Well! How hard a mistress is that passion which seems to be more characteristic of liberty, I mean that for public preferment, for empire, for provinces; how imperious! how irresistible! It forced the men who thought themselves the greatest men in Rome to be slaves to Cethegus, a person not the most respectable, to send him presents, to wait upon him at nights at his house, to turn suitors, nay, supplicants to him. If this is to be regarded as freedom, what is slavery?
But what shall I say when the sway of the passions is over, and when fear, another tyrant, springs out of the consciousness of their misdeeds? What a hard, what a wretched servitude is that, when they must be slaves to chattering boys; when all who seem to know anything against them are feared as their masters.
As to their judge, how powerful is his sway over them, with what terrors does he afflict the guilty. And is not all fear a slavery?
What then is the meaning of that more eloquent than wise speech delivered by the accomplished orator Crassus? "Snatch us from slavery." What slavery could happen to so illustrious and noble a man? Every terror of a weak, a mean, and a dastardly soul is slavery.
He goes on—"Suffer us not to be the slaves of any”—you perhaps imagine that he is now about to assert his liberty. Not at all, for what does he add?—"but of you all, to whom we are able and bound to be subservient.”
He desires not to be free, but to change his master. Now we whose souls are lofty, exalted, and entrenched in virtue, neither can, nor ought to be slaves. Say that you can be a slave, since indeed you can; but say not that you are bound to be one, for no man is bound to any service, unless it is disgraceful not to render it.
But enough of this. Now let this man consider if he can be a general, when reason and truth must convince him that he is not so much as a freeman.
But what shall I say when the sway of the passions is over, and when fear, another tyrant, springs out of the consciousness of their misdeeds? What a hard, what a wretched servitude is that, when they must be slaves to chattering boys; when all who seem to know anything against them are feared as their masters.
As to their judge, how powerful is his sway over them, with what terrors does he afflict the guilty. And is not all fear a slavery?
What then is the meaning of that more eloquent than wise speech delivered by the accomplished orator Crassus? "Snatch us from slavery." What slavery could happen to so illustrious and noble a man? Every terror of a weak, a mean, and a dastardly soul is slavery.
He goes on—"Suffer us not to be the slaves of any”—you perhaps imagine that he is now about to assert his liberty. Not at all, for what does he add?—"but of you all, to whom we are able and bound to be subservient.”
He desires not to be free, but to change his master. Now we whose souls are lofty, exalted, and entrenched in virtue, neither can, nor ought to be slaves. Say that you can be a slave, since indeed you can; but say not that you are bound to be one, for no man is bound to any service, unless it is disgraceful not to render it.
But enough of this. Now let this man consider if he can be a general, when reason and truth must convince him that he is not so much as a freeman.
—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5
Why must I own more things? I already possess my nature. Why must I make a flashier impression? I can simply be myself. Why must my pleasures rule my choices? My choices can define my pleasures.
If I allow my good or my evil to hang upon the presence or the absence of events beyond my own power, how can I still claim to be free? Or will I insist that I can force the world to grant me more playthings, or coerce my neighbors into offering me their affections?
Once I permit a Cethegus or a Crassus to call the tune, I have unwittingly made myself his subject. And if I believe he somehow stumbled across a lucky break, history will remind me how it ended for him, as it must end for every tyrant. When you have already given yourself away, you can no longer complain about being a victim of fate.
I will remain forever indebted to Aristotle, for knocking some sense into me about the nature of happiness, all the way back in high school. I was confused when our popular culture told me to chase after money, sex, and fame, yet I saw so many people around me making themselves ever more miserable by clinging to such volatile conditions. They called it a blessing, but it became a curse.
If happiness is the highest goal we seek, the usual prospects must fall painfully short, being neither complete, to which nothing more can be added, nor self-sufficient, for the sake of which we do everything else. We confuse the means for the end, the parts for the whole.
Though many will say that money is our good, wealth is by definition always a resource for some other gain, and so its value is completely relative.
Though others will say that pleasure is our good, a feeling alone is never beneficial, and it makes us subservient to the object of our desires.
Though some will say that honor is our good, the praise must proceed from the opinion of others, and it may have nothing to do with our own merits.
And a few, those who have carefully reflected on their own nature, will recognize why our function as creatures of reason is to live according to virtue, the excellence of our own thoughts, words, and deeds, whatever the fortune that comes our way. Our dignity flows from within, not from without.
I do not wish to conflate the Stoics and the Peripatetics, but, in this case, I would argue that the former are simply stressing some natural conclusions about the teachings of the latter. If happiness is from the virtues, then misery is from the vices. If freedom is within our character, then slavery is looking to the circumstances. Stoicism calls us out for pretending we can sit on the fence.
When it is right for me to be of service to others, let this be on my own terms. No man is free when he allows the lesser to hold sway over the greater.
Why must I own more things? I already possess my nature. Why must I make a flashier impression? I can simply be myself. Why must my pleasures rule my choices? My choices can define my pleasures.
If I allow my good or my evil to hang upon the presence or the absence of events beyond my own power, how can I still claim to be free? Or will I insist that I can force the world to grant me more playthings, or coerce my neighbors into offering me their affections?
Once I permit a Cethegus or a Crassus to call the tune, I have unwittingly made myself his subject. And if I believe he somehow stumbled across a lucky break, history will remind me how it ended for him, as it must end for every tyrant. When you have already given yourself away, you can no longer complain about being a victim of fate.
I will remain forever indebted to Aristotle, for knocking some sense into me about the nature of happiness, all the way back in high school. I was confused when our popular culture told me to chase after money, sex, and fame, yet I saw so many people around me making themselves ever more miserable by clinging to such volatile conditions. They called it a blessing, but it became a curse.
If happiness is the highest goal we seek, the usual prospects must fall painfully short, being neither complete, to which nothing more can be added, nor self-sufficient, for the sake of which we do everything else. We confuse the means for the end, the parts for the whole.
Though many will say that money is our good, wealth is by definition always a resource for some other gain, and so its value is completely relative.
Though others will say that pleasure is our good, a feeling alone is never beneficial, and it makes us subservient to the object of our desires.
Though some will say that honor is our good, the praise must proceed from the opinion of others, and it may have nothing to do with our own merits.
And a few, those who have carefully reflected on their own nature, will recognize why our function as creatures of reason is to live according to virtue, the excellence of our own thoughts, words, and deeds, whatever the fortune that comes our way. Our dignity flows from within, not from without.
I do not wish to conflate the Stoics and the Peripatetics, but, in this case, I would argue that the former are simply stressing some natural conclusions about the teachings of the latter. If happiness is from the virtues, then misery is from the vices. If freedom is within our character, then slavery is looking to the circumstances. Stoicism calls us out for pretending we can sit on the fence.
When it is right for me to be of service to others, let this be on my own terms. No man is free when he allows the lesser to hold sway over the greater.
—Reflection written in 5/1999
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