M. Do we not observe that where those exercises called gymnastic are in esteem, those who enter the lists never concern themselves about dangers? That where the praise of riding and hunting is highly esteemed, they who practice these arts decline no pain? What shall I say of our own ambitious pursuits or desire of honors? What fire have not candidates run through to gain a single vote?
Therefore Africanus had always in his hands Xenophon, the pupil of Socrates, being particularly pleased with his saying, that the same labors were not equally heavy to the general and to the common man, because the honor itself made the labor lighter to the general.
But yet, so it happens, that even with the illiterate vulgar an idea of honor is of great influence, though they cannot understand what it is. They are led by report and common opinion to look on that as honorable which has the general voice.
Not that I would have you, should the multitude be ever so fond of you, rely on their judgment, nor approve of everything which they think right: you must use your own judgment. If you are satisfied with yourself when you have approved of what is right, you will not only have the mastery over yourself, which I recommended to you just now, but over everybody, and everything.
Lay this down, then, as a rule, that a great capacity, and lofty elevation of soul, which distinguishes itself most by despising and looking down with contempt on pain, is the most excellent of all things, and the more so if it does not depend on the people and does not aim at applause, but derives its satisfaction from itself.
Besides, to me, indeed, everything seems the more commendable the less the people are courted, and the fewer eyes there are to see it. Not that you should avoid the public, for every generous action loves the public view; yet no theater for virtue is equal to a consciousness of it.
Therefore Africanus had always in his hands Xenophon, the pupil of Socrates, being particularly pleased with his saying, that the same labors were not equally heavy to the general and to the common man, because the honor itself made the labor lighter to the general.
But yet, so it happens, that even with the illiterate vulgar an idea of honor is of great influence, though they cannot understand what it is. They are led by report and common opinion to look on that as honorable which has the general voice.
Not that I would have you, should the multitude be ever so fond of you, rely on their judgment, nor approve of everything which they think right: you must use your own judgment. If you are satisfied with yourself when you have approved of what is right, you will not only have the mastery over yourself, which I recommended to you just now, but over everybody, and everything.
Lay this down, then, as a rule, that a great capacity, and lofty elevation of soul, which distinguishes itself most by despising and looking down with contempt on pain, is the most excellent of all things, and the more so if it does not depend on the people and does not aim at applause, but derives its satisfaction from itself.
Besides, to me, indeed, everything seems the more commendable the less the people are courted, and the fewer eyes there are to see it. Not that you should avoid the public, for every generous action loves the public view; yet no theater for virtue is equal to a consciousness of it.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 2.26
Wherever any merit is to be won, it cannot be done without effort and sacrifice, and it almost seems as if those who judge pain to be the worst of evils would only consider a life to be fair if it is marked by ease and entitlement.
If it is going to be rewarding, it is going to hurt. An athlete knows it, and even a politician knows it, and there is no achievement so ordinary or so obscure that it is not made worthy by a hard fight for the virtues.
I take special note of Xenophon’s saying, as passed on by Scipio Africanus, on who carries the heavier burdens in this world. It is far more difficult, and therefore far more noble, to do what is right when you don’t have the adulation of the crowd to lighten the load.
I might initially think that a “great” man must exclusively travel in “great” circles, yet I am then sadly confusing a scale of circumstances for a scale of character. If, for better or for worse, I were ever to win fame, I must understand why the degree of the praise should follow from the value of the deed, not the value of the deed from the degree of the praise. I am quick to get these tangled up, and thereby define excellence improperly.
Even the humblest people, tempted by the illusion that they must be admired in order to be good, will find themselves moved by the power of public opinion. Now as much as we cannot help but be social animals, we must do our best to first rely on our own sound judgments, our essence as rational animals.
To get swept up in popularity can only end up in slavery; to rigorously form a conscience that rises above pain makes me the king of my castle, however modest.
Many of my peers admire actors because they are handsome, or musicians because they are stylish, or businessmen because they are rich, or politicians because they are powerful. More and more, I find myself admiring those who stand their ground regardless of such accidental qualities. Yes, they may have it harder, but as a result they also have it better.
I seek them out around me, and I also look to those who came before me. Both Xenophon and Scipio speak to me through their constant striving for integrity over utility.
Xenophon stayed with his compatriots when the Ten Thousand were ruined and abandoned in Babylon, and he honored Socrates when opinion went against him.
Scipio treated his enemies with respect, wishing to make friends before he had to fight, and he even defended the exiled Hannibal when the Romans wished to finally destroy him.
Virtue gets compromised when I worry about putting on a show for the audience.
Wherever any merit is to be won, it cannot be done without effort and sacrifice, and it almost seems as if those who judge pain to be the worst of evils would only consider a life to be fair if it is marked by ease and entitlement.
If it is going to be rewarding, it is going to hurt. An athlete knows it, and even a politician knows it, and there is no achievement so ordinary or so obscure that it is not made worthy by a hard fight for the virtues.
I take special note of Xenophon’s saying, as passed on by Scipio Africanus, on who carries the heavier burdens in this world. It is far more difficult, and therefore far more noble, to do what is right when you don’t have the adulation of the crowd to lighten the load.
I might initially think that a “great” man must exclusively travel in “great” circles, yet I am then sadly confusing a scale of circumstances for a scale of character. If, for better or for worse, I were ever to win fame, I must understand why the degree of the praise should follow from the value of the deed, not the value of the deed from the degree of the praise. I am quick to get these tangled up, and thereby define excellence improperly.
Even the humblest people, tempted by the illusion that they must be admired in order to be good, will find themselves moved by the power of public opinion. Now as much as we cannot help but be social animals, we must do our best to first rely on our own sound judgments, our essence as rational animals.
To get swept up in popularity can only end up in slavery; to rigorously form a conscience that rises above pain makes me the king of my castle, however modest.
Many of my peers admire actors because they are handsome, or musicians because they are stylish, or businessmen because they are rich, or politicians because they are powerful. More and more, I find myself admiring those who stand their ground regardless of such accidental qualities. Yes, they may have it harder, but as a result they also have it better.
I seek them out around me, and I also look to those who came before me. Both Xenophon and Scipio speak to me through their constant striving for integrity over utility.
Xenophon stayed with his compatriots when the Ten Thousand were ruined and abandoned in Babylon, and he honored Socrates when opinion went against him.
Scipio treated his enemies with respect, wishing to make friends before he had to fight, and he even defended the exiled Hannibal when the Romans wished to finally destroy him.
Virtue gets compromised when I worry about putting on a show for the audience.
—Reflection written in 8/1996
IMAGES:
Adrien Guignet, The Retreat of the Ten Thousand (c. 1843)
Andrea del Verrocchio, Scipio Africanus (c. 1468)
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