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?
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.
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)
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