Stockdale on Stoicism 60

No men avoid this initial terrible fear that only their imaginations can generate and few, if any, avoid the initial hesitant step of grudgingly giving ground while taking measure of their predicament. 

Finding himself sinking into the quagmire of complicity, hardly a man exists who does not wish he had stood up and blown the "enough’s enough" whistle sooner than he did. For self-respect—and in the long term sense, for mental health—the sooner he blows the whistle, the better.

If a person had delivered up your body to some passer by, you would certainly be angry. And do you feel no shame in delivery up your mind to any reviler, to be disconcerted and confounded?

It is better to die of hunger, exempt from guilt and fear, than to live in affluence with perturbation.

If a man’s sense of honor, his good faith, and his prudence are not destroyed, then he too is preserved; but if any of these perish or be taken by storm, then he too perishes with them.

Once the neophyte political prisoner realizes that experiencing pain is not as bad as its anticipation, a kind of equanimity and pride comes over him. He knows that it is the unpunished complicity, not the tortured compliance, that tears a man apart. 

He casts aside the error of involving himself with externals, of depending on "what is not up to him," on another’s sympathy, gullibility, or the price for making a "deal." 

He uses both the rational and irrational elements of his soul—both part of the same to the Stoic—to see his proper role in the unfolding drama. 

He accommodates himself to fate. He makes a declaration to himself and to the prison regime that, regarding his choices, he is "free." 

He has arrived at the point where the "strategic" side of Stoicism, the accommodation to fate and mind over matter, can bring him peace.

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

IMAGE: Evelyn De Morgan, Hope in a Prison of Despair (1887) 

The Field of the Slain

Evelyn De Morgan, The Field of the Slain (1916) 

The Storm Spirits

Evelyn De Morgan, The Storm Spirits (c. 1900) 

Aurora Triumphans

Evelyn De Morgan, Aurora Triumphans (c. 1886) 

Night and Sleep

Evelyn De Morgan, Night and Sleep (1878) 

Jottings on Marcus 2

Whatever this is that I am, it is a little flesh, and breath, and the ruling part. . . . 

—from Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 2.2 

I am told to care for myself, to improve myself, to make something of myself, and yet all the while they are pointing at everything that isn't myself. 

This body is just like any other, and this life that animates it is just like any other. The one will return to the earth once the other is snuffed out. 

In the meantime, there is the mind that keeps watch, that governs over the rest. For the moment, that is mine, and so it is unlike any other. 

IMAGE: Evelyn De Morgan, The Passing of the Soul at Death (1919) 

Justus Lipsius, On Constancy 1.12

The third affection bridled, which is commiseration or pitying, being a vice. It is distinguished from mercy. How, and how far forth we ought to use it.

Langius with this conference having scattered abroad some dark mists from my mind, I spoke to him thus: "My father, what by admonitions, and what by instructions you have done me great good; so that it seems that I am now able to moderate my affection toward the native soil, or commonwealth wherein I was born, but not toward the persons of my fellow citizens and countrymen. 

"For how should I not be touched and tormented with the calamities of my country for my countrymen's sake, who are tossed in this sea of adversities, and do perish by sundry misfortunes?" 

Langius, taking my tale by the end, "This is not," said he, "properly sorrow, but rather commiseration or pitying, which must be despised of him that is wise and constant; whom nothing so much beseems as steadiness and steadfastness of courage, which he cannot retain, if he is cast down not only with his own mishaps, but also at other men's." 

"What Stoical subtleties are these?" Said I. "Will you not have me to pity another man's case? Surely it is a virtue among good men, and such as have any religion in them?" 

"I deny that," said Langius, "and I trust no good man will be offended with me, if I purge the mind of this malady, for it is a very dangerous contagion, and I judge him not far from a pitiful state that is subject to the pitying of others. 

"As it is a token of naughty eyes to wax watery when they behold other blear eyes, so is it of the mind that mourns at every other man's mourning. It is defined to be, the fault of an object and base mind, cast down at the show of another's mishap. 

"When then? Are we so unkind and void of humanity that we would have no man to be moved at another's misery? Yes, I allow that we be moved to help them, not to bewail or wail with them. I permit mercy, but it is not pitying I call mercy, an inclination of the mind to succor the necessity or misery of another. This is that virtue, Lipsius, which you see through a cloud, and instead whereof pity intrudes herself unto you. 

"But, you will say, it is incident to man's nature to be moved with affection and pity. Be it so, yet certainly it is not decent and right. Do you think that any virtue consists in softness and abjection of the mind? In sorrowing? In sighing? In sobbing together with such as weep? It cannot be so. 

"For I will show you some greedy old wives and covetous misers from whose eyes you may sooner wring a thousand tears than one small penny out of their purses. But he that is truly merciful in deed will not bemoan or pity the condition of distressed persons but yet will do more to help and succor them than the other. 

"He will behold men's miseries with the eye of compassion, yet ruled and guided by reason. He will speak unto them with a sad countenance but not mourning or prostrate. He will comfort heartily, and help literally. He will perform more in works than in words: and he will stretch out unto the poor and needy his hand rather than his tongue. 

"All this will he do with discretion and care, that he not infect himself with other men's contagion, and that, as fencers use to say, he bears not other's blows upon his own ribs. What is here savoring of inhumanity or churlishness? 

"Even so, all the wisdom seems austere and rigorous at the first view. But if you consider thoroughly of it, you shall find the same to be meek, gentle; yes, more mild and amiable than Venus herself. Let this suffice touching the three fore-rehearsed affections; whom if I have in part expelled from you, it will greatly avail me to get the victory in the battle that shall ensue." 

IMAGE: Evelyn De Morgan, Demeter Mourning for Persephone (c. 1906) 

Love the Misleader

Evelyn De Morgan, Love the Misleader (c. 1889) 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 146

Avoid cupidity, and you conquer a kingdom. 

IMAGE: Evelyn De Morgan, Blindness and Cupidity Chasing Joy from the City (1897) 

Hunted Joy flies through the gate.
Blind Blindness is left desolate.
Cupidity the city's fate. 
With hungry hounds insatiate,
Stays fettered to a sightless mate. 

Seneca, Moral Letters 12.5

But now I ought to close my letter. 

 

“What?” you say, “shall it come to me without any little offering?” 

 

Be not afraid; it brings something—no, more than something, a great deal. For what is more noble than the following saying of which I make this letter the bearer: 

 

“It is wrong to live under constraint; but no man is constrained to live under constraint.”

 

Of course not. On all sides lie many short and simple paths to freedom; and let us thank God that no man can be kept in life. We may spurn the very constraints that hold us.

 

“Epicurus,” you reply, “uttered these words; what are you doing with another's property?” 

 

Any truth, I maintain, is my own property. And I shall continue to heap quotations from Epicurus upon you, so that all persons who swear by the words of another, and put a value upon the speaker and not upon the thing spoken, may understand that the best ideas are common property. Farewell.

 

We don’t have the letters Lucilius wrote back to Seneca, so I can only speculate if the young man expressed his frustration with these constant references to Epicurus. Regardless, Seneca continues to drive home that truth matters more than tribalism. It is an important lesson, in any time or place, and it warrants regular reminders. 

 

The habit of ending the letter with a short quote fondly reminds me of my father leaving little sheets from a German calendar on my desk every morning, which included a helpful literary reference for the day. For many years, I would then do something similar by regularly writing out a passage on the dry erase board outside my office. Such little practices can be surprisingly inspirational. 

 

A central tenet of Stoicism is that, though I might feel like the world is always closing in on me, it remains within my power to be free. I must first understand that while it is impossible for me to rule the world, it is always possible for me to rule myself; the circumstances of my body, my possessions, or my standing with others will come and go, even as my thoughts are my own. 

 

That may seem like very little at first, until I realize that the way anything is present to me will be interpreted through those very judgments, and I will decide how I shall make use of it. Whatever comes my way, I have the opportunity to do the right thing, and that can, if I stand firm, make my conscience inviolable. 

 

Have I grown tired of people pushing me around and threatening me with force? Let me remember the limits of what is actually under their command. They can chain the body, but they can’t chain the soul. 

 

Now I might think that this only works with the little things, and not with the big things. Maybe I can put up with my bosses cheating me, or the government taking my money, or getting shunned at the Church social, but what can I do if I face the prospect of overwhelming suffering?

 

If it truly is overwhelming, then it will surely have to destroy me. Yet even the threat of death itself now becomes another chance to be fully myself, to face my end with peace of mind. The Stoic Turn always puts the ball back in my court. 

 

Another may choose to do me wrong, to the point of killing me, but he can never make me choose to do any wrong. While I still live, I can always live well, where there is never any constraint on my happiness. 

 

When all other options are closed to me, death then becomes that final liberation from worldly bondage. I only fear growing old and passing away when I have placed my dignity beyond the merit of my character. 

Written in 6/2012

IMAGE: Evelyn De Morgan, The Angel of Death (1881)

Epictetus, The Handbook 26: Getting What is Mine

. . . ‘Get them then,' says he, 'that we may have them.'

If I can get them and keep my self-respect, honor, magnanimity, show the way and I will get them. But if you call on me to lose the good things that are mine, in order that you may win things that are not good, look how unfair and thoughtless you are.

And which do you really prefer? Money, or a faithful, modest friend? Therefore help me rather to keep these qualities, and do not expect from me actions which will make me lose them.

'But my country,' says he, 'will lack assistance, so far as lies in me.’

Once more I ask, what assistance do you mean? It will not owe colonnades or baths to you. What of that? It does not owe shoes to the blacksmith or arms to the shoemaker; it is sufficient if each man fulfills his own function. Would you do it no good if you secured to it another faithful and modest citizen?

'Yes.’

Well, then, you would not be useless to it.

'What place then shall I have in the city?'

Whatever place you can hold while you keep your character for honor and self-respect. But if you are going to lose these qualities in trying to benefit your city, what benefit, I ask, would you have done for her when you attain to the perfection of being lost to shame and honor?

—Epictetus, The Handbook, Chapter 24 (tr Matheson)

Epictetus has just told us that we don’t have wealth and influence within our power. What is our response? Well, let’s find a way to go and get them within our power.

Perhaps we misunderstood. It isn’t that we don’t have them right now, it’s that we can never have them. To think that I can ever become the master of my circumstances, to possess things other than myself, is one of those big lies the world tells us from day one. As soon as I desire them, I do not possess them, but I have permitted them to possess me.

Linked closely to that lie is another one, that it is possible for me to maintain my character and pursue a life dedicated at the same time to wealth, pleasure, and power. The measure of defining myself by the excellence of my thoughts and deeds is diametrically opposed to the measure of defining myself by what happens to me. A man will give anything for what he loves the most, and if he loves money and influence, he will surely sacrifice his virtue for it.

No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.

A virtuous grasping man is about as possible as a faithful adulterer, or a fair thief, or an honest flatterer.

I have long appreciated Epictetus’ question: which would I prefer, wealth or a faithful friend? I can estimate both myself and others quite well by this standard. I have known many people who would choose the wealth, though they might not be very honest in admitting it, and I have known many people who would say they would like both, please.

The first person has chosen to dispose of his moral dignity, while the second is kidding himself. Both are the sorts of people best avoided, as hard experience has taught me.

Another way of asking the same question is simply to ask what someone would like to be. Notice how they understand those words will lead to very different sorts of answers. I knew a girl once, quite to my detriment, who told me that what she wanted most was to be a lawyer and a singer. Now that sounds perfectly harmless at first, but that was what she thought defined her, and she lived in a way that showed how she was beholden to externals. Another girl once told me she wanted to be the best friend she could be. I married her.

We might ask ourselves what makes a person be a benefit to society. Notice how often we are impressed by the rich and powerful, who often became rich and powerful precisely because of their greed and dishonesty, giving so freely of their bounty, and we say that they are pillars of the community. I, for one, prefer to admire the humble, honest man whose labors are so taken for granted. He is the real pillar of the community, not because he is rich in power or possessions, because but he is rich in virtue.

I have long lost track of the number of times I have heard people tell me that it is sometimes necessary to compromise integrity or justice in order to get things done. I have been told, for example, that it was necessary to tolerate a sex offender to save the reputation of the Church, or that it was acceptable to change a student-athlete’s grades for the good of the team and the school, or that a resume didn’t have to be totally honest as long as it got someone a job.

There are no victimless crimes, because at the very least a man has harmed himself when he acts poorly. As soon as a he has sold his character by acting unjustly, he no longer has anything of worth to give to anyone.

Written in 4/2007

Image: Evelyn De Morgan, The Worship of Mammon (1909)