Lives of the Stoics: The Art of Living From Zeno to Marcus Aurelius

That which is regular, just, holy, pious,

Self-governing, useful, fair, fitting,

Grave, independent, always beneficial,

That feels no fear or grief, profitable, painless,

Helpful, pleasant, safe, friendly,

Held in esteem, agreeing with itself: honourable,

Humble, careful, meek, zealous,

Perennial, blameless, ever-during.

As beautiful as the language there is, what matters more is that these words were a perfect self-portrait of the man. They were words that he lived by . . . and that we must strive to as well.

It was said by Seneca that while we each have the power to live, none possess the power to live long. Cleanthes, the second head of the Stoic school, then must have been blessed by fortune. For he not only lived well, but lived to be exactly one hundred years old, likely the oldest of all the Stoics.

To the end he maintained his humor. When someone mocked him as an old man, he joked that he was ready to go at any time, but considering his good health and the fact that he could still write and read, he might as well wait it out. As he neared his centennial, however, his body began to fail him. At the advice of doctors who were attempting to treat his severely inflamed gums, Cleanthes fasted for two days.

The treatment worked, but that final act of deprivation had clearly shown him something—mostly that it was time to go. When the doctors told him he could resume his normal diet, he replied that he’d gone too far down the road to turn back. And so he died a few days later, fasting into the world beyond.

It would be Diogenes who wrote the best eulogy of the man:

I praise Cleanthes, but praise Hades more,

Who could not bear to see him grown so old.

So gave him rest among the dead,

Who’d drawn such a load of water while alive.

ARISTO THE CHALLENGER (Ah-RIST-oh)

Origin: Chios

B. 306 BC

D. 240 BC

It can be easy, in retrospect, to see “the Stoics” as a unified voice. To view the early days of philosophy with Zeno and Cleanthes and their first students as salad days of teamwork and friendship. It was, after all, a school, with a straightforward claim: that virtue was the path to happiness and from virtue came a better flow of life.

We must live in harmony with nature, the Stoics had taught since the beginning, so where could the conflict possibly be?

The answer, of course, is everywhere. For instance, what exactly do “nature” and “virtue” entail? Whose definition is correct? Whose prescriptions are best? And who is the true heir to Zeno’s legacy both as the founder of the Stoic school and as the promoter of virtue above all else?

History gives a clear answer—Cleanthes and then Chrysippus (whom you will meet in the next chapter)—though it was never so clean. Written history obscures the also-rans and the contrarians who did not carry the day. There is no such thing as a movement without disagreement, after all, and nothing that involves people does not also involve differing opinions. Stoicism is no exception.

There should be little surprise that knives flashed among the ancient philosophers, as they have and always will flash in academia. A school that venerates reason and grit, courage, and a keen sense of right and wrong above all things is naturally going to attract strong-minded students who don’t like to concede or compromise. The rising popularity of the school only raised the stakes of this conflict.

No one embodied that more than Aristo, the contentious rival son who could have very nearly changed the entire course of Stoic philosophy.

While Cleanthes was Zeno’s favored student and chosen successor in 262 BC, Aristo was an equally promising philosopher, who was far less passive and far less reserved than the hardworking water-carrier who would inherit Zeno’s mantle. Aristo the Bald, of Chios, son of Miltiades, was nicknamed “the Siren” for the persuasive power of his eloquence that wooed audiences, and allegedly led them astray.

A better name would have been Aristo the Challenger, because he was constantly questioning, undermining, and disputing much of the early Stoic doctrine, including their practical rules for daily living.

Some three centuries after the debate with Aristo last ran hot, Seneca would rehearse in great detail the disagreement between Aristo and Cleanthes in a letter to his friend Lucilius, almost in the way a historian might lay out the differences between the American Founding Fathers on the separation of powers.

The dispute? It was over the role of precepts, or practical rules, to guide us in everyday decision making. Rules about how to act in a marriage or how to raise children or how masters ought to treat their slaves. Rules like what to do when your brother makes you angry, or how to respond to the insults of a friend, and what to do when an enemy is spreading lies about you.