woods in which we had built an enormous, hidden munitions plant. 

One evening, when we were already resting on the floor of our hut, dead tired, soup bowls in hand, a fellow prisoner rushed in and asked us to run out to the assembly grounds and see the wonderful sunset. Standing outside we saw sinister clouds glowing in the west and the whole sky alive with clouds of ever-changing shapes and colors, from steel blue to blood red. The desolate grey mud huts provided a sharp contrast, while the puddles on the muddy ground reflected the glowing sky. 

Then, after minutes of moving silence, one prisoner said to another, "How beautiful the world could be!"

Another time we were at work in a trench. The dawn was grey around us; grey was the sky above; grey the snow in the pale light of dawn; grey the rags in which my fellow prisoners were clad, and grey their faces. 

I was again conversing silently with my wife, or perhaps I was struggling to find the reason for my sufferings, my slow dying. In a last violent protest against the hopelessness of imminent death, I sensed my spirit piercing through the enveloping gloom. I felt it transcend that hopeless, meaningless world, and from somewhere I heard a victorious "Yes" in answer to my question of the existence of an ultimate purpose. At that moment a light was lit in a distant farmhouse, which stood on the horizon as if painted there, in the midst of the miserable grey of a dawning morning in Bavaria. 

"Et lux in tenebris lucet"—and the light shineth in the darkness. 

For hours I stood hacking at the icy ground. The guard passed by, insulting me, and once again I communed with my beloved. More and more I felt that she was present, that she was with me; I had the feeling that I was able to touch her, able to stretch out my hand and grasp hers. The feeling was very strong: she was there. 

Then, at that very moment, a bird flew down silently and perched just in front of me, on the heap of soil which I had dug up from the ditch, and looked steadily at me. 

—from Viktor Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning 

Bach 7, Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme

Johann Sebastian Bach, Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme, BWV 140, Netherlands Bach Society 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5.4

But you say, “I have had the direction of important wars, I have presided over great empires and provinces.” 
 
Then carry about you a soul worthy of praise. A painting of Echion, or some statue of Polycletus, holds you bereft of your senses: I shall not mention from whom you took it, or by what means you possess it: but when I see you staring, gaping, and uttering cries, I look upon you to be the slave of all these follies. 
 
You ask me, "Are not these, then, elegant amusements?" 
 
They are: for I too have a cultivated eye; but I beseech you, let these elegances be so regarded as the playthings of boys, and not as the shackles of men. 
 
What think you then? If Lucius Mummius, after he had expressed his contempt for all Corinth, had seen one of these men examining most eagerly a Corinthian vase, whether would he have looked upon him as an excellent citizen, or a busy appraiser? 
 
If Manius Curius, or some of those Romans who in their villas and their houses had nothing that was costly, nothing besides themselves that was ornamental, should come to life again, and see one who had received the highest honors from the people, taking out of his tank his mullets or his carp, then handling them, and boasting of the abundance of his lampreys, would not the old Roman think that such a man was so very a slave, that he was not even fit for a very high employment in a household? 
 
Is the slavery of those men doubtful, who from their greediness for wealth spurn no condition of the hardest servitude? To what meanness of slavery will not the hope of succeeding to an estate make a man stoop? What gesture of the childless rich old fellow does he not observe? He frames his words to his inclination; he does whatever is commanded him; he courts him, he sits by him, he makes him presents. What of these is the part of a free man? What, indeed, is not the mark of an abject slave. 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5 
 
I do not know if it was right for Lucius Mummius to sack Corinth, or for Scipio Aemilianus to raze Carthage, just as I question whether it was right for the Allies to carpet-bomb German civilians, but I do know that a man who fights for his country’s honor does not let himself get sidetracked by adding to his collection of swanky art. 
 
I do not know if the Romans from the early years, like Manius Curius, were more frugal and disciplined than the Romans from the later years, just as I am suspicious when an old codger berates a young pipsqueak for being lazy, but I do know that a man who cares for his character does not fret over what wine will pair best with his dinner. 
 
Over the years, I have crossed paths with many who thought very highly of themselves, and who never missed the opportunity to proclaim the grandest of ideals. When the going got tough, however, they were nowhere to be found, unwilling to surrender their creature comforts for the sake of any genuine convictions. The affectations of culture and refinement are no substitute for an informed conscience, just as the vain ambition to be respected will inevitably clash with the solemn duty to offer respect. 
 
In the business realm, there are the slick wheeler-dealers, who flaunt their achievements at every turn, charm you when you are convenient, and ignore you completely once you are no longer of any use to them. Yet when you look behind the opulence and the titles, they will suddenly seem so very small. 
 
In the scholarly realm, there are the intellectual dandies, who quote from brooding novels, scent their beards, and smoke a churchwarden pipe to appear like Bilbo Baggins. Though they may not steal your money, they will feed off your attention, the haughtiness slipping away as soon as their pretensions are exposed. 
 
Nothing good will ever come from despising them, but I must always remember to never become like them. If I wish to elevate myself, there can be no reliance on props, and no treading on others in order to gain the advantage. It is liberating to realize how the folks who display the most confidence are the ones who depend so thoroughly on everything except their own virtues. This is why the Stoic recognizes them to be slaves. 
 
This will offend them tremendously, of course, which is a clue that you have shattered the illusion. If they truly believe they can thrive without leaning on fortune, challenge them to spend a month, or even a week, without any of their amenities, which will quickly reveal themselves to be the heaviest of chains. It will be more painful than a drunk going off the sauce cold turkey. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Nils Dardel, The Dying Dandy (1918) 

Stobaeus on Stoic Ethics 21

And every good is worth choosing; for it is pleasing and approved of and praiseworthy. 

And every bad thing is worth avoiding. 

For the good, insofar as it stimulates reasonable choice, is worth choosing; and insofar as it is subject to choice without suspicion, it is pleasing. 

And, moreover, insofar as one would reasonably suppose that it is one of the products of virtue, it is praiseworthy. 

IMAGE: Edmund Leighton, The Dedication (1908) 

Proverbs 4:10-19

[10] Hear, my son, and accept my words,
that the years of your life may be many.
[11] I have taught you the way of wisdom;
I have led you in the paths of uprightness.
[12] When you walk, your step will not be hampered;
and if you run, you will not stumble.
[13] Keep hold of instruction, do not let go;
guard her, for she is your life.
[14] Do not enter the path of the wicked,
and do not walk in the way of evil men.
[15] Avoid it; do not go on it;
turn away from it and pass on.
[16] For they cannot sleep unless they have done wrong;
they are robbed of sleep unless they have made someone stumble.
[17] For they eat the bread of wickedness
and drink the wine of violence.
[18] But the path of the righteous is like the light of dawn,
which shines brighter and brighter until full day.
[19] The way of the wicked is like deep darkness;
they do not know over what they stumble. 

IMAGE: J.M.W. Turner, The Goddess of Discord Choosing the Apple of Contention in the Garden of the Hesperides (c. 1806) 

Maxims of Goethe 87

If you lay duties upon people and give them no rights, you must pay them well. 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5.3

Can I call the men free whom a woman governs, to whom she gives laws, lays down directions, orders and forbids what to her seems fit; while he can deny and dare refuse nothing that she commands? 
 
Does she ask? He must give. Does she call? He must come. Does she order him off? He must vanish. Does she threaten? He must tremble. For my part, I call such a fellow, though he may have been born in the noblest family, not only a slave, but a most abject slave. 
 
And as in a large household, some slaves look upon themselves as more genteel than others, such as porters or gardeners, yet still they are slaves; in like manner, they who are inordinately fond of statues, of pictures, of embossed plate, of works in Corinthian brass, or magnificent palaces, are equally fools with the others.
 
"Nay, but,” say they, “we are the most eminent men of the state." 
 
Nay! you are not superior to your fellow slaves. But as in a household, they who handle the furniture, brush it, anoint their masters, who sweep, and water, do not occupy the highest rank of servitude; in like manner they who have abandoned themselves to their passions for these things, occupy nearly the lowest grade of slavery itself. 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5 
 
Many a modern reader will assume this must be about the war between the sexes, when it is really about the essence of our humanity, whatever the accidents. It is one thing for any man or woman to freely accept good counsel, but quite another for any man or woman to become a mindless lackey. Once the passions are calling the shots, especially those fueled by groupthink, we are little more than slaves to our circumstances. 
 
Why should I spend twenty years jumping through hoops at school, to be followed by forty years of jumping through hoops at the office? Why is it necessary to pay a hefty mortgage, or marry a trophy wife, or train my children to define their success by baubles and balance sheets? 
 
“Well, that’s how it’s done.” 
 
And you will blindly take the master’s word on this? 
 
“Don’t be so silly! We don’t have masters and slaves anymore!” 
 
Be careful. Bondage takes on many forms. 
 
“Are you comparing me to some unskilled laborer? I’m a professional who gets what he wants.” 
 
And despite your impressive credentials, you are still working on someone else’s clock. Are you getting what you want, or are your wants getting you? 
 
Some folks will frown at me when I speak of striving for nobility, because they think I am talking about the trappings of rank instead of the content of character. I most certainly consider someone my better when he has proven how he is not at the beck and call of money, fame, and gratification. 
 
Among my eccentricities is a love of all things medieval, and my colleagues, who label the era as prudish, are often shocked by the bawdy and irreverent humor. This section brings to mind the old tale of Phyllis and Aristotle, in much the same vein as the many jokes about Xanthippe and Socrates. 
 
It is said that Aristotle was advising his young pupil, Alexander, to avoid the company of the alluring Phyllis. She overheard his criticism, however, and schemed to seduce the old philosopher, knowing that he was secretly enamored of her. When Aristotle finally begged for her favors, Phyllis only agreed on the condition that she be permitted to ride him like a horse, a humiliating scene which she had cleverly arranged for Alexander to witness. 
 
What use is the sharpest mind if it surrenders to the ficklest desires? What sort of man allows himself to be led by the nose once he spies a beautiful woman, or a heap of gold, or the prospect of prestige? Perhaps this never actually happened to Aristotle, but I see it happening every day, so it is a timely warning to us all. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Lucas Cranach the Elder, Phyllis and Aristotle (1530) 

The Light of Stars

"The Light of Stars" 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) 

The night is come, but not too soon; 

And sinking silently, 

All silently, the little moon 

Drops down behind the sky. 

There is no light in earth or heaven 

But the cold light of stars; 

And the first watch of night is given 

To the red planet Mars. 

Is it the tender star of love? 

The star of love and dreams? 

O no! from that blue tent above, 

A hero's armor gleams. 

And earnest thoughts within me rise, 

When I behold afar, 

Suspended in the evening skies, 

The shield of that red star. 

O star of strength! I see thee stand 

And smile upon my pain; 

Thou beckonest with thy mailèd hand, 

And I am strong again.  

Within my breast there is no light 

But the cold light of stars; 

I give the first watch of the night 

To the red planet Mars. 

The star of the unconquered will, 

He rises in my breast, 

Serene, and resolute, and still, 

And calm, and self-possessed. 

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, 
That readest this brief psalm, 
As one by one thy hopes depart, 
Be resolute and calm. 

O fear not in a world like this, 
And thou shalt know erelong, 
Know how sublime a thing it is 
To suffer and be strong. 

Simplicius, Commentary on Epictetus 9.3

. . . Nor is it true, that a just computation of all the difficulties and dangers wont to attend our actions, must needs condemn men to slavish fears, and an inactive life. For if our reason convinces us, that what we attempt, is good for the advantage of the soul, or which is all one of the man, for that soul is the man, the desire of that good must needs inspire us with courage and vigor, not withstanding all the discouraging dangers that attend it. 

And the consideration of this danger will be very much softened, by this most rational and virtuous persuasion, that we ought to persevere in such an undertaking, though at the expense of some hazard and inconvenience. For all danger and detriment, of either body or fortunes, is not properly an evil to us; nor shall we think it ours, if we be wise. But the benefit of choosing a virtuous action, and persisting in it, in despite of all dangers and discouragements, is our own good; for it is the good of our souls, which are truly and properly ourselves. 

And this advantage is considerable enough to be set against many troubles, and losses, and banishments, and disgraces: nay, it is sufficient, not only to be set against, but to overbalance them all; because the good of this does so very much exceed the evil that seems to be in them. For if a man thinks himself obliged to choose a greater good, when attended only with a lessor evil; how is it possible, that he should be discouraged and uneasy, under the expectation of some cross accidents, which sometimes follow upon virtuous actions, when the good of these actions is truly and properly his own, but the evil of those accidents, is only something remote, and not his? 

Especially too, when this is by no means a superficial and notional distinction, but such a real difference, as his whole practice and behavior shows him sensible of. This is the very reason, why men of virtue and wisdom have made it their glory, to choose good with the greatest dangers; why they have done it cheerfully, and sacrificed their very lives for it; and accounted their sufferings upon such an account, matter of the greatest joy to them. So did Menoecius particularly, and all those other heroes, famed in story, who have voluntarily devoted themselves, and died for the service and sake of their country. 

Now Epictetus couches his advice here, under one of the meanest and most insignificant instances that can be; partly to illustrate what he says, by an example taken from common conversation, and so to gain the assent of his hearers, to the truth of what he would infer from it; and partly too, as himself had told us before, to put his scholars upon exercising their virtue in lesser trials; that so from trivial matters, they may rise by degrees to others of greater difficulty and consequence. And the success of this method has been already shown to depend upon reasons, which need not be repeated. 

But his design is also, that we should be careful to apply these things to affairs of the moment, in proportion as the hazards of them are more discouraging; and in those occasions, always to take our measures from the nature of the thing, whether it be agreeable to decency and our duty, and what those hardships are that usually accompany it. Then, after such prospect taken, to settle our minds in this resolution, that if the worst happens, we will bear it with temper and moderation. 

For this is the way to maintain the character of virtuous and rational men; this must let us into all the advantages of doing well, and defend us from all that perplexity into which unexpected events commonly betray men. For he that is troubled and discomposed, and fancies himself unhappy in what he suffers , it is plain, either had not sufficiently considered what he went about, before he engaged in it; or if he did foresee all this, then his disorder is the effect of effeminacy and cowardice, which makes him give out, and repent his undertaking. But both these failings are highly criminal, and contrary to the rules of nature, and right reason. 

Orator in Prison

Hubert Robert, The Orator in Prison (c. 1765) 

Simplicius, Commentary on Epictetus 9.2

. . . Now against this counsel I expect it will be urged, first, that if everyone should take such pains, to represent all the crosses and disappointments, which may probably happen to them in every undertaking, the effect of this would be cowardice and idleness: for men would find themselves utterly discouraged from attempting anything at all. 

Besides, nothing can be more grievous to any man, than to have the image of his troubles and misfortunes constantly before his eyes; and especially, if the affair he be engaged in continues any time, to converse all that while with this ghastly apparition. Therefore, Demosthenes’ advice seems much more prudent and eligible; to be sure, that what you attempt, be good and virtuous; then to hope well, and, whatever the event be, to bear it generously and decently. 

But by the objector’s good leave, if by hoping well, Demosthenes means a good confidence, grounded upon our undertaking things virtuous and commendable, and resting satisfied in this consideration, whatever the event be; he says the very same thing with Epictetus. Only indeed he gives us no direction, which way we shall attain to this generous temper of mind, which may enable us to entertain the dispensations of providence decently, though they should happen to be harsh and severe. 

But Epictetus declares himself of the opinion, that the method to qualify ourselves for so doing, is, to take a true prospect of the whole affair, and represent to ourselves, that it is fit for us to undertake, and that there may be several circumstances attending it, which though they may not be agreeable to us, are yet very tolerable, and such as we may reconcile ourselves to, upon these two accounts. First, because the action itself, which brings them upon us, is virtuous, and becoming; and then, because whenever they happen, they are no more than what were expected, and provided against before. 

But, if by hoping well, Demosthenes intends a firm persuasion of safety and success; then I think it is very difficult, nay, I may venture to say, it is impossible to conceive, how a man thus persuaded, can ever bear disappointments and crosses with moderation and temper. 

For when a man falls from what he was in imagination, the shock is the same, as if he were so in reality. And neither the body, nor the mind, are of a constitution to bear sudden and violent alterations, without great disturbance. You see, the very weather, and seasons of the year, though they change gently and by degrees, yet put our humors into a great ferment, and generally occasion many distempers among us; and the more violent this change at anytime is, the greater in proportion the disorders that follow upon it, must needs be. . . . 

Sayings of Heraclitus 93

It pertains to all men to know themselves and to learn self-control. 

IMAGE: Giovanni Bellini, Fortitude (1470) 

Simplicius, Commentary on Epictetus 9.1

In every action you undertake, consider first with yourself, and weigh well the nature and circumstances of the thing: nay, though it be so slight a one, as going to bathe; represent to yourself beforehand, what accidents you may probably meet with. 

That in the bath there is often rude behavior, dashing of water, jostling for passage, scurrilous language, and stealing. And when you have done thus, you may with more security go about the thing. 

To which purpose you will do well to say thus to yourself; my design is to bathe, but so it is too, to preserve my mind and reason undisturbed, while I do so. 

For after such wise preparation as this, if anything intervenes to obstruct your washing, this reflection will presently rise upon it: well, but this was not the only thing I proposed; that which I chiefly intended, was to keep my mind and reason undisturbed; and this I am sure can never be done, if I suffer every accident to discompose me. 

Comment: 

After giving instructions concerning our behavior with regard to the things of the world, which use to engage our affections, either upon the account of the delight they give us, the convenience they are of, or the relation they bear to us; the next step in order, is to consider our actions. For these too have a great many circumstances, out of our power, and must therefore be undertaken with great prudence, and much preparation. 

The rule then that he lays down is this; that you take a just account of the nature of each action, and fairly compute the several accidents, which, though they do not necessarily, yet may possibly attend it; and to expect, that these are very likely to happen in your own case particularly. Now the fruit of this will be, either not to be surprised, if such difficulties do encounter you; or, if the thing be not of absolute necessity, to decline the hazard, by letting it alone. 

For the great Cato reckons this for one of the errors of his life, that he chose to take a voyage once by sea, to a place, whither he might have traveled by land. In such a case, though no misfortune should actually happen, yet if there be a likelihood of any such accident, and if it does frequently happen to others, it is an act of imprudence, to make choice of such a course, without being driven to it by necessity: and this answer, that many people do the same, and come off safe, will not bear us out, in choosing a more dangerous passage, when it is left to our own liberty to take a safer. 

But now, where there is absolute occasion for our running some risk; as if we have necessary affairs to dispatch, which require a voyage to or from some island; or if we are obliged to stand by a father or a friend, in some hazardous or unlucky business; or if we are called upon to take up arms in defense of our country: then there is no thought of declining the matter wholly, and our method must be to undertake it upon due deliberation; and to lay together the several accidental obstructions wont to arise in such a case: that so by this timely recollection, we may render them easy and familiar, and not be disturbed, when any of them come upon us. 

A man thus prepared, has this double advantage: if they do not happen, his joy is the greater, because having so fully possessed himself with an expectation that they would, this is almost a deliverance to him. And if they do, then he has the advantage of being provided against them, and so can encounter them, without much danger or disorder. . . . 

Delphic Maxims 96

Σεαυτὸν εὖ ποίει 

Benefit yourself 

IMAGE: Jan Steen, The Merry Family (1668) 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5.2

Who, then, is he who lives as he pleases, but the man surely who follows righteousness, who rejoices in fulfilling his duty, and whose path of life has been well considered and preconcerted; the man who obeys the laws of his country, not out of dread, but pays them respect and reverence, because he thinks that course the most salutary; who neither does nor thinks anything otherwise than cheerfully and freely; the man, all whose designs and all the actions he performs arise from and are terminated in his proper self; the man who is swayed by nothing so much as by his own inclination and judgment; the man who is master of fortune herself, whoso influence is said to be sovereign, agreeably to what the sage poet says, "the fortune of every man is molded by his character." 
 
To the wise man alone it happens, that he does nothing against his will, nothing with pain, nothing by coercion. It would, it is true, require a large discourse to prove that this is so, but it is a briefly stated and admitted principle, that no man but he who is thus constituted can be free. 
 
All wicked men therefore are slaves, and this is not so surprising and incredible in fact as it is in words. For they are not slaves in the sense those bondmen are who are the properties of their masters by purchase, or by any law of the state; but if obedience to a disordered, abject mind, destitute of self-control be slavery (and such it is), who can deny that all the dishonest, all the covetous, in short, all the wicked, are slaves? 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5 
 
We think ourselves at liberty when we can do whatever we want, and yet we get trapped by the pursuit of objects instead of mastering our own choices. 
 
Perhaps I will be free once I have acquired enough comforts to bring me peace? No, I will then be tied to those amenities, permitting them to determine my pleasure and pain. 
 
Perhaps I will be free once I am no longer at the mercy of wanting? Yes, it turns out that the trick is in knowing what I actually need. 
 
Only wisdom can grant freedom, because only the understanding of human nature reveals why an exercise of the virtues allows us to finally be ourselves, with no strings attached. While it might take a whole treatise to explain this thoroughly, the man of common sense, who has stripped away the frippery of attachments, will grasp this in an instant. 
 
I may complain that I do not wish to be righteous or reverent, since it doesn’t feel like it would be much fun, and it reminds me of those stuffy sets of rules I had to memorize in the Boy Scouts. 
 
It may then take me some time to recognize how a duty becomes a privilege when it proceeds from the inside out. I recall that day when I finally realized why decent folks, of the sort who were composed and confident in any weather, would say “my pleasure” after someone had thanked them for a favor. 
 
Someone of genuine character, which must run so deep that there ceases to be any desire to flaunt it, develops the power to rise above fortune, to take every event as an opportunity for improvement. I have had the honor of knowing such people, however few, who attained freedom by always discovering the good in whatever came their way, even if it only meant that they could practice small acts of kindness in a vast field of cruelty. There is the happiness that can’t be beat. 
 
In contrast, observe how we pretend to be delighted by our vices, though our distress is seeping from every pore. For myself, it was drowning my sorrows in the company of dejected romantics. For others, it is a desperate need for adding another notch to the bedpost, or the siren song of the gaming table. Will I not have the courage to admit how the liberation has turned out to be a bondage? 
 
If I need a harsh reminder, I can swing by my local dive bar, nightclub, or casino. A walk through most any office building will reveal much the same, despite the pitiful attempts at a professional veneer. In the meantime, it may well be that the freest man in town is that misfit who reads old books and shares his sandwich with the squirrels in the park. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Thomas Rowlandson, The Hazard Room (1792) 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 284

The human Guru whispers the sacred formula into the ear; the Divine Guru breathes the spirit into the soul. 

Dio Chrysostom, On Slavery and Freedom 2.3

Now up to this point the audience paid attention to their arguments, under the impression that they were not made so much in earnest as in jest. 

Yet afterwards they fell to wrangling and were inclined to the opinion that it was a strange thing if it was going to be impossible for a man to cite any evidence by which the slave could be unequivocally distinguished from the free man, but that it would be easy to debate and argue about every individual case. 

So they dropped their discussion about the particular man in question⁠ and his slavery, and proceeded to consider the general question: Who is a slave? 

And the consensus of their opinion was that when anyone gets possession of a human being, in the strict meaning of the term, just as he might of any item of his goods or cattle, so as to have the right to use him as he likes, then that man is both correctly called and in fact is the slave of the man into whose possession he has come.

Consequently, the man who had objected to being called a slave raised the further question as to what constituted the validity of possession. 

For, he said, in the case of a house, a plot of land, a horse, or a cow, many of those who had possession had in the past been found to have held them for a long time unjustly, in some instances even though they had inherited the things from their fathers. 

In precisely the same way it was possible, he maintained, to have gained possession also of a human being unjustly. For manifestly of those who from time to time acquire slaves, as they acquire all other pieces of property, some get them from others either as a free gift from someone or by inheritance or by purchase, whereas some few from the very beginning have possession of those who were born under their roof, "home-bred" slaves as they call them. 

A third method of acquiring possession is when a man takes a prisoner in war or even in brigandage and in this way holds the man after enslaving him, the oldest method of all, I presume. For it is not likely that the first men to become slaves were born of slaves in the first place, but that they were over­powered in brigandage or war and thus compelled to be slaves to their captors. 

So we see that this earliest method, upon which all the others depend, is exceedingly vulnerable and has no validity at all; for just as soon as those men are able to make their escape, there is nothing to prevent them from being free as having been in servitude unjustly. Consequently, they were not slaves before that, either. And sometimes they not only escaped from slavery themselves, but also reduced their masters to slavery. In this case, also, we have now found that "at the flip of a shell",⁠ as the saying goes, their positions are completely reversed.

At this point one of the audience interjected that while those men themselves perhaps could not be called slaves, yet their children and those of the second and third generations could quite properly be so designated. 

"But how can that be? For if being captured makes a man a slave, the men who themselves were captured deserve that appellation more than their descendants do; and if it is having been born of slaves that makes men so, it is clear that by virtue of being sprung from those who were taken captive and were consequently freeborn, their descendants would not be slaves. 

"For instance, we see that those famous Messenians after the lapse of so many years recovered not only their freedom but their territory as well.  For when the Spartans were defeated at Leuctra⁠ by the Thebans, the latter marched into the Peloponnese supported by their allies, and not only compelled the Spartans to give back the Messenian territory, but settled in Messene again all the original Messenians' descendants, the Helots as they were called, who had previously been in servitude to the Spartans. And not a man says that the Thebans therein acted unjustly, but all agree that altogether nobly and justly. 

"Consequently, if this method of gaining possession, from which all the others take their beginning, is not just, it is likely that no other one is either, and that the term 'slave' does not in reality correspond to the truth. 

"But perhaps it was not in this way that the term 'slave' was originally applied—that is, to a person for whose body someone paid money, or, as the majority think, to one who was sprung from persons who were called slaves, but rather to the man who lacked a free man's spirit and was of a servile nature. 

"For of those who are called slaves we will, I presume, admit that many have the spirit of free men, and that among free men there are many who are altogether servile.⁠ The case is the same with those known as 'noble' and 'well-born.' For those who originally applied these names applied them to persons who were well-born in respect to virtue or excellence, not bothering to inquire who their parents were. 

"Then afterwards the descendants of families of ancient wealth and high repute were called 'well-born' by a certain class. Of this fact there is the clearest indication: for in the case of cocks and horses and dogs the designation was retained, just as it had been applied to men in olden times. 

"For instance, when one sees a spirited and mettlesome horse that is well built for ra­cing, without stopping first to enquire whether its sire by any chance came from Arcadia or from Media or is Thessalian, he judges the horse on its own merits and says that it is 'well-bred.' And it is the same with any connoisseur of dogs: whenever he sees a dog that is swift and keen and sagacious in following the scent, he does not go on to enquire whether it is of Carian or Spartan or some other breed, but says that it is a 'noble' dog. And it is exactly the same in regard to the cock and the other animals. 

"Therefore it is clear that it would be the same in the case of a man also. And so when a man is well-born in respect to virtue, it is right to call him 'noble,' even if no one knows his parents or his ancestors either. 

"But," you will object, "it is impossible for anyone to be 'noble' without being 'well-born' at the same time, or for one who is 'well-born' not to be free; hence we are absolutely obliged to conclude that it is the man of ignoble birth who is a slave.⁠ For surely, if it were the custom to use the terms freedom and slavery with reference to horses and cocks and dogs, we should not call some 'noble' and others 'free,' nor say that some were 'slaves' while others were of 'ignoble' birth or breed. 

"In the same way, then, when we are speaking of men, it is not reasonable to call some 'noble' and 'well-born,' and others 'free'; but we should make no distinction between the two classes. Nor is it reasonable either to say that some are of ignoble birth and mean, and that others are slaves.

"In this way, then, our argument shows that it is not the philosophers who misuse the terms but the common run of ignorant men, because they know nothing about the matter." 

Stoic Snippets 283

How small a part of the boundless and unfathomable time is assigned to every man, for it is very soon swallowed up in the eternal! 

And how small a part of the whole substance; and how small a part of the Universal Soul; and on what a small clod of the whole earth you creep! 

Reflecting on all this, consider nothing to be great, except to act as your nature leads you, and to endure that which the Common Nature brings. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.32 

IMAGE: Mikalojus Konstantinas Ciurlionis, Eternity (1906) 

Dio Chrysostom, On Slavery and Freedom 2.2

B. "Well then," said the other, "let us drop all this about family and ancestors, since you think it is so difficult to determine; for it is quite possible that you will turn out to be just like Amphion and Zethus,⁠ and like Alexander⁠ the offspring of Priam. But as for you, your own self, we all know that you are in a state of servitude."

A. "What," said the first man, "do you think that all those who are in a state of servitude are slaves?⁠ But are not many of these, although free men, yet held unjustly in servitude? Some of them have already gone before the court and proved that they are free, while others are enduring to the end, either because they have no clear proof of their freedom, or else because those who are called their masters are not harsh with them. 

"Consider, for instance, the case of Eumaeus,⁠ the son of Ctesias, son of Ormenus: he was the son of a man who was altogether free and of great wealth, but did he not serve as a slave in Ithaca in the households of Odysseus and Laertes? And yet, although he could, time and again, have sailed off home if he had so wished, he never thought it worth while. 

"What, did not many Athenians among those made prisoners in Sicily serve as slaves in Sicily and in the Peloponnese⁠ although they were free men; and of those taken captive from time to time in many other battles, some only for a time until they found men who would ransom them, and others to the very end? 

"In the same period too, even the son of Callias⁠ was thought to have been in servitude a long time in Thrace after the battle in which the Athenians suffered a defeat at Acanthus,⁠ so that when he escaped afterwards and reached home he laid claim to the estate left by Callias and caused a great deal of trouble to the next of kin, being, in my opinion, an impostor. For he was not the son of Callias but his groom, in appearance resembling that boy of Callias who did lose his life in the battle; and besides he spoke Greek accurately and could read and write. 

"But there have been innumerable others who have suffered this fate, since, even of those who are in servitude here at the present time I firmly believe that many are freeborn men. For we shall not assert that any Athenian who is freeborn is a slave if he has been made a prisoner in war and carried off to Persia, or even, if you like, is taken to Thrace or Sicily and sold like a chattel; but if any Thracian or Persian, not only born there of free parents but even the son of some prince or king, is brought here, we shall not admit that he is a free person. 

"Do you not know," he continued, "the law they have at Athens and in many other states as well, which does not allow the man who was born a slave to enjoy the rights of a citizen? But the son of Callias, if he actually did escape from captivity on that occasion, after reaching home from Thrace, even though he had spent many years there and had often been scourged, no one would think it right to exclude from Athenian citizen­ship; so that there are occasional instances where the law too denies that those who have been unjustly in servitude have thereby become slaves. 

"In heaven's name, I ask you, what is it that I do of which you have knowledge, or what is it that is done to me, which justifies your saying that you know that I am in a state of slavery?"

B. "I know that you are being kept by your master, dance attendance upon him, and do whatever he commands; or else you take a beating."

A. "According to that," said the first man, "you can make out that sons also are the slaves of their fathers; for they dance attendance upon their fathers, often, if they are poor, walking with them to the gymnasium or to dinner; and they without exception are supported by their fathers and frequently are beaten by them, and they obey any orders their fathers give them. 

"And yet, so far as obeying and being thrashed are concerned, you can go on and assert that the boys who take lessons of schoolmasters are likewise their servants and that the gymnastic trainers are slave masters of their pupils, or those who teach anything else; for they give orders to their pupils and trounce them when they are disobedient."

B. "Indeed that's true," replied the other, "but it is not permissible for the gymnastic instructors or for the other teachers to imprison their pupils or to sell them or to cast them into the mill, but to slave masters all these things are allowed." 

A. "Yes, but perhaps you do not know that in many states which have exceedingly good laws fathers have all these powers which you mention in regard to their sons, and what is more, if they wish to do so, they may even imprison or sell them; and they have a power even more terrible than any of these; for they actually are allowed to put their sons to death without any trial and even without bringing any accusation at all against them;⁠ but still none the less they are not their fathers' slaves but their sons. 

"And even if I was once in a state of slavery in the fullest sense of the term and had been a slave justly from the very beginning, what is to prevent me now," he continued, "from being just as free as anybody else, and you in your turn, on the contrary, even if you most indisputably were the son of free parents, from being an out-and‑out slave?" 

B. "For my part," rejoined the other, "I do not see how I am to become a slave when, in fact, I am free; but as for you, it is not impossible that you have become free by your master's having emancipated you."

A. "See here, my good fellow," said his antagonist, "would nobody get his freedom unless emancipated by his owner?"

B. "Why, how could anybody?" asked the other.

A. "In the same way that, when the Athenians after the battle of Chaeronea passed a vote to the effect that those slaves who would help them in the war should receive their freedom, if the war had continued and Philip had not made peace with them too soon, many of the slaves at Athens, or rather, practically all of them, would have been free without having been emancipated one at a time by their respective masters."

B. "Yes, let that be granted—if the state⁠ is going to free you by taking official action." 

A. "But what have you to say to this: Do you not think that I could liberate myself?"

B. "Yes, if you should raise the money somewhere to pay your master with." 

A. "That is not the method I mean, but the one by which Cyrus freed not only himself but also all the Persians, great host that they were, without paying down money to anyone or being set free by any master. Or do you not know that Cyrus⁠ was the vassal⁠ of Astyages and that when he got the power and decided that the time was ripe for action, he became both free and king of all Asia?"

B. "Granted; I know it. But what do you mean by saying that I might become a slave?"

A. "I mean that great numbers of men, we may suppose, who are freeborn sell themselves, so that they are slaves by contract, sometimes on no easy terms but the most severe imaginable."