M. The man, then, in whom absolute wisdom exists (such a man, indeed, we have never as yet seen, but the philosophers have described in their writings what sort of man he will be, if he should exist); such a man, or at least that perfect and absolute reason which exists in him, will have the same authority over the inferior part as a good parent has over his dutiful children: he will bring it to obey his nod without any trouble or difficulty. He will rouse himself, prepare and arm himself, to oppose pain as he would an enemy.
If you inquire what arms he will provide himself with, they will be contention, encouragement, discourse with himself. He will say thus to himself: “Take care that you are guilty of nothing base, languid, or unmanly.” He will turn over in his mind all the different kinds of honor.
Zeno of Elea will occur to him, who suffered everything rather than betray his confederates in the design of putting an end to the tyranny. He will reflect on Anaxarchus, the pupil of Democritus, who, having fallen into the hands of Nicocreon, King of Cyprus, without the least entreaty for mercy or refusal, submitted to every kind of torture. Calanus the Indian will occur to him, an ignorant man and a barbarian, born at the foot of Mount Caucasus, who committed himself to the flames by his own free, voluntary act.
But we, if we have the toothache, or a pain in the foot, or if the body be anyways affected, cannot bear it. For our sentiments of pain as well as pleasure are so trifling and effeminate, we are so enervated and relaxed by luxuries, that we cannot bear the sting of a bee without crying out.
But Gaius Marius, a plain countryman, but of a manly soul, when he had an operation performed on him, as I mentioned above, at first refused to be tied down; and he is the first instance of any one’s having had an operation performed on him without being tied down.
Why, then, did others bear it afterward? Why, from the force of example. You see, then, that pain exists more in opinion than in nature; and yet the same Marius gave a proof that there is something very sharp in pain for he would not submit to have the other thigh cut. So that he bore his pain with resolution as a man; but, like a reasonable person, he was not willing to undergo any greater pain without some necessary reason.
The whole, then, consists in this—that you should have command over yourself. I have already told you what kind of command this is; and by considering what is most consistent with patience, fortitude, and greatness of soul, a man not only restrains himself, but, somehow or other, mitigates even pain itself.
If you inquire what arms he will provide himself with, they will be contention, encouragement, discourse with himself. He will say thus to himself: “Take care that you are guilty of nothing base, languid, or unmanly.” He will turn over in his mind all the different kinds of honor.
Zeno of Elea will occur to him, who suffered everything rather than betray his confederates in the design of putting an end to the tyranny. He will reflect on Anaxarchus, the pupil of Democritus, who, having fallen into the hands of Nicocreon, King of Cyprus, without the least entreaty for mercy or refusal, submitted to every kind of torture. Calanus the Indian will occur to him, an ignorant man and a barbarian, born at the foot of Mount Caucasus, who committed himself to the flames by his own free, voluntary act.
But we, if we have the toothache, or a pain in the foot, or if the body be anyways affected, cannot bear it. For our sentiments of pain as well as pleasure are so trifling and effeminate, we are so enervated and relaxed by luxuries, that we cannot bear the sting of a bee without crying out.
But Gaius Marius, a plain countryman, but of a manly soul, when he had an operation performed on him, as I mentioned above, at first refused to be tied down; and he is the first instance of any one’s having had an operation performed on him without being tied down.
Why, then, did others bear it afterward? Why, from the force of example. You see, then, that pain exists more in opinion than in nature; and yet the same Marius gave a proof that there is something very sharp in pain for he would not submit to have the other thigh cut. So that he bore his pain with resolution as a man; but, like a reasonable person, he was not willing to undergo any greater pain without some necessary reason.
The whole, then, consists in this—that you should have command over yourself. I have already told you what kind of command this is; and by considering what is most consistent with patience, fortitude, and greatness of soul, a man not only restrains himself, but, somehow or other, mitigates even pain itself.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 2.22
People will regularly tell me it is impossible to be perfect, and I certainly understand why error is built in, so to speak, to the nature of a creature moved by its own free judgments. Yet I wonder if we sometimes use this as an excuse to not strive for constant improvement, and so overlook the fact that the act of coping with mistakes is a very part of building our human perfection.
So maybe the ideal sage isn’t the fellow who never gets it wrong, but rather the fellow who takes up the responsibility of making it right.
My teachers usually taught me that the ability to have authority over others was a mark of greatness, and yet time has taught me that all true greatness comes from first having authority over oneself, from which any other achievements can then proceed.
People will regularly tell me it is impossible to be perfect, and I certainly understand why error is built in, so to speak, to the nature of a creature moved by its own free judgments. Yet I wonder if we sometimes use this as an excuse to not strive for constant improvement, and so overlook the fact that the act of coping with mistakes is a very part of building our human perfection.
So maybe the ideal sage isn’t the fellow who never gets it wrong, but rather the fellow who takes up the responsibility of making it right.
My teachers usually taught me that the ability to have authority over others was a mark of greatness, and yet time has taught me that all true greatness comes from first having authority over oneself, from which any other achievements can then proceed.
If I can put my nagging desires in their place, I am making a start. If I can meet an offense with a smile instead of a harsh word, I am getting the hang of it. If I can turn the pain of my many failures into opportunities for practicing the virtues, I beginning to receive the inner rewards.
When Cicero appeals to the rule of parents and the obedience of children, our modern sensibilities might be offended, for we falsely assume that a command can only be meant as a threat, and that a submission can only result in a denial of self.
When Cicero appeals to the rule of parents and the obedience of children, our modern sensibilities might be offended, for we falsely assume that a command can only be meant as a threat, and that a submission can only result in a denial of self.
That’s a shame, because in the natural order, the greater informs the lesser, and the lesser thereby aspires to the greater. What the adult knows for himself he shares with the youth, who is still developing his capacity to know, and so authority is rightly a form of giving, not a crime of taking away.
The self-mastery Cicero speaks of doesn’t require a toughness of brawny arms and big guns. The strength is rather in the habits of character, where a grasp of the true and the good prevails over the fickleness of impressions. It is a constancy in the soul that bestows the highest honors.
What must I do to achieve this? I am called to continually challenge myself, question myself, debate with myself. If I can keep my thoughts, words, and deeds pure and serene, I will be my own best friend; if I permit myself to be turned around by the slightest breeze, I will become my own worst enemy. The unbroken exercise of conscience is my first calling, rather than a mere afterthought.
The many heroes of history and legend do inspire me, though I must always remember how they are not just distant abstractions, and I can readily find someone like a Gaius Marius right here and now, if I only know to look for the grit instead of the glitter.
The self-mastery Cicero speaks of doesn’t require a toughness of brawny arms and big guns. The strength is rather in the habits of character, where a grasp of the true and the good prevails over the fickleness of impressions. It is a constancy in the soul that bestows the highest honors.
What must I do to achieve this? I am called to continually challenge myself, question myself, debate with myself. If I can keep my thoughts, words, and deeds pure and serene, I will be my own best friend; if I permit myself to be turned around by the slightest breeze, I will become my own worst enemy. The unbroken exercise of conscience is my first calling, rather than a mere afterthought.
The many heroes of history and legend do inspire me, though I must always remember how they are not just distant abstractions, and I can readily find someone like a Gaius Marius right here and now, if I only know to look for the grit instead of the glitter.
The power of providing a good example takes hold when someone else shows me that it can be done, and I am not limited to being told what I should do by an armchair expert.
Indeed, it is remarkable how much I find I am able to bear, once I observe another leading the way. They tell me some athletic achievements were only dreamed of for years and years, and then when one fellow pushed himself beyond the perceived limit, dozens of others quickly followed suit. I believe the moral life is no different, where we help one another by easing the way.
Indeed, it is remarkable how much I find I am able to bear, once I observe another leading the way. They tell me some athletic achievements were only dreamed of for years and years, and then when one fellow pushed himself beyond the perceived limit, dozens of others quickly followed suit. I believe the moral life is no different, where we help one another by easing the way.
I will not take the pain if I don’t have to, but if I have my head screwed on right, I will recognize how the worst part of any pain is in the way I perceive it, and the intensity of the suffering will actually decrease as my awareness of its meaning increases.
—Reflection written in 8/1996
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