Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 6.6

But why do I talk of myself, who through the contagion of fashion and of the times, am perhaps a little infected with the fault of the age? 
 
In the memory of our fathers, Manius Manilius (not to mention continually the Curii and the Luscinii) at length became poor; for he had only a little house at Carani and a farm near Labicum. Now are we, because we have greater possessions, richer men? I wish we were. 
 
But the amount of wealth is not defined by the valuation of the census, but by habit and mode of life; not to be greedy is wealth; not to be extravagant is revenue. Above all things, to be content with what we possess is the greatest and most secure of riches. 
 
If therefore they who are the most skillful valuers of property highly estimate fields and certain sites, because such estates are the least liable to injury, how much more valuable is virtue, which never can be wrested, never can be filched from us, which cannot be lost by fire or by shipwreck, and which is not alienated by the convulsions of tempest or of time, with which those who are endowed alone are rich, for they alone possess resources which are profitable and eternal; and they are the only men who, being contented with what they possess, think it sufficient, which is the criterion of riches: they hanker after nothing, they are in need of nothing, they feel the want of nothing, and they require nothing. 
 
As to the unsatiable and avaricious part of mankind, as they have possessions liable to uncertainty, and at the mercy of chance, they who are forever thirsting after more, and of whom there never was a man for whom what he had sufficed; they are so far from being wealthy and rich, that they are to be regarded as necessitous and beggared. 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 6 
 
Like Cicero, it is easy for me to treat certain luxuries as if they were necessities, unwittingly raising the bar for a supposedly happy life. It doesn’t help how those around me are constantly trying to outdo one another, with the end result that we must now have a million-dollar home, at least two cars in the garage, and a summer vacation costing more than my grandfather earned in an entire year. 
 
All of it is driven by credit, of course, which tricks us into thinking we are getting rich, when, in fact, the banks are getting rich, as we obediently feed at their trough. 
 
Like Cicero, I also wonder if folks from the past were more temperate and frugal, but I then remember why there must be a Crassus for every Manilius in any age, and I just happen to look back at one of them with greater reverence. 
 
I would be grateful for the little house, which, as a teacher in Catholic schools, is at this point completely beyond my means, but I have absolutely no urge to boss other workers on some farm. Perhaps that would change if you tempted me with prosperity, which only goes to show why riches can have a way of numbing us to what is essential in life. 
 
Once again, however, it is never the money itself that is the problem, for the man who attends first to the cultivation of his conscience will thrive as either a prince or a pauper. 
 
What first struck me so profoundly about Stoicism was its insistence on a radically different set of priorities, one that so many other philosophers would praise in theory, but so often failed to apply in practice. True riches are in the disposition of the soul, regardless of the accessories, and our daily habits should reflect that dignity. 
 
When I continue to doubt this truth, I can remind myself why virtue is always more reliable than fortune. Despite our conniving, the circumstances will unfold on their own terms, and even when they seem to coincide with our desires, we remain forever at their mercy. 
 
We are kidding ourselves when we say that we have “earned” some worldly reward, because the choices of others, and the subtle workings of fate, which will usually appear as random to our clouded vision, are far beyond our power. 
 
No, I am at my best when I put my trust in my own character, which alone remains for me to determine. Though an enemy may take my property, or my comforts, or my reputation, or even my very life, he has no authority over my judgments, unless I have already decided to surrender them. For all the pain another might inflict, it pales in comparison to the harm I inflict upon myself once I abandon my nature. 
 
I should not blame a man for being rich, or even for being greedy. Let me find joy in attending to my own virtues, which is the only way I can encourage him to help himself. The greatest wealth lies within. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Franco-Flemish School, Temperance (c. 1780) 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 6.5

Immortal gods! Men are not aware how great a revenue is parsimony; for I now proceed to speak of extravagant men, I take my leave of the money-hunter. 
 
The revenue one man receives from his estate is six hundred sestertia; I receive one hundred from mine. 
 
To that man who has gilded roofs and marble pavements in his villas, and who unboundedly covets statues, pictures, vestments, and furniture, his income is insufficient, not only for his expenditure, but even for the payment of his interest; while there will be some surplus even from my slender income, through cutting off the expenses of voluptuousness. 
 
Which, then, is the richer, he who has a deficit, or he who has a surplus? He who is in need, or he who abounds? The man whose estate, the greater it is, requires the more to sustain it, or whose estate maintains itself by its own resources? 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 6 
 
It might seem reasonable to propose that a lesser income would intensify our wants, while a greater income would relieve us of our wants, and yet we are rarely so reasonable when it comes to our desire for wealth. For far too many of us, an increase in our earnings will actually stimulate our greed, while just a very few of us, those who dare to look beyond the trappings, simply learn to be satisfied with less. 
 
As the say, he who has much wants much, to which we may also add the reverse, that he who has little needs little. I once heard an economist describing this as lifestyle inflation, and a psychologist as the hedonistic treadmill, but behind it all is a basic truth of philosophy, so fittingly embraced by the Stoics, and so succinctly expressed by Seneca: "It is not the man who has too little, but the man who craves more, that is poor." 
 
This can only begin to make sense once we make the quantity of our fortune subservient to the quality of our character. If, on the other hand, we continue to equate our blessings with our comforts, we will constantly be chasing after the next level of gratification, failing to see why the gifts of our human nature are already complete and self-sufficient. If I cannot find happiness with being myself, how can a diversion with trinkets fill the hole inside of me? 
 
I have never been rich, and I don’t imagine I will ever be, but even I have grown tired with some amusement, and then assumed that I must get myself an even fancier amusement. While I wonder how I can get my hands on a new book or record, my neighbor dreams of owning a boat, and the tycoon in his penthouse schemes about buying out his fifth company. At whatever the level, it won’t end until we redefine our source of the good. 
 
“But that guy has millions of dollars! And I can barely afford the roof over my head or the food on my table!” 
 
What makes you think there are no strings attached to his millions of dollars? If he is so lucky, why is his life in such a frenzy? And if you are at peace in your soul, what more does your body need than a cozy nook and a full belly? 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Quentin Matsys, The Usurers (1520) 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 6.4

But who can truly designate him as a rich man who needs all his earnings? For the advantage of riches consists in plenty, and this plenty declares the overflow and abundance of the means of life, which, as you can never attain, you can never be rich. 
 
I shall say nothing of myself, because as you (and that with reason) despise my fortune—for it is in the opinion of the generality middling, in yours next to nothing, and in mine sufficient—I shall speak to the subject. 
 
Now if facts are to be weighed and estimated by us, whether are we more to esteem—the money of Pyrrhus which he sent to Fabricius, or the continency of Fabricius for refusing that money?—the gold of the Samnites, or the answer of Manius Curius?—the inheritance of Lucius Paulus, or the generosity of Africanus, who gave to his brother Quintus his own part of that inheritance? 
 
Surely the latter evidences of consummate virtue are more to be esteemed than the former, which are the evidences of wealth. 
 
If, therefore, we are to rate every man rich only in proportion to the valuable things he possesses, who can doubt that riches consist in virtue, since no possession, no amount of gold and silver, is more to be valued than virtue? 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 6 
 
Despite my philosophical aspirations, which call one me to seek out a man’s greatness within his soul, I am ashamed by how often I still catch myself being impressed when someone is rich, in a pathetic mix of awe and envy. Before I know it, I am ready to grovel, which only goes to show how deeply the assumptions of a secular and consumer society can creep their way into my habits. 
 
It is one thing to admire someone’s technical skills at reading the market, or his personal charm in sealing the deal, but I should never confuse the content of a bank account with the content of character. 
 
If the wealthy have the benefit of a financial surplus, why is it that so many of them remain dissatisfied with their lot, forever seeking more lucrative investments, willing to borrow what they don’t yet have, in order to secure what they don’t really need? The only sane limit to acquisition is the moral sense to know when enough is enough. 
 
While I am not educated enough to argue with an economist, I can respect that he understands how people can become richer, as long as he is willing to grant that it takes a philosopher to understand why a state of plenty actually turns out to be state of mind. 
 
If I compared my own assets to those of Cicero, he would seem to be so much betters off, and yet Cicero would appear like a pauper when compared to Crassus. Saying “It’s all relative!” can sound like a cheap way of avoiding a commitment, unless we have the wisdom to discern the absolute standing behind it, the measure by which the degrees of “more” or “less” can be judged. Any amount of money is good when joined to virtue, and no amount of money is good when joined to vice. 
 
Look to those who can resist a bribe over those who try to get ahead with a payoff. Take note of those who are not flattered by gifts, because they are happy with what they already possess. Honor those who look at an inheritance as something to share, not as something to hoard. 
 
If I can manage to increase my virtues, I will no longer be so worried about increasing my fortune. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Mattia Preti, The Banquet of the Rich Glutton (c. 1665) 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 6.3

For as we see that they who make an honest livelihood by commerce, by industry, by forming the public revenue, have occasion for their earnings; so, whoever sees at your house the crowds of accusers and judges together; whoever sees rich and guilty criminals plotting the corruption of trials with you as their adviser, and your bargainings for pay for the distribution of patronage, your pecuniary interventions in the contests of candidates, your dispatching your freedmen to fleece and plunder the provinces; whoever calls to mind your dispossessing your neighbors, your depopulating the country by your oppressions, your confederacies with slaves, with freedmen, and with clients; the vacating of estates; the proscriptions of the wealthy; the corporations massacred, and the harvest of the times of Sylla; the wills you have forged, and the many men you have made away with; in short, that all things were venal with you in your levies, your decrees, your own votes, and the votes of others; the forum, your house, your speaking, and your silence; who must not think that such a man confesses he has occasion for all he has acquired? 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 6 

Even though I have learned to live with very little, I would not necessarily object to becoming rich, as long as it was the fruit of my own labors, and as long as I could maintain such a lifestyle with a clear conscience. I will respectfully refuse, however, once you ask me to profit from another’s work, or to treat my neighbor unfairly so I can get ahead. 
 
You laugh, of course, because it sounds like a pipe dream. Perhaps you will have to look a little harder before you find a man of integrity who also happens to be prosperous, but never say that money is the problem—how we choose to earn it, and what we choose to do with it, is what will make or break us. Judge by the measure of integrity, not by that of property, whether the pot is overflowing with gold or turns out to be completely empty. 
 
Though I have seen enough of corruption in business and in government, I have the most experience of graft in the lofty institutions of the Church, which has become expert at paying out the most to those who achieve the least, all under the guise of holiness. Yet whether they are bankers, lawyers, or bishops, those who are consumed by avarice are fairly easy to recognize, if only you look past the clever marketing. 
 
What they all share in common is the tragic state of affairs that Cicero describes: their lives are filled with all sorts of intrigue, deceit, exploitation, and betrayal. I could surely go on for pages and pages, describing the nastiness I have seen behind closed doors, where the schemers believe no one can expose their offenses, but I can hardly top Cicero’s biting account of a day in the life of Crassus. I find a good number of passages from Charles Dickens have much the same rousing effect. 
 
You might say that the moneygrubber doesn’t deserve all the benefits he receives, and yet perhaps we should pity him, since whatever fortune he claims to acquire still leaves him in abject misery. Instead of having everything he needs, he will never have enough to meet his demands. The proof is in that constant conniving, a crippling anxiety that never gives him a moment’s rest. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Quentin Matsys, The Purchase Agreement (1515) 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 6.2

It is the mind, and not the coffers of a man, that is to be accounted rich. For though the latter be full, when I see yourself empty, I shall not think you rich; because men measure the amount of riches by that which is sufficient for each individual. 
 
Has a man a daughter? then he has need of money. But he has two, then he ought to have a greater fortune; he has more, then he ought to have more fortune still; and if, as we are told of Danaus, he has fifty daughters, so many fortunes require a great estate. 
 
For, as I said before, the degree of wealth is dependent on how much each individual has need of. He therefore who has not a great many daughters, but innumerable passions, which are enough to consume a very great estate in a very short time, how can I call such a man rich, when he himself is conscious that he is poor? 
 
Many have heard you say, that no man is rich who cannot with his income maintain an army; a thing which the people of Rome some time ago, with their so great revenues, could scarcely do. 
 
Therefore, according to your maxim, you never can be rich, until so much is brought in to you from your estates, that out of it you can maintain six legions, and large auxiliaries of home and foot. 
 
You therefore, in fact, confess yourself not to be rich, who are so far short of fulfilling what you desire; you, therefore, have never concealed your poverty, your neediness, and your beggary. 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 6 
 
The Greeks had their Croesus, and the Romans had their Crassus, as I am sure that the people of any time or place can identify the moguls in their midst who are obsessed with hoarding money. 
 
While my students will sometimes challenge me to openly condemn our contemporary billionaires, I refuse to bite. I do not know what goes on inside their heads, even if I have a few sneaking suspicions, and I always remain hopeful that those to whom much is given might still work out how much will be required. 
 
I cannot be certain how to separate the fact from the fiction, but I have long found a sobering lesson in the story of Croesus and Solon. The wealthy king was hoping for the wise statesman to name him as the happiest man on earth, only to discover that Solon was far more impressed by the virtues of the humble. Croesus would remember this a few years later, after fortune had turned against him, and he finally understood where genuine happiness could be found. 
 
In the end, how much property should a fellow really have? If I say that he should limit his wants to however much he truly needs, the covetous crowd will just take this as an excuse to consume more and more, because their desires know no limit. No, an accurate judgment about the necessities of life must begin with an honest appreciation of our human nature, where character comes before convenience. 
 
I am also suspicious of anyone who dabbles in social engineering, convinced that he can dictate a universal budget for the rank and file. We all have certain gifts, and so we all have various degrees of responsibilities; I do not begrudge the landlord more money, not because he deserves to be pampered, but because he has a special duty to care for his tenants. Cicero’s example of raising a family is a wonderful one: if it can be within your means to have many children, no one should deny you this glorious opportunity. 
 
What made Crassus different, however, was an enslavement to his passions, to the point where nothing the world had to offer could every satisfy him. Once someone says he requires a personal army in order to be significant, you may safely conclude that he has a seriously distorted sense of self-worth. 
 
In my own peculiar way of looking at things, I often think of why George Bailey was the richest man in town, and why Mr. Potter was just a warped, frustrated old man. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Johann Georg Platzer, Croesus and Solon (c. 1750) 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 6.1

Paradox 6: That the Wise Man Alone Is Rich 

 
[Translator's note: This paradox is addressed to Marcus Crassus.] 
 
What means this unbecoming ostentation in making mention of your money? 
 
You are the only rich man! Immortal gods! Ought I not to rejoice that I have heard and learned something? 
 
You the only rich man! What if you are not rich at all? What if you even are a beggar? For whom are we to understand to be a rich man? 
 
To what kind of a man do we apply the term? To the man as I suppose, whose possessions are such that he may be well contented to live liberally, who has no desire, no hankering after, no wish for more. 
 
It is your own mind, and not the talk of others, nor your possessions, that must pronounce you to be rich; for it ought to think that nothing is wanting to it, and care for nothing beyond. 
 
Is it satiated, or even contented with your money? I admit that you are rich; but if for the greed of money you think no source of profit disgraceful (though your order cannot make any honest profits), if you every day are cheating, deceiving, craving, jobbing, poaching, and pilfering; if you rob the allies and plunder the treasury; if you are forever longing for the bequests of friends, or not even waiting for them, but forging them yourself, are such practices the indications of a rich or a needy man? 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 6 
 
I regularly get myself into trouble when I talk about money, such that those on the right call me a bleeding-heart socialist, and those on left call me a running dog of capitalism. I am neither, however, since I do not believe that this or that system for distributing property can ever redeem us. 
 
Let a man be as rich or as poor as he wishes, but it is the content of his character that will define him. Crassus was flawed because of his insatiable greed, not because he happened to be so immensely wealthy. This is why the story has it that the Parthians poured molten gold down his throat. 
 
Remember, money is not the root of all evil; it is the love of money that is the root of all evil. All the problems of economics would instantly disappear if we could just manage to be virtuous first and foremost. 
 
A proper understanding of being rich would involve being content with what we have, instead of constantly wanting more and more. By such a definition, Crassus was downright impoverished, since he was never satisfied with what his abundance, and was always looking to increase his fortune. 
 
I have noticed much the same in so many of the affluent people I have known, who work on the assumption that something is wrong is their profits aren’t constantly increasing. While it may sound naïve, why can’t a business be considered a success if it manages to break even by providing a useful service? That way one man makes a living by helping another man to make his living, with no further bells and whistles required. 
 
I would further suggest that any problems in the disparity of wealth will arise from people being so desperately confused about how much is enough, and I will probably shock you when I say that the prevalent practice of usury, the act of making money from money, is at the root of so many of our social evils. No, Mr. Gekko, greed is not good. If we are modest in our desires, we can always make certain there is enough to go around. 
 
What is the use in having so much property, if I lack the wisdom to use it well? Indeed, it turns out that the more I understand about my nature, the more I also realize how little is necessary to live with excellence. If I can become richer in spirit, I will not demand to have such a fat wallet, or feel the urge to divert myself with so many superfluous luxuries. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5.5

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. 

—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. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5.4

But you say, “I have had the direction of important wars, I have presided over great empires and provinces.” 
 
Then carry about you a soul worthy of praise. A painting of Echion, or some statue of Polycletus, holds you bereft of your senses: I shall not mention from whom you took it, or by what means you possess it: but when I see you staring, gaping, and uttering cries, I look upon you to be the slave of all these follies. 
 
You ask me, "Are not these, then, elegant amusements?" 
 
They are: for I too have a cultivated eye; but I beseech you, let these elegances be so regarded as the playthings of boys, and not as the shackles of men. 
 
What think you then? If Lucius Mummius, after he had expressed his contempt for all Corinth, had seen one of these men examining most eagerly a Corinthian vase, whether would he have looked upon him as an excellent citizen, or a busy appraiser? 
 
If Manius Curius, or some of those Romans who in their villas and their houses had nothing that was costly, nothing besides themselves that was ornamental, should come to life again, and see one who had received the highest honors from the people, taking out of his tank his mullets or his carp, then handling them, and boasting of the abundance of his lampreys, would not the old Roman think that such a man was so very a slave, that he was not even fit for a very high employment in a household? 
 
Is the slavery of those men doubtful, who from their greediness for wealth spurn no condition of the hardest servitude? To what meanness of slavery will not the hope of succeeding to an estate make a man stoop? What gesture of the childless rich old fellow does he not observe? He frames his words to his inclination; he does whatever is commanded him; he courts him, he sits by him, he makes him presents. What of these is the part of a free man? What, indeed, is not the mark of an abject slave. 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5 
 
I do not know if it was right for Lucius Mummius to sack Corinth, or for Scipio Aemilianus to raze Carthage, just as I question whether it was right for the Allies to carpet-bomb German civilians, but I do know that a man who fights for his country’s honor does not let himself get sidetracked by adding to his collection of swanky art. 
 
I do not know if the Romans from the early years, like Manius Curius, were more frugal and disciplined than the Romans from the later years, just as I am suspicious when an old codger berates a young pipsqueak for being lazy, but I do know that a man who cares for his character does not fret over what wine will pair best with his dinner. 
 
Over the years, I have crossed paths with many who thought very highly of themselves, and who never missed the opportunity to proclaim the grandest of ideals. When the going got tough, however, they were nowhere to be found, unwilling to surrender their creature comforts for the sake of any genuine convictions. The affectations of culture and refinement are no substitute for an informed conscience, just as the vain ambition to be respected will inevitably clash with the solemn duty to offer respect. 
 
In the business realm, there are the slick wheeler-dealers, who flaunt their achievements at every turn, charm you when you are convenient, and ignore you completely once you are no longer of any use to them. Yet when you look behind the opulence and the titles, they will suddenly seem so very small. 
 
In the scholarly realm, there are the intellectual dandies, who quote from brooding novels, scent their beards, and smoke a churchwarden pipe to appear like Bilbo Baggins. Though they may not steal your money, they will feed off your attention, the haughtiness slipping away as soon as their pretensions are exposed. 
 
Nothing good will ever come from despising them, but I must always remember to never become like them. If I wish to elevate myself, there can be no reliance on props, and no treading on others in order to gain the advantage. It is liberating to realize how the folks who display the most confidence are the ones who depend so thoroughly on everything except their own virtues. This is why the Stoic recognizes them to be slaves. 
 
This will offend them tremendously, of course, which is a clue that you have shattered the illusion. If they truly believe they can thrive without leaning on fortune, challenge them to spend a month, or even a week, without any of their amenities, which will quickly reveal themselves to be the heaviest of chains. It will be more painful than a drunk going off the sauce cold turkey. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Nils Dardel, The Dying Dandy (1918) 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5.3

Can I call the men free whom a woman governs, to whom she gives laws, lays down directions, orders and forbids what to her seems fit; while he can deny and dare refuse nothing that she commands? 
 
Does she ask? He must give. Does she call? He must come. Does she order him off? He must vanish. Does she threaten? He must tremble. For my part, I call such a fellow, though he may have been born in the noblest family, not only a slave, but a most abject slave. 
 
And as in a large household, some slaves look upon themselves as more genteel than others, such as porters or gardeners, yet still they are slaves; in like manner, they who are inordinately fond of statues, of pictures, of embossed plate, of works in Corinthian brass, or magnificent palaces, are equally fools with the others.
 
"Nay, but,” say they, “we are the most eminent men of the state." 
 
Nay! you are not superior to your fellow slaves. But as in a household, they who handle the furniture, brush it, anoint their masters, who sweep, and water, do not occupy the highest rank of servitude; in like manner they who have abandoned themselves to their passions for these things, occupy nearly the lowest grade of slavery itself. 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 5 
 
Many a modern reader will assume this must be about the war between the sexes, when it is really about the essence of our humanity, whatever the accidents. It is one thing for any man or woman to freely accept good counsel, but quite another for any man or woman to become a mindless lackey. Once the passions are calling the shots, especially those fueled by groupthink, we are little more than slaves to our circumstances. 
 
Why should I spend twenty years jumping through hoops at school, to be followed by forty years of jumping through hoops at the office? Why is it necessary to pay a hefty mortgage, or marry a trophy wife, or train my children to define their success by baubles and balance sheets? 
 
“Well, that’s how it’s done.” 
 
And you will blindly take the master’s word on this? 
 
“Don’t be so silly! We don’t have masters and slaves anymore!” 
 
Be careful. Bondage takes on many forms. 
 
“Are you comparing me to some unskilled laborer? I’m a professional who gets what he wants.” 
 
And despite your impressive credentials, you are still working on someone else’s clock. Are you getting what you want, or are your wants getting you? 
 
Some folks will frown at me when I speak of striving for nobility, because they think I am talking about the trappings of rank instead of the content of character. I most certainly consider someone my better when he has proven how he is not at the beck and call of money, fame, and gratification. 
 
Among my eccentricities is a love of all things medieval, and my colleagues, who label the era as prudish, are often shocked by the bawdy and irreverent humor. This section brings to mind the old tale of Phyllis and Aristotle, in much the same vein as the many jokes about Xanthippe and Socrates. 
 
It is said that Aristotle was advising his young pupil, Alexander, to avoid the company of the alluring Phyllis. She overheard his criticism, however, and schemed to seduce the old philosopher, knowing that he was secretly enamored of her. When Aristotle finally begged for her favors, Phyllis only agreed on the condition that she be permitted to ride him like a horse, a humiliating scene which she had cleverly arranged for Alexander to witness. 
 
What use is the sharpest mind if it surrenders to the ficklest desires? What sort of man allows himself to be led by the nose once he spies a beautiful woman, or a heap of gold, or the prospect of prestige? Perhaps this never actually happened to Aristotle, but I see it happening every day, so it is a timely warning to us all. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Lucas Cranach the Elder, Phyllis and Aristotle (1530) 

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) 

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) 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 4.3

You most frantic of all madmen, will you never look around you? Will you never consider what you say, or what you do? Do you not know that exile is the penalty of guilt: but that the journey I set out upon was undertaken by me in consequence of the most illustrious exploits performed by me? 
 
All the criminals, all the profligates, of whom you avow yourself the leader, and on whom our laws pronounce the sentence of banishment, are exiles, even though they have not changed their locality. 
 
At the time when all our laws doom you to banishment, will you not be an exile? Is not the man an enemy who carries about him offensive weapons? A cutthroat belonging to you was taken near the senate house. Who has murdered a man? You have murdered many. Who is an incendiary? You; for with your own hand you set fire to the temple of the nymphs. Who violated the temples? You pitched your camp in the forum. 
 
But what do I talk of well-known laws, all which doom you to exile; for your most intimate friend carried through a bill with reference to you, by which you were condemned to be banished, if it was found that you had presented yourself at the mysteries of the goddess Bona; and you are even accustomed to boast that you did so. 
 
As therefore you have by so many laws been doomed to banishment, how is it that you do not shrink from the designation of exile? You say you are still at Rome, and that you were present at the mysteries too: but a man will not be free of the place where he may be, if he cannot be there with the sanction of the laws. 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 4 
 
I regularly find myself tempted to deeply distrust all authority and to bitterly resent being an outcast, until I remind myself why those who coerce are themselves lawless, whether they come from the right or from the left, and that those who exclude others are themselves exiles, regardless of their deference to this or that tribe. Whatever is lawful proceeds from Nature, and whoever denies Nature has already exiled himself from the human fellowship. 
 
Without the rule of reason, in which all of us must freely share, those vainglorious schemes will merely descend into madness. Be on your guard against those who inflame the passions, and yet they are unable to offer a sound argument in defense of their manifestos. 
 
When was the last time you heard a politician present a syllogism, or a preacher define his terms? They confidently speak of what is “good”, or cry out for “justice”, or stand with the “community”, while never establishing their first principles. Do not be surprised, therefore, when they ask you to lie, to slander, and to commit violence in the name of their causes. 
 
I have felt wronged by the man who claims to be in charge, all the while forgetting how he can do me no real harm, and the greatest evil is the one he inflicts upon himself. His power over me will be as great or as small as I allow it to be. 
 
I have felt banished from a place I consider my home, all the while forgetting how my true shelter is in my state of mind, not in any one place. A house is only as good or as bad as the character of the man who lives within its walls. 
 
The law of what is true, good, and beautiful is bigger than any one person, even as it includes the dignity of every single person, without exception. Though it is my privilege to discover what is lawful, it is arrogance to believe that I can create it, for I am not a measure, but a thing measured, not the Creator, but a creature. It is no accident that the wicked man likes to hide behind an unintelligible relativism, which clouds and distorts an objective sense of meaning and purpose. 
 
I can’t blame Cicero for getting a little hot under the collar about Clodius, and yet without the benefit of an informed conscience, he would become just as brutal as his opponent. Cicero shows a remarkable restraint in not simply murdering the rascal, a self-control perhaps born of a pity for such ignorance. The Stoic, and any man of goodwill, knows why succumbing to the vices is like suffering from a moral disease. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Frederick Dielman, Law (1896) 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 4.2

But see how much I despised the shafts of your villainy. That you aimed your villainous wrongs at me, I was always aware; but that they reached me I never thought. It is true, you might think that somewhat belonging to me was tumbling down or consuming, when you were demolishing my walls, and applying your detestable torches to the roofs of my houses. 
 
But neither I nor any man can call that our own which can be taken away, plundered, or lost. Could you have robbed me of my godlike constancy of mind, of my application, of my vigilance, and of those measures through which, to your confusion, the republic now exists; could you have abolished the eternal memory of this lasting service; far more, had you robbed me of that soul from which these designs emanated; then, indeed, I should have confessed that I had received an injury. 
 
But as you neither did nor could do this, your persecution rendered my return glorious, but not my departure miserable. I, therefore, was always a citizen of Rome, but especially at the time when the senate charged foreign nations with my preservation as the best of her citizens. 
 
As to you, you are at this time no citizen, unless the same person can be at once a citizen and an enemy. Can you distinguish a citizen from an enemy by the accidents of nature and place, and not by its affections and actions? 
 
You have perpetrated a massacre in the forum, and occupied the temples with bands of armed ruffians; you have set on fire the temples of the gods and the houses of private citizens. 
 
If you are a citizen, in what sense was Spartacus an enemy? Can you be a citizen, through whom, for a time, the state had no existence? And do you apply to me your own designation, when all mankind thought that on my departure Rome herself was gone into exile? 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 4 
 
Once a man binds himself to wickedness, he wishes to live his life as a contradiction, and what could be more insane than to repudiate his very nature? He demands to receive, though he will not bow to give. He expects to be adored, yet he never offers love. He considers himself an end, while he treats others as means. His entire outlook is a paradox: rules for thee, but not for me. 
 
He defines his worth by everything except his own character, and so he assumes that his own benefit must come at someone else’s expense. This is why he is so full of hatred, because his desire to acquire and to consume knows no bounds. Success is viewed as a series of conflicts, in which cooperation will only be the temporary mask for a cunning exploitation. 
 
A fellow like Clodius believes himself the victor when he has destroyed an enemy’s property, rank, and privileges, but he does not understand how a genuine liberty is in the dignity of the spirit, not from the circumstances of the flesh. All the scoundrel has managed is to diminish his own excellence, even as he unwittingly offers others an opportunity to stand firmer in their convictions. 
 
I do not think that Cicero expects this to come easily, but what a triumph it is to not become like your oppressor! Yes, while it is frustrating to lose one’s money, and painful to see one’s house burned to the ground, and downright agonizing to be exiled from one’s country, the bully can never seize another man’s integrity, the only unassailable fortress he can ever hold. Cicero did not have to be a card-carrying Stoic to understand this timeless truth. 
 
One reason I try to stay clear of any contemporary political bickering is that such an animosity is itself a blatant betrayal of precisely what it means to be a citizen. Where there is no love of neighbor, there can be no loyalty to the state, and hating an enemy, whatever the color of his flag, is no excuse for abandoning my humanity. Do not let the demagogues trick you into believing that the good of the fashionable many requires the destruction of the inconvenient few. 
 
Distinguish between the those who define their honor through power and those who define their honor through service. I think it no exaggeration to say that the rise or fall of whole civilizations depends upon the health of our personal virtues. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Thomas Cole, The Course of Empire: Destruction (1836)