M. If, then, honor and riches have no value, what is there else to be afraid of?
Banishment, I suppose; which is looked on as the greatest evil. Now, if the evil of banishment proceeds not from ourselves, but from the froward disposition of the people, I have just now declared how contemptible it is. But if to leave one’s country be miserable, the provinces are full of miserable men, very few of the settlers in which ever return to their country again.
But exiles are deprived of their property! What, then! Has there not been enough said on bearing poverty? But with regard to banishment, if we examine the nature of things, not the ignominy of the name, how little does it differ from constant travelling! In which some of the most famous philosophers have spent their whole life, as Xenocrates, Crantor, Arcesilas, Lacydes, Aristotle, Theophrastus, Zeno, Cleanthes, Chrysippus, Antipater, Carneades, Panaetius, Clitomachus, Philo, Antiochus, Posidonius, and innumerable others, who from their first setting-out never returned home again.
Now, what ignominy can a wise man be affected with (for it is of such a one that I am speaking) who can be guilty of nothing which deserves it? For there is no occasion to comfort one who is banished for his deserts. Lastly, they can easily reconcile themselves to every accident who measure all their objects and pursuits in life by the standard of pleasure; so that in whatever place that is supplied, there they may live happily. Thus what Teucer said may be applied to every case:
“Wherever I am happy is my country.”
Socrates, indeed, when he was asked where he belonged to, replied, “The world;” for he looked upon himself as a citizen and inhabitant of the whole world.
How was it with T. Altibutius? Did he not follow his philosophical studies with the greatest satisfaction at Athens, although he was banished? Which, however, would not have happened to him if he had obeyed the laws of Epicurus and lived peaceably in the republic.
In what was Epicurus happier, living in his own country, than Metrodorus, who lived at Athens? Or did Plato’s happiness exceed that of Xenocrates, or Polemo, or Arcesilas? Or is that city to be valued much that banishes all her good and wise men?
Demaratus, the father of our King Tarquin, not being able to bear the tyrant Cypselus, fled from Corinth to Tarquinii, settled there, and had children. Was it, then, an unwise act in him to prefer the liberty of banishment to slavery at home?
Banishment, I suppose; which is looked on as the greatest evil. Now, if the evil of banishment proceeds not from ourselves, but from the froward disposition of the people, I have just now declared how contemptible it is. But if to leave one’s country be miserable, the provinces are full of miserable men, very few of the settlers in which ever return to their country again.
But exiles are deprived of their property! What, then! Has there not been enough said on bearing poverty? But with regard to banishment, if we examine the nature of things, not the ignominy of the name, how little does it differ from constant travelling! In which some of the most famous philosophers have spent their whole life, as Xenocrates, Crantor, Arcesilas, Lacydes, Aristotle, Theophrastus, Zeno, Cleanthes, Chrysippus, Antipater, Carneades, Panaetius, Clitomachus, Philo, Antiochus, Posidonius, and innumerable others, who from their first setting-out never returned home again.
Now, what ignominy can a wise man be affected with (for it is of such a one that I am speaking) who can be guilty of nothing which deserves it? For there is no occasion to comfort one who is banished for his deserts. Lastly, they can easily reconcile themselves to every accident who measure all their objects and pursuits in life by the standard of pleasure; so that in whatever place that is supplied, there they may live happily. Thus what Teucer said may be applied to every case:
“Wherever I am happy is my country.”
Socrates, indeed, when he was asked where he belonged to, replied, “The world;” for he looked upon himself as a citizen and inhabitant of the whole world.
How was it with T. Altibutius? Did he not follow his philosophical studies with the greatest satisfaction at Athens, although he was banished? Which, however, would not have happened to him if he had obeyed the laws of Epicurus and lived peaceably in the republic.
In what was Epicurus happier, living in his own country, than Metrodorus, who lived at Athens? Or did Plato’s happiness exceed that of Xenocrates, or Polemo, or Arcesilas? Or is that city to be valued much that banishes all her good and wise men?
Demaratus, the father of our King Tarquin, not being able to bear the tyrant Cypselus, fled from Corinth to Tarquinii, settled there, and had children. Was it, then, an unwise act in him to prefer the liberty of banishment to slavery at home?
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 5.37
I have often wondered if exile could still be a fitting form of punishment, though I’m not sure how it would work in our far more crowded world. We seem to be rather fond of locking people up if they don’t play nice, when it can be argued that firmly asking them to leave is both just and effective. If you tell me I read too much history, I will politely suggest we don’t read nearly enough.
It doesn’t help, of course, to have a nostalgic and melancholic personality, fueled, over the years, by tragic tales of brooding Jacobites forever cast out from their native land. Perhaps you will at least grant me that banishment is a far more gentlemanly sentence than being left to rot in a cage?
Yet a Greek or a Roman would still find this a terrible price to pay, for what is a man if he is ripped from his native soil? How is the tree to survive without its roots? Even in our day and age, when people tend to change their locations almost as often as they acquire new lovers, homesickness can cripple the toughest among us. The pain of it is slow and subtle, but it is sharp and certain.
Cicero was hardly one of the Stoics, but he had no difficulty in enlisting their arguments to support a truth held in common by all the Wisdom Traditions: our happiness if measured by our character, and not by our circumstances. While pain, sometimes quite severe, will accompany any form of loss, it is our nature to seek out the true and the good, and to enlist all conditions, whether or not they happen to be convenient, in service to the virtues. Any obstacle to the body becomes another opportunity for the soul.
And so exile is yet another one of those aspects of fortune, like pleasure, money, or fame, that is meant to be transformed into something greater. If others choose to shun me, that is on them, and I should not define myself by their opinions. If I choose to succumb to grief, that is on me, and I need only correct my opinion to restore my serenity. This will be as easy, or as difficult, as I allow it to be.
If I have indeed committed a wrong, then I rightly deserve the penalty, which I should accept as a chance to humbly pay my debts. If I am convinced that I have committed no wrong, then the disservice done to me is now just a further occasion to prove my worth, to act with even greater dignity in the face of iniquity. If I understand my place within the whole, I know why wisdom can suffer no harm, and why ignorance is always bereft of benefits.
It is easy to go with the flow of entitlement and resentment, yet it is a real test of conscience to offer love in the face of hatred. When I am struggling with the challenge of being evicted, of being told I am no longer welcome, I can think of the countless witnesses, whether celebrated or unsung, who refused to let their worth be bound to a single place, or to sell their loyalties for comforts. They saw their travels as adventures, not as burdens.
What can they take away from me? Everything expect my integrity, which is entirely beyond their reach. Where is my true home? It is to be found wherever I can practice the virtues, in the city or in the wilderness. Can I be happy among strangers? The genuine citizens of the world will recognize and respect one another whenever they meet, whatever the color of their flags, even as the bigots continue to hide behind their walls.
I have often wondered if exile could still be a fitting form of punishment, though I’m not sure how it would work in our far more crowded world. We seem to be rather fond of locking people up if they don’t play nice, when it can be argued that firmly asking them to leave is both just and effective. If you tell me I read too much history, I will politely suggest we don’t read nearly enough.
It doesn’t help, of course, to have a nostalgic and melancholic personality, fueled, over the years, by tragic tales of brooding Jacobites forever cast out from their native land. Perhaps you will at least grant me that banishment is a far more gentlemanly sentence than being left to rot in a cage?
Yet a Greek or a Roman would still find this a terrible price to pay, for what is a man if he is ripped from his native soil? How is the tree to survive without its roots? Even in our day and age, when people tend to change their locations almost as often as they acquire new lovers, homesickness can cripple the toughest among us. The pain of it is slow and subtle, but it is sharp and certain.
Cicero was hardly one of the Stoics, but he had no difficulty in enlisting their arguments to support a truth held in common by all the Wisdom Traditions: our happiness if measured by our character, and not by our circumstances. While pain, sometimes quite severe, will accompany any form of loss, it is our nature to seek out the true and the good, and to enlist all conditions, whether or not they happen to be convenient, in service to the virtues. Any obstacle to the body becomes another opportunity for the soul.
And so exile is yet another one of those aspects of fortune, like pleasure, money, or fame, that is meant to be transformed into something greater. If others choose to shun me, that is on them, and I should not define myself by their opinions. If I choose to succumb to grief, that is on me, and I need only correct my opinion to restore my serenity. This will be as easy, or as difficult, as I allow it to be.
If I have indeed committed a wrong, then I rightly deserve the penalty, which I should accept as a chance to humbly pay my debts. If I am convinced that I have committed no wrong, then the disservice done to me is now just a further occasion to prove my worth, to act with even greater dignity in the face of iniquity. If I understand my place within the whole, I know why wisdom can suffer no harm, and why ignorance is always bereft of benefits.
It is easy to go with the flow of entitlement and resentment, yet it is a real test of conscience to offer love in the face of hatred. When I am struggling with the challenge of being evicted, of being told I am no longer welcome, I can think of the countless witnesses, whether celebrated or unsung, who refused to let their worth be bound to a single place, or to sell their loyalties for comforts. They saw their travels as adventures, not as burdens.
What can they take away from me? Everything expect my integrity, which is entirely beyond their reach. Where is my true home? It is to be found wherever I can practice the virtues, in the city or in the wilderness. Can I be happy among strangers? The genuine citizens of the world will recognize and respect one another whenever they meet, whatever the color of their flags, even as the bigots continue to hide behind their walls.
—Reflection written in 3/1999
IMAGE: Briton Riviere, An Exile of the '45 (c. 1880)
_-_An_Exile_of_the_'45_-_3-1935_-_Dundee_Art_Galleries_and_Museums.jpg)
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