Justus Lipsius, On Constancy 1.18

The first three kinds of destiny briefly explained. The definition or description of them all. The Stoics slightly and briefly excused.

"I call mathematical destiny that which ties and knits firmly all actions and events to the power of the planets and dispositions of the stars. Of which the Chaldeans and astrologists were the first authors. And among the philosophers that lofty Mercurius is principal and abettor, who subtly and wisely distinguishing providence, necessity, and destiny, says: providence is an absolute and perfect knowledge of the celestial God; which has two faculties nearly allied unto it, necessity and destiny. 

"Destiny truly serves and assists providence, and also necessity, but unto destiny itself the stars do minister. For neither may any man avoid the force of fate, nor beware of the power and influence of the stars. For these be the weapons and armor of destiny, at whose pleasure they do and perform all things to nature and men. In this foolish opinion are not only the common crew of astrologers, but, I shame to speak it, some divines. 

"I call natural fate the order of natural causes, which, not being hindered, by their force and nature do produce a certain and the selfsame effect. Aristotle is of this sect, if we give credit to Alexander of Aphrodisias his interpreter. Likewise, Theophrastus, who writes plainly, that destiny is the nature of each thing. By their opinion it is destiny that a man begets a man; and so that he dies of inward natural causes and not by violence or force, it is destiny. Contrarily, that a man should engender a serpent or a monster, it is besides destiny: also to be killed with a sword or by fire. 

"This opinion is not very offensive, for that indeed it ascends not so high as the force of fate or destiny. And does not everyone escape falling that keeps himself from climbing aloft? Such a one is Aristotle, almost everywhere writing ought of celestial matters, except it be in his book of the world, which is a golden treatise savoring of a more celestial air. I read moreover in a Greek writer that Aristotle thought that fate was no cause, but that chance was in some sort an alteration or change of the cause of such things as were disposed by necessity. 

"O the heart of a philosopher: that dares to account fortune and chance among the number of causes but not destiny. But let him pass: I come to the Stoics my friends (for I profess to hold that sect in estimation and account) who were the authors of violent fate, which with Seneca I define to be a necessity of all things and actions, which no force can withstand or break. And with Chrysippus, a spiritual power, governing orderly the whole world. 

"These definitions swerve not far from the truth if they be soundly and modestly expounded. Neither, happily, their opinion generally, if the common people had not condemned the same already by a prejudicate conceit. They are charged with two impieties, that they make God subject to the wheel of destiny, and also the actions of our will. I cannot boldly acquit them of both these faults: for out of some of their writings (few being at this day extant) we may gather those sayings, and out of some other we collect more wholesome sentences.

"Seneca, a principal pillar of that sect, stumbles at the first block of his book on providence where he says, the very same necessity binds God: an irrevocable course carries away both human and divine things. The maker and ruler of all things decreed destinies but now follows them; he commanded once, but he obeys forever. And that same indissoluble chain and linking together of causes which binds all things and persons seems plainly to infer force or constraint. 

"But the true Stoics never professed such doctrines, and if by chance any like sentence passed from them in the vehemency of their writing or disputing, it was more in words than in substance and sense. Chrysippus, who first corrupted that grave sect of philosophers with crabbed subtleties of questions, clears it from depriving man of free liberty. And our Seneca does not make God subject to fate (he was wiser than so) but God to God, after a certain kind of speech. For those Stoics that came nearest the truth do call destiny sometimes providence and sometimes God. 

"Therefore Zeno when he had called destiny a power moving about the same matter, after one and the same manner, he adds, which it boots not whether you call it providence or nature. Likewise Chrysippus elsewhere called destiny the eternal purpose or decree of providence. Panaetius the Stoic said, that God himself was fate, Seneca being of the same mind says, when you list you may call the author of nature and all things, by this or that name: you may justly term him the best and great Jupiter and thundering and Stator, that is stable and standing, not so called as historians deliver because after a vow undertaken, he stayed the Roman army from flying away; but because all things stand by his free benefit, therefore was he named stander or establisher. 

"If you call him also fate or destiny, you shall not belie him. For since that destiny is nothing but a folded order of causes, he is the principal and first cause of all whereon the residue does depend. Which last words are so godly spoken that slander itself cannot slander them. In this point dissented not from the Stoics that great writer to a great king: I think that necessity ought not to be called anything else but God, as a steadfast and stable nature. And destiny that which knits together all things and holds his course freely, without let or impediment. Which sayings, if they have any taste of temerity in them, yet not impiety; and being rightly interpreted differ not much from our true fate and destiny. 

"I do in good earnest give this commendation to the Stoics, that no other sect of philosophers avowed more the majesty and providence of God, nor drew men nearer to heaven and eternal things. And if in treading this trace of destiny they went somewhat astray, it was through a laudable and good desire they have to withdraw blind men from the blind goddess, I mean fortune: the nature whereof they did not only mightily hiss out of their company, but even the very name." 

IMAGE: John William Waterhouse, Destiny (1900) 

Storm on the Sea 31

John William Waterhouse, Miranda (1916) 

Stoic Snippets 261

The things are three of which you are composed: a little body, a little breath, intelligence. 

Of these the first two are yours, so far as it is your duty to take care of them; but the third alone is properly yours. . . . 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 12.3 

IMAGE: John William Waterhouse, The Soul of the Rose (1908) 

The Temple of Aesculapius

John William Waterhouse, A Sick Child Brought into the Temple of Aesculapius (1877) 

Consulting the Oracle

John William Waterhouse, Consulting the Oracle (1884) 

Delphic Maxims 49

Ὅσια κρῖνε 

Choose what is Divine 

IMAGE: John William Waterhouse, The Household Gods (1880) 

Xenophon, Memorabilia of Socrates 30

Again, in reference to the test to be applied, if we would gauge the qualifications of a friend worth the winning, the following remarks of Socrates could not fail, I think, to prove instructive.

"Tell me," said Socrates, addressing Critobulus, "supposing we stood in need of a good friend, how should we set about his discovery? We must, in the first place, I suppose, seek out one who is master of his appetites, not under the dominion, that is, of his belly, not addicted to the wine-cup or to lechery or sleep or idleness, since no one enslaved to such tyrants could hope to do his duty either by himself or by his friends, could he?"

"Certainly not," Critobulus answered. 

Socrates: "Do you agree, then, that we must hold aloof from every one so dominated?"

Critobulus: "Most assuredly."

"Well then," proceeded Socrates, "what shall we say of the spendthrift who has lost his independence and is for ever begging of his neighbors; if he gets anything out of them he cannot repay, but if he fails to get anything, he hates you for not giving—do you not think that this man too would prove but a disagreeable friend?" 

Critobulus: "Certainly."

Socrates: "Then we must keep away from him too?" 

Critobulus: "That we must."

Socrates: "Well! And what of the man whose strength lies in monetary transactions? His one craving is to amass money; and for that reason he is an adept at driving a hard bargain—glad enough to take in, but loath to pay out."

Critobulus: "In my opinion he will prove even a worse fellow than the last." 

Socrates: "Well! And what of that other whose passion for money-making is so absorbing that he has no leisure for anything else, save how he may add to his gains?" 

Critobulus: "Hold aloof from him, say I, since there is no good to be got out of him or his society." 

Socrates: "Well! What of the quarrelsome and factious person whose main object is to saddle his friends with a host of enemies?" 

Critobulus: "For God's sake let us avoid him also." 

Socrates: "But now we will imagine a man exempt indeed from all the above defects—a man who has no objection to receive kindnesses, but it never enters into his head to do a kindness in return." 

Critobulus: "There will be no good in him either. But, Socrates, what kind of man shall we endeavor to make our friend? What is he like?"

Socrates: "I should say he must be just the converse of the above: he has control over the pleasures of the body, he is kindly disposed, upright in all his dealings, very zealous is he not to be outdone in kindness by his benefactors, if only his friends may derive some profit from his acquaintance." 

Critobulus: "But how are we to test these qualities, Socrates, before acquaintance?" 

Socrates: "How do we test the merits of a sculptor?—not by inferences drawn from the talk of the artist merely. No, we look to what he has already achieved. These former statues of his were nobly executed, and we trust he will do equally well with the rest." 

Critobulus: "You mean that if we find a man whose kindness to older friends is established, we may take it as proved that he will treat his newer friends as amiably?" 

Socrates: "Why, certainly, if I see a man who has shown skill in the handling of horses previously, I argue that he will handle others no less skillfully again." 

Critobulus: "Good! And when we have discovered a man whose friendship is worth having, how ought we to make him our friend?" 

Socrates: "First we ought to ascertain the will of Heaven whether it be advisable to make him our friend." 

Critobulus: "Well! And how are we to effect the capture of this friend of our choice, whom the gods approve? will you tell me that?" 

"Not, in good sooth," replied Socrates, "by running him down like a hare, nor by decoying him like a bird, or by force like a wild boar. To capture a friend against his will is a toilsome business, and to bind him in fetters like a slave by no means easy. Those who are so treated are apt to become foes instead of friends." 

Critobulus: "But how convert them into friends?" 

Socrates: "There are certain incantations, we are told, which those who know them have only to utter, and they can make friends of whom they list; and there are certain philtres also which those who have the secret of them may administer to whom they like and win their love."

Critobulus: "From what source shall we learn them?" 

Socrates: "You need not go farther than Homer to learn that which the Sirens sang to Odysseus, the first words of which run, I think, as follows: 

"Hither, come hither, thou famous man, Odysseus, great glory of the Achaeans!"  

Critobulus: "And did the magic words of this spell serve for all men alike? Had the Sirens only to utter this one incantation, and was every listener constrained to stay?" 

Socrates: "No; this was the incantation reserved for souls athirst for fame, of virtue emulous." 

Critobulus: "Which is as much as to say, we must suit the incantation to the listener, so that when he hears the words he shall not think that the enchanter is laughing at him in his sleeve. I cannot certainly conceive a method better calculated to excite hatred and repulsion than to go to someone who knows that he is small and ugly and a weakling, and to breathe in his ears the flattering tale that he is beautiful and tall and stalwart. But do you know any other love-charms, Socrates?"

Socrates: "I cannot say that I do; but I have heard that Pericles was skilled in not a few, which he poured into the ear of our city and won her love." 

Critobulus: "And how did Themistocles win our city's love?" 

Socrates: "Ah, that was not by incantation at all. What he did was to encircle our city with an amulet of saving virtue." 

Critobulus: "You would imply, Socrates, would you not, that if we want to win the love of any good man we need to be good ourselves in speech and action?" 

"And did you imagine," replied Socrates, "that it was possible for a bad man to make good friends?" 

Critobulus: "Why, I could fancy I had seen some sorry speech-monger who was fast friends with a great and noble statesman; or again, some born commander and general who was boon companion with fellows quite incapable of generalship."

Socrates: "But in reference to the point we were discussing, may I ask whether you know of any one who can attach a useful friend to himself without being of use in return? Can service ally in friendship with disservice?" 

Critobulus: "In good sooth no. But now, granted it is impossible for a base man to be friends with the beautiful and noble, I am concerned at once to discover if one who is himself of a beautiful and noble character can, with a wave of the hand, as it were, attach himself in friendship to every other beautiful and noble nature." 

Socrates: "What perplexes and confounds you, Critobulus, is the fact that so often men of noble conduct, with souls aloof from baseness, are not friends but rather at strife and discord with one another, and deal more harshly by one another than they would by the most good-for-nothing of mankind." 

Critobulus: "Yes, and this holds true not of private persons only, but states, the most eager to pursue a noble policy and to repudiate a base one, are frequently in hostile relation to one another. 

"As I reason on these things my heart fails me, and the question, how friends are to be acquired, fills me with despondency. 

"The bad, as I see, cannot be friends with one another. For how can such people, the ungrateful, or reckless, or covetous, or faithless, or incontinent, adhere together as friends? Without hesitation I set down the bad as born to be foes not friends, and as bearing the birthmark of internecine hate. 

"But then again, as you suggest, no more can these same people harmonise in friendship with the good. For how should they who do evil be friends with those who hate all evil-doing? 

"And if, last of all, they that cultivate virtue are torn by party strife in their struggle for the headship of the states, envying one another, hating one another, who are left to be friends? where shall goodwill and faithfulness be found among men?" 

Socrates: "The fact is there is some subtlety in the texture of these things. Seeds of love are implanted in man by nature. Men have need of one another, feel pity, help each other by united efforts, and in recognition of the fact show mutual gratitude. 

"But there are seeds of war implanted also. The same objects being regarded as beautiful or agreeable by all alike, they do battle for their possession; a spirit of disunion enters, and the parties range themselves in adverse camps. Discord and anger sound a note of war: the passion of more-having, staunchless avarice, threatens hostility; and envy is a hateful fiend. 

"But nevertheless, through all opposing barriers friendship steals her way and binds together the beautiful and good among mankind. Such is their virtue that they would rather possess scant means painlessly than wield an empire won by war. 

"In spite of hunger and thirst they will share their meat and drink without a pang. Not bloom of lusty youth, nor love's delights can warp their self-control; nor will they be tempted to cause pain where pain should be unknown. It is theirs not merely to eschew all greed of riches, not merely to make a just and lawful distribution of wealth, but to supply what is lacking to the needs of one another. 

"Theirs it is to compose strife and discord not in painless oblivion simply, but to the general advantage. Theirs also to hinder such extravagance of anger as shall entail remorse hereafter. And as to envy they will make a clean sweep and clearance of it: the good things which a man possesses shall be also the property of his friends, and the goods which they possess are to be looked upon as his. Where then is the improbability that the beautiful and noble should be sharers in the honors of the state not only without injury, but even to their mutual advantage?

"They indeed who covet and desire the honors and offices in a state for the sake of the liberty thereby given them to embezzle the public moneys, to deal violently by their fellow-creatures, and to batten in luxury themselves, may well be regarded as unjust and villainous persons incapable of harmony with one another. 

"But if a man desire to obtain these selfsame honors in order that, being himself secure against wrong-doing, he may be able to assist his friends in what is right, and, raised to a high position, may essay to confer some blessing on the land of his fathers, what is there to hinder him from working in harmony with some other of a like spirit? Will he, with the "beautiful and noble" at his side, be less able to aid his friends? Or will his power to benefit the community be shortened because the flower of that community are fellow-workers in that work? 

"Why, even in the contests of the games it is obvious that if it were possible for the stoutest combatants to combine against the weakest, the chosen band would come off victors in every bout, and would carry off all the prizes. This indeed is against the rules of the actual arena; but in the field of politics, where the beautiful and good hold empery, and there is nought to hinder any from combining with whomsoever a man may choose to benefit the state, it will be a clear gain, will it not, for any one engaged in state affairs to make the best men his friends, whereby he will find partners and co-operators in his aims instead of rivals and antagonists? And this at least is obvious: in case of foreign war a man will need allies, but all the more if in the ranks opposed to him should stand the flower of the enemy. 

"Moreover, those who are willing to fight your battles must be kindly dealt with, that goodwill may quicken to enthusiasm; and one good man is better worth your benefiting that a dozen knaves, since a little kindness goes a long way with the good, but with the base the more you give them the more they ask for.

"So keep a good heart, Critobulus; only try to become good yourself, and when you have attained, set to your hand to capture the beautiful and good. 

"Perhaps I may be able to give you some help in this quest, being myself an adept in Love's lore. No matter who it is for whom my heart is aflame; in an instant my whole soul is eager to leap forth. With vehemence I speed to the mark. I, who love, demand to be loved again; this desire in me must be met by counter desire in him; this thirst for his society by thirst reciprocal for mine. 

"And these will be your needs also, I foresee, whenever you are seized with longing to contract a friendship. Do not hide from me, therefore, whom you would choose as a friend, since, owing to the pains I take to please him who pleases me, I am not altogether unversed, I fancy, in the art of catching men." 

Critobulus replied: "Why, these are the very lessons of instruction, Socrates, for which I have been long athirst, and the more particularly if this same love's lore will enable me to capture those who are good of soul and those who are beautiful of person."

Socrates: "Nay, now I warn you, Critobulus, it is not within the province of my science to make the beautiful endure him who would lay hands upon them. And that is why men fled from Scylla, I am persuaded, because she laid hands upon them; but the Sirens were different—they laid hands on nobody, but sat afar off and chanted their spells in the ears of all; and therefore, it is said, all men endured to listen, and were charmed." 

Critobulus: "I promise I will not lay violent hands on any; therefore, if you have any good device for winning friends, instruct your pupil." 

Socrates: "And if there is to be no laying on of the hands, there must be no application either of the lips; is it agreed?" 

Critobulus: "No, nor application of the lips to anyone—not beautiful." 

Socrates: "See now! You cannot open your mouth without some luckless utterance. Beauty suffers no such liberty, however eagerly the ugly may invite it, making believe some quality of soul must rank them with the beautiful." 

Critobulus: "Be of good cheer then; let the compact stand thus: 'Kisses for the beautiful, and for the good a rain of kisses.' So now teach us the art of catching friends." 

Socrates: "Well then, when you wish to win some one's affection, you will allow me to lodge information against you to the effect that you admire him and desire to be his friend?"

Critobulus: "Lodge the indictment, with all my heart. I never heard of any one who hated his admirers."

Socrates: "And if I add to the indictment the further charge that through your admiration you are kindly disposed towards him, you will not feel I am taking away your character?" 

Critobulus: "Why, no; for myself I know a kindly feeling springs up in my heart towards any one whom I conceive to be kindly disposed to me." 

Socrates: "All this I shall feel empowered to say about you to those whose friendship you seek, and I can promise further help; only there is a comprehensive 'if' to be considered: if you will further authorize me to say that you are devoted to your friends; that nothing gives you so much joy as a good friend; that you pride yourself no less on the fine deeds of those you love than on your own; and on their good things equally with your own; that you never weary of plotting and planning to procure them a rich harvest of the same; and lastly, that you have discovered a man's virtue is to excel his friends in kindness and his foes in hostility. If I am authorized thus to report of you, I think you will find me a serviceable fellow-hunter in the quest of friends, which is the conquest of the good."

Critobulus: "Why this appeal to me?—as if you had not free permission to say exactly what you like about me." 

Socrates: "No; that I deny, on the authority of Aspasia. I have it from her own lips. 'Good matchmakers,' she said to me, 'were clever hands at cementing alliances between people, provided the good qualities they vouched for were truthfully reported; but when it came to their telling lies, for her part she could not compliment them. Their poor deluded dupes ended by hating each other and the go-betweens as well.' Now I myself am so fully persuaded of the truth of this that I feel it is not in my power to say aught in your praise which I cannot say with truth."  

Critobulus: "Really, Socrates, you are a wonderfully good friend to me—in so far as I have any merit which will entitle me to win a friend, you will lend me a helping hand, it seems; otherwise you would rather not forge any petty fiction for my benefit." 

Socrates: "But tell me, how shall I assist you best, think you? By praising you falsely or by persuading you to try to be a good man? Or if it is not plain to you thus, look at the matter by the light of some examples. 

"I wish to introduce you to a shipowner, or to make him your friend: I begin by singing your praises to him falsely thus, 'You will find him a good pilot'; he catches at the phrase, and entrusts his ship to you, who have no notion of guiding a vessel. What can you expect but to make shipwreck of the craft and yourself together? 

"Or suppose by similar false assertions I can persuade the state at large to entrust her destinies to you—'a man with a fine genius for command,' I say, 'a practiced lawyer,' 'a politician born,' and so forth. The odds are, the state and you may come to grief through you. 

"Or to take an instance from everyday life. By my falsehoods I persuade some private person to entrust his affairs to you as 'a really careful and business-like person with a head for economy.' When put to the test would not your administration prove ruinous, and the figure you cut ridiculous? 

"No, my dear friend, there is but one road, the shortest, safest, best, and it is simply this: In whatsoever you desire to be deemed good, endeavour to be good. For of all the virtues namable among men, consider, and you will find there is not one but may be increased by learning and practice. 

"For my part then, Critobulus, these are the principles on which we ought to go a-hunting; but if you take a different view, I am all attention, please instruct me." 

Then Critobulus: "Nay, Socrates, I should be ashamed to gainsay what you have said; if I did, it would neither be a noble statement nor a true." 

—from Xenophon, Memorabilia 2.6 

IMAGE: John William Waterhouse, Ulysses and the Sirens (1891) 

Stoic Snippets 228

Inquire of yourself, as soon as you wake from sleep, whether it will make any difference to you if another does what is just and right. 

It will make no difference. 

You have not forgotten, I suppose, that those who assume arrogant airs in bestowing their praise or blame on others are such as they are at bed and at board, and you have not forgotten what they do, and what they avoid, and what they pursue, and how they steal and how they rob, not with hands and feet, but with their most valuable part, by means of which there is produced, when a man chooses, fidelity, modesty, truth, law, a good spirit? 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 10.13 

IMAGE: John William Waterhouse, Vanity (1910) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 64.4

If I meet a consul or a praetor, I shall pay him all the honor which his post of honor is wont to receive: I shall dismount, uncover, and yield the road. 
 
What, then? Shall I admit into my soul with less than the highest marks of respect Marcus Cato, the Elder and the Younger, Laelius the Wise, Socrates and Plato, Zeno and Cleanthes? 
 
I worship them in very truth, and always rise to do honor to such noble names. Farewell. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 64 
 
I especially enjoy the closing to this letter, and while I imagine many people will gloss over it as a merely rhetorical conclusion, I dwell upon it for a moment to remind myself of how important it is to practice sincere reverence. 
 
I once expected both theologians and philosophers to be filled with awe for the true, the good, and the beautiful, and yet I sadly found that most of them were too busy bickering with their colleagues, their smug faces and dismissive sneers betraying an enslavement to their “professional” pride. I now make it a point to avoid such petty vanities as best I possibly can.
 
In all walks of life, we immediately wish to be respected by others, but find it quite difficult to offer them respect in return. I therefore force myself, each morning when I wake, to reflect upon what I properly owe, not upon what I feel I am owed. A genuine piety, whether it be for institutions, for people, or ultimately for God, is only possible for me when I recognize why I am not the center and measure of all things. 
 
What is equal cannot exist outside of what is also greater or lesser. We do ourselves a disservice when we focus on the horizontal at the expense of the vertical. 
 
How can I expect to become better, if I foolishly believe I am already the best? Philosophy points me to universal and necessary principles that give meaning and purpose to all of reality, and so it is right for me to defer to them. By bowing down to what is greater than myself, I thereby also become most fully myself. 
 
Even as I can be quite the annoying radical, and I will not hesitate to cross the man who considers himself to be entitled, I am also quite happy to show honor when it is surely due. If you have earned a position, you have my submission; if you have achieved great deeds, you have my admiration. As long as it isn’t just about the show, it is fitting to freely give way to my superiors. 
 
And if it is suitable to show respect for a worldly station, how much more I am called to respect those who serve the glory of the soul! I owe everything of value in my life to the gifts of wisdom and virtue, and so the teachers of wisdom and virtue are the highest in my esteem. 
 
My Catholic friends might not be happy calling it worship, or even veneration, so let’s just stick with reverence. I am afraid that a man who cannot revere is accordingly incapable of any of the other virtues, for he acknowledges nothing beyond his own self-conceit. 

—Reflection written in 7/2013 

IMAGE: John William Waterhouse, The Shrine (1895) 

Stoic Snippets 215

What are these men's leading principles, and about what kind of things are they busy, and for what kind of reasons do they love and honor? 

Imagine that you see their poor souls laid bare. When they think that they do harm by their blame or good by their praise, what an idea! 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.34 

IMAGE: John William Waterhouse, Cleopatra (1888) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 31.1

Letter 31: On siren songs
 
Now I recognize my Lucilius! He is beginning to reveal the character of which he gave promise. Follow up the impulse which prompted you to make for all that is best, treading under your feet that which is approved by the crowd. 
 
I would not have you greater or better than you planned; for in your case the mere foundations have covered a large extent of ground; only finish all that you have laid out, and take in hand the plans which you have had in mind.
 
In short, you will be a wise man, if you stop up your ears; nor is it enough to close them with wax; you need a denser stopple than that which they say Ulysses used for his comrades. 
 
The song which he feared was alluring, but came not from every side; the song, however, which you have to fear, echoes round you not from a single headland, but from every quarter of the world. 
 
Sail, therefore, not past one region which you mistrust because of its treacherous delights, but past every city. Be deaf to those who love you most of all; they pray for bad things with good intentions. And, if you would be happy, entreat the gods that none of their fond desires for you may be brought to pass. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 31
 
I’m afraid I rarely receive compliments, but when I do, I find that they usually arise from some misapprehension, or are about qualities that are not truly to my credit. My dry humor does not reflect my principles, and my fancy degree does not make me smart. 
 
The praises tend to revolve around the ornate trappings, when what would most encourage me is to be recognized for some simple improvement to my character. As my son grows older, I make a deliberate point of drawing more attention to his understanding and his kindness than to his grades and his appearance. 
 
Every young Lucilius deserves a mentor like a Seneca, who offers a reminder of how genuine success comes from integrity instead of conformity. 
 
At the end of the day, let me honestly ask myself: did I do it because it was right, or did I do it because it was popular and convenient? Only I may know the real answer, but that is enough to make all the difference for me. 
 
Yes, the sirens will be serenading me the whole time, which is one of the reasons why it is so difficult to stay the course in this life. Like Odysseus, I might be curious to hear the song, and it is then prudent to have myself tied down to something substantial. Hard experience has taught me, however, that I don’t do well flirting with temptations to begin with, and I now find it safer to plug up my ears. 
 
Trust me, like that toy you wanted for Christmas, it always looked much better on television. The sirens promise you so much, and then you are left as a pile of bones. 
 
Sometimes I am warned to steer clear of this or that crowd, yet the danger is to be found among all tribes and in all corners of the world. It isn’t just the lawyers, or the hippies, or the car salesmen who lure us into poor decisions, since wherever two or more are gathered there is the tendency to play it safe and easy, a weakness of letting the herd define us. 
 
Nor should I assume any malice on the part of the yes-men, for they have never been inspired to think for themselves, and so they think it best to do only as they are told. As Seneca suggests, when they wish me well, I should smile politely and quicken my step. 

—Reflection written in 12/2012 

IMAGE: John William Waterhouse, Ulysses and the Sirens (1891) 

Pride

John William Waterhouse, Echo and Narcissus (1903)

Poverty

John William Waterhouse, Diogenes (1882)

Piety

John William Waterhouse, A Roman Offering (1891)

Seneca, On the Happy Life 40: Virtue, Not Poverty

. . . Am I to expect that evil speaking will respect anything, seeing that it respected neither Rutilius nor Cato?

Will anyone care about being thought too rich by men for whom Diogenes the Cynic was not poor enough? That most energetic philosopher fought against all the desires of the body, and was poorer even than the other Cynics, in that besides having given up possessing anything he had also given up asking for anything.

Yet they reproached him for not being sufficiently in want, as though it were poverty, not virtue, of which he professed knowledge.

—Seneca the Younger, On the happy life, Chapter 18 (tr Stewart)

Rome had many base men, but it also had many great men. Rutilius Rufus found himself exiled for defending the citizens against the corruption of tax collectors, and Cato the Younger felt it better to die than to live in a state dominated by the arrogance of Julius Caesar. Like so many who stood for what they thought was right over what was convenient, they were vilified and condemned.

Diogenes of Sinope was well known for his extreme criticism of a society that he thought was dominated by a lust for wealth, power, and privilege. While many found his behavior shocking and scandalous, this apparently didn’t stop people from also insisting that he was never quite poor enough to live up to his own standards. One wonders how a man who lived in a barrel, and who discarded his only bowl after seeing another man drink from his hands, could possibly have given up anything more.

I recall reading two articles at roughly the same time, one of which argued that Teresa of Calcutta had failed to do enough for the dying, while the other claimed that she had done far too much to keep them from dying. I have heard my different leaders tell me that the problem with the poor in America is that they have too little to survive on, and also that they have far too much. An important person once told me that teachers were the most valuable assets to any society, but he also insisted that they were grossly overpaid.

The problem, I think, is that we are quick to criticize without any sound moral measure, without a sense of right and wrong to guide our judgments. Diogenes wasn’t trying to teach people how to be impoverished, but he was rather trying to teach them how to be virtuous; being poor was hardly itself the point, but being good was.

Mother Teresa would have been baffled by the criticisms of the social planners, because she thought that the dignity of every individual human being could hardly be judged by graphs and statistics. I myself am deeply confused when we demand that people make something of themselves, but then never give them the opportunities to do so; a man cannot pull himself up by his bootstraps if he has no chance to buy himself any boots. A teacher, or a student, or any person at all, should never be thought of as a commodity subject to the greed of the market, to be used only as far as they make us a profit.

Like an armchair quarterback, the critic will find something flawed about you, whatever you might do, because he simply likes to point out what is wrong. He has no room for what is right, because that would require that he be constructive, not destructive. It is always easier to dismiss a perceived evil than to embrace a true good.

The Stoic, like any decent man, begins and ends his estimation of anything by asking how it can encourage us in being virtuous, and how it can discourage us from being vicious.

His moral compass always points to the pole of virtue. It is never about being rich or poor, or being of one or another social, racial, or political persuasion, but about aiming at that excellence that fulfills our shared human condition. A man is not good because of what he does or doesn’t have, but by what he does with what he does or doesn’t have. 

Written in 3/2002

Image: John William Waterhouse, Diogenes (1882)