On Duties, Book II

1 I believe the preceding book has sufficiently explained how duties derive from moral goodness, Marcus, my son, and from every branch of virtue. Next I must examine those kinds of duty that concern the comforts of life, the means of obtaining the things people use, wealth, and resources [an inquiry in which, as I said, we ask both what is advantageous and what is not, and, among advantageous things, what is more advantageous or most advantageous]. I shall begin discussing these matters after saying a little about my purpose and the reasons for my decision.

2 Although my books have inspired many people not only to read but also to write, I sometimes fear that certain good men dislike the very name of philosophy and wonder why I devote so much time and effort to it. For my part, as long as the republic was governed by those to whom it had entrusted itself, I directed all my care and thought toward it. But when everything fell under one man’s domination, when there was no room anywhere for deliberation or influence, and when, finally, I had lost the distinguished men who had been my partners in defending the republic, I surrendered neither to grief, which would have destroyed me had I not resisted it, nor, on the other hand, to pleasures unworthy of an educated man.

3 If only the republic had remained in the condition in which it had begun, instead of falling into the hands of men eager not so much to change the state as to overthrow it! First, as I used to do when the republic still stood, I would devote more effort to action than to writing. Then, in my writings themselves, I would record not the subjects I discuss today but my speeches, as I often did before. But when the republic, on which I used to spend all my care, thought, and effort, had ceased to exist altogether, those writings for the courts and the Senate naturally fell silent.

4 Yet my mind could not remain idle. Having pursued these studies from my earliest years, I thought that returning to philosophy would be the most honorable way to lay my troubles aside. I had devoted much time to learning philosophy in my youth. But once I began to devote myself to public office and gave myself wholly to the republic, philosophy had only whatever time remained after my friends and the republic had received their share. All of that time went into reading; there was no leisure for writing.

5 Amid the greatest evils, then, I seem at least to have secured this good: I have committed to writing subjects that were insufficiently known among our people and were eminently worth knowing. For, by the gods, what is more desirable than wisdom, what more excellent, what better for a human being, or more worthy of one? Those who seek it are therefore called philosophers, and philosophy, if you translate the word, means nothing other than the pursuit of wisdom. Wisdom, as the ancient philosophers defined it, is knowledge of things divine and human, and of the causes on which those things depend. What anyone who condemns its pursuit could possibly think worthy of praise, I truly cannot understand.

6 If we seek delight for the mind and relief from cares, what can compare with the pursuits of those who are always investigating something that bears on living well and happily? If, instead, we consider firmness of character and virtue, philosophy is either the art through which we attain them, or there is no such art at all. To say that there is no art governing the greatest matters, when not even the smallest is without one, is to speak with little thought and to be mistaken about the most important things. But if there is a discipline of virtue, where will you look for it once you abandon this kind of learning? These matters, however, are usually discussed more fully when we urge people toward philosophy, as I did in another book. Here I needed only to explain why, deprived of my duties to the republic, I turned above all to this pursuit.

7 An objection is raised against me, even by learned and educated people. They ask whether I am acting consistently enough when I say that nothing can be known with certainty, yet regularly discuss other subjects and am now setting out rules of duty. I wish they understood my position well enough. I am not one of those whose mind wanders in uncertainty and never has anything to follow. What sort of mind—or rather, what sort of life—would that be, if we took away any rational basis not only for discussion but also for living? Others say that some things are certain and others uncertain; we disagree with them, calling some things probable and others not.

8 What, then, prevents me from following what seems probable to me and rejecting the opposite, avoiding the arrogance of dogmatic assertion and keeping clear of rashness, which is utterly at odds with wisdom? Our school argues against every position because probability itself cannot come to light unless the arguments on both sides have been brought into contest. But I believe I have explained this carefully enough in my Academic Discussions. As for you, my dear Cicero, although you are studying a very ancient and distinguished philosophy under Cratippus, who closely resembles the men who originated those splendid teachings, I did not want you to remain unfamiliar with these views of mine, so close to yours. But now let us return to our subject.

9 I set out five lines of inquiry for examining duty. Two concerned propriety and moral goodness; two concerned the comforts of life, resources, wealth, and means; and the fifth concerned our judgment in choosing whenever the things I have mentioned seemed to conflict. The part concerning moral goodness is now complete, and I am eager for you to know it thoroughly. Our present subject is precisely what is called advantageous. With this word, common usage has lost its way and gradually reached the point of separating moral goodness from advantage, declaring that something could be honorable without being advantageous, or advantageous without being honorable. No greater calamity could have been brought upon human life.

10 Philosophers of the highest authority do indeed make a rigorous and morally sound distinction in thought among these three intertwined concepts. They hold that whatever is just is also advantageous, and likewise that whatever is honorable is just. It follows that whatever is honorable is also advantageous. Those who fail to see this clearly often admire crafty, calculating people and mistake cunning for wisdom. They must be freed from this error, and their whole outlook redirected so that they understand that their hope of getting what they want lies in honorable plans and just actions, not in fraud and dishonest cunning.

11 Of the things that help sustain human life, some are inanimate, such as gold and silver, the things that grow from the earth, and others of the same kind. Others are living beings, with impulses and appetites of their own. Among these, some lack reason and others possess it. Those without reason include horses, cattle, other livestock, and bees, whose work produces something useful for human life. Beings that possess reason are divided into two kinds: gods and human beings. Devotion and reverence will secure the gods’ favor; next to the gods, and second only to them, human beings can be of the greatest benefit to one another.

12 The same division applies to things that injure and harm us. But since the gods are not thought to cause harm, they are left out, and human beings are considered capable of inflicting the greatest harm on one another. Indeed, most of the very things we have called inanimate are products of human labor. We would not possess them without the contribution of human hands and skill, nor could we use them without human management. Neither the care of health, nor navigation, nor agriculture, nor the harvesting and preservation of grain and other produce could have existed at all without human effort.

13 Surely, too, there would be no export of the things we have in abundance or import of those we lack unless people performed these services. Likewise, without human labor and hands, the stone we need would not be quarried from the earth, nor would iron, copper, gold, and silver be dug from their deep hiding places. And houses, which keep out the force of the cold and relieve the discomfort of heat—how could the human race have obtained them in the first place, or later found replacements when storms, earthquakes, or age brought them down, unless life in community had taught people to seek human help in these matters?

14 Add aqueducts, channels diverting rivers, irrigation of fields, barriers against the waves, and artificial harbors: where could we obtain these without human work? These and many other examples make it clear that whatever gains and benefits we derive from inanimate things, we could never have obtained them without human hands and labor. Finally, what return or benefit could we get from animals without human help? Certainly, those who first discovered what use we could make of each animal were human beings. Nor could we now feed, tame, or protect them, or obtain their products at the proper time, without human effort. It is also human beings who kill harmful animals and capture those that can be useful.

15 Why should I list the many arts without which life could not have existed at all? How would the sick be helped, what enjoyment would the healthy have, what nourishment or comforts would there be, unless so many arts served us? Through these things, human life has been refined until it stands far apart from the feeding and habits of beasts. Cities, moreover, could neither have been built nor populated without people coming together. From this came established laws and customs, then a fair apportionment of rights and a settled order of life. These were followed by gentleness of spirit and a sense of decency. Life became more secure, and through giving and receiving, and exchanging resources and benefits, we came to lack nothing.

16 We are dwelling on this longer than necessary. Who does not clearly see what Panaetius recounts at such length: that no commander in war, no leader at home, has ever accomplished anything great and beneficial without the devoted support of others? He cites Themistocles, Pericles, Cyrus, Agesilaus, and Alexander, maintaining that they could not have achieved so much without human assistance. He calls unnecessary witnesses to an undisputed fact. Yet just as we gain great benefits through human cooperation and concord, so no scourge is too dreadful for one human being to inflict on another. Dicaearchus, a great and prolific Peripatetic philosopher, wrote a book on the destruction of human life. After gathering the other causes—floods, plagues, devastation, even sudden swarms of wild beasts, whose onslaught, he shows, has wiped out certain peoples—he compares them with human violence, showing how many more people have been destroyed by it, through wars or civil strife, than by every other calamity combined.

17 Since there can be no doubt, then, that human beings do one another the greatest good and the greatest harm, I hold that a distinctive task of virtue is to win people’s goodwill and enlist it in our service. Whatever benefits human life through the handling of inanimate things or the use and management of animals, we owe to the labors of the practical arts. But the willing support of others, ready and eager to advance our fortunes, is awakened by the wisdom and virtue of outstanding men.

18 Indeed, virtue as a whole turns chiefly on three things. The first is to discern what is true and genuine in each matter, what accords with each thing, what follows from it, from what each thing springs, and what its cause is. The second is to restrain the disturbed movements of the mind, which the Greeks call “passions,” and to make our desires, which they call “impulses,” obedient to reason. The third is to deal with our associates with restraint and understanding, so that through their support we may have everything nature requires supplied fully and abundantly; through those same people we may also ward off any harm inflicted upon us and punish those who have tried to injure us, imposing only such a penalty as fairness and humanity allow.

19 How we can acquire this ability to win people’s goodwill and retain it, I shall explain before long; but a few things must be said first. Who does not know how powerful fortune is in either direction, for prosperity or adversity? When her favorable breeze carries us, we are borne to the outcome we desire; when it blows against us, we are dashed down. Fortune’s other accidents are comparatively rare: first, those arising from inanimate things—gales, storms, shipwrecks, collapsing buildings, fires—and then those arising from animals—blows, bites, attacks. These, as I have said, are relatively rare.

20 But the destruction of armies, as recently of three; the frequent downfall of many commanders, as recently of a man of supreme and exceptional distinction; the envy of the multitude and the consequent frequent expulsion, ruin, and exile of deserving citizens; and, on the other side, prosperity, honors, commands, and victories—all these, though matters of chance, cannot come about in either direction without human resources and support. With this understood, we must explain how we can attract and awaken people’s goodwill to our advantage. If the discussion proves rather long, let its length be measured against the greatness of the benefit; perhaps it will then seem rather brief.

21 Whatever people bestow on someone to advance his fortunes and honor him, they give either out of goodwill, because for some reason they love him; or out of respect, because they look up to his virtue and think him worthy of the most exalted position; or because they trust him and believe that he takes good care of their interests; or because they fear his power; or, again, because they expect something from him, as when kings or popular leaders offer gifts; or, finally, because money and payment induce them. This last method is certainly the most sordid and corrupt, both for those who are caught by it and for those who attempt to resort to it.

22 Things are in a bad state when money is used to attempt what virtue ought to accomplish. Yet because this resource is sometimes necessary, I shall explain how to use it, after first discussing the things more closely related to virtue. People also submit themselves to another’s command and authority for several reasons. They are moved by goodwill, by the greatness of the benefits they have received, by someone’s superior standing, by the hope that submission will serve their interests, or by fear that force will compel their obedience. Or they are captivated by promises and the hope of gifts; or, finally, as we often see in our own republic, they are hired for pay.

23 Of all things, nothing is better suited to protecting and preserving power than being loved, and nothing is more opposed to it than being feared. Ennius puts it admirably: “They hate the man they fear; the man one hates, one wishes dead.” If it was once unknown that no power can withstand the hatred of many, it has recently become clear. It is not only the death of this tyrant—whose armed oppression our state endured and whom it still obeys now that he is dead—that shows how powerfully human hatred works toward destruction. The similar ends of other tyrants show it too; scarcely any of them has escaped such a death. Fear is a poor guardian of lasting power; goodwill, by contrast, is faithful even for all time.

24 By all means let those who hold people crushed by force under their command employ cruelty, as masters do toward slaves, if they cannot otherwise keep their hold. But nothing could be more insane than for people in a free state to equip themselves to inspire fear. However deeply someone’s power has submerged the laws, however thoroughly freedom has been frightened into silence, both nevertheless emerge again at some point, whether through unspoken judgments or secret ballots for public office. And freedom after a period of suppression bites more fiercely than freedom continuously enjoyed. Let us therefore embrace the principle that reaches furthest and does most, not only for our safety but also for our resources and power: banish fear and preserve affection. In this way we shall most readily obtain what we want, both in private life and in public affairs. For those who wish to be feared must themselves fear the very people who fear them.

25 What torment of fear, then, do we think used to grip the elder Dionysius, who was so afraid of barbers’ razors that he had his hair singed with a glowing coal? In what state of mind do we imagine Alexander of Pherae lived? As we read in the account, although he dearly loved his wife Thebe, whenever he came from dinner to her bedroom he ordered a barbarian to go before him with a drawn sword—a man, indeed, marked with Thracian tattoos, as the account specifies. He also sent men from his bodyguard ahead to search the women’s chests and examine the clothing for any concealed weapon. What a miserable man, to consider a barbarian, and a tattooed one at that, more trustworthy than his wife! Nor did his fears deceive him: it was she herself who killed him, suspecting him of keeping a mistress. No power of command is so great that it can endure under the pressure of fear.

26 Phalaris is a witness to this, a man whose cruelty is notorious above all others. He did not die through a conspiracy, like the Alexander I have just mentioned, or at the hands of a few, like our own tyrant: the entire population of Agrigentum attacked him. Again, did not the Macedonians abandon Demetrius and go over to Pyrrhus together? And when the Spartans ruled unjustly, did not almost all their allies suddenly desert them and stand idly watching the disaster at Leuctra? On such a subject I prefer recalling foreign examples to examples from home. Nevertheless, as long as the Roman people maintained their empire through benefits rather than injuries, wars were fought either to defend our allies or to decide supremacy; their outcomes were either merciful or no harsher than necessity required. The Senate was a harbor and refuge for kings, peoples, and nations; and our magistrates and commanders sought their greatest glory in this one achievement: defending our provinces and allies with fairness and good faith.

27 Accordingly, that relationship could more truly have been called a guardianship of the world than an empire. We had already been gradually weakening this tradition and discipline, but after Sulla’s victory we lost it altogether. Once such cruelty had been practiced against our citizens, nothing done to our allies any longer seemed unjust. In Sulla’s case, then, an honorable cause was followed by a dishonorable victory. Setting up the auction spear and selling in the Forum the property of good men and wealthy men—men who were certainly citizens—he dared to declare that he was selling his own spoils. He was followed by another who, in an impious cause and with a still more shameful victory, did not merely confiscate individual citizens’ property, but subjected entire provinces and regions to one common sentence of ruin.

28 Thus, after foreign nations had been harried and destroyed, we saw Massilia carried in triumph as an emblem of our lost empire, and a triumph celebrated over that city without whose help our commanders had never celebrated triumphs for wars beyond the Alps. I would recount many other crimes against our allies, if the sun had ever seen anything more shameful than this single act. We are therefore justly punished. Had we not tolerated the unpunished crimes of many, such boundless license would never have passed into the hands of one man. From him a few have inherited his property, but many wicked men have inherited his appetites.

29 Nor will the seed and cause of civil wars ever be lacking while ruined men remember that bloodstained auction spear and hope to see it again. P. Sulla wielded it when his kinsman was dictator, and thirty-six years later he still did not keep away from a yet more criminal auction spear. Another man, who had been a clerk in that dictatorship, was city quaestor in this one. From this we should understand that, with such rewards on offer, civil wars will never be lacking. Thus only the walls of our city still stand and remain—and even they now fear the worst outrages—but the republic itself we have utterly lost. We fell into these disasters—I must return to my subject—because we preferred to be feared rather than cherished and loved. If these things could happen to the Roman people when they ruled unjustly, what should individuals expect? Since it is clear that goodwill is powerful and fear weak, it follows that we should discuss how we can most readily gain the affection we desire, together with respect and trust.

30 But we do not all need that affection to the same degree. Whether we need to be loved by many or whether the love of a few is enough must be judged according to the life each of us has chosen. Let this, then, be settled as our first and most essential need: to have loyal friendships with people who love us and admire our achievements. This is indeed the one thing in which there is little difference between men of the highest standing and ordinary men; both must secure it to much the same extent.

31 Honor, glory, and the goodwill of their fellow citizens may not be equally necessary to everyone; yet those who possess them find them of some help both in other pursuits and in forming friendships. But friendship has been discussed in another book, entitled Laelius. Let us now speak of glory. Although I have written two books on that subject too, we should touch on it here, since it contributes greatly to the conduct of important affairs. Glory in its highest and fullest form consists, then, of these three things: the people’s affection, their trust, and their admiring belief that one deserves honor. To put it simply and briefly, these are generally won from the multitude by the same means that win them from individuals. Yet there is also another way of approaching the multitude, by which we may, so to speak, flow into the hearts of all.

32 Of the three things I mentioned, let us first consider the rules for winning goodwill. This is gained chiefly through acts of kindness; next, goodwill is awakened by a disposition to do good, even when the means happen to be lacking. The people’s affection is powerfully stirred by the mere reputation and appearance of generosity, beneficence, justice, trustworthiness, and all the virtues that contribute to gentleness and an approachable character. For what we call honorable and fitting pleases us in itself, moves every heart by its own nature and beauty, and shines most clearly, as it were, through the virtues I have mentioned. Nature itself therefore compels us to love those in whom we believe these virtues exist. These, indeed, are the strongest grounds for affection; there may also be others of less weight.

33 Trust, in turn, can be secured through two qualities: we must be thought to possess practical wisdom joined with justice. We trust those whom we judge to understand more than we do, whom we believe capable of foreseeing what lies ahead and, when action is required and a crisis has arrived, of resolving the difficulty and devising a plan on the spot. This is what people regard as useful and genuine practical wisdom. But just and trustworthy people—that is, good men—inspire such trust that no suspicion of deceit or wrongdoing attaches to them. We therefore think it entirely right to entrust our safety, our fortunes, and our children to their care.

34 Of these two qualities, then, justice has greater power to inspire trust: even without practical wisdom, it carries considerable authority, whereas practical wisdom without justice does nothing to inspire trust. For the more resourceful and clever someone is, the more he is hated and suspected once he loses his reputation for integrity. Justice joined with intelligence will therefore have as much power to inspire trust as one could wish; justice without practical wisdom will accomplish much, but practical wisdom without justice will accomplish nothing.

35 No one should be surprised that I now separate these virtues, as though someone could be just without also being wise, when all philosophers agree—and I myself have often argued—that whoever possesses one virtue possesses them all. The precision required when truth itself is being refined through philosophical discussion is one thing; the language appropriate when an entire argument is adapted to common opinion is another. Here, therefore, we speak as people ordinarily do, calling some men brave, others good, and others wise. When discussing popular opinion, we must use familiar, customary words; Panaetius followed the same practice. But let us return to our subject.

36 The third of the three elements of glory, then, was that people should admire us and judge us worthy of honor. In general, people admire whatever they observe to be great and beyond their expectations; in particular individuals, they admire good qualities they had not expected to find. They therefore look up to those men in whom they believe they discern outstanding and exceptional virtues, and exalt them with the highest praise. They look down on and despise those whom they consider entirely lacking in virtue, spirit, and vigor. For they do not despise everyone of whom they think badly. Those they judge wicked, abusive, deceitful, and well equipped to do harm are certainly not objects of their contempt, though they think badly of them. As I said before, contempt falls instead on those who are, as the saying goes, “no use to themselves or anyone else,” who show no exertion, no diligence, no care.

37 Admiration, however, is felt for those who are thought to surpass others in virtue and to be free not only from every disgrace but especially from those vices that others find difficult to resist. Pleasures, those most seductive mistresses, turn most people’s hearts away from virtue; and when the torches of pain are brought close, most people are frightened beyond all measure. Life, death, wealth, and poverty move everyone profoundly. When people look down on both sides of these contrasts with a lofty and noble spirit, and some great and honorable undertaking presents itself and draws them wholly to itself, carrying them away, who would not admire the splendor and beauty of their virtue?

38 This spirit of disdain, then, inspires great admiration; above all, justice—the one virtue from which men receive the name of good—seems something marvelous to the multitude, and rightly so. No one can be just who fears death, pain, exile, or destitution, or who places their opposites above fairness. People especially admire the man who cannot be swayed by money; once this has been established about someone, they consider him tested by fire. Justice therefore produces all three things we set out as the elements of glory: goodwill, because it seeks to benefit as many people as possible; trust, for the same reason; and admiration, because it scorns and disregards the things toward which most people are swept, inflamed by desire.

39 In my judgment, every way of arranging and conducting one’s life requires the assistance of others, and above all people with whom one can share intimate conversation. This is difficult unless one presents oneself as a good man. Even someone who lives alone in the countryside therefore needs a reputation for justice—all the more because, if people lack it, [they will be regarded as unjust] and, without defenses to shelter them, will suffer many wrongs.

40 Justice is also necessary for the conduct of business among those who sell, buy, rent from others, lease to them, and enter into commercial transactions. Its power is so great that even those who live by wrongdoing and crime cannot survive without some small share of justice. For anyone who steals or seizes something from a fellow member of a band of robbers leaves himself no place even among robbers; and the man called the pirate chief will either be killed or deserted by his comrades unless he divides the plunder fairly. Indeed, robbers are even said to have laws that they obey and observe. Thus the Illyrian robber Bardulis, whom Theopompus mentions, acquired great power through an equitable division of plunder; and the Lusitanian Viriathus acquired far greater power still. Even our armies and commanders gave way before him, until Gaius Laelius, the man known as the Wise, broke and crushed him while serving as praetor, checking his ferocity so thoroughly that he left an easy war to those who followed. If justice has such power that it strengthens and enlarges even the resources of robbers, how great must we suppose its power to be under laws, in courts, and in an established commonwealth?

41 It seems to me that kings of good character were originally appointed so that people could enjoy justice—not only among the Medes, as Herodotus says, but also among our own ancestors. When the powerless multitude was oppressed by those with greater resources, they would take refuge with some one man of outstanding virtue. By protecting the weaker from wrongdoing and establishing fairness, he kept the highest and the lowest under equal law. The reason for establishing laws was the same as the reason for appointing kings.

42 For the aim has always been justice on equal terms; without equality, it would not be justice. If people obtained this from one just and good man, they were content with him. When they failed to obtain it, laws were devised that would always speak to everyone with one and the same voice. This much, then, is clear: those whom the multitude held in high esteem for their justice were the men ordinarily chosen to rule. If they were also considered wise, there was nothing people thought they could not attain under their leadership. We must therefore cultivate and preserve justice by every means, both for its own sake—for otherwise it would not be justice—and for the increase of honor and glory. But just as money must not only be acquired but also invested so that it can meet continuing expenses, not merely necessary ones but generous ones too, so glory must be both acquired and invested wisely.

43 Yet Socrates admirably declared that the nearest road to glory, a shortcut, so to speak, was to work at being the person one wished to be thought. Those who believe they can gain lasting glory through pretense, empty display, and falseness not only in their words but even in their expressions are gravely mistaken. True glory takes root and spreads; everything counterfeit quickly falls away like little blossoms, and nothing feigned can endure. There are very many witnesses on either side, but for brevity we shall be content with one family. Tiberius Gracchus, son of Publius, will be praised as long as the memory of Roman history survives; but good men did not approve of his sons while they lived, and in death they are numbered among those justly killed. Whoever wishes to attain true glory must therefore fulfill the duties of justice. What these are was explained in the preceding book.

44 Yet some rules must be given for making it as easy as possible to be seen for what we are, even though the most effective means is precisely to be what we wish to be thought. If someone has grounds for prominence and reputation from his earliest years, whether inherited from his father—as I believe has happened to you, my dear Cicero—or arising through some chance or turn of fortune, everyone’s eyes are fixed on him. People inquire into what he does and how he lives; and, as though he stood in the brightest light, no word or deed of his can remain in the shadows.

45 Those whose early years pass unnoticed because of their humble station and obscurity, however, should set their sights on great things as soon as they enter youth, and strive toward them through honorable pursuits. They will do so with greater confidence because that age attracts not envy but encouragement. The first path to glory for a young man, then, is any distinction he can win in war. Many among our ancestors distinguished themselves in this field, since wars were almost always being fought. Your youth, however, coincided with a war in which one side had too much wickedness and the other too little good fortune. Yet in that war, when Pompey placed you in command of [one of the two] cavalry wings, you earned high praise both from that great man and from the army through your horsemanship, your skill with the javelin, and your endurance of every military hardship. That distinction of yours, however, fell along with the republic. But I have undertaken this discussion not about you in particular, but about the subject as a whole. Let us therefore proceed to what remains.

46 Just as in other matters the achievements of the mind far surpass those of the body, so the things we accomplish through intelligence and reason win more gratitude than those accomplished through physical strength. Our first claim to esteem, then, comes from modesty, followed by devotion to our parents and goodwill toward those close to us. Young men become known most easily, and to their greatest credit, when they attach themselves to distinguished and wise men who serve the state well. By frequently keeping their company, they lead the public to expect that they will resemble the men they themselves have chosen to imitate.

47 Association with the household of P. Mucius gave the young P. Rutilius a reputation for both integrity and knowledge of the law. L. Crassus, however, while still very young, borrowed his reputation from no one: he won the highest praise for himself through that celebrated and glorious prosecution. At an age when young men generally win praise for their practice exercises, as we are told Demosthenes did, L. Crassus showed that he was already performing superbly in court what he might still have been rehearsing at home with credit.

48 There are two forms of speech: conversation and forceful public address. There is no doubt that public address has greater power to win glory—it is what we call eloquence. Yet it is difficult to say how strongly courtesy and friendliness in conversation draw people to us. Letters survive from Philip to Alexander, from Antipater to Cassander, and from Antigonus to his son Philip—three exceptionally wise men, by all accounts. They advise them to win the goodwill of the multitude through kindly speech and to put their soldiers at ease by addressing them pleasantly. Forceful speech before a crowd, however, often wins widespread acclaim. People greatly admire a speaker who combines richness of expression with wisdom; those who hear him believe that he also understands more and has better judgment than others. If his speech combines dignity with modesty, nothing can be more admirable, especially when these qualities appear in a young man.

49 Many kinds of business call for eloquence, and many young men in our republic have won praise by speaking before judges, the people, or the senate. But courtroom speaking arouses the greatest admiration, and it takes two forms: prosecution and defense. Defense deserves greater praise, yet prosecution too has very often met with approval. I spoke a little earlier of Crassus. M. Antonius did the same as a young man. Prosecution also brought P. Sulpicius’ eloquence to prominence when he brought C. Norbanus, a seditious and harmful citizen, to trial.

50 This should not be done often, however, and never except for the sake of the state, as with those I have just mentioned; to exact revenge, as with the two Luculli; or to protect others, as I did for the Sicilians and Julius did for the Sardinians against Albucius. L. Fufius, too, became known for his diligence through his prosecution of Manius Aquilius. Once, then, or certainly not often. If someone must prosecute more frequently, let him offer this service to the state: repeatedly punishing its enemies deserves no reproach. Still, there must be a limit. Bringing capital charges against many people seems the work of a hard-hearted man—or rather, of someone scarcely human. Besides being dangerous to the prosecutor himself, it degrades his reputation to allow himself to be called a prosecutor. That happened to M. Brutus, a man of the highest birth, the son of that Brutus who was among the foremost experts in civil law.

51 We must also hold firmly to this rule of duty: never bring an innocent person to trial on a capital charge. There is no possible way to do that without wickedness. What could be more inhuman than to turn eloquence, which nature gave us for the safety and preservation of human beings, toward the ruin and destruction of good people? Yet although we must avoid this, we need not consider it a matter of conscience never to defend a guilty person, provided he is not utterly wicked and impious. The public wants this, custom permits it, and humanity itself allows it. A judge must always pursue the truth in a case; an advocate may sometimes defend what is plausible, even if it falls short of the truth. I would not venture to write this, especially in a work on philosophy, unless Panaetius, that most authoritative Stoic, held the same view. Defense, moreover, wins the greatest glory and gratitude, especially when we come to the aid of someone who seems beset and oppressed by the resources of a powerful man. I have often done this, and did so as a young man when I defended Sex. Roscius of Ameria against the power of L. Sulla, then supreme. That speech, as you know, survives.

52 Having set out the duties by which young men may win glory, I must next discuss beneficence and generosity. These take two forms: we help those in need either through personal service or through money. The latter is easier, especially for the wealthy; the former is nobler and more splendid, and more worthy of a courageous and distinguished man. Both involve a generous desire to do a kindness, but one draws upon the cashbox, the other upon personal excellence. Giving from one’s private fortune drains the very wellspring of generosity. Thus generosity destroys generosity: the more people you have helped in this way, the fewer you can help afterward.

53 Those who show kindness and generosity through personal service—that is, through their ability and effort—will, first, gain more helpers in doing good as they benefit more people. Then, through the habit of beneficence, they will become better prepared and, so to speak, better trained to serve many people well. In one of his letters Philip makes an excellent criticism of his son Alexander for trying to win the Macedonians’ goodwill through gifts of money. “What the devil,” he says, “led you to hope that men you had corrupted with money would be loyal to you? Or are you trying to make the Macedonians expect you to be their servant and provider rather than their king?” “Servant and provider” is well said, since such a position degrades a king. Better still, he calls lavish giving “corruption”: its recipient becomes worse, and more ready to expect the same thing forever.

54 Philip addressed this to his son, but we should regard it as advice to everyone. There can therefore be no doubt that the generosity which consists in personal service and effort is more honorable, has a wider reach, and can benefit more people. Sometimes, however, we must give money. We should not reject this form of generosity altogether, and we should often share our resources with deserving people in need—but carefully and with moderation. Many have squandered their inheritances through thoughtless giving. What could be more foolish than to make sure you cannot long continue doing something you enjoy? Plunder also follows lavish giving. When people have made themselves poor by giving, they are forced to lay hands on others’ property. Thus, although they wish to be benefactors in order to win goodwill, they gain less affection from those to whom they give than hatred from those from whom they take.

55 Our private fortune, then, should neither be locked so tightly that generosity cannot open it nor thrown so wide that everyone has access. We must set a limit, measured against our resources. Above all, we should remember a saying so often repeated by our countrymen that it has become a proverb: lavish giving is bottomless. What limit can there be when those accustomed to receive demand more, and others demand the same? Broadly speaking, there are two kinds of lavish givers: the extravagant and the generous. The extravagant pour out money on banquets, distributions of meat, gladiatorial shows, and elaborate games and staged hunts—things of which they will leave only a fleeting memory, or none at all. The generous use their resources to ransom people captured by pirates, take on their friends’ debts, help with daughters’ marriages, or assist people in acquiring or increasing their property.

56 I therefore wonder what came over Theophrastus in the book he wrote on wealth. Much in it is excellent, but this is absurd: he dwells at length on praising the magnificence and elaborate staging of public entertainments, and thinks the benefit of wealth lies in the ability to meet such expenses. To me, however, the fruits of generosity, of which I have given a few examples, seem both far greater and more secure. How much weightier and truer is Aristotle’s criticism of us for not being astonished at these outpourings of money intended to please the crowd! He says, “If people besieged by an enemy were forced to buy a sextarius of water for a mina, we would at first think it incredible and all be astonished; but on reflection we would excuse their necessity. Yet we show no great astonishment at these enormous losses and limitless expenses, although they relieve no necessity and enhance no standing. Even the pleasure the crowd derives lasts only a very brief time and is felt by its most frivolous members; even in them, the memory of the pleasure dies as soon as they have had their fill.”

57 He also rightly concludes, “These things please boys, silly women, slaves, and free men who closely resemble slaves; but they cannot possibly win the approval of a serious man who weighs what is done with sound judgment.” Yet I recognize that even in the republic’s best days it had become an established custom to expect its finest men to conduct splendid aedileships. Thus P. Crassus, rich in name as well as in resources, gave the most lavish public entertainment as aedile. A little later L. Crassus held a magnificent aedileship with Q. Mucius, the most restrained of men. Then came C. Claudius, son of App., and many afterward: the Luculli, Hortensius, Silanus. But during my consulship P. Lentulus surpassed all his predecessors; Scaurus imitated him. Our Pompey’s entertainments in his second consulship were truly magnificent. You can see what I think of all these.

58 Still, we must avoid the suspicion of stinginess. Mamercus, an immensely wealthy man, lost his election to the consulship because he had passed over the aedileship. Thus, if the people demand such spending, and good men at least approve even if they do not ask for it, it must be undertaken—but within one’s means, as I myself did. It is also justified when a popular distribution secures some greater and more beneficial result. Orestes, for example, recently earned great credit for the lunches he gave in the side streets as a tithe offering. Nor was M. Seius blamed for selling the people a modius of grain for one as during a shortage. As aedile, he thereby freed himself from deep and long-standing resentment at a cost neither discreditable nor very great. Our Milo recently earned the highest honor by buying gladiators for the sake of the republic, whose preservation was bound up with my own safety, and crushing every attempt and every violent outrage of P. Clodius.

59 Necessity or advantage, then, can justify lavish giving. Even in these cases, moderation is the best rule. L. Philippus, son of Q., a man of great ability and outstanding distinction, used to boast that he had attained all the highest offices without giving any public entertainment. Cotta and Curio said the same. I too may boast of this to some extent: compared with the eminence of the offices I attained by unanimous vote—and in my first eligible year, something none of those I have just named achieved—the expense of my aedileship was certainly very small.

60 Better, too, is expenditure on walls, dockyards, harbors, aqueducts, and everything that serves the needs of the state. Although a present benefit, put straight into one’s hand, is more immediately pleasing, these works win greater gratitude in the future. I am more cautious in criticizing theaters, colonnades, and new temples out of regard for Pompey, but the most learned men disapprove of them. Among these are Panaetius himself, whom I have followed extensively in these books without translating him, and Demetrius of Phalerum, who censures Pericles, the leading man of Greece, for pouring so much money into those magnificent Propylaea. But I have discussed this entire subject thoroughly in the books I wrote on the republic. The whole practice of such lavish spending is therefore wrong in principle, though necessary on occasion; even then, it must be fitted to one’s means and governed by moderation.

61 With the other kind of giving, however, which springs from generosity, we should not take the same attitude toward unlike cases. The case of a man crushed by misfortune differs from that of one who seeks better circumstances without having suffered any reverse.

62 Our kindness should incline more readily toward the unfortunate, unless perhaps they deserve their misfortune. Yet toward those who want our help not to save themselves from ruin but to rise to a higher position, we must by no means be grudging. Rather, we should use judgment and care in choosing suitable recipients. For Ennius put it admirably:

“Good deeds misplaced are bad deeds in my eyes.”

63 A gift bestowed on a good and grateful man brings a return both from him and from others. Once thoughtless giving is excluded, generosity is deeply welcome; most people praise it all the more warmly because the goodness of eminent men offers a common refuge to everyone. We should therefore strive to bestow on as many people as possible benefits whose memory will pass to their children and descendants, so that they cannot allow themselves to be ungrateful. Everyone hates a person who forgets a kindness. People think that, by discouraging generosity, he wrongs them too, and they regard anyone who does this as the common enemy of those with little. Such kindness also serves the state: ransoming captives from slavery and improving the circumstances of the poor. In a speech of Crassus we find a full account of how commonly our order used to do this. I therefore place this practice of kindness far above lavish expenditure on public shows. The former belongs to serious and great men; the latter belongs, as it were, to flatterers of the people, tickling the fickle crowd with pleasure.

64 We should be generous in giving but not harsh in collecting what is owed, and fair and accommodating in every transaction—in selling and buying, renting and leasing, and dealings with neighbors and adjoining landowners. We should often yield something of our rights to others and avoid lawsuits as far as we properly can, perhaps even a little farther. For occasionally surrendering a small part of one’s rights is not only generous but sometimes profitable as well. We must, however, look after our household resources: allowing them to slip away is disgraceful. Yet we should do so without inviting suspicion of meanness or greed. Surely the greatest benefit of money is the power to practice generosity without stripping ourselves of our inheritance. Theophrastus was also right to praise hospitality. To my mind, it is highly becoming that the homes of distinguished men should stand open to distinguished guests; and it honors our state that foreigners should not lack this form of generosity in our city. Moreover, those who wish to gain substantial influence honorably will find it extremely useful to have resources and goodwill among foreign peoples through their guest-friendships. Theophrastus writes that Cimon at Athens extended his hospitality even to the Laciads, the members of his own district. He had established a rule, and instructed his estate managers accordingly, that everything should be provided for any Laciad who visited his country estate.

65 Benefits bestowed through personal service rather than expenditure are directed either toward the state as a whole or toward individual citizens. Safeguarding people’s interests in legal matters, helping them with advice, and using this branch of knowledge to benefit as many as possible contribute greatly both to influence and to goodwill. Among the many excellent institutions of our ancestors was this: knowledge and interpretation of our admirably ordered civil law were always held in the highest honor. Before the upheaval of our times, leading men kept this learning as their own province. Now its prestige has been effaced, like public honors and every distinction of rank. This is all the more shameful because it happened when we had a man whose knowledge easily surpassed that of all his predecessors of equal public standing. Such service, then, is welcome to many and well suited to binding people to us through benefits.

66 Closely related to this profession is the art of speaking, a more commanding, more welcome, and more splendid power. What can surpass eloquence, whether we consider the admiration of its hearers, the hope of those who need it, or the gratitude of those it has defended? Our ancestors therefore gave it, too, the highest place of honor in civilian life. The services and protection of an eloquent man have a wide reach, if he is ready to undertake the work and, in keeping with our ancestral customs, willingly defends the cases of many without payment.

67 Here, too, my subject would prompt me to mourn eloquence’s silence—not to say its death—if I did not fear seeming to complain about myself. Yet we see what orators have passed away, how few now offer promise, how much fewer possess ability, and how many possess audacity. But although not everyone, nor even many, can be expert in law or eloquent, we can still serve many through personal effort: seeking favors for them, recommending them to judges and magistrates, watching over another person’s interests, and appealing to the very men who give legal advice or conduct defenses. Those who do this gain the greatest goodwill, and the benefits of their efforts spread far and wide.

68 They need no reminder—for it is obvious—to take care that, in wishing to help some people, they do not offend others. They often hurt either those whom it is wrong to hurt or those whom it is unwise to hurt. If they do so unknowingly, it is negligence; if knowingly, recklessness. Toward those whom we offend unwillingly, we should also offer whatever explanation we can, showing why our action was necessary and why we could not have acted otherwise. Whatever injury we seem to have done must be made up for through other services and attentions.

69 In helping people, however, we generally consider either their character or their circumstances. It is easy enough to say—and people commonly do—that in bestowing benefits they follow character, not fortune. The sentiment is honorable. Yet who, when offering his services, does not put the goodwill of a prosperous and powerful man before the cause of an excellent man who is poor? Our inclinations generally favor the person from whom repayment seems likely to come more readily and quickly. But we must look more carefully at the true nature of the matter. That poor man, if he is good, can certainly feel gratitude even if he cannot repay a kindness. Whoever said the following put it well: “With money, the man who has it has not repaid it, and the man who has repaid it no longer has it; with gratitude, the man who has repaid it still has it, and the man who has it has already repaid it.” But those who think themselves wealthy, honored, and fortunate do not even want to be placed under an obligation by a kindness. Indeed, they think they have conferred a benefit when they themselves have received one, however great. They also suspect that something is being demanded or expected of them. As for having accepted someone’s protection, or being called his clients, they regard that as no better than death.

70 The poor man, by contrast, believes that whatever has been done for him was done out of regard for himself, not his circumstances. He therefore strives to show gratitude not only to his benefactor but also to those from whom he hopes for help—for his needs are many. If he happens to perform some service himself, he does not magnify it in words, but even plays it down. We should also consider this: if you defend a rich and prosperous man, gratitude remains with that one man, or perhaps with his children. But if you defend someone poor, yet honest and unassuming, all decent people of humble station—and they form a great multitude among the people—see that protection has been secured for themselves.

71 For this reason, I think a benefit is better bestowed on the good than on the fortunate. We should certainly strive to serve people of every class; but if competing claims arise, we should take Themistocles as our guide. When consulted about whether a daughter should be married to a good man who was poor or a less respectable man who was rich, he replied, “I certainly prefer a man who lacks money to money that lacks a man.” But our values have been corrupted and distorted by admiration for wealth. What concern is its magnitude to any one of us? Perhaps it helps the person who possesses it—not always even then, but let us grant that it does. He may have more to spend; how does that make him more honorable? If he is also a good man, his wealth should not prevent us from helping him, provided it does not count in his favor either. Let our entire judgment concern not how rich each person is, but what kind of person he is. The final rule in bestowing benefits and offering service is this: never press a cause against fairness or in support of injustice. Justice is the foundation of lasting esteem and reputation; without it, nothing can deserve praise.

72 Having discussed benefits directed toward individuals, we must next consider those that concern the community as a whole and the state. Some of these affect all citizens; others reach individuals and win even greater gratitude. We should certainly strive, if possible, to provide both kinds, taking no less care to serve individuals, but ensuring that what we do either benefits the state or at least does it no harm. C. Gracchus’s grain subsidy was a lavish gift and therefore drained the treasury. M. Octavius’s was moderate, affordable for the state, and needed by the common people; it therefore served the welfare of both citizens and state.

73 Above all, whoever administers the state must ensure that everyone keeps what is his and that public measures do not diminish private possessions. Philippus acted perniciously during his tribunate when he introduced an agrarian law. He readily allowed it to be voted down, displaying great moderation in that respect; but while advocating it he said much to court popular favor, and in particular made this harmful claim: “There are not two thousand men in the state who own property.” Such language is deadly, aimed at equalizing possessions. What plague could be worse? States and civic communities were established chiefly for this very reason: that people might keep what was their own. Although human beings gathered together under nature’s guidance, it was in the hope of safeguarding their possessions that they sought the protection of cities.

74 We must also take care to avoid having to levy a direct tax, as often happened among our ancestors because the treasury was low and wars were constant. Preventing this will require foresight well in advance. But if the necessity of this burden should fall upon some state—I would rather voice that foreboding for another than for our own, though I am discussing not ours but every state—we must ensure that everyone understands that, if they wish to remain safe, they must submit to necessity. All who govern a state must also see that there is an abundant supply of necessities. There is no need to discuss how these supplies are usually secured or how they should be secured: the matter is obvious. It was enough simply to touch on the subject.

75 The chief rule in managing any public business or office is to banish even the faintest suspicion of greed. “If only fortune had preserved me for that age,” said C. Pontius the Samnite, “and I had been born when the Romans began to accept gifts! I would not have let their rule last any longer.” He would certainly have had many centuries to wait, for this evil has only lately invaded our state. I am therefore quite content that Pontius lived then rather than now, if he really had so much strength in him. It is not yet one hundred and ten years since L. Piso introduced a law for recovering extorted money; there had been none before. Yet since then there have been so many laws, each successive one harsher than the last; so many defendants, so many convictions; so great an [Italian] war stirred up by fear of prosecution; and, once laws and courts were swept aside, such plundering and pillaging of our allies, that our strength rests on the weakness of others, not on our own virtue.

76 Panaetius praises Africanus for his incorruptibility. Why should he not? Yet Africanus had other, greater qualities; and the credit for incorruptibility belongs not to the man alone but also to those times. Paulus gained possession of the entire Macedonian treasury, an immense fortune. He brought so much money into the public treasury that the spoils of this one commander put an end to the direct tax levy. Yet he brought nothing into his own home except the everlasting glory of his name. Africanus followed his father’s example and was no richer after destroying Carthage. And what of his colleague in the censorship, L. Mummius? Was he any wealthier after razing an exceptionally wealthy city to the ground? He preferred to adorn Italy rather than his own house—although, to my mind, adorning Italy made his house itself more splendid.

77 To bring our discussion back to the point from which it departed, no vice is more repulsive than greed, especially in leading citizens and those who govern the republic. Making the republic a source of private profit is not merely disgraceful but criminal and impious. Thus, when Pythian Apollo delivered the oracle that nothing but greed would destroy Sparta, he seems to have foretold this not for the Spartans alone but for every prosperous nation. Nothing, moreover, enables those who direct public affairs to win the people’s goodwill more readily than incorruptibility and self-restraint.

78 But those who wish to be champions of the people, and for that reason either attempt land redistribution to drive property holders from their homes or advocate canceling borrowers’ debts, undermine the foundations of the republic. First they undermine harmony, which cannot exist when money is taken from some and bestowed on others; then fairness, which disappears altogether if people are not allowed to keep what is theirs. For, as I said above, the distinctive purpose of a community and a city is to let each person safeguard his own property freely and without anxiety.

79 Yet in bringing this ruin upon the republic, they do not even secure the gratitude they expect. The person whose property has been seized becomes an enemy; the recipient even conceals the fact that he wanted to receive it. Especially when debts are canceled, he hides his delight, lest he seem to have been unable to pay. But the person who suffers the injustice remembers it and openly displays his resentment. Nor do those who have received an improper gift necessarily carry greater weight merely because they outnumber those who have been unjustly deprived. Such matters are judged by weight, not numbers. And where is the fairness in letting someone who has never owned land acquire a field held by another for many years, or even centuries, while its owner loses it?

80 It was because of this kind of injustice that the Spartans expelled the ephor Lysander and killed King Agis—something that had never happened among them before. From that time such great dissensions followed that tyrants arose, the aristocrats were driven into exile, and a republic with a magnificent constitution fell apart. Nor did it fall alone: it also ruined the rest of Greece through the contagion of evils that spread outward from Sparta. And what of our own Gracchi, sons of the eminent Ti. Gracchus and grandsons of Africanus? Was it not conflict over land that destroyed them?

81 Aratus of Sicyon, by contrast, is rightly praised. His city had been held by tyrants for fifty years when he set out from Argos for Sicyon, entered secretly, and took possession of it. After overpowering the tyrant Nicocles by surprise, he restored six hundred exiles, who had once been the city’s wealthiest citizens, and by his arrival freed the republic. But he recognized a serious difficulty over property and possessions. He thought it profoundly unjust that those whom he himself had restored should be destitute while others held their property. Yet he also thought it hardly fair to disturb fifty years of possession, since during so long a period many properties had passed through inheritance, purchase, or dowry and were held without wrongdoing. He therefore decided that the present holders should not be dispossessed, nor should the former owners be left without compensation.

82 Having determined that money was needed to settle the matter, he announced his intention to travel to Alexandria and ordered that everything remain unchanged until his return. He quickly reached Ptolemy, with whom he shared bonds of hospitality, and who was then reigning as the second king since Alexandria’s founding. Aratus explained that he wished to free his country and set out the circumstances. This eminent man readily persuaded the wealthy king to assist him with a large sum of money. When he brought it to Sicyon, he appointed fifteen leading citizens to his council. With them he examined the claims both of those who held others’ property and of those who had lost their own. By valuing the properties, he persuaded some to prefer accepting money and relinquishing possession, and others to consider it more advantageous to receive the property’s value in cash than to recover the property itself. The result was that harmony was established, and everyone went away without complaint.

83 What a great man, and how worthy of having been born in our republic! That is how citizens ought to be treated—not by setting up an auction spear in the Forum and selling citizens’ property to the auctioneer’s cry, as we have now seen twice. But that Greek thought everyone’s interests should be considered, as befitted a wise and outstanding man. This is the highest principle and wisdom of a good citizen: not to tear citizens’ interests apart, but to hold everyone together under the same standard of fairness. “Let them live rent-free in someone else’s property.” Why? So that, after I have bought and built, and while I maintain the property and meet its expenses, you may enjoy what is mine against my will? What is this but stripping some people of their own possessions and giving others what belongs to someone else?

84 And what is the point of canceling debts, except to let you buy a farm with my money, keep the farm yourself, and leave me without my money? We must therefore take precautions against debt on a scale that harms the republic—and there are many ways to guard against it—not arrange, once debt exists, for the wealthy to lose what is theirs and debtors to gain what belongs to others. Nothing holds a republic together more firmly than trust, and trust cannot exist unless repayment of loans is obligatory. Never was there a more determined campaign against repayment than during my consulship. People of every kind and social rank tried to force it through with arms and military camps. I resisted them so effectively that this entire evil was removed from the republic. Never had indebtedness been greater, nor repayment better or easier: once the hope of defrauding creditors was removed, the necessity of repayment followed. Yet the man who is now victorious, though then defeated, carried out, when he no longer had anything at stake himself, the very plans he had formed when his own interests were involved. So great was his appetite for wrongdoing that wrongdoing itself delighted him, even when there was no reason for it.

85 Those who protect the republic will therefore keep clear of this kind of generosity, which takes from some to give to others. Above all, they will strive to ensure that fair laws and courts allow everyone to keep what is his; that people of modest means are not cheated because of their low standing; and that envy does not prevent the wealthy from retaining or recovering their property. Moreover, by whatever means they can, in war or at home, they will increase the republic’s power, territory, and revenues. These are the achievements of great men; these were the habitual practices of our ancestors. Those who pursue these kinds of duty will bring the greatest benefit to the republic while winning great gratitude and glory for themselves.

86 In these rules concerning advantage, however, Antipater of Tyre, the Stoic who recently died at Athens, considers that Panaetius omitted two subjects: the care of health and of money. I believe that this great philosopher passed them over because they were straightforward; they are certainly useful. Health is maintained by knowing one’s own body and observing what generally benefits or harms it; by moderation in one’s entire diet and way of life, foregoing pleasures to preserve the body; and finally by the skill of those whose expertise covers these matters.

87 Wealth should be acquired through activities free of dishonor, preserved through diligence and thrift, and increased by those same means. Xenophon, a follower of Socrates, treated these matters admirably in his book entitled Household Management, which I translated from Greek into Latin when I was about the age you are now. Yet this whole subject—acquiring money and investing it, and I wish I could add using it—is discussed more usefully by certain excellent men who sit at the Middle Janus than by any philosophers in any school. Still, these matters must be understood, since they concern advantage, the subject discussed in this book.

88 Comparing advantages, however, is often necessary: this was the fourth topic, which Panaetius omitted. We commonly compare bodily advantages with external ones [and external advantages with bodily ones], bodily advantages with one another, and external advantages with one another. Bodily advantages are compared with external ones in this way: you would rather be healthy than rich; [external advantages with bodily ones in this way: you would rather be rich than possess the greatest bodily strength;] bodily advantages with one another when good health is preferred to pleasure, and strength to speed; and external advantages with one another when glory is preferred to wealth, and income from city property to income from country property.

89 An example of this kind of comparison is the saying of the elder Cato. When asked what was most profitable in managing an estate, he answered, “Raising livestock well.” What came second? “Raising livestock fairly well.” Third? “Raising livestock poorly.” Fourth? “Plowing.” And when his questioner asked, “What about lending at interest?” Cato replied, “What about killing a man?” From this and many other examples, we should recognize that comparisons of advantage are commonly made, and that this fourth branch of inquiry into duties has rightly been added.

90 I shall turn next to what remains.