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." 

Epictetus, Fragments 1

A life entangled with Fortune is like a torrent. It is turbulent and muddy; hard to pass and masterful of mood: noisy and of brief continuance. 

Dio Chrysostom, On Slavery and Freedom 2.1

Recently, I assure you, I was present when two men were disputing at great length about slavery and freedom, not before judges or in the marketplace, but at their ease at home, taking a long time about it; and each of the two men had a considerable number of warm adherents. 

For they had been debating other questions before that, as is my impression; and the one who was worsted in the debate, being at a loss for arguments, became abusive, as often happens in such cases, and taunted the other with not being a freeman. Whereupon the first very gently smiled and said: 

A. "But how can you say that? Is it possible, my good friend, to know who is a slave, or who is free?" 

B. "Yes, it certainly is," replied the other. "I know at any rate that I myself am free and that all these men here are, but that you have no lot or share in freedom." 

At this some of those present laughed, and yet the first man was not one whit more abashed, but just as gallant cocks are aroused at the blow of their masters and take courage, so he too was aroused and took courage at the insult, and asked his opponent where he got his knowledge about the two of them. 

B. "Because," said he, "I know that my father is an Athenian, if any man is, while yours is the slave of so-and‑so," mentioning his name.

A. "According to this, then," said the first man, "what is to prevent me from anointing myself in the Cynosarges⁠ along with the bastards, if I really am the son of a freeborn mother—who is, perhaps, a citizen into the bargain—and of the father whom you mention? Have not many women who are citizens, embarrassed by the scarcity of eligible men, been got with child either by foreigners or by slaves, sometimes not knowing the fact, but sometimes also with full knowledge of it? And of the children thus begotten none is a slave, but only a non-Athenian." 

B. "Well, in your case," he rejoined, "I myself know that your mother is a slave in the same household as your father."

A. "Very well!" said the first man, "Do you know who your own mother is?" 

B. "Why certainly; a citizen born of citizens, who brought to her husband a pretty good dowry too." 

A. "Could you actually take your oath that you are the son of the father of whom she says that you are? Telemachus, you know, did not care at all to insist in support of Penelope, the daughter of Icarius, who was regarded as a very chaste woman, that she spoke the truth when she declared that Odysseus was his father.⁠ But you, not only in support of yourself and of your mother, would take oath apparently, if anyone should bid you, but in regard to any slave woman as to who the man was by whom she was got with child, such a slave woman as you say that my mother was. 

"Pray, does it seem to you impossible that she should have been got with child by some other man, a freeman, or even by her own master? Do not many Athenian men have intercourse with their maidservants, some of them secretly, but others quite openly? For surely it cannot be that every Greek is superior to Heracles, who did not think it beneath him to have intercourse even with the slave woman of Iardanus, who became the mother of the kings of Sardis.⁠ 

"And further, you do not believe, as it seems, that Clytemnestra, the daughter of Tyndareüs and the wife of Agamemnon, not only lived with Agamemnon, her own husband, but also, when he was away, had relations with Aegistheus, and that Aeropê, the wife of Atreus, accepted the advances of Thyestes, and that many other wives of distinguished and wealthy men in both ancient and modern times have had relations with other men and sometimes have had children by them? But she who you say was a maidservant was so scrupulously faithful to her own husband that she would not have had relations with any other man! 

"And further, in regard to yourself and me as well you asseverate that each of us was born of the woman who is reputed to be and is called his mother. And yet you might name many Athenians, and very prominent ones too, who turned out later not only not to have been the sons of the father but not even those of the mother to whom they were attributed, having been supposititious children of unknown origin who had been reared as sons. 

"And such incidents you yourself are constantly seeing exhibited and described by the writers of comedy and in tragedies, but nevertheless you go on in the same old way, making positive statements about yourself and about me, as if you knew for a certainty the circumstances of our birth and the identity of our parents. 

"Do you not know," he continued, "that the law permits anyone to bring an action for libel against the man who slanders without being able to adduce any clear proof of his statements?" 

B. And the other man replied, "Yes, I know that freeborn women often palm off other persons' children as their own on account of their childlessness, when they are unable to conceive children themselves, because each one wishes to keep her own husband and her home, while at the same time they do not lack the means to support the children; but in the case of slave women, on the other hand, some destroy the child before birth and others afterwards, if they can do so without being caught, and yet sometimes even with the connivance of their husbands, that they may not be involved in trouble by being compelled to raise children in addition to their enduring slavery." 

A. "O yes, certainly," the first man replied, "if you make an exception of the slave girl of Oeneus, the bastard son, as he alleged, of Pandion.⁠ For Oeneus' herdsman, who lived at Eleutherae, and that herdsman's wife, so far from exposing their own children, took up other people's children whom they found by the roadside, without having the least notion whose children they were, and reared them as their own, nor at any time afterwards were they willing to admit that they were not their own. But you, perhaps, would have abused both Zethus and Amphion before their identity became known, and would have taken solemn oath that the sons of Zeus were slaves." 

B. Then this opponent laughed very ironically and said: "Aha! Is it the tragic poets to whom you appeal as witnesses?" 

A. "Yes indeed," said the other man, "for the Greeks have confidence in them; for whomsoever these poets exhibit as heroes, to them you will find all Greeks offering sacrifice as heroes, and you may see with your eyes the shrines which the people have erected in their honor. 

"And in the same manner consider, if you please, the Phrygian woman, who was the slave of Priam, who reared Alexander on Mount Ida as her own son after taking him from her husband, who was a herdsman, and raised no objection to her rearing a child. And Telephus, the son of Augê and Heracles, they say was not reared by a woman but by a hind. Or do you think that a hind would have more compassion on a babe and desire to rear it than a human being would if she happened to be a slave? 

"Come now, in Heaven's name, if I should go so far as to admit to you that my parents are those whom you say they are, how can you know that they are slaves? Or were you really sure who their parents were, and are you ready to take your solemn oath in regard to each of them also that both were born of two slaves—they and their progenitors back to the very beginning — all of them?⁠ 

"For it is clear that if any member of a family is freeborn, it is no longer possible rightly to regard his descendants as slaves. And it is impossible, my good sir, that from all eternity, as the saying is, there should be any race of men in which there have not been countless numbers free and not fewer than these in number those who have been slaves; and indeed, tyrants and kings and prisoners and branded slaves and shopkeepers and cobblers and all the rest such as are found in the world of men, so that among them you have had experience of all the occupations, all the careers, all the fortunes, and all the mischances. 

"Or do you not know that the reason why the poets trace the families of so‑called heroes directly back to the gods is simply that the character in question may not be investigated further? And quite the majority of them men say are sprung from Zeus, in order that they may not have their kings and the founders of their cities and their eponymous heroes getting into predicaments of the kind that are regarded among men as disgraceful. 

"Consequently, if it really is with men as we and others wiser than we claim, you can have no greater share in freedom on the score of family than any one of those who are regarded as out-and‑out slaves—unless, of course, you too make haste to trace your own ancestry back to Zeus or Poseidon or Apollo—and I no greater share in slavery." 

IMAGE: Jean-Leon Gerome, Cave Canem (1881) 

Jacob's Ladder 10

James Tissot, Jacob's Dream (c. 1896) 

Jacob Wrestling with the Angel 21

Charles Foster, Jacob Wrestled with an Angel (1897) 

Netherlandish Proverbs 14

"To get the lid on the head." 

To end up taking responsibility. 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5.1

Paradox 5: That the Wise Man Alone Is Free, and That Every Fool Is a Slave 
 
Here let a general be celebrated, or let him be honored with that title, or let him be thought worthy of it. But how or over what free man will he exercise control who cannot command his own passions? 
 
Let him in the first place bridle his lusts, let him despise pleasures, let him subdue anger, let him get the better of avarice, let him expunge the other stains on his character, and then when he himself is no longer in subjection to disgrace and degradation, the most savage tyrants, let him then, I say, begin to command others. 
 
But while he is subservient to these, not only is he not to be regarded as a general, but he is by no means to be considered as even a free man. 
 
This is nobly laid down by the most learned men, whose authority I should not make use of were I now addressing myself to an assembly of rustics. But as I speak to the wisest men, to whom these things are not new, why should I falsely pretend that all the application I have bestowed upon, this study has been lost? 
 
It has been said, then, by the most learned men, that none but the wise man is free. For what is liberty? The power of living as you please. 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5 
 
We like to lay it on thick when we praise our glorious leaders, but no man is able to rule over others until he can first rule over himself. For all of his subtle skills at diplomacy, has the statesman tamed his own appetites? For all of his victories on the battlefield, has the general conquered his own vanity? The character on the inside will determine any greatness on the outside; there will no excellence in the public things if there is only mediocrity in the private things. 
 
Though I suspect my friends will roll their eyes, I think once again of George Washington, and how vastly he differed from Napoleon Bonaparte. Indeed, the teacher in me has already dreamed up a possible class discussion, in which we might compare two paintings: John Trumbull’s General George Washington Resigning His Commission and Jacques-Louis David’s The Coronation of Napoleon. Please bear with me, because it is my own peculiar way to make some sense of the contrast. 
 
While I cannot, of course, know the inner workings of such historical figures, I can still discern something of their motives through the consistency of their words and deeds. Nor should I distort them into being angels or demons, for the struggle between good and evil exists within all of us, in subtle ways that others will rarely see. Instead, I ask myself how their examples, for better or for worse, can guide me toward what is ideal. 
 
At the height of his personal influence, Washington wishes to surrender his authority, much like Cincinnatus. Behind him is an empty chair, as if it were a throne that must rightly go unoccupied. His country later elects him as its first President, and yet he refuses to run for a third term, knowing full well what becomes of a nation run by self-serving tyrants. 
 
At the height of his personal influence, Napoleon wishes to immortalize his authority, much like Julius Caesar. He has already crowned himself, in a perversion of tradition, and now proceeds to crown Josephine. Over the next decade, he bleeds his country dry in constant foreign wars, refusing until the bitter end to temper his ambitions or to swallow his pride. 
 
David was commissioned to produce his work by Napoleon himself, who was very specific about how he should be represented. I am more inclined to be impressed by the words of Trumbull, when he described the distinct moment he was hoping to capture: 
 
What a dazzling temptation was here to earthly ambition! Beloved by the military, venerated by the people, who was there to oppose the victorious chief, if he had chosen to retain that power, which he had so long held with universal approbation? The Caesars, the Cromwells, the Napoleons, yielded to the charm of earthly ambition, and betrayed their country; but Washington aspired to loftier, imperishable glory—to that glory which virtue alone can give, and which no power, no effort, no time, can ever take away or diminish.
 
You must forgive me when I say that I do not find these words to be exaggerated. Washington died in his bed at Mount Vernon, and Napoleon died in exile on Saint Helena, but their ultimate dispositions were far more important than their final locations. One strove to become free in his virtues, while the other remained enslaved to his vices. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGES: 

John Trumbull, General George Washington Resigning His Commission (1824) 

Jacques-Louis David, The Coronation of Napoleon (1807) 

Abandoned Places 68

IMAGE by Brett Patman 

Nature 70

IMAGE by Jono Allen 

Stockdale on Stoicism 56

Given their charge, the breaking of human will, all political prisons are similar. That is to say, neither what goes on there, nor how their prey grapple with it, appreciably change, century in and century out: Cervantes', Dostoevsky’s, and my accounts are all the same. 

At the heart of the organization is a master extortionist or commissar, like Gletkin of Darkness At Noon and the Cat of In Love and War. The same methods are used now as were used in the Middle Ages. 

They don’t use drugs; they want to impose guilt; they want authenticity with no easy outs or plausible denials. 

They don’t use brainwashing; there is no such thing. They do use pain, administered by a few selected torture guards. They also use isolation. 

Such prisons use a tripwire system of multitudinous regulations, some of which many inmates inadvertently break because of their number and ambiguity, and other regulations which almost all inmates eventually intentionally break because their requirements defy human nature. In particular, there was a regulation for us never to communicate in any way with another American prisoner. 

The idea in political prisons is to get prisoners to break regulations. Since any violation is considered, prima facie, moral turpitude or "evidence of ingratitude," it is used as justification to recycle the inmate through the torture meat grinder. From that, the commissars obtain, on a production line basis: confessions, apologies, and atonements. 

Seasoned veterans of these regimes realize that pain and isolation, to say nothing of other deprivations and miseries, are mere accelerators to the major pincers of this will-breaking machine: imposed fear and guilt. 

"Destabilize with fear, polarize with guilt," say the graffiti on the cave walls of the alchemists of the Middle Ages who worked on psychic transformation under pressure. In fact, the total regime comes to seem to its sufferers like an alchemist’s hermetically sealed, pressurized, and heated retort, in which they are perpetually stalked, hounded down, and harpooned with barbs of fear and guilt. 

—from James B. Stockdale, Epictetus' Enchiridion: Conflict and Character 

IMAGE: Jacek Malczewski, The Prisoners (1883)