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.

1 Marcus, my son, I think the previous book explained enough about how our duties come from moral goodness and every kind of virtue. Now I need to go through the duties concerned with our standard of living, our access to the things people use, and our resources and wealth. [As I said, this raises two questions: what is useful and what isn’t, and, among useful things, which is more useful or most useful.] Before I start, though, I want to say a little about my plans and my reasons for them.

2 My books have encouraged quite a few people not just to read but to write as well. Even so, I sometimes worry that some good men dislike the very name of philosophy and wonder why I put so much time and effort into it. While the republic was run by the people it had entrusted with that job, I gave it all my attention and thought. But then one man took control of everything. There was no room anywhere for advice or influence, and I’d lost the outstanding men who had worked with me to protect the republic. I didn’t give myself over to grief—it would have destroyed me if I hadn’t fought it. Nor did I turn to pleasures unworthy of an educated person.

3 If only the republic had stayed as it was at the start! If only it hadn’t fallen into the hands of people who wanted not so much to change things as to wreck them! For one thing, I’d be putting more work into public action than into writing, as I used to when the republic was still standing. For another, I’d be writing up my speeches, as I often did, rather than writing about my present subjects. But the republic no longer existed at all. It had once taken up all my attention, thought, and effort. With it gone, my writing for the courts and the Senate naturally fell silent.

4 I couldn’t leave my mind idle. I’d been interested in these studies since childhood, and I decided that going back to philosophy was the most honorable way to put my troubles aside. As a young man, I’d spent a great deal of time learning it. Later, once I began pursuing public office and committed myself completely to the republic, philosophy got only the time left over after my friends and public business. I used all of that time for reading. There was no leisure to write.

5 So, amid these terrible troubles, I think I’ve managed at least one good thing: to put into writing subjects that our people didn’t know enough about but that were especially worth knowing. What, in the gods’ name, could anyone want more than wisdom? What’s finer, better for a human being, or more worthy of one? People who seek it are called philosophers. If you translate the name, philosophy means nothing more than the pursuit of wisdom. The ancient philosophers defined wisdom as knowledge of divine and human affairs and of the causes that govern them. If someone criticizes the pursuit of that knowledge, I really don’t understand what they could possibly think deserves praise.

6 Suppose you want enjoyment for your mind and a break from your worries. What could match the studies of people who are always looking for something that will help us live well and happily? Or suppose your concern is how to become steady and good. Either philosophy provides a method for achieving that, or nothing does. Even the smallest matters call for some skill. People who say there’s no skill to handling the greatest ones haven’t thought carefully about what they’re saying and are badly mistaken about what matters most. But if goodness can be taught, where will you look for that teaching once you turn away from this kind of study? These points usually get a fuller discussion when we encourage people to take up philosophy. I’ve done that in another book. Here I only needed to explain why, after losing my public duties, I chose this particular pursuit.

7 Some people challenge me on this, including learned, well-educated people. They ask whether I’m being consistent. I say we can’t know anything for certain, yet I regularly discuss other subjects and am now setting out rules about duty. I wish they understood my position properly. I’m not someone whose mind wanders about in confusion, never finding anything to follow. What sort of mind would that be? Or rather, what sort of life would be possible if we had no basis for reasoning—or even for living? Other people say some things are certain and others uncertain. I disagree: I say some things are probable and others aren’t.

8 So why shouldn’t I follow what seems probable to me and reject what doesn’t? I can do that without arrogantly claiming certainty, and without the rashness that is so completely at odds with wisdom. People in my school argue against every position. That’s because we can’t see clearly what’s probable until the arguments on both sides have been tested against each other. I think I’ve explained this carefully enough in my books on the Academy. Now, my dear Cicero, you’re studying a very old and distinguished philosophical tradition under Cratippus. He closely resembles the men who first developed its splendid ideas. Still, I didn’t want you to be unfamiliar with my own views, which are close to yours. But let’s get back to the plan.

9 I laid out five ways of examining duty. Two concerned honorable and morally good conduct. Two concerned the advantages of life—supplies, wealth, and resources. The fifth concerned how to choose when these things seemed to conflict. I’ve finished the part about moral goodness, and I very much want you to know it thoroughly. Our present subject is what we call useful. Ordinary usage has gone wrong with that word. It has gradually drifted so far off course that people separate usefulness from moral goodness. They suppose something can be morally good without being useful, or useful without being morally good. No belief could have done greater damage to human life.

10 The most respected philosophers take a strict, morally sound approach here. They separate in thought three things that are actually joined together. They hold that anything just is also useful, and that anything morally good is also just. It follows that anything morally good is useful as well. People who don’t fully understand this often admire the sly and calculating, mistaking dishonesty for wisdom. We need to free them from that mistake and completely redirect their expectations. They must understand that they can get what they want through honorable plans and just actions, not through deceit and dishonesty.

11 Some of the things that sustain human life aren’t alive: gold, silver, things that grow from the soil, and other things of that sort. Others are living creatures with their own drives and desires. Among these, some lack reason and others use it. Horses, cattle, other livestock, and bees lack reason, but their work produces things people use and live on. Those who use reason fall into two groups: gods and human beings. Religious devotion and respect for what’s sacred win the gods’ goodwill. After the gods, and nearest to them in this respect, people can do the most to help other people.

12 The same division applies to things that hurt us or get in our way. But the gods aren’t thought to harm us, so they’re left out. Human beings are then considered the greatest source of harm to one another. Now, most of those lifeless things I mentioned are made available through human work. We wouldn’t have them without human hands and skill, and we couldn’t use them without people managing them. Medical care, shipping, farming, and the harvesting and storage of grain and other produce could never have existed without human work.

13 Nor could we export what we have in abundance or import what we lack unless people did those jobs. For the same reason, without human labor and hands, we couldn’t quarry the stone we need or dig out iron, copper, gold, and silver hidden deep underground. Think, too, about buildings, which keep out bitter cold and ease the discomfort of heat. How could people originally have obtained them? How could they later have replaced them when storms, earthquakes, or age brought them down? None of that would have happened if people living together hadn’t learned to look to other people for help with these things.

14 Add water channels, diverted rivers, irrigation for fields, barriers against the waves, and artificial harbors. Where could we get those without human work? These examples, and many others, make something clear: none of the benefits and advantages we get from lifeless things would have been available without human hands and labor. And what benefit or convenience could we get from animals without help from people? It was people, of course, who first figured out how each kind of animal could help us. Even now, without people’s work, we couldn’t feed animals, tame them, protect them, or get what they produce at the right time. People also kill the animals that harm us and catch those that can be useful.

15 Why list all the many skills without which human life couldn’t have existed at all? Without so many skills serving our needs, how would we help the sick? What enjoyment would healthy people have? How would we feed and clothe ourselves? These skills have developed human life so much that our way of eating and living is far removed from that of animals. Cities, too, could never have been built or populated without people coming together. That led to established laws and customs, then to a fair allocation of rights and definite rules for living. In turn, these made people gentler and gave them a sense of decency. Life became safer. And by giving and receiving, and by exchanging resources and benefits, we could meet every need.

16 I’m spending more time on this than I need to. Panaetius goes into detail about something everyone can see: no military commander or political leader has ever done anything great and beneficial without people’s support. He names Themistocles, Pericles, Cyrus, Agesilaus, and Alexander, saying they couldn’t have achieved so much without other people’s help. There’s no need to bring in witnesses when the point isn’t in doubt. People achieve enormous benefits by working together and agreeing on a purpose. But people also inflict every imaginable horror on one another. Dicaearchus, an important and prolific philosopher of Aristotle’s school, wrote a book about the destruction of human life. He brings together the other causes: floods, epidemics, devastation, and even sudden swarms of wild animals. He explains how their attacks have wiped out whole populations. Then he compares these losses with those caused by human attacks—wars and civil unrest—and shows that people have killed far more people than all the other disasters combined.

17 So there’s no question that people are our greatest source of both help and harm. That’s why I see winning people over and getting their help for our purposes as a particular task of good character. We credit demanding practical skills with the benefits we get from working with lifeless materials or handling animals. But when people are ready and willing to help us improve our position, that willingness comes from the wisdom and character of exceptional men.

18 Good character mainly involves three things. First, understanding what’s true and genuine in each case, what fits with each thing, what follows from it, what things develop from, and what causes each of them. Second, keeping our disturbed feelings—what the Greeks call “passions”—under control, and making our desires, which they call “impulses,” obey reason. Third, dealing sensibly and considerately with the people around us. Their support should let us meet our natural needs fully and abundantly. With their help, we should also ward off any harm that comes our way and punish those who have tried to hurt us, but only as far as fairness and humanity allow.

19 I’ll explain shortly how we can learn to win people’s support and keep it. First, though, there are a few things to say. Everyone knows how much luck can do, for good or bad. When its wind blows our way, it carries us where we want to go. When it blows against us, we’re battered. The other accidents that luck brings are less common. First come those caused by lifeless things: squalls, storms, shipwrecks, collapsing buildings, and fires. Then there are kicks, bites, and attacks from animals. These things, as I said, happen less often.

20 But consider the destruction of armies—three just recently—or the disasters that have so often struck many commanders, including, lately, a man of outstanding and exceptional ability. Think, too, of public resentment, and how it has so often driven deserving citizens from their country, ruined them, or forced them to flee. On the other side are success, public honors, commands, and victories. Although all these involve luck, neither the good outcomes nor the bad can happen without people’s resources and active support. Once we understand that, we need to discuss how to attract and encourage people’s help for our own benefit. If the discussion seems long, weigh its length against how useful it is. It may then seem rather short.

21 Whenever people help someone advance and gain recognition, they have a reason. They may feel affection for him because something has made them fond of him. They may respect him, admiring his character and thinking he deserves the greatest success. They may trust him and believe he’ll look after their interests well. They may fear his power. Or they may expect something from him, as when kings or politicians who court the public offer handouts. Finally, they may be moved by payment or a reward. That last method is the dirtiest and most degrading, both for those it buys and for those who try to use it.

22 Something has gone badly wrong when people try to buy what they ought to achieve through character. Still, money is sometimes a necessary resource. I’ll explain how to use it after discussing the methods more closely connected with good character. People also accept someone else’s rule and authority for several reasons. Affection may lead them to do it, or the scale of the favors he has done them, or his exceptional standing. They may hope it will benefit them, or fear they’ll otherwise be forced to obey. Promises and the prospect of gifts may lure them in. Or, finally, they may simply be hired, as we so often see in our own country.

23 If you want to protect your power and hold on to it, nothing helps more than being loved, and nothing hurts more than being feared. Ennius put it very well: “People hate the person they fear; whoever hates someone wants him dead.” If we didn’t already know that power can’t stand up to widespread hatred, recent events have taught us. Our country, beaten into submission by force, endured this tyrant and is still obeying him now that he’s dead. His death shows how destructive people’s hatred can be. So do the similar ends of other tyrants: hardly any have escaped that kind of death. Fear is a poor safeguard if you want something to last. Goodwill, by contrast, can be trusted to protect it forever.

24 Let rulers who have crushed people by force use brutality to keep them down, then, as masters do with slaves, if there’s no other way to hold them. But anyone who sets out to make people afraid of him in a free country is completely mad. Someone’s power may bury the laws, and freedom may be frightened into silence. Even so, they eventually show themselves again, whether through unspoken judgments or secret votes for public office. Freedom bites harder after it has been suppressed than when people have kept it all along. So let’s adopt the approach that works most widely and does most to protect not only our safety but also our resources and power: get rid of fear and hold on to affection. That’s the easiest way to achieve what we want, both privately and in public life. Anyone who wants to be feared must, in turn, fear the very people he frightens.

25 Think how fear must have tortured Dionysius the elder. He was so afraid of barbers’ razors that he singed his hair with a glowing coal. And what do you suppose life felt like for Alexander of Pherae? We read that he loved his wife Thebe very much. Yet whenever he went from dinner to her bedroom, he ordered a foreigner to walk ahead of him with a drawn sword—a man tattooed with Thracian markings, as the account specifically says. He also sent members of his bodyguard ahead to search her little chests and examine her clothes for hidden weapons. What a miserable man, trusting a tattooed foreigner more than his own wife! And he wasn’t wrong about her: she herself killed him because she suspected he had a mistress. No government, however powerful, can last under the pressure of fear.

26 Phalaris is proof. His cruelty is more notorious than anyone else’s. He wasn’t killed in a plot, like the Alexander I just mentioned, or by a few men, like our own tyrant. The entire population of Agrigentum attacked him. And didn’t the Macedonians abandon Demetrius and go over to Pyrrhus together? Didn’t almost all the Spartans’ allies suddenly desert them because their rule was unjust, then stand idly by and watch the disaster at Leuctra? In a matter like this, I’d rather recall foreign examples than our own. Still, while the Roman people maintained their rule by doing good rather than harm, we fought wars either for our allies or for supremacy. We ended those wars gently, or imposed only what was necessary. The Senate was a safe harbor and refuge for kings, peoples, and nations. Our public officials and commanders sought their greatest credit in one achievement: protecting the provinces and our allies fairly and faithfully.

27 Back then, it would have been more accurate to call us the world’s protectors than its rulers. We had already begun gradually weakening those habits and principles. After Sulla’s victory, we abandoned them completely. Once such cruelty had been inflicted on citizens, people stopped thinking anything done to our allies could be unfair. In Sulla’s case, then, a decent cause led to a disgraceful victory. He set up the auction spear and sold property in the Forum—the property of good men, wealthy men, and certainly fellow citizens. Yet he had the nerve to say he was selling his own war loot. The man who followed him had a wicked cause and won an even uglier victory. He didn’t just confiscate individual citizens’ property. He subjected whole provinces and regions to the same sentence of ruin.

28 After foreign nations had been harassed and destroyed, we saw an image of Massilia carried in a victory parade as a sign of our lost empire. A triumph was celebrated over a city without whose help our commanders had never celebrated triumphs after wars beyond the Alps. I could recall many other crimes against our allies, if the sun had ever seen anything more shameful than this one. So we deserve our punishment. If we hadn’t tolerated so many people’s crimes without punishment, one man would never have gained such freedom to do whatever he wanted. His property passed to a few heirs, but his ambitions passed to many wicked men.

29 Civil wars will never lack a seed or a cause while ruined men remember that bloodstained auction spear and hope to profit from it again. Publius Sulla wielded it when his relative was dictator. Thirty-six years later, the same man was still beside an even more criminal auction spear. Another man, who had been a clerk under the earlier dictatorship, became the official responsible for the city treasury under this one. That should teach us that civil wars will never end while rewards like these are on offer. Only the city’s walls are still standing—and even they now fear the worst crimes. We’ve lost the republic completely. To return to my point, we fell into these disasters because we preferred being feared to being cherished and loved. If this could happen to the Roman people when they ruled unjustly, what should individuals expect? Since goodwill clearly has great strength and fear has little, we must now discuss the easiest ways to gain the affection we want, together with respect and trust.

30 But we don’t all need affection to the same extent. Whether we need many people to love us or can be satisfied with a few depends on the life each of us has chosen. So let’s settle this first: our most basic and necessary need is close relationships with faithful friends who love us and admire what we do. In this one matter, there’s very little difference between the most important men and ordinary people. Both need to secure it to much the same degree.

31 Not everyone needs the same amount of respect, fame, or goodwill from their fellow citizens. Still, having these helps in various ways, including making friends. I’ve discussed friendship in another book, called Laelius. Here let’s talk about fame. I’ve written two books on that too, but it deserves some attention here because it’s such a help when you have big responsibilities. Fame reaches its fullest form when three things come together: people like you, they trust you, and they admire you enough to think you deserve recognition. To put it simply and briefly, you win these responses from the public much as you win them from individuals. But there’s also a particular way to reach people collectively, almost as though you could flow into everyone’s thoughts.

32 Let’s start with goodwill, the first of those three things, and consider how to earn it. Helping people does the most to win it. Next comes a willingness to help, even if you happen to lack the means. People also feel a strong affection for someone with a reputation for generosity, helpfulness, fairness, trustworthiness, and all the qualities that make a person gentle and easy to deal with. What we call good and fitting conduct appeals to us in itself. Its character and beauty naturally move everyone, and it shines through especially clearly in the qualities I’ve just listed. So our own nature makes us love people we believe have those qualities. These are the strongest reasons for affection, though there can be other, less important ones.

33 To earn trust, we need people to believe two things about us: that we have good judgment and that we’re fair. We trust people we think understand more than we do. We believe they can anticipate what’s ahead. When a situation becomes critical, they can find a way through and decide what to do on the spot. That’s what people regard as genuinely useful, sound judgment. With fair and dependable people—in other words, good people—our trust means we don’t suspect them of cheating us or doing us harm. We think they’re exactly the people to entrust with our safety, our property, and our children.

34 Of those two qualities, fairness does more to build trust. Even without good judgment, it carries considerable weight. Good judgment without fairness earns no trust at all. Once you take away someone’s reputation for honesty, the more clever and resourceful he is, the more people dislike and suspect him. Put intelligence together with fairness, then, and its power to inspire trust has virtually no limit. Fairness without good judgment can still do a great deal. Good judgment without fairness can do nothing.

35 You might wonder why I’m separating these qualities. All philosophers agree that anyone who has one virtue has them all, and I’ve often argued that myself. Yet now I’m speaking as though someone could be fair without also having good judgment. The explanation is that we use one level of precision when an argument examines the truth in detail, and another when everything we say is framed around ordinary people’s ideas. Here we’re using everyday language, as everyone does: we call some people brave, others good, and others sensible. When we’re discussing public opinion, we have to use familiar words in their ordinary sense. Panaetius did the same. But let’s get back to our subject.

36 The third ingredient in fame was this: people must admire us and think we deserve recognition. In general, people admire anything they notice that’s impressive and beyond their expectations. In a particular person, they admire good qualities they hadn’t expected to find. They look up to people in whom they think they see unusually fine and outstanding virtues, and they praise them to the skies. But they look down on people they think have no goodness, no spirit, and no backbone. That doesn’t mean they look down on everyone they think badly of. Someone they regard as wicked, abusive, dishonest, and well equipped to hurt others doesn’t earn their contempt at all, though they certainly think badly of him. As I said earlier, contempt is for people who are, as the saying goes, “no use to themselves or anyone else”—people who make no effort, show no initiative, and take no care over anything.

37 People admire those they believe are better than the rest in character. Such people seem free of everything shameful, especially the faults most others struggle to resist. Pleasure is a very persuasive mistress, and it draws most people away from doing what’s right. Bring the burning torches of pain near them, and most become far more frightened than they should. Life and death, wealth and poverty—all these affect everyone deeply. But some people have the strength and greatness of mind to look down on both sides of these things. Then, when a great and honorable undertaking presents itself, it takes hold of them and draws them in completely. Who could see that without admiring how bright and beautiful good character is?

38 That ability to rise above such things earns great admiration. Above all, people find something remarkable in fairness, the one virtue that earns someone the name of a good person. And they’re right. You can’t be fair if you’re afraid of death, pain, exile, or poverty, or if you put their opposites ahead of treating people fairly. People especially admire someone who can’t be swayed by money. Once they’ve seen that in a man, they consider him tested by fire. So fairness produces all three things I said fame requires. It wins affection because it seeks to help as many people as possible. It wins trust for the same reason. And it wins admiration because it dismisses and disregards the things most people chase in a fever of desire.

39 In my view, every plan and way of life needs other people’s support. Above all, we need people we can talk with freely and personally. That’s hard to arrange unless you come across as a good person. Even someone living alone in the countryside needs a reputation for fairness. In fact, such people need it all the more. Without it, [they’ll be regarded as unjust,] and with no protection around them, they’ll suffer many wrongs.

40 Fairness is also essential to the work of people who buy, sell, hire, rent out property, or enter into business agreements. Its power is so great that even people who live by crime and wrongdoing can’t get along without some small share of it. A robber who steals or forcibly takes something from a member of his own gang leaves himself no place even among robbers. And unless a pirate captain divides the loot evenly, his partners will either kill him or desert him. Robbers are even said to have laws they obey and keep. By dividing their loot evenly, Bardulis, the Illyrian robber mentioned by Theopompus, built up great power. Viriathus of Lusitania built up much more. Even our armies and commanders gave way before him. Gaius Laelius, the man called the Wise, defeated and weakened him while serving as praetor. He checked his fierceness so thoroughly that the commanders who followed him inherited an easy war. If fairness is powerful enough to strengthen and increase even the resources of robbers, imagine what it can do where laws, courts, and an established government exist.

41 I believe kings of good character were originally appointed so that people could enjoy fair treatment. That wasn’t true only among the Medes, as Herodotus tells us; it was true among our own ancestors too. When people with greater resources oppressed the poor, the poor turned for protection to one man of outstanding character. He protected the weak from harm and established fair arrangements that kept the highest and lowest under the same rules. Laws were established for the very same reason as kings.

42 People have always sought justice on equal terms. Without equality, it wouldn’t be justice. If one good and fair man could provide that, they were satisfied with him. When they couldn’t reliably get it that way, they devised laws that would always speak to everyone with exactly the same voice. Clearly, then, people used to choose rulers whose fairness the public thought highly of. If those rulers were also considered sensible, people believed there was nothing they couldn’t achieve under their guidance. We must therefore develop and hold on to fairness in every way we can. We must do that for its own sake—otherwise it wouldn’t be fairness—and because it increases our standing and fame. But money needs more than a plan for earning it. It also needs a plan for investing it so it can keep meeting our expenses, including generous spending as well as necessities. Fame likewise needs a sensible approach both to earning it and to putting it to use.

43 Socrates made an excellent point when he called this the shortest route to fame, almost a shortcut: work at actually being the person you want to be taken for. Anyone who thinks he can build lasting fame through pretending, empty displays, dishonest talk, and even a false expression on his face is badly mistaken. Genuine fame puts down roots and spreads. Everything fake quickly falls away, like little flowers. Nothing put on can last. There are plenty of examples on both sides, but to keep this brief, one family will do. Tiberius Gracchus, the son of Publius, will be praised for as long as the memory of Rome’s history survives. His sons, though, didn’t win good people’s approval while alive. Now they’re counted among those who were rightly killed. Anyone who wants genuine fame, then, must do what fairness requires. I explained those duties in the previous book.

44 How can we make it easiest for people to see us as we really are? The most important thing, of course, is actually to be the people we want them to think we are. Still, a few practical rules are needed. Some people have a reason for being well known from early in life. They may inherit their father’s name and standing, as I believe you have, my dear Cicero, or some chance event may bring them attention. Everyone’s eyes turn toward such a person. People look into what he does and how he lives. It’s as though he were standing in the brightest light: nothing he says or does can stay out of sight.

45 Others grow up unknown because their families are humble and obscure. As soon as they reach young adulthood, they should set their sights high and pursue those aims through honorable efforts. They can do this with greater confidence because people don’t resent the young; they actually want them to succeed. For a young man, then, the first opening toward fame is whatever distinction he can earn in war. Many of our ancestors stood out that way, since they were almost always fighting wars. You, however, came of age during a war in which one side had far too much criminal guilt and the other far too little good luck. Even so, when Pompey put you in charge of [one of the two] cavalry wings in that war, your riding, javelin throwing, and endurance of every military hardship won you high praise from that great man and from the army. That praise of yours fell with the republic. But I haven’t taken up this discussion to talk about you personally. I’m dealing with the subject as a whole. So let’s go on to what remains.

46 What our minds achieve far outweighs what our bodies can do. That’s true in other areas, and it’s true here: people appreciate work done with intelligence and judgment more than work done with physical strength. To earn their approval, start by behaving modestly, honoring your parents, and caring about those close to you. Young men get noticed most easily, and in the best light, by attaching themselves to respected, thoughtful men who serve the country well. If they spend plenty of time together, people expect them to become like the men they’ve chosen as examples.

47 Spending his youth in Publius Mucius’s household helped establish Publius Rutilius’s reputation for honesty and legal knowledge. Lucius Crassus, though, didn’t borrow anyone else’s standing. While still very young, he made a great name for himself with that famous, much-admired prosecution. At an age when people usually get praise for practice speeches—as we’re told Demosthenes did—Crassus showed that he could already do an excellent job in court. He could still have earned praise just by rehearsing at home.

48 Speaking takes two forms: conversation and public argument. There’s no doubt that public argument does more to make you famous. That’s what we call eloquence. Still, it’s hard to say just how much a friendly, approachable way of talking can win people over. We have letters from Philip to Alexander, from Antipater to Cassander, and from Antigonus to his son Philip. All three fathers were exceptionally shrewd men, according to the accounts we’ve received. They tell their sons to win the people’s goodwill by speaking kindly and to put soldiers at ease by addressing them warmly. But a forceful speech before a crowd can spread someone’s reputation far and wide. People greatly admire a speaker who has plenty to say and says it wisely. His listeners assume that he also understands more and has better judgment than other people. Nothing makes a stronger impression than a speech that combines seriousness with modesty, especially when the speaker is young.

49 Many kinds of cases call for eloquence. In our country, plenty of young men have earned praise by speaking before judges, the people, or the senate. But courtroom speeches win the greatest admiration. There are two sides to that work: prosecuting and defending. Defending deserves more praise, but prosecutions have often met with approval too. I mentioned Crassus a little earlier. Marcus Antonius did the same thing as a young man. Publius Sulpicius also made his name as a speaker through a prosecution, when he brought Gaius Norbanus to trial—a troublemaker who did the country no good.

50 But you shouldn’t prosecute often, and never without a reason: to serve the country, as the men I just mentioned did; to get revenge, as the two Lucullus brothers did; or to stand up for people who need you, as I did for the Sicilians and Julius did for the Sardinians against Albucius. Lucius Fufius also showed what hard work he could do when he prosecuted Manius Aquilius. So do it once, or certainly not often. If someone has to do it more frequently, he should make that work a service to the country. There’s nothing wrong with repeatedly calling its enemies to account. Even then, there must be a limit. Threatening many people with the loss of their lives seems heartless—almost inhuman. Besides putting you in danger yourself, it’s a discredit to your name to become known as a professional accuser. That happened to Marcus Brutus, despite his very distinguished family. His father had been one of the leading experts in civil law.

51 Keep this rule firmly in mind too: never prosecute an innocent person on a charge that could cost them their life. There’s no possible way to do that without committing a crime yourself. Nature gave us eloquence to protect people and keep them safe. What could be more inhuman than turning it into a weapon for ruining and destroying good people? But although you must avoid that, you needn’t feel morally barred from occasionally defending someone guilty, provided he isn’t utterly wicked and without respect for anything sacred. People want this, established practice permits it, and fellow feeling allows it too. A judge must always follow the truth in a case. A defense lawyer may sometimes argue for a plausible account even when it isn’t quite true. I wouldn’t dare write that, especially in a work about philosophy, if Panaetius, that deeply respected Stoic, didn’t agree. Defending people is the best way to earn both a reputation and gratitude. It earns even more when you help someone who seems trapped and oppressed by a powerful opponent’s resources. I’ve done that often, including when I was young and defended Sextus Roscius of Ameria against the power of Lucius Sulla, who then controlled the country. As you know, that speech is still available.

52 I’ve now explained the duties that help young men earn a good name. Next comes helping others and giving generously. There are two ways to do this: give people in need your time and effort, or give them money. Money is easier, particularly if you’re rich. But personal help is finer, more impressive, and more fitting for a brave, distinguished man. Both come from a generous wish to do someone a kindness. But one draws on your cash box; the other draws on your own character and abilities. Giving away your property drains the very source of your giving. Generosity then puts an end to generosity: the more people you’ve given to, the fewer you can help afterward.

53 Things work differently for people who help generously through their own effort—that is, through their abilities and hard work. First, the more people they help, the more helpers they’ll have for further good work. Second, regularly helping others makes them readier and, you might say, better practiced at doing good for many people. In one letter, Philip rightly takes his son Alexander to task for trying to buy the Macedonians’ goodwill. “What the hell,” he asks, “made you think you could count on loyalty from people you’d bribed? Are you trying to make the Macedonians expect you to be their servant and supplier rather than their king?” “Servant and supplier” is well put: that’s a degrading role for a king. Better still, he calls these handouts “bribery.” They make the recipient a worse person and leave him all the readier to expect the same thing again.

54 Philip wrote that to his son, but let’s take it as advice for everyone. There’s no question, then, that helping through personal effort and hard work is more honorable, has a wider reach, and can benefit more people. Still, sometimes you should give money. You shouldn’t reject that kind of kindness altogether. You should often share your resources with deserving people in need, but do it carefully and within limits. Many people have squandered their inheritance through thoughtless giving. What could be sillier than making sure you can’t keep doing something you enjoy? Handouts also lead to plunder. Once people have given so much that they’re short themselves, they’re driven to lay hands on other people’s property. They wanted to win goodwill by being generous. Instead, the people they’ve given to feel less affection for them than the people they’ve taken from feel hatred.

55 So don’t lock up your wealth so tightly that kindness can’t get it open. But don’t leave it open to everyone either. Set a limit that fits what you can afford. Remember the saying our people repeat so often that it’s become a proverb: handouts have no bottom. How could there be a stopping point? Those used to receiving them want more, and everyone else wants the same. Broadly speaking, people who give freely fall into two groups: the wasteful and the genuinely generous. The wasteful pour money into feasts, distributions of meat, gladiator shows, games, and staged animal hunts. These things leave memories that soon fade, if they leave any at all. The genuinely generous use their resources to ransom people captured by pirates, take over friends’ debts, help with the cost of marrying off daughters, or help people acquire property or increase what they have.

56 So I wonder what Theophrastus was thinking in his book about wealth. Much of it is excellent, but this part makes no sense: he goes on at length praising lavish, elaborate public entertainments. He thinks the reward of being rich is being able to afford such spending. To me, the kindness I’ve just given a few examples of brings a much greater and more reliable reward. Aristotle is far more sensible and gets much closer to the truth when he criticizes us for not being astonished at money poured out to please the crowd. He says, “Suppose people besieged by an enemy had to pay one mina for a sextarius of water. At first we’d find it unbelievable, and everyone would be amazed. But once people thought it over, they’d excuse it as a necessity. Yet these enormous losses and endless expenses don’t particularly astonish us. They meet no need, add nothing to anyone’s standing, and give the crowd only a tiny, fleeting bit of pleasure. Even that is enjoyed by the least serious people, who forget the pleasure as soon as they’ve had enough of it.”

57 He also draws the sound conclusion that “these things please boys, silly women, slaves, and free people who are very much like slaves. But a serious man who weighs what’s done with sound judgment can’t possibly approve.” Still, I realize that in our country, even in the good old days, people came to expect our finest men to spend lavishly as aediles. Publius Crassus, who was rich both in nickname and in wealth, put on an enormous public entertainment as aedile. A little later, Lucius Crassus and Quintus Mucius—the most restrained of men—made their aedileship exceptionally splendid. Then came Gaius Claudius, son of Appius, and many afterward: the Lucullus brothers, Hortensius, and Silanus. But during my consulship, Publius Lentulus surpassed all his predecessors. Scaurus followed his example. Our friend Pompey’s entertainments during his second consulship were particularly magnificent. You can see what I think about all of these.

58 All the same, you mustn’t let people suspect you of being tightfisted. Mamercus was enormously rich, but skipping the aedileship cost him election as consul. So if the people demand this spending, and respectable men at least approve even if they don’t ask for it, you should do it. Just keep it within your means, as I did myself. It’s also justified when a public handout secures something more important and useful. Recently, for example, Orestes won great credit for the meals he provided in the side streets as his tithe. Nor was Marcus Seius blamed for selling the people a modius of grain for one as during a shortage. While aedile, he freed himself from deep, long-standing unpopularity at a cost that was neither disgraceful nor very large. And our friend Milo recently earned the highest praise by buying gladiators for the country’s sake—its safety was bound up with my own—and crushing every one of Publius Clodius’s attempts and violent outbursts.

59 So this kind of generous spending is justified when it’s necessary or useful. Even then, moderation is the best rule. Lucius Philippus, the son of Quintus, was exceptionally gifted and highly distinguished. He used to boast that he’d reached all the highest offices without paying for a single public show. Cotta and Curio said the same. I can make a similar boast, up to a point. My spending as aedile was very small compared with the high offices I won. Every voting group supported me, and I won each office as soon as I was eligible. None of the men I’ve just named managed that.

60 Spending on walls, dockyards, harbors, aqueducts, and everything else that serves the country’s practical needs is better too. People may enjoy a gift more when it’s put straight into their hands, but they’ll appreciate these public works more in the long run. Pompey makes me hold back when it comes to criticizing theaters, covered walkways, and new temples. But the most learned thinkers disapprove. They include Panaetius himself, whose ideas I’ve followed closely in these books, without translating his work, and Demetrius of Phalerum. Demetrius criticizes Pericles, the leading man in Greece, for pouring so much money into that magnificent gateway, the Propylaea. I’ve discussed this whole subject thoroughly in my books on government. So this kind of public giving is basically unsound, though circumstances can make it necessary. Even then, it must fit your resources and stay within reasonable limits.

61 Now take that other kind of giving, which comes from generosity. We shouldn't respond in the same way to different situations. Someone weighed down by misfortune isn't in the same position as someone who hasn’t suffered a setback and simply wants to get ahead.

62 We should be more ready to help people in trouble, unless perhaps they deserve their trouble. Others want help not to escape hardship but to move up in life. We certainly shouldn't be tightfisted with them either. But we must take care and use good judgment when choosing suitable people. Ennius puts it very well:

“Good deeds given to the wrong people count as bad deeds to me.”

63 When you give to a good, grateful man, the return comes from others as well as from him. Generosity is deeply appreciated, provided it isn't reckless. Most people praise it all the more because the kindness of leading men gives everyone somewhere to turn. So we should try to help as many people as possible in ways their children and descendants will remember. That memory must leave them no room to be ungrateful. Everyone hates a person who forgets a kindness. They think that discouraging generosity hurts them too. They see the person responsible as an enemy of everyone with little money. This kind of kindness also benefits the state: buying captives out of slavery and improving poor people's circumstances. Crassus's speech describes at length how members of our senatorial order regularly did this. I put this tradition of kindness far above giving public entertainments. The first suits serious, great men. The second suits people who flatter the crowd, tickling its fickleness with pleasure.

64 We should give generously without being harsh when collecting what we're owed. Be fair and easy to deal with in every transaction: selling, buying, renting, or leasing out property. The same goes for dealings with neighbors and questions about boundaries. Often let people have something you could legally insist on keeping. Avoid lawsuits as far as you can—perhaps even a little farther. Giving up a small part of your rights isn't just generous. Sometimes it pays too. Still, you must look after your property. Letting it slip away is disgraceful. But manage it without giving people grounds to call you stingy or greedy. Surely money's greatest benefit is that you can be generous without stripping yourself of your estate. Theophrastus was also right to praise hospitality. To my mind, it's entirely fitting for prominent people to welcome distinguished guests into their homes. Our city gains credit when visitors from abroad don't lack this kind of generosity here. Some people want considerable influence, gained honorably. Connections with guests can give them valuable support and goodwill in other countries. Theophrastus writes that Cimon in Athens welcomed even his fellow district members, the Laciads. He made a rule and instructed his estate managers accordingly: any Laciad visiting his country house was to be given everything.

65 Help given through personal effort rather than money can serve the whole state or individual citizens. You can protect people's legal interests, give advice, and use your knowledge to help as many as possible. This does a great deal to increase both influence and goodwill. Our ancestors made many excellent arrangements. One was to give the highest standing to knowledge and interpretation of our very well-established civil law. Until the present upheaval, our leading men kept this expertise in their own hands. Now its prestige has been wiped out, just like public honors and every level of public distinction. This is especially shameful because of the man living when it happened. His knowledge easily surpassed that of all earlier men who had held equally high office. This kind of service, then, earns widespread gratitude. It's well suited to putting people in your debt through kindness.

66 Closely connected with legal expertise is public speaking. It carries more weight, wins more gratitude, and brings greater distinction. What could surpass eloquence? Think of the audience's admiration, the hopes of people needing help, and the gratitude of those he has defended. Our ancestors therefore gave it the highest standing in civilian life too. An effective speaker can help and protect people far and wide if he's ready to work. He must willingly defend many people's cases without payment, as our national tradition requires.

67 This subject would lead me to mourn here that public speaking has fallen silent, if not died altogether. But I'm afraid that would sound like a complaint about myself. Still, look at the speakers we've lost. How few now show promise, and how much fewer have real ability! Yet how many have the nerve to speak! Not everyone can be a legal expert or a good speaker. Not even many people can. But you can still help plenty of people through your own efforts. Ask favors for them. Recommend them to judges and officials. Watch over their interests. Approach the very people who give legal advice or defend cases, and ask for their help. People who do this earn a great deal of gratitude. Their efforts reach very widely.

68 They hardly need reminding of this next point, since it's obvious. When trying to help some people, take care not to hurt others. People often harm someone they shouldn't harm, or someone it's unwise to offend. If they do it unknowingly, they're careless. If they know, they're reckless. When you offend someone unwillingly, explain yourself as best you can. Show why what you did was necessary and why you couldn't have acted differently. Then use other efforts and services to make up for the damage you've apparently done.

69 When deciding whom to help, people usually consider either character or worldly position. It's easy to say that character matters more, and people commonly do say it. They claim to consider people's character, not their circumstances, when giving help. That sounds honorable. But who actually puts a poor, thoroughly good man's case first? Who doesn't prefer working to win the favor of someone successful and powerful? We're generally drawn toward whoever seems likely to repay us more readily and quickly. But we need to look more closely at how things really work. That poor man, if he's good, can certainly feel gratitude even if he can't repay a favor. Someone put it well: “If you still have the money, you haven't paid it back. If you've paid it back, you no longer have it. But you still have gratitude after returning a favor, and simply having gratitude already returns it.” People who consider themselves wealthy, distinguished, and fortunate don't even want to owe anyone a favor. Even after receiving a very substantial kindness, they think they've done you a favor by accepting it. They also suspect that something is being demanded or expected of them. As for admitting they needed someone's protection, or being called that person's clients, they think that's as bad as death.

70 A man with little money sees things differently. Whatever you've done for him, he thinks you considered him, not his circumstances. He tries to show gratitude not only to the person who helped him, but also to others he hopes will help. After all, he needs many people. If he happens to do a service in return, he doesn't talk it up. He even plays it down. Consider this too. Defend a wealthy, successful man, and the gratitude stays with him alone, or perhaps with his children. But defend a poor man who's decent and unassuming, and all respectable people of modest means see protection available for themselves. They make up a great many of our citizens.

71 That's why I think kindness is better directed toward good people than toward successful people. Of course, we should try to meet the needs of every sort of person. But if we must choose between them, we should certainly take Themistocles's advice. Someone asked him about marrying a daughter to a good but poor man or a less reputable rich man. He replied, “I'd rather have a man who needs money than money that needs a man.” But admiration for wealth has corrupted and twisted people's values. What does the size of someone's fortune matter to any of us? Perhaps it helps its owner. Even that isn't always true. But let's suppose it does help. Certainly, he'll have more to spend. How does that make him more honorable? If he's also a good man, don't let his wealth prevent you from helping him. Just don't let it count in his favor either. Base your whole judgment on what someone is like, not how rich he is. One final rule about giving help and personal service: don't push for anything unfair or support an injustice. Justice is the foundation of lasting esteem and a good reputation. Without it, nothing deserves praise.

72 We've discussed help directed toward individuals. Next we must discuss help for people collectively and for the state. Some of these benefits reach all citizens. Others reach particular people and earn even greater gratitude. We should certainly try to provide both kinds, if possible. Helping individuals deserves just as much attention. But it must benefit the state, or at least not harm it. Gaius Gracchus's grain distribution was lavish, so it drained the treasury. Marcus Octavius's was modest. The state could afford it, and ordinary people needed it. So it benefited both the citizens and the state.

73 Anyone governing a state must make this a first concern: everyone should keep what's theirs. The government mustn't take away private people's property. When Philippus was tribune, he proposed a land bill. He readily let it be rejected, though, showing great restraint on that point. But while promoting it, he said plenty to please the crowd, including this disastrous claim: “There aren't two thousand men in the state who own property.” That's a deadly statement, aimed at equalizing people's possessions. What greater disaster could there be? States and organized communities were established chiefly so people could keep what belonged to them. Nature did lead people to gather together. But they sought protection in cities because they hoped to keep their possessions safe.

74 We must also work to avoid having to impose a direct tax. That often happened in our ancestors' time because the treasury was short and wars were frequent. We must plan far ahead to prevent it. But suppose some state finds itself forced to impose this burden. I'd rather make that gloomy prediction about another state than our own. Besides, I'm discussing states in general, not ours in particular. In that case, everyone must be made to understand that their safety depends on accepting what's necessary. Everyone governing a state must also ensure a supply of life's necessities. There's no need to discuss how these supplies are usually obtained or how they should be obtained. That's obvious. I only needed to touch on the subject.

75 Above all, anyone handling public business or holding public office must remove even the slightest suspicion of greed. Gaius Pontius the Samnite said, “If only fortune had saved me for those times! If only I'd been born when the Romans started taking bribes! I wouldn't have let them rule much longer.” He certainly would have had many centuries to wait. This disease only recently invaded our state. So I'm quite happy that Pontius lived when he did, if he really had that much strength. It hasn't yet been 110 years since Lucius Piso introduced a law for recovering money extorted by officials. There had been no such law before. But since then, there have been so many laws, each new one harsher than the last. So many people charged, so many convicted! Fear of trials stirred up a huge [Italian] war. Once laws and courts were swept aside, our allies were stripped and robbed on such a scale that our power rests on others' weakness, not our own worth.

76 Panaetius praises Africanus for keeping his hands off other people's wealth. Why shouldn't he? Still, Africanus had greater qualities than that. And the credit for his honesty belongs not just to him but to the times he lived in. Paulus captured the whole Macedonian treasury, an enormous fortune. He paid so much into the public treasury that one commander's spoils ended the direct tax levy. Yet all he brought home for himself was a name that would be remembered forever. Africanus followed his father's example: destroying Carthage didn't make him any richer. And what about Lucius Mummius, his fellow censor? Did leveling a fabulously wealthy city leave him better off? He chose to decorate Italy rather than his own house. Though, to my mind, making Italy more beautiful made his house look finer too.

77 So, to pick up where I left off, there's no uglier fault than greed, especially in leading men and those running the state. Turning public affairs into a source of personal profit isn't just disgraceful. It's criminal and downright evil. Apollo's oracle at Delphi declared that nothing but greed would destroy Sparta. That warning seems meant not just for the Spartans but for every wealthy nation. People in charge of public affairs have no easier way to win public goodwill than by refusing to take what isn't theirs and keeping their appetites under control.

78 Some men want to be seen as the people’s champions. To achieve that, they push land schemes that would drive the current holders off their property, or argue that borrowers should have their debts forgiven. They're shaking the foundations of the state. First comes harmony, which can't survive taking wealth from some people and handing it to others. Then there's fairness: that disappears altogether if people aren't allowed to keep what's theirs. As I said earlier, the very point of a state and a city is to let everyone keep their own property safe, freely and without fear.

79 While doing this damage to the state, they don't even win the gratitude they expect. The person whose property they've seized becomes their enemy. The recipient won't even admit to having wanted the gift. With canceled debts especially, he hides his delight, afraid people might think he hadn't been able to pay. But the injured person remembers what happened and makes no secret of his pain. Even if the people unfairly given something outnumber those unjustly deprived of it, that doesn't give them greater influence. What matters here isn't the head count but the weight each side carries. And where's the fairness in handing land held for many years, even centuries, to someone who never owned it, while making its owner lose it?

80 It was for this sort of injustice that the Spartans expelled Lysander, their ephor, and killed King Agis—something they'd never done to a king before. Such bitter divisions followed that tyrants took power, leading citizens were driven out, and their superbly organized state fell apart. Nor did Sparta collapse alone. The troubles that began there spread like an infection and wrecked the rest of Greece too. And here at home, wasn't fighting over land what destroyed the Gracchi, sons of that great man Tiberius Gracchus and grandsons of Africanus?

81 Aratus of Sicyon, by contrast, deserves the praise he gets. Tyrants had held his city for fifty years. He set out from Argos, slipped into Sicyon, and took control. Having caught the tyrant Nicocles off guard and overpowered him, he brought back six hundred exiles who had once been the city's wealthiest people. His arrival freed his country. But he saw a serious problem over property and possessions. Other people now held the property of the exiles he'd brought back, and he thought it utterly wrong to leave those exiles in poverty. Yet undoing fifty years of possession didn't seem entirely fair either. Over that long period, many properties had come into people's hands through inheritance, purchase, or dowries, without any wrongdoing. He decided that the current holders shouldn't have their property taken away, but the former owners must receive satisfaction too.

82 He decided that settling the matter would take money. So he announced that he wanted to go to Alexandria and ordered that nothing be changed before he returned. He quickly reached Ptolemy, his host, who was the second king to rule since Alexandria’s founding. He explained that he wanted to free his country and laid out the situation. An outstanding man himself, he easily persuaded the wealthy king to help him with a large sum. He brought the money to Sicyon and chose fifteen leading citizens as his advisers. Together they examined the claims of both groups: those occupying property that belonged to others and those who’d lost their own property. He had the properties valued and worked out a settlement. He persuaded some current holders to prefer payment and give up possession. He convinced some former owners that receiving the value in cash was better than getting their property back. Agreement was restored, and everyone went away without a complaint.

83 What a man! He deserved to have been born in our republic! That's how to deal with fellow citizens—not by planting an auction spear in the Forum and having a crier offer their property for sale, as we've already seen twice. That Greek thought everyone's interests needed looking after, as you'd expect from a wise and outstanding man. For a good citizen, the wisest, most sensible policy is not to tear people's interests apart, but to hold everyone together through equal treatment. “Let them live rent-free in someone else's house.” Why? I've bought it, built it, kept it up, and paid the expenses. Why should you enjoy my property against my wishes? What else is that but robbing some people of what's theirs and giving others what isn't?

84 But what do proposals to cancel debts amount to? You buy a farm with my money, you keep the farm, and I’m left without my money. We need to prevent debts from harming the state, and there are many ways to guard against that. If debts do arise, the answer isn’t to make wealthy people lose what belongs to them while debtors profit from what belongs to someone else. Nothing holds a state together more firmly than trust. That trust can’t exist unless people are required to repay what they’ve borrowed. The push to stop repayment was never stronger than during my year as consul. People of every kind and social rank tried to bring it about with weapons and military camps. I resisted them so successfully that this whole threat was removed from the state. Debts had never been greater, and repayment had never gone better or been easier. Once people lost the hope of cheating their creditors, they had no choice but to pay. Yet the man who’s now victorious was defeated then. He later carried out the very measures he’d planned when they served his own interests, although by then he no longer stood to gain anything. His craving to do wrong was so strong that doing wrong was itself a pleasure to him, even when he had no reason to.

85 People who protect the state will therefore avoid that sort of giveaway—taking from some to give to others. Above all, they'll work to ensure that fair laws and fair court decisions let everyone keep what's theirs. People with little mustn't be cheated because they lack standing. Nor should envy stop the wealthy from keeping or recovering their own property. Beyond that, they'll use every opportunity, in war or at home, to expand the state's rule, territory, and revenues. That's the work of great men. That's what our ancestors regularly did. Anyone who pursues duties like these will bring enormous benefits to the state and earn himself widespread goodwill and fame.

86 In these instructions about practical advantage, the Stoic Antipater of Tyre, who died recently in Athens, thinks Panaetius left out two things: looking after your health and your money. I imagine that great philosopher passed over them because they were straightforward. They're certainly useful. You keep healthy by knowing your own body and noticing what usually helps or harms it. Be restrained in everything you eat and in the way you live, giving up pleasures when that's needed to protect your body. Finally, draw on the skills of people whose expertise covers these matters.

87 You should acquire household wealth in ways that involve nothing shameful. Care and thrift will help you preserve it, and those same habits will help it grow. Xenophon, a follower of Socrates, covered these matters very well in his book “Household Management.” I translated it from Greek into Latin when I was about the age you are now. But on this whole subject—making money and investing it, and I wish I could add using it—some very fine men sitting at the Middle Janus offer more useful discussions than any philosophers in any school. Still, you need to learn about these things. They concern practical advantage, the subject of this book.

88 We often need to compare different advantages. This was the fourth topic, which Panaetius left out. We regularly compare benefits for the body with advantages outside it [and outside advantages with benefits for the body]. We also compare physical benefits with one another, and outside advantages with one another. To compare a bodily benefit with an outside advantage, you might prefer being healthy to being rich. [To compare an outside advantage with a bodily one, you might prefer wealth to exceptional physical strength.] Among physical benefits, you'd put good health ahead of pleasure, and strength ahead of speed. Among outside advantages, you'd put fame ahead of wealth, and income from city property ahead of income from country property.

89 An example of this sort of comparison comes from Cato in his old age. Someone asked him what paid best in managing an estate. “Raising livestock well,” he answered. What came second? “Raising livestock fairly well.” Third? “Raising livestock badly.” Fourth? “Plowing.” Then the questioner said, “What about lending money at interest?” Cato replied, “What about killing a man?” This and many other examples should show us that people commonly compare advantages, and that it was right to add this as the fourth kind of inquiry into our duties.

90 Next we'll work through what's left.