Thou must be like a
promontory
of the sea, against which though
the waves beat continually, yet it both itself stands, and about it are
those swelling waves stilled and quieted.
the waves beat continually, yet it both itself stands, and about it are
those swelling waves stilled and quieted.
Marcus Aurelius - Meditations
They seek for themselves private retiring
places, as country villages, the sea-shore, mountains; yea thou thyself
art wont to long much after such places. But all this thou must know
proceeds from simplicity in the highest degree. At what time soever thou
wilt, it is in thy power to retire into thyself, and to be at rest, and
free from all businesses. A man cannot any whither retire better than
to his own soul; he especially who is beforehand provided of such
things within, which whensoever he doth withdraw himself to look in, may
presently afford unto him perfect ease and tranquillity. By tranquillity
I understand a decent orderly disposition and carriage, free from
all confusion and tumultuousness. Afford then thyself this retiring
continually, and thereby refresh and renew thyself. Let these precepts
be brief and fundamental, which as soon as thou dost call them to mind,
may suffice thee to purge thy soul throughly, and to send thee away well
pleased with those things whatsoever they be, which now again after this
short withdrawing of thy soul into herself thou dost return unto. For
what is it that thou art offended at? Can it be at the wickedness of
men, when thou dost call to mind this conclusion, that all reasonable
creatures are made one for another? and that it is part of justice to
bear with them? and that it is against their wills that they offend?
and how many already, who once likewise prosecuted their enmities,
suspected, hated, and fiercely contended, are now long ago stretched
out, and reduced unto ashes? It is time for thee to make an end. As for
those things which among the common chances of the world happen unto
thee as thy particular lot and portion, canst thou be displeased with
any of them, when thou dost call that our ordinary dilemma to mind,
either a providence, or Democritus his atoms; and with it, whatsoever we
brought to prove that the whole world is as it were one city? And as for
thy body, what canst thou fear, if thou dost consider that thy mind and
understanding, when once it hath recollected itself, and knows its own
power, hath in this life and breath (whether it run smoothly and gently,
or whether harshly and rudely), no interest at all, but is altogether
indifferent: and whatsoever else thou hast heard and assented unto
concerning either pain or pleasure? But the care of thine honour and
reputation will perchance distract thee? How can that be, if thou
dost look back, and consider both how quickly all things that are, are
forgotten, and what an immense chaos of eternity was before, and will
follow after all things: and the vanity of praise, and the inconstancy
and variableness of human judgments and opinions, and the narrowness of
the place, wherein it is limited and circumscribed? For the whole earth
is but as one point; and of it, this inhabited part of it, is but a very
little part; and of this part, how many in number, and what manner of
men are they, that will commend thee? What remains then, but that thou
often put in practice this kind of retiring of thyself, to this little
part of thyself; and above all things, keep thyself from distraction,
and intend not anything vehemently, but be free and consider all things,
as a man whose proper object is Virtue, as a man whose true nature is
to be kind and sociable, as a citizen, as a mortal creature. Among
other things, which to consider, and look into thou must use to withdraw
thyself, let those two be among the most obvious and at hand. One, that
the things or objects themselves reach not unto the soul, but stand
without still and quiet, and that it is from the opinion only which is
within, that all the tumult and all the trouble doth proceed. The next,
that all these things, which now thou seest, shall within a very little
while be changed, and be no more: and ever call to mind, how many
changes and alterations in the world thou thyself hast already been an
eyewitness of in thy time. This world is mere change, and this life,
opinion.
IV. If to understand and to be reasonable be common unto all men, then
is that reason, for which we are termed reasonable, common unto all. If
reason is general, then is that reason also, which prescribeth what is
to be done and what not, common unto all. If that, then law. If law,
then are we fellow-citizens. If so, then are we partners in some one
commonweal. If so, then the world is as it were a city. For which other
commonweal is it, that all men can be said to be members of? From this
common city it is, that understanding, reason, and law is derived unto
us, for from whence else? For as that which in me is earthly I have from
some common earth; and that which is moist from some other element is
imparted; as my breath and life hath its proper fountain; and that
likewise which is dry and fiery in me: (for there is nothing which doth
not proceed from something; as also there is nothing that can be reduced
unto mere nothing:) so also is there some common beginning from whence
my understanding hath proceeded.
V. As generation is, so also death, a secret of nature's wisdom: a
mixture of elements, resolved into the same elements again, a thing
surely which no man ought to be ashamed of: in a series of other fatal
events and consequences, which a rational creature is subject unto,
not improper or incongruous, nor contrary to the natural and proper
constitution of man himself.
VI. Such and such things, from such and such causes, must of necessity
proceed. He that would not have such things to happen, is as he that
would have the fig-tree grow without any sap or moisture. In sum,
remember this, that within a very little while, both thou and he shall
both be dead, and after a little while more, not so much as your names
and memories shall be remaining.
VII. Let opinion be taken away, and no man will think himself wronged.
If no man shall think himself wronged, then is there no more any such
thing as wrong. That which makes not man himself the worse, cannot
make his life the worse, neither can it hurt him either inwardly
or outwardly. It was expedient in nature that it should be so, and
therefore necessary.
VIII. Whatsoever doth happen in the world, doth happen justly, and so if
thou dost well take heed, thou shalt find it. I say not only in right
order by a series of inevitable consequences, but according to justice
and as it were by way of equal distribution, according to the true worth
of everything. Continue then to take notice of it, as thou hast begun,
and whatsoever thou dost, do it not without this proviso, that it be a
thing of that nature that a good man (as the word good is properly
taken) may do it. This observe carefully in every action.
IX. Conceit no such things, as he that wrongeth thee conceiveth,
or would have thee to conceive, but look into the matter itself, and see
what it is in very truth.
X. These two rules, thou must have always in a readiness. First, do
nothing at all, but what reason proceeding from that regal and supreme
part, shall for the good and benefit of men, suggest unto thee. And
secondly, if any man that is present shall be able to rectify thee or to
turn thee from some erroneous persuasion, that thou be always ready to
change thy mind, and this change to proceed, not from any respect of any
pleasure or credit thereon depending, but always from some probable
apparent ground of justice, or of some public good thereby to be
furthered; or from some other such inducement.
XI. Hast thou reason? I have. Why then makest thou not use of it? For if
thy reason do her part, what more canst thou require?
XII. As a part hitherto thou hast had a particular subsistence: and now
shalt thou vanish away into the common substance of Him, who first begot
thee, or rather thou shalt be resumed again into that original rational
substance, out of which all others have issued, and are propagated.
Many small pieces of frankincense are set upon the same altar, one drops
first and is consumed, another after; and it comes all to one.
XIII. Within ten days, if so happen, thou shalt be esteemed a god of
them, who now if thou shalt return to the dogmata and to the honouring
of reason, will esteem of thee no better than of a mere brute, and of an
ape.
XIV. Not as though thou hadst thousands of years to live. Death hangs
over thee: whilst yet thou livest, whilst thou mayest, be good.
XV. Now much time and leisure doth he gain, who is not curious to know
what his neighbour hath said, or hath done, or hath attempted, but only
what he doth himself, that it may be just and holy? or to express it in
Agathos' words, Not to look about upon the evil conditions of others,
but to run on straight in the line, without any loose and extravagant
agitation.
XVI. He who is greedy of credit and reputation after his death, doth
not consider, that they themselves by whom he is remembered, shall soon
after every one of them be dead; and they likewise that succeed those;
until at last all memory, which hitherto by the succession of men
admiring and soon after dying hath had its course, be quite extinct.
But suppose that both they that shall remember thee, and thy memory with
them should be immortal, what is that to thee? I will not say to thee
after thou art dead; but even to thee living, what is thy praise? But
only for a secret and politic consideration, which we call oikonomian or
dispensation. For as for that, that it is the gift of nature, whatsoever
is commended in thee, what might be objected from thence, let that now
that we are upon another consideration be omitted as unseasonable. That
which is fair and goodly, whatsoever it be, and in what respect soever
it be, that it is fair and goodly, it is so of itself, and terminates in
itself, not admitting praise as a part or member: that therefore
which is praised, is not thereby made either better or worse. This I
understand even of those things, that are commonly called fair and
good, as those which are commended either for the matter itself, or for
curious workmanship. As for that which is truly good, what can it
stand in need of more than either justice or truth; or more than either
kindness and modesty? Which of all those, either becomes good or fair,
because commended; or dispraised suffers any damage? Doth the emerald
become worse in itself, or more vile if it be not commended? Doth gold,
or ivory, or purple? Is there anything that doth though never so common,
as a knife, a flower, or a tree?
XVII. If so be that the souls remain after death (say they that will not
believe it); how is the air from all eternity able to contain them? How
is the earth (say I) ever from that time able to Contain the bodies
of them that are buried? For as here the change and resolution of dead
bodies into another kind of subsistence (whatsoever it be;) makes place
for other dead bodies: so the souls after death transferred into the
air, after they have conversed there a while, are either by way of
transmutation, or transfusion, or conflagration, received again into
that original rational substance, from which all others do proceed:
and so give way to those souls, who before coupled and associated unto
bodies, now begin to subsist single. This, upon a supposition that the
souls after death do for a while subsist single, may be answered. And
here, (besides the number of bodies, so buried and contained by the
earth), we may further consider the number of several beasts, eaten
by us men, and by other creatures. For notwithstanding that such a
multitude of them is daily consumed, and as it were buried in the bodies
of the eaters, yet is the same place and body able to contain them, by
reason of their conversion, partly into blood, partly into air and fire.
What in these things is the speculation of truth? to divide things into
that which is passive and material; and that which is active and formal.
XVIII. Not to wander out of the way, but upon every motion and desire,
to perform that which is just: and ever to be careful to attain to the
true natural apprehension of every fancy, that presents itself.
XIX. Whatsoever is expedient unto thee, O World, is expedient unto me;
nothing can either be 'unseasonable unto me, or out of date, which unto
thee is seasonable. Whatsoever thy seasons bear, shall ever by me be
esteemed as happy fruit, and increase. O Nature! from thee are all
things, in thee all things subsist, and to thee all tend. Could he say
of Athens, Thou lovely city of Cecrops; and shalt not thou say of the
world, Thou lovely city of God?
XX. They will say commonly, Meddle not with many things, if thou wilt
live cheerfully. Certainly there is nothing better, than for a man
to confine himself to necessary actions; to such and so many only, as
reason in a creature that knows itself born for society, will command
and enjoin. This will not only procure that cheerfulness, which from the
goodness, but that also, which from the paucity of actions doth usually
proceed. For since it is so, that most of those things, which we either
speak or do, are unnecessary; if a man shall cut them off, it must needs
follow that he shall thereby gain much leisure, and save much trouble,
and therefore at every action a man must privately by way of admonition
suggest unto himself, What? may not this that now I go about, be of the
number of unnecessary actions? Neither must he use himself to cut off
actions only, but thoughts and imaginations also, that are unnecessary
for so will unnecessary consequent actions the better be prevented and
cut off.
XXI. Try also how a good man's life; (of one, who is well pleased with
those things whatsoever, which among the common changes and chances of
this world fall to his own lot and share; and can live well contented
and fully satisfied in the justice of his own proper present action,
and in the goodness of his disposition for the future:) will agree with
thee. Thou hast had experience of that other kind of life: make now
trial of this also. Trouble not thyself any more henceforth, reduce
thyself unto perfect simplicity. Doth any man offend? It is against
himself that he doth offend: why should it trouble thee? Hath anything
happened unto thee? It is well, whatsoever it be, it is that which
of all the common chances of the world from the very beginning in the
series of all other things that have, or shall happen, was destinated
and appointed unto thee. To comprehend all in a few words, our life is
short; we must endeavour to gain the present time with best discretion
and justice. Use recreation with sobriety.
XXII. Either this world is a kosmoz or comely piece, because all
disposed and governed by certain order: or if it be a mixture, though
confused, yet still it is a comely piece. For is it possible that in
thee there should be any beauty at all, and that in the whole world
there should be nothing but disorder and confusion? and all things in it
too, by natural different properties one from another differenced and
distinguished; and yet all through diffused, and by natural sympathy,
one to another united, as they are?
XXIII. A black or malign disposition, an effeminate disposition; an
hard inexorable disposition, a wild inhuman disposition, a sheepish
disposition, a childish disposition; a blockish, a false, a scurril, a
fraudulent, a tyrannical: what then? If he be a stranger in the world,
that knows not the things that are in it; why not be a stranger as well,
that wonders at the things that are done in it?
XXIV. He is a true fugitive, that flies from reason, by which men are
sociable. He blind, who cannot see with the eyes of his understanding.
He poor, that stands in need of another, and hath not in himself all
things needful for this life. He an aposteme of the world, who by being
discontented with those things that happen unto him in the world,
doth as it were apostatise, and separate himself from common nature's
rational administration. For the same nature it is that brings this
unto thee, whatsoever it be, that first brought thee into the world. He
raises sedition in the city, who by irrational actions withdraws his own
soul from that one and common soul of all rational creatures.
XXV. There is, who without so much as a coat; and there is, who without
so much as a book, doth put philosophy in practice. I am half naked,
neither have I bread to eat, and yet I depart not from reason, saith
one. But I say; I want the food of good teaching, and instructions, and
yet I depart not from reason.
XXVI. What art and profession soever thou hast learned, endeavour to
affect it, and comfort thyself in it; and pass the remainder of thy life
as one who from his whole heart commits himself and whatsoever belongs
unto him, unto the gods: and as for men, carry not thyself either
tyrannically or servilely towards any.
XXVII. Consider in my mind, for example's sake, the times of Vespasian:
thou shalt see but the same things: some marrying, some bringing up
children, some sick, some dying, some fighting, some feasting, some
merchandising, some tilling, some flattering, some boasting, some
suspecting, some undermining, some wishing to die, some fretting and
murmuring at their present estate, some wooing, some hoarding, some
seeking after magistracies, and some after kingdoms. And is not that
their age quite over, and ended? Again, consider now the times of
Trajan. There likewise thou seest the very self-same things, and that
age also is now over and ended. In the like manner consider other
periods, both of times and of whole nations, and see how many men, after
they had with all their might and main intended and prosecuted some one
worldly thing or other did soon after drop away, and were resolved into
the elements. But especially thou must call to mind them, whom thou
thyself in thy lifetime hast known much distracted about vain things,
and in the meantime neglecting to do that, and closely and unseparably
(as fully satisfied with it) to adhere unto it, which their own proper
constitution did require. And here thou must remember, that thy carriage
in every business must be according to the worth and due proportion of
it, for so shalt thou not easily be tired out and vexed, if thou shalt
not dwell upon small matters longer than is fitting.
XXVIII. Those words which once were common and ordinary, are now become
obscure and obsolete; and so the names of men once commonly known and
famous, are now become in a manner obscure and obsolete names. Camillus,
Cieso, Volesius, Leonnatus; not long after, Scipio, Cato, then Augustus,
then Adrianus, then Antoninus Pius: all these in a short time will
be out of date, and, as things of another world as it were, become
fabulous. And this I say of them, who once shined as the wonders of
their ages, for as for the rest, no sooner are they expired, than with
them all their fame and memory. And what is it then that shall always be
remembered? all is vanity. What is it that we must bestow our care and
diligence upon? even upon this only: that our minds and wills be just;
that our actions be charitable; that our speech be never deceitful, or
that our understanding be not subject to error; that our inclination be
always set to embrace whatsoever shall happen unto us, as necessary,
as usual, as ordinary, as flowing from such a beginning, and such a
fountain, from which both thou thyself and all things are.
Willingly therefore, and wholly surrender up thyself unto that fatal
concatenation, yielding up thyself unto the fates, to be disposed of at
their pleasure.
XXIX. Whatsoever is now present, and from day to day hath its existence;
all objects of memories, and the minds and memories themselves,
incessantly consider, all things that are, have their being by change
and alteration. Use thyself therefore often to meditate upon this, that
the nature of the universe delights in nothing more, than in altering
those things that are, and in making others like unto them. So that we
may say, that whatsoever is, is but as it were the seed of that which
shall be. For if thou think that that only is seed, which either the
earth or the womb receiveth, thou art very simple.
XXX. Thou art now ready to die, and yet hast thou not attained to
that perfect simplicity: thou art yet subject to many troubles and
perturbations; not yet free from all fear and suspicion of external
accidents; nor yet either so meekly disposed towards all men, as thou
shouldest; or so affected as one, whose only study and only wisdom is,
to be just in all his actions.
XXXI. Behold and observe, what is the state of their rational part; and
those that the world doth account wise, see what things they fly and are
afraid of; and what things they hunt after.
XXXII. In another man's mind and understanding thy evil Cannot subsist,
nor in any proper temper or distemper of the natural constitution of thy
body, which is but as it were the coat or cottage of thy soul. Wherein
then, but in that part of thee, wherein the conceit, and apprehension
of any misery can subsist? Let not that part therefore admit any such
conceit, and then all is well. Though thy body which is so near it
should either be cut or burnt, or suffer any corruption or putrefaction,
yet let that part to which it belongs to judge of these, be still at
rest; that is, let her judge this, that whatsoever it is, that equally
may happen to a wicked man, and to a good man, is neither good nor evil.
For that which happens equally to him that lives according to nature,
and to him that doth not, is neither according to nature, nor against
it; and by consequent, neither good nor bad.
XXXIII. Ever consider and think upon the world as being but one living
substance, and having but one soul, and how all things in the world, are
terminated into one sensitive power; and are done by one general motion
as it were, and deliberation of that one soul; and how all things that
are, concur in the cause of one another's being, and by what manner of
connection and concatenation all things happen.
XXXIV. What art thou, that better and divine part excepted, but as
Epictetus said well, a wretched soul, appointed to carry a carcass up
and down?
XXXV. To suffer change can be no hurt; as no benefit it is, by change to
attain to being. The age and time of the world is as it were a flood and
swift current, consisting of the things that are brought to pass in
the world. For as soon as anything hath appeared, and is passed away,
another succeeds, and that also will presently out of sight.
XXXVI. Whatsoever doth happen in the world, is, in the course of nature,
as usual and ordinary as a rose in the spring, and fruit in summer. Of
the same nature is sickness and death; slander, and lying in wait, and
whatsoever else ordinarily doth unto fools use to be occasion either
of joy or sorrow. That, whatsoever it is, that comes after, doth always
very naturally, and as it were familiarly, follow upon that which was
before. For thou must consider the things of the world, not as a loose
independent number, consisting merely of necessary events; but as a
discreet connection of things orderly and harmoniously disposed. There
is then to be seen in the things of the world, not a bare succession,
but an admirable correspondence and affinity.
XXXVII. Let that of Heraclitus never be out of thy mind, that the death
of earth, is water, and the death of water, is air; and the death of
air, is fire; and so on the contrary. Remember him also who was ignorant
whither the way did lead, and how that reason being the thing by which
all things in the world are administered, and which men are continually
and most inwardly conversant with: yet is the thing, which ordinarily
they are most in opposition with, and how those things which daily
happen among them, cease not daily to be strange unto them, and that
we should not either speak, or do anything as men in their sleep, by
opinion and bare imagination: for then we think we speak and do, and
that we must not be as children, who follow their father's example;
for best reason alleging their bare successive tradition from our
forefathers we have received it.
XXXVIII. Even as if any of the gods should tell thee, Thou shalt
certainly die to-morrow, or next day, thou wouldst not, except thou wert
extremely base and pusillanimous, take it for a great benefit, rather
to die the next day after, than to-morrow; (for alas, what is the
difference! ) so, for the same reason, think it no great matter to die
rather many years after, than the very next day.
XXXIX. Let it be thy perpetual meditation, how many physicians who
once looked so grim, and so theatrically shrunk their brows upon their
patients, are dead and gone themselves. How many astrologers, after that
in great ostentation they had foretold the death of some others, how
many philosophers after so many elaborate tracts and volumes concerning
either mortality or immortality; how many brave captains and commanders,
after the death and slaughter of so many; how many kings and tyrants,
after they had with such horror and insolency abused their power upon
men's lives, as though themselves had been immortal; how many, that
I may so speak, whole cities both men and towns: Helice, Pompeii,
Herculaneum, and others innumerable are dead and gone. Run them over
also, whom thou thyself, one after another, hast known in thy time
to drop away. Such and such a one took care of such and such a one's
burial, and soon after was buried himself. So one, so another: and all
things in a short time. For herein lieth all indeed, ever to look upon
all worldly things, as things for their continuance, that are but for a
day: and for their worth, most vile, and contemptible, as for example,
What is man? That which but the other day when he was conceived was vile
snivel; and within few days shall be either an embalmed carcass, or mere
ashes. Thus must thou according to truth and nature, throughly consider
how man's life is but for a very moment of time, and so depart meek and
contented: even as if a ripe olive falling should praise the ground that
bare her, and give thanks to the tree that begat her.
XL.
Thou must be like a promontory of the sea, against which though
the waves beat continually, yet it both itself stands, and about it are
those swelling waves stilled and quieted.
XLI. Oh, wretched I, to whom this mischance is happened! nay, happy I,
to whom this thing being happened, I can continue without grief; neither
wounded by that which is present, nor in fear of that which is to come.
For as for this, it might have happened unto any man, but any man having
such a thing befallen him, could not have continued without grief. Why
then should that rather be an unhappiness, than this a happiness? But
however, canst thou, O man! term that unhappiness, which is no mischance
to the nature of man I Canst thou think that a mischance to the nature
of man, which is not contrary to the end and will of his nature? What
then hast thou learned is the will of man's nature? Doth that then which
hath happened unto thee, hinder thee from being just? or magnanimous? or
temperate? or wise? or circumspect? or true? or modest? or free? or from
anything else of all those things in the present enjoying and possession
whereof the nature of man, (as then enjoying all that is proper unto
her,) is fully satisfied? Now to conclude; upon all occasion of sorrow
remember henceforth to make use of this dogma, that whatsoever it is
that hath happened unto thee, is in very deed no such thing of itself,
as a misfortune; but that to bear it generously, is certainly great
happiness.
XLII. It is but an ordinary coarse one, yet it is a good effectual
remedy against the fear of death, for a man to consider in his mind the
examples of such, who greedily and covetously (as it were) did for a
long time enjoy their lives. What have they got more, than they whose
deaths have been untimely? Are not they themselves dead at the last?
as Cadiciant's, Fabius, Julianus Lepidus, or any other who in their
lifetime having buried many, were at the last buried themselves. The
whole space of any man's life, is but little; and as little as it is,
with what troubles, with what manner of dispositions, and in the society
of how wretched a body must it be passed! Let it be therefore unto thee
altogether as a matter of indifferency. For if thou shalt look backward;
behold, what an infinite chaos of time doth present itself unto thee;
and as infinite a chaos, if thou shalt look forward. In that which is
so infinite, what difference can there be between that which liveth but
three days, and that which liveth three ages?
XLIII. Let thy course ever be the most compendious way. The most
compendious, is that which is according to nature: that is, in all both
words and deeds, ever to follow that which is most sound and perfect.
For such a resolution will free a man from all trouble, strife,
dissembling, and ostentation.
THE FIFTH BOOK
I. In the morning when thou findest thyself unwilling to rise, consider
with thyself presently, it is to go about a man's work that I am stirred
up. Am I then yet unwilling to go about that, for which I myself was
born and brought forth into this world? Or was I made for this, to
lay me down, and make much of myself in a warm bed? 'O but this is
pleasing. ' And was it then for this that thou wert born, that thou
mightest enjoy pleasure? Was it not in very truth for this, that thou
mightest always be busy and in action? Seest thou not how all things
in the world besides, how every tree md plant, how sparrows and ants,
spiders and bees: how all in their kind are intent as it were orderly to
perform whatsoever (towards the preservation of this orderly universe)
naturally doth become and belong unto thin? And wilt not thou do that,
which belongs unto a man to do? Wilt not thou run to do that, which thy
nature doth require? 'But thou must have some rest. ' Yes, thou must.
Nature hath of that also, as well as of eating and drinking, allowed
thee a certain stint. But thou guest beyond thy stint, and beyond that
which would suffice, and in matter of action, there thou comest short of
that which thou mayest. It must needs be therefore, that thou dost not
love thyself, for if thou didst, thou wouldst also love thy nature, and
that which thy nature doth propose unto herself as her end. Others,
as many as take pleasure in their trade and profession, can even pine
themselves at their works, and neglect their bodies and their food for
it; and doest thou less honour thy nature, than an ordinary mechanic
his trade; or a good dancer his art? than a covetous man his silver, and
vainglorious man applause? These to whatsoever they take an affection,
can be content to want their meat and sleep, to further that every one
which he affects: and shall actions tending to the common good of
human society, seem more vile unto thee, or worthy of less respect and
intention?
II. How easy a thing is it for a man to put off from him all turbulent
adventitious imaginations, and presently to be in perfect rest and
tranquillity!
III. Think thyself fit and worthy to speak, or to do anything that is
according to nature, and let not the reproach, or report of some that
may ensue upon it, ever deter thee. If it be right and honest to be
spoken or done, undervalue not thyself so much, as to be discouraged
from it. As for them, they have their own rational over-ruling part, and
their own proper inclination: which thou must not stand and look
about to take notice of, but go on straight, whither both thine own
particular, and the common nature do lead thee; and the way of both
these, is but one.
IV. I continue my course by actions according to nature, until I
fall and cease, breathing out my last breath into that air, by which
continually breathed in I did live; and falling upon that earth, out of
whose gifts and fruits my father gathered his seed, my mother her
blood, and my nurse her milk, out of which for so many years I have
been provided, both of meat and drink. And lastly, which beareth me that
tread upon it, and beareth with me that so many ways do abuse it, or
so freely make use of it, so many ways to so many ends.
V. No man can admire thee for thy sharp acute language, such is thy
natural disability that way. Be it so: yet there be many other good
things, for the want of which thou canst not plead the want or natural
ability. Let them be seen in thee, which depend wholly from thee;
sincerity, gravity, laboriousness, contempt of pleasures; be not
querulous, be Content with little, be kind, be free; avoid all
superfluity, all vain prattling; be magnanimous. Doest not thou
perceive, how many things there be, which notwithstanding any pretence
of natural indisposition and unfitness, thou mightest have performed and
exhibited, and yet still thou doest voluntarily continue drooping
downwards? Or wilt thou say that it is through defect of thy natural
constitution, that thou art constrained to murmur, to be base and
wretched to flatter; now to accuse, and now to please, and pacify thy
body: to be vainglorious, to be so giddy-headed. , and unsettled in thy
thoughts? nay (witnesses be the Gods) of all these thou mightest have
been rid long ago: only, this thou must have been contented with, to
have borne the blame of one that is somewhat slow and dull, wherein thou
must so exercise thyself, as one who neither doth much take to heart
this his natural defect, nor yet pleaseth himself in it.
VI. Such there be, who when they have done a good turn to any, are ready
to set them on the score for it, and to require retaliation. Others
there be, who though they stand not upon retaliation, to require any,
yet they think with themselves nevertheless, that such a one is their
debtor, and they know as their word is what they have done. Others again
there be, who when they have done any such thing, do not so much as
know what they have done; but are like unto the vine, which beareth her
grapes, and when once she hath borne her own proper fruit, is contented
and seeks for no further recompense. As a horse after a race, and a
hunting dog when he hath hunted, and a bee when she hath made her honey,
look not for applause and commendation; so neither doth that man that
rightly doth understand his own nature when he hath done a good turn:
but from one doth proceed to do another, even as the vine after she hath
once borne fruit in her own proper season, is ready for another time.
Thou therefore must be one of them, who what they do, barely do it
without any further thought, and are in a manner insensible of what they
do. 'Nay but,' will some reply perchance, 'this very thing a rational
man is bound unto, to understand what it is, that he doeth. ' For it
is the property, say they, of one that is naturally sociable, to be
sensible, that he doth operate sociably: nay, and to desire, that the
party him self that is sociably dealt with, should be sensible of it
too. I answer, That which thou sayest is true indeed, but the true
meaning of that which is said, thou dost not understand. And therefore
art thou one of those first, whom I mentioned. For they also are led by
a probable appearance of reason. But if thou dost desire to understand
truly what it is that is said, fear not that thou shalt therefore give
over any sociable action.
VII. The form of the Athenians' prayer did run thus: 'O rain, rain, good
Jupiter, upon all the grounds and fields that belong to the Athenians. '
Either we should not pray at all, or thus absolutely and freely; and not
every one for himself in particular alone.
VIII. As we say commonly, The physician hath prescribed unto this man,
riding; unto another, cold baths; unto a third, to go barefoot: so it is
alike to say, The nature of the universe hath prescribed unto this man
sickness, or blindness, or some loss, or damage or some such thing. For
as there, when we say of a physician, that he hath prescribed anything,
our meaning is, that he hath appointed this for that, as subordinate
and conducing to health: so here, whatsoever doth happen unto any, is
ordained unto him as a thing subordinate unto the fates, and therefore
do we say of such things, that they do happen, or fall together; as of
square stones, when either in walls, or pyramids in a certain position
they fit one another, and agree as it were in an harmony, the masons
say, that they do (sumbainein) as if thou shouldest say, fall together:
so that in the general, though the things be divers that make it, yet
the consent or harmony itself is but one. And as the whole world is made
up of all the particular bodies of the world, one perfect and complete
body, of the same nature that particular bodies; so is the destiny of
particular causes and events one general one, of the same nature that
particular causes are. What I now say, even they that are mere idiots
are not ignorant of: for they say commonly (touto eferen autw) that is,
This his destiny hath brought upon him. This therefore is by the fates
properly and particularly brought upon this, as that unto this in
particular is by the physician prescribed. These therefore let us
accept of in like manner, as we do those that are prescribed unto us our
physicians. For them also in themselves shall We find to contain many
harsh things, but we nevertheless, in hope of health, and recovery,
accept of them. Let the fulfilling and accomplishment of those things
which the common nature hath determined, be unto thee as thy health.
Accept then, and be pleased with whatsoever doth happen, though
otherwise harsh and un-pleasing, as tending to that end, to the health
and welfare of the universe, and to Jove's happiness and prosperity.
For this whatsoever it be, should not have been produced, had it not
conduced to the good of the universe. For neither doth any ordinary
particular nature bring anything to pass, that is not to whatsoever
is within the sphere of its own proper administration and government
agreeable and subordinate. For these two considerations then thou must
be well pleased with anything that doth happen unto thee. First, because
that for thee properly it was brought to pass, and unto thee it
was prescribed; and that from the very beginning by the series and
connection of the first causes, it hath ever had a reference unto thee.
And secondly, because the good success and perfect welfare, and indeed
the very continuance of Him, that is the Administrator of the whole,
doth in a manner depend on it. For the whole (because whole, therefore
entire and perfect) is maimed, and mutilated, if thou shalt cut off
anything at all, whereby the coherence, and contiguity as of parts, so
of causes, is maintained and preserved. Of which certain it is,
that thou doest (as much as lieth in thee) cut off, and in some sort
violently take somewhat away, as often as thou art displeased with
anything that happeneth.
IX. Be not discontented, be not disheartened, be not out of hope, if
often it succeed not so well with thee punctually and precisely to do
all things according to the right dogmata, but being once cast off,
return unto them again: and as for those many and more frequent
occurrences, either of worldly distractions, or human infirmities, which
as a man thou canst not but in some measure be subject unto, be not thou
discontented with them; but however, love and affect that only which
thou dust return unto: a philosopher's life, and proper occupation after
the most exact manner. And when thou dust return to thy philosophy,
return not unto it as the manner of some is, after play and liberty as
it were, to their schoolmasters and pedagogues; but as they that have
sore eyes to their sponge and egg: or as another to his cataplasm; or
as others to their fomentations: so shalt not thou make it a matter of
ostentation at all to obey reason but of ease and comfort. And
remember that philosophy requireth nothing of thee, but what thy
nature requireth, and wouldest thou thyself desire anything that is
not according to nature? for which of these sayest thou; that which is
according to nature or against it, is of itself more kind and pleasing?
Is it not for that respect especially, that pleasure itself is to so
many men's hurt and overthrow, most prevalent, because esteemed commonly
most kind, and natural? But consider well whether magnanimity rather,
and true liberty, and true simplicity, and equanimity, and holiness;
whether these be not most kind and natural? And prudency itself, what
more kind and amiable than it, when thou shalt truly consider with
thyself, what it is through all the proper objects of thy rational
intellectual faculty currently to go on without any fall or stumble?
As for the things of the world, their true nature is in a manner so
involved with obscurity, that unto many philosophers, and those no
mean ones, they seemed altogether incomprehensible, and the Stoics
themselves, though they judge them not altogether incomprehensible,
yet scarce and not without much difficulty, comprehensible, so that
all assent of ours is fallible, for who is he that is infallible in his
conclusions? From the nature of things, pass now unto their subjects
and matter: how temporary, how vile are they I such as may be in the
power and possession of some abominable loose liver, of some common
strumpet, of some notorious oppressor and extortioner. Pass from thence
to the dispositions of them that thou doest ordinarily converse with,
how hardly do we bear, even with the most loving and amiable! that I may
not say, how hard it is for us to bear even with our own selves, in such
obscurity, and impurity of things: in such and so continual a flux both
of the substances and time; both of the motions themselves, and things
moved; what it is that we can fasten upon; either to honour, and respect
especially; or seriously, and studiously to seek after; I cannot so much
as conceive For indeed they are things contrary.
X. Thou must comfort thyself in the expectation of thy natural
dissolution, and in the meantime not grieve at the delay; but rest
contented in those two things. First, that nothing shall happen unto
thee, which is not according to the nature of the universe. Secondly,
that it is in thy power, to do nothing against thine own proper God, and
inward spirit. For it is not in any man's power to constrain thee to
transgress against him.
XI. What is the use that now at this present I make of my soul? Thus
from time to time and upon all occasions thou must put this question to
thyself; what is now that part of mine which they call the rational
mistress part, employed about? Whose soul do I now properly possess? a
child's? or a youth's? a woman's? or a tyrant's? some brute, or some
wild beast's soul?
XII. What those things are in themselves, which by the greatest part are
esteemed good, thou mayest gather even from this. For if a man shall
hear things mentioned as good, which are really good indeed, such as are
prudence, temperance, justice, fortitude, after so much heard and
conceived, he cannot endure to hear of any more, for the word good is
properly spoken of them. But as for those which by the vulgar are
esteemed good, if he shall hear them mentioned as good, he doth hearken
for more. He is well contented to hear, that what is spoken by the
comedian, is but familiarly and popularly spoken, so that even the
vulgar apprehend the difference. For why is it else, that this offends
not and needs not to be excused, when virtues are styled good: but that
which is spoken in commendation of wealth, pleasure, or honour, we
entertain it only as merrily and pleasantly spoken? Proceed therefore,
and inquire further, whether it may not be that those things also which
being mentioned upon the stage were merrily, and with great applause of
the multitude, scoffed at with this jest, that they that possessed them
had not in all the world of their own, (such was their affluence and
plenty) so much as a place where to avoid their excrements. Whether, I
say, those ought not also in very deed to be much respected, and
esteemed of, as the only things that are truly good.
XIII. All that I consist of, is either form or matter. No corruption can
reduce either of these unto nothing: for neither did I of nothing become
a subsistent creature. Every part of mine then will by mutation be
disposed into a certain part of the whole world, and that in time into
another part; and so in infinitum; by which kind of mutation, I also
became what I am, and so did they that begot me, and they before them,
and so upwards in infinitum. For so we may be allowed to speak, though
the age and government of the world, be to some certain periods of time
limited, and confined.
XIV. Reason, and rational power, are faculties which content themselves
with themselves, and their own proper operations. And as for their first
inclination and motion, that they take from themselves. But their
progress is right to the end and object, which is in their way, as it
were, and lieth just before them: that is, which is feasible and
possible, whether it be that which at the first they proposed to
themselves, or no. For which reason also such actions are termed
katorqwseiz to intimate the directness of the way, by which they are
achieved. Nothing must be thought to belong to a man, which doth not
belong unto him as he is a man. These, the event of purposes, are not
things required in a man. The nature of man doth not profess any such
things. The final ends and consummations of actions are nothing at all
to a man's nature. The end therefore of a man, or the summum bonum
whereby that end is fulfilled, cannot consist in the consummation of
actions purposed and intended. Again, concerning these outward worldly
things, were it so that any of them did properly belong unto man, then
would it not belong unto man, to condemn them and to stand in opposition
with them. Neither would he be praiseworthy that can live without them;
or he good, (if these were good indeed) who of his own accord doth
deprive himself of any of them. But we see contrariwise, that the more a
man doth withdraw himself from these wherein external pomp and greatness
doth consist, or any other like these; or the better he doth bear with
the loss of these, the better he is accounted.
XV. Such as thy thoughts and ordinary cogitations are, such will thy
mind be in time. For the soul doth as it were receive its tincture from
the fancies, and imaginations. Dye it therefore and thoroughly soak it
with the assiduity of these cogitations. As for example. Wheresoever
thou mayest live, there it is in thy power to live well and happy. But
thou mayest live at the Court, there then also mayest thou live well and
happy. Again, that which everything is made for, he is also made unto
that, and cannot but naturally incline unto it. That which anything
doth naturally incline unto, therein is his end. Wherein the end of
everything doth consist, therein also doth his good and benefit consist.
Society therefore is the proper good of a rational creature. For that we
are made for society, it hath long since been demonstrated. Or can any
man make any question of this, that whatsoever is naturally worse and
inferior, is ordinarily subordinated to that which is better? and that
those things that are best, are made one for another? And those things
that have souls, are better than those that have none? and of those that
have, those best that have rational souls?
XVI. To desire things impossible is the part of a mad man. But it is a
thing impossible, that wicked man should not commit some such things.
Neither doth anything happen to any man, which in the ordinary course
of nature as natural unto him doth not happen. Again, the same things
happen unto others also. And truly, if either he that is ignorant that
such a thing hath happened unto him, or he that is ambitious to be
commended for his magnanimity, can be patient, and is not grieved: is it
not a grievous thing, that either ignorance, or a vain desire to please
and to be commended, should be more powerful and effectual than true
prudence? As for the things themselves, they touch not the soul, neither
can they have any access unto it: neither can they of themselves any
ways either affect it, or move it. For she herself alone can affect and
move herself, and according as the dogmata and opinions are, which she
doth vouchsafe herself; so are those things which, as accessories, have
any co-existence with her.
XVII. After one consideration, man is nearest unto us; as we are bound
to do them good, and to bear with them. But as he may oppose any of our
true proper actions, so man is unto me but as a thing indifferent: even
as the sun, or the wind, or some wild beast. By some of these it may be,
that some operation or other of mine, may be hindered; however, of my
mind and resolution itself, there can be no let or impediment, by reason
of that ordinary constant both exception (or reservation wherewith it
inclineth) and ready conversion of objects; from that which may not be,
to that which may be, which in the prosecution of its inclinations, as
occasion serves, it doth observe. For by these the mind doth turn and
convert any impediment whatsoever, to be her aim and purpose. So that
what before was the impediment, is now the principal object of her
working; and that which before was in her way, is now her readiest way.
XVIII. Honour that which is chiefest and most powerful in the world, and
that is it, which makes use of all things, and governs all things. So
also in thyself; honour that which is chiefest, and most powerful; and
is of one kind and nature with that which we now spake of. For it is the
very same, which being in thee, turneth all other things to its own use,
and by whom also thy life is governed.
XIX. That which doth not hurt the city itself; cannot hurt any citizen.
This rule thou must remember to apply and make use of upon every conceit
and apprehension of wrong. If the whole city be not hurt by this,
neither am I certainly. And if the whole be not, why should I make it
my private grievance? consider rather what it is wherein he is overseen
that is thought to have done the wrong. Again, often meditate how
swiftly all things that subsist, and all things that are done in the
world, are carried away, and as it were conveyed out of sight: for both
the substance themselves, we see as a flood, are in a continual flux;
and all actions in a perpetual change; and the causes themselves,
subject to a thousand alterations, neither is there anything almost,
that may ever be said to be now settled and constant. Next unto this,
and which follows upon it, consider both the infiniteness of the time
already past, and the immense vastness of that which is to come, wherein
all things are to be resolved and annihilated. Art not thou then a
very fool, who for these things, art either puffed up with pride, or
distracted with cares, or canst find in thy heart to make such moans as
for a thing that would trouble thee for a very long time? Consider the
whole universe whereof thou art but a very little part, and the whole
age of the world together, whereof but a short and very momentary
portion is allotted unto thee, and all the fates and destinies together,
of which how much is it that comes to thy part and share! Again: another
doth trespass against me. Let him look to that. He is master of his own
disposition, and of his own operation. I for my part am in the meantime
in possession of as much, as the common nature would have me to possess:
and that which mine own nature would have me do, I do.
XX. Let not that chief commanding part of thy soul be ever subject to
any variation through any corporal either pain or pleasure, neither
suffer it to be mixed with these, but let it both circumscribe itself,
and confine those affections to their own proper parts and members.
places, as country villages, the sea-shore, mountains; yea thou thyself
art wont to long much after such places. But all this thou must know
proceeds from simplicity in the highest degree. At what time soever thou
wilt, it is in thy power to retire into thyself, and to be at rest, and
free from all businesses. A man cannot any whither retire better than
to his own soul; he especially who is beforehand provided of such
things within, which whensoever he doth withdraw himself to look in, may
presently afford unto him perfect ease and tranquillity. By tranquillity
I understand a decent orderly disposition and carriage, free from
all confusion and tumultuousness. Afford then thyself this retiring
continually, and thereby refresh and renew thyself. Let these precepts
be brief and fundamental, which as soon as thou dost call them to mind,
may suffice thee to purge thy soul throughly, and to send thee away well
pleased with those things whatsoever they be, which now again after this
short withdrawing of thy soul into herself thou dost return unto. For
what is it that thou art offended at? Can it be at the wickedness of
men, when thou dost call to mind this conclusion, that all reasonable
creatures are made one for another? and that it is part of justice to
bear with them? and that it is against their wills that they offend?
and how many already, who once likewise prosecuted their enmities,
suspected, hated, and fiercely contended, are now long ago stretched
out, and reduced unto ashes? It is time for thee to make an end. As for
those things which among the common chances of the world happen unto
thee as thy particular lot and portion, canst thou be displeased with
any of them, when thou dost call that our ordinary dilemma to mind,
either a providence, or Democritus his atoms; and with it, whatsoever we
brought to prove that the whole world is as it were one city? And as for
thy body, what canst thou fear, if thou dost consider that thy mind and
understanding, when once it hath recollected itself, and knows its own
power, hath in this life and breath (whether it run smoothly and gently,
or whether harshly and rudely), no interest at all, but is altogether
indifferent: and whatsoever else thou hast heard and assented unto
concerning either pain or pleasure? But the care of thine honour and
reputation will perchance distract thee? How can that be, if thou
dost look back, and consider both how quickly all things that are, are
forgotten, and what an immense chaos of eternity was before, and will
follow after all things: and the vanity of praise, and the inconstancy
and variableness of human judgments and opinions, and the narrowness of
the place, wherein it is limited and circumscribed? For the whole earth
is but as one point; and of it, this inhabited part of it, is but a very
little part; and of this part, how many in number, and what manner of
men are they, that will commend thee? What remains then, but that thou
often put in practice this kind of retiring of thyself, to this little
part of thyself; and above all things, keep thyself from distraction,
and intend not anything vehemently, but be free and consider all things,
as a man whose proper object is Virtue, as a man whose true nature is
to be kind and sociable, as a citizen, as a mortal creature. Among
other things, which to consider, and look into thou must use to withdraw
thyself, let those two be among the most obvious and at hand. One, that
the things or objects themselves reach not unto the soul, but stand
without still and quiet, and that it is from the opinion only which is
within, that all the tumult and all the trouble doth proceed. The next,
that all these things, which now thou seest, shall within a very little
while be changed, and be no more: and ever call to mind, how many
changes and alterations in the world thou thyself hast already been an
eyewitness of in thy time. This world is mere change, and this life,
opinion.
IV. If to understand and to be reasonable be common unto all men, then
is that reason, for which we are termed reasonable, common unto all. If
reason is general, then is that reason also, which prescribeth what is
to be done and what not, common unto all. If that, then law. If law,
then are we fellow-citizens. If so, then are we partners in some one
commonweal. If so, then the world is as it were a city. For which other
commonweal is it, that all men can be said to be members of? From this
common city it is, that understanding, reason, and law is derived unto
us, for from whence else? For as that which in me is earthly I have from
some common earth; and that which is moist from some other element is
imparted; as my breath and life hath its proper fountain; and that
likewise which is dry and fiery in me: (for there is nothing which doth
not proceed from something; as also there is nothing that can be reduced
unto mere nothing:) so also is there some common beginning from whence
my understanding hath proceeded.
V. As generation is, so also death, a secret of nature's wisdom: a
mixture of elements, resolved into the same elements again, a thing
surely which no man ought to be ashamed of: in a series of other fatal
events and consequences, which a rational creature is subject unto,
not improper or incongruous, nor contrary to the natural and proper
constitution of man himself.
VI. Such and such things, from such and such causes, must of necessity
proceed. He that would not have such things to happen, is as he that
would have the fig-tree grow without any sap or moisture. In sum,
remember this, that within a very little while, both thou and he shall
both be dead, and after a little while more, not so much as your names
and memories shall be remaining.
VII. Let opinion be taken away, and no man will think himself wronged.
If no man shall think himself wronged, then is there no more any such
thing as wrong. That which makes not man himself the worse, cannot
make his life the worse, neither can it hurt him either inwardly
or outwardly. It was expedient in nature that it should be so, and
therefore necessary.
VIII. Whatsoever doth happen in the world, doth happen justly, and so if
thou dost well take heed, thou shalt find it. I say not only in right
order by a series of inevitable consequences, but according to justice
and as it were by way of equal distribution, according to the true worth
of everything. Continue then to take notice of it, as thou hast begun,
and whatsoever thou dost, do it not without this proviso, that it be a
thing of that nature that a good man (as the word good is properly
taken) may do it. This observe carefully in every action.
IX. Conceit no such things, as he that wrongeth thee conceiveth,
or would have thee to conceive, but look into the matter itself, and see
what it is in very truth.
X. These two rules, thou must have always in a readiness. First, do
nothing at all, but what reason proceeding from that regal and supreme
part, shall for the good and benefit of men, suggest unto thee. And
secondly, if any man that is present shall be able to rectify thee or to
turn thee from some erroneous persuasion, that thou be always ready to
change thy mind, and this change to proceed, not from any respect of any
pleasure or credit thereon depending, but always from some probable
apparent ground of justice, or of some public good thereby to be
furthered; or from some other such inducement.
XI. Hast thou reason? I have. Why then makest thou not use of it? For if
thy reason do her part, what more canst thou require?
XII. As a part hitherto thou hast had a particular subsistence: and now
shalt thou vanish away into the common substance of Him, who first begot
thee, or rather thou shalt be resumed again into that original rational
substance, out of which all others have issued, and are propagated.
Many small pieces of frankincense are set upon the same altar, one drops
first and is consumed, another after; and it comes all to one.
XIII. Within ten days, if so happen, thou shalt be esteemed a god of
them, who now if thou shalt return to the dogmata and to the honouring
of reason, will esteem of thee no better than of a mere brute, and of an
ape.
XIV. Not as though thou hadst thousands of years to live. Death hangs
over thee: whilst yet thou livest, whilst thou mayest, be good.
XV. Now much time and leisure doth he gain, who is not curious to know
what his neighbour hath said, or hath done, or hath attempted, but only
what he doth himself, that it may be just and holy? or to express it in
Agathos' words, Not to look about upon the evil conditions of others,
but to run on straight in the line, without any loose and extravagant
agitation.
XVI. He who is greedy of credit and reputation after his death, doth
not consider, that they themselves by whom he is remembered, shall soon
after every one of them be dead; and they likewise that succeed those;
until at last all memory, which hitherto by the succession of men
admiring and soon after dying hath had its course, be quite extinct.
But suppose that both they that shall remember thee, and thy memory with
them should be immortal, what is that to thee? I will not say to thee
after thou art dead; but even to thee living, what is thy praise? But
only for a secret and politic consideration, which we call oikonomian or
dispensation. For as for that, that it is the gift of nature, whatsoever
is commended in thee, what might be objected from thence, let that now
that we are upon another consideration be omitted as unseasonable. That
which is fair and goodly, whatsoever it be, and in what respect soever
it be, that it is fair and goodly, it is so of itself, and terminates in
itself, not admitting praise as a part or member: that therefore
which is praised, is not thereby made either better or worse. This I
understand even of those things, that are commonly called fair and
good, as those which are commended either for the matter itself, or for
curious workmanship. As for that which is truly good, what can it
stand in need of more than either justice or truth; or more than either
kindness and modesty? Which of all those, either becomes good or fair,
because commended; or dispraised suffers any damage? Doth the emerald
become worse in itself, or more vile if it be not commended? Doth gold,
or ivory, or purple? Is there anything that doth though never so common,
as a knife, a flower, or a tree?
XVII. If so be that the souls remain after death (say they that will not
believe it); how is the air from all eternity able to contain them? How
is the earth (say I) ever from that time able to Contain the bodies
of them that are buried? For as here the change and resolution of dead
bodies into another kind of subsistence (whatsoever it be;) makes place
for other dead bodies: so the souls after death transferred into the
air, after they have conversed there a while, are either by way of
transmutation, or transfusion, or conflagration, received again into
that original rational substance, from which all others do proceed:
and so give way to those souls, who before coupled and associated unto
bodies, now begin to subsist single. This, upon a supposition that the
souls after death do for a while subsist single, may be answered. And
here, (besides the number of bodies, so buried and contained by the
earth), we may further consider the number of several beasts, eaten
by us men, and by other creatures. For notwithstanding that such a
multitude of them is daily consumed, and as it were buried in the bodies
of the eaters, yet is the same place and body able to contain them, by
reason of their conversion, partly into blood, partly into air and fire.
What in these things is the speculation of truth? to divide things into
that which is passive and material; and that which is active and formal.
XVIII. Not to wander out of the way, but upon every motion and desire,
to perform that which is just: and ever to be careful to attain to the
true natural apprehension of every fancy, that presents itself.
XIX. Whatsoever is expedient unto thee, O World, is expedient unto me;
nothing can either be 'unseasonable unto me, or out of date, which unto
thee is seasonable. Whatsoever thy seasons bear, shall ever by me be
esteemed as happy fruit, and increase. O Nature! from thee are all
things, in thee all things subsist, and to thee all tend. Could he say
of Athens, Thou lovely city of Cecrops; and shalt not thou say of the
world, Thou lovely city of God?
XX. They will say commonly, Meddle not with many things, if thou wilt
live cheerfully. Certainly there is nothing better, than for a man
to confine himself to necessary actions; to such and so many only, as
reason in a creature that knows itself born for society, will command
and enjoin. This will not only procure that cheerfulness, which from the
goodness, but that also, which from the paucity of actions doth usually
proceed. For since it is so, that most of those things, which we either
speak or do, are unnecessary; if a man shall cut them off, it must needs
follow that he shall thereby gain much leisure, and save much trouble,
and therefore at every action a man must privately by way of admonition
suggest unto himself, What? may not this that now I go about, be of the
number of unnecessary actions? Neither must he use himself to cut off
actions only, but thoughts and imaginations also, that are unnecessary
for so will unnecessary consequent actions the better be prevented and
cut off.
XXI. Try also how a good man's life; (of one, who is well pleased with
those things whatsoever, which among the common changes and chances of
this world fall to his own lot and share; and can live well contented
and fully satisfied in the justice of his own proper present action,
and in the goodness of his disposition for the future:) will agree with
thee. Thou hast had experience of that other kind of life: make now
trial of this also. Trouble not thyself any more henceforth, reduce
thyself unto perfect simplicity. Doth any man offend? It is against
himself that he doth offend: why should it trouble thee? Hath anything
happened unto thee? It is well, whatsoever it be, it is that which
of all the common chances of the world from the very beginning in the
series of all other things that have, or shall happen, was destinated
and appointed unto thee. To comprehend all in a few words, our life is
short; we must endeavour to gain the present time with best discretion
and justice. Use recreation with sobriety.
XXII. Either this world is a kosmoz or comely piece, because all
disposed and governed by certain order: or if it be a mixture, though
confused, yet still it is a comely piece. For is it possible that in
thee there should be any beauty at all, and that in the whole world
there should be nothing but disorder and confusion? and all things in it
too, by natural different properties one from another differenced and
distinguished; and yet all through diffused, and by natural sympathy,
one to another united, as they are?
XXIII. A black or malign disposition, an effeminate disposition; an
hard inexorable disposition, a wild inhuman disposition, a sheepish
disposition, a childish disposition; a blockish, a false, a scurril, a
fraudulent, a tyrannical: what then? If he be a stranger in the world,
that knows not the things that are in it; why not be a stranger as well,
that wonders at the things that are done in it?
XXIV. He is a true fugitive, that flies from reason, by which men are
sociable. He blind, who cannot see with the eyes of his understanding.
He poor, that stands in need of another, and hath not in himself all
things needful for this life. He an aposteme of the world, who by being
discontented with those things that happen unto him in the world,
doth as it were apostatise, and separate himself from common nature's
rational administration. For the same nature it is that brings this
unto thee, whatsoever it be, that first brought thee into the world. He
raises sedition in the city, who by irrational actions withdraws his own
soul from that one and common soul of all rational creatures.
XXV. There is, who without so much as a coat; and there is, who without
so much as a book, doth put philosophy in practice. I am half naked,
neither have I bread to eat, and yet I depart not from reason, saith
one. But I say; I want the food of good teaching, and instructions, and
yet I depart not from reason.
XXVI. What art and profession soever thou hast learned, endeavour to
affect it, and comfort thyself in it; and pass the remainder of thy life
as one who from his whole heart commits himself and whatsoever belongs
unto him, unto the gods: and as for men, carry not thyself either
tyrannically or servilely towards any.
XXVII. Consider in my mind, for example's sake, the times of Vespasian:
thou shalt see but the same things: some marrying, some bringing up
children, some sick, some dying, some fighting, some feasting, some
merchandising, some tilling, some flattering, some boasting, some
suspecting, some undermining, some wishing to die, some fretting and
murmuring at their present estate, some wooing, some hoarding, some
seeking after magistracies, and some after kingdoms. And is not that
their age quite over, and ended? Again, consider now the times of
Trajan. There likewise thou seest the very self-same things, and that
age also is now over and ended. In the like manner consider other
periods, both of times and of whole nations, and see how many men, after
they had with all their might and main intended and prosecuted some one
worldly thing or other did soon after drop away, and were resolved into
the elements. But especially thou must call to mind them, whom thou
thyself in thy lifetime hast known much distracted about vain things,
and in the meantime neglecting to do that, and closely and unseparably
(as fully satisfied with it) to adhere unto it, which their own proper
constitution did require. And here thou must remember, that thy carriage
in every business must be according to the worth and due proportion of
it, for so shalt thou not easily be tired out and vexed, if thou shalt
not dwell upon small matters longer than is fitting.
XXVIII. Those words which once were common and ordinary, are now become
obscure and obsolete; and so the names of men once commonly known and
famous, are now become in a manner obscure and obsolete names. Camillus,
Cieso, Volesius, Leonnatus; not long after, Scipio, Cato, then Augustus,
then Adrianus, then Antoninus Pius: all these in a short time will
be out of date, and, as things of another world as it were, become
fabulous. And this I say of them, who once shined as the wonders of
their ages, for as for the rest, no sooner are they expired, than with
them all their fame and memory. And what is it then that shall always be
remembered? all is vanity. What is it that we must bestow our care and
diligence upon? even upon this only: that our minds and wills be just;
that our actions be charitable; that our speech be never deceitful, or
that our understanding be not subject to error; that our inclination be
always set to embrace whatsoever shall happen unto us, as necessary,
as usual, as ordinary, as flowing from such a beginning, and such a
fountain, from which both thou thyself and all things are.
Willingly therefore, and wholly surrender up thyself unto that fatal
concatenation, yielding up thyself unto the fates, to be disposed of at
their pleasure.
XXIX. Whatsoever is now present, and from day to day hath its existence;
all objects of memories, and the minds and memories themselves,
incessantly consider, all things that are, have their being by change
and alteration. Use thyself therefore often to meditate upon this, that
the nature of the universe delights in nothing more, than in altering
those things that are, and in making others like unto them. So that we
may say, that whatsoever is, is but as it were the seed of that which
shall be. For if thou think that that only is seed, which either the
earth or the womb receiveth, thou art very simple.
XXX. Thou art now ready to die, and yet hast thou not attained to
that perfect simplicity: thou art yet subject to many troubles and
perturbations; not yet free from all fear and suspicion of external
accidents; nor yet either so meekly disposed towards all men, as thou
shouldest; or so affected as one, whose only study and only wisdom is,
to be just in all his actions.
XXXI. Behold and observe, what is the state of their rational part; and
those that the world doth account wise, see what things they fly and are
afraid of; and what things they hunt after.
XXXII. In another man's mind and understanding thy evil Cannot subsist,
nor in any proper temper or distemper of the natural constitution of thy
body, which is but as it were the coat or cottage of thy soul. Wherein
then, but in that part of thee, wherein the conceit, and apprehension
of any misery can subsist? Let not that part therefore admit any such
conceit, and then all is well. Though thy body which is so near it
should either be cut or burnt, or suffer any corruption or putrefaction,
yet let that part to which it belongs to judge of these, be still at
rest; that is, let her judge this, that whatsoever it is, that equally
may happen to a wicked man, and to a good man, is neither good nor evil.
For that which happens equally to him that lives according to nature,
and to him that doth not, is neither according to nature, nor against
it; and by consequent, neither good nor bad.
XXXIII. Ever consider and think upon the world as being but one living
substance, and having but one soul, and how all things in the world, are
terminated into one sensitive power; and are done by one general motion
as it were, and deliberation of that one soul; and how all things that
are, concur in the cause of one another's being, and by what manner of
connection and concatenation all things happen.
XXXIV. What art thou, that better and divine part excepted, but as
Epictetus said well, a wretched soul, appointed to carry a carcass up
and down?
XXXV. To suffer change can be no hurt; as no benefit it is, by change to
attain to being. The age and time of the world is as it were a flood and
swift current, consisting of the things that are brought to pass in
the world. For as soon as anything hath appeared, and is passed away,
another succeeds, and that also will presently out of sight.
XXXVI. Whatsoever doth happen in the world, is, in the course of nature,
as usual and ordinary as a rose in the spring, and fruit in summer. Of
the same nature is sickness and death; slander, and lying in wait, and
whatsoever else ordinarily doth unto fools use to be occasion either
of joy or sorrow. That, whatsoever it is, that comes after, doth always
very naturally, and as it were familiarly, follow upon that which was
before. For thou must consider the things of the world, not as a loose
independent number, consisting merely of necessary events; but as a
discreet connection of things orderly and harmoniously disposed. There
is then to be seen in the things of the world, not a bare succession,
but an admirable correspondence and affinity.
XXXVII. Let that of Heraclitus never be out of thy mind, that the death
of earth, is water, and the death of water, is air; and the death of
air, is fire; and so on the contrary. Remember him also who was ignorant
whither the way did lead, and how that reason being the thing by which
all things in the world are administered, and which men are continually
and most inwardly conversant with: yet is the thing, which ordinarily
they are most in opposition with, and how those things which daily
happen among them, cease not daily to be strange unto them, and that
we should not either speak, or do anything as men in their sleep, by
opinion and bare imagination: for then we think we speak and do, and
that we must not be as children, who follow their father's example;
for best reason alleging their bare successive tradition from our
forefathers we have received it.
XXXVIII. Even as if any of the gods should tell thee, Thou shalt
certainly die to-morrow, or next day, thou wouldst not, except thou wert
extremely base and pusillanimous, take it for a great benefit, rather
to die the next day after, than to-morrow; (for alas, what is the
difference! ) so, for the same reason, think it no great matter to die
rather many years after, than the very next day.
XXXIX. Let it be thy perpetual meditation, how many physicians who
once looked so grim, and so theatrically shrunk their brows upon their
patients, are dead and gone themselves. How many astrologers, after that
in great ostentation they had foretold the death of some others, how
many philosophers after so many elaborate tracts and volumes concerning
either mortality or immortality; how many brave captains and commanders,
after the death and slaughter of so many; how many kings and tyrants,
after they had with such horror and insolency abused their power upon
men's lives, as though themselves had been immortal; how many, that
I may so speak, whole cities both men and towns: Helice, Pompeii,
Herculaneum, and others innumerable are dead and gone. Run them over
also, whom thou thyself, one after another, hast known in thy time
to drop away. Such and such a one took care of such and such a one's
burial, and soon after was buried himself. So one, so another: and all
things in a short time. For herein lieth all indeed, ever to look upon
all worldly things, as things for their continuance, that are but for a
day: and for their worth, most vile, and contemptible, as for example,
What is man? That which but the other day when he was conceived was vile
snivel; and within few days shall be either an embalmed carcass, or mere
ashes. Thus must thou according to truth and nature, throughly consider
how man's life is but for a very moment of time, and so depart meek and
contented: even as if a ripe olive falling should praise the ground that
bare her, and give thanks to the tree that begat her.
XL.
Thou must be like a promontory of the sea, against which though
the waves beat continually, yet it both itself stands, and about it are
those swelling waves stilled and quieted.
XLI. Oh, wretched I, to whom this mischance is happened! nay, happy I,
to whom this thing being happened, I can continue without grief; neither
wounded by that which is present, nor in fear of that which is to come.
For as for this, it might have happened unto any man, but any man having
such a thing befallen him, could not have continued without grief. Why
then should that rather be an unhappiness, than this a happiness? But
however, canst thou, O man! term that unhappiness, which is no mischance
to the nature of man I Canst thou think that a mischance to the nature
of man, which is not contrary to the end and will of his nature? What
then hast thou learned is the will of man's nature? Doth that then which
hath happened unto thee, hinder thee from being just? or magnanimous? or
temperate? or wise? or circumspect? or true? or modest? or free? or from
anything else of all those things in the present enjoying and possession
whereof the nature of man, (as then enjoying all that is proper unto
her,) is fully satisfied? Now to conclude; upon all occasion of sorrow
remember henceforth to make use of this dogma, that whatsoever it is
that hath happened unto thee, is in very deed no such thing of itself,
as a misfortune; but that to bear it generously, is certainly great
happiness.
XLII. It is but an ordinary coarse one, yet it is a good effectual
remedy against the fear of death, for a man to consider in his mind the
examples of such, who greedily and covetously (as it were) did for a
long time enjoy their lives. What have they got more, than they whose
deaths have been untimely? Are not they themselves dead at the last?
as Cadiciant's, Fabius, Julianus Lepidus, or any other who in their
lifetime having buried many, were at the last buried themselves. The
whole space of any man's life, is but little; and as little as it is,
with what troubles, with what manner of dispositions, and in the society
of how wretched a body must it be passed! Let it be therefore unto thee
altogether as a matter of indifferency. For if thou shalt look backward;
behold, what an infinite chaos of time doth present itself unto thee;
and as infinite a chaos, if thou shalt look forward. In that which is
so infinite, what difference can there be between that which liveth but
three days, and that which liveth three ages?
XLIII. Let thy course ever be the most compendious way. The most
compendious, is that which is according to nature: that is, in all both
words and deeds, ever to follow that which is most sound and perfect.
For such a resolution will free a man from all trouble, strife,
dissembling, and ostentation.
THE FIFTH BOOK
I. In the morning when thou findest thyself unwilling to rise, consider
with thyself presently, it is to go about a man's work that I am stirred
up. Am I then yet unwilling to go about that, for which I myself was
born and brought forth into this world? Or was I made for this, to
lay me down, and make much of myself in a warm bed? 'O but this is
pleasing. ' And was it then for this that thou wert born, that thou
mightest enjoy pleasure? Was it not in very truth for this, that thou
mightest always be busy and in action? Seest thou not how all things
in the world besides, how every tree md plant, how sparrows and ants,
spiders and bees: how all in their kind are intent as it were orderly to
perform whatsoever (towards the preservation of this orderly universe)
naturally doth become and belong unto thin? And wilt not thou do that,
which belongs unto a man to do? Wilt not thou run to do that, which thy
nature doth require? 'But thou must have some rest. ' Yes, thou must.
Nature hath of that also, as well as of eating and drinking, allowed
thee a certain stint. But thou guest beyond thy stint, and beyond that
which would suffice, and in matter of action, there thou comest short of
that which thou mayest. It must needs be therefore, that thou dost not
love thyself, for if thou didst, thou wouldst also love thy nature, and
that which thy nature doth propose unto herself as her end. Others,
as many as take pleasure in their trade and profession, can even pine
themselves at their works, and neglect their bodies and their food for
it; and doest thou less honour thy nature, than an ordinary mechanic
his trade; or a good dancer his art? than a covetous man his silver, and
vainglorious man applause? These to whatsoever they take an affection,
can be content to want their meat and sleep, to further that every one
which he affects: and shall actions tending to the common good of
human society, seem more vile unto thee, or worthy of less respect and
intention?
II. How easy a thing is it for a man to put off from him all turbulent
adventitious imaginations, and presently to be in perfect rest and
tranquillity!
III. Think thyself fit and worthy to speak, or to do anything that is
according to nature, and let not the reproach, or report of some that
may ensue upon it, ever deter thee. If it be right and honest to be
spoken or done, undervalue not thyself so much, as to be discouraged
from it. As for them, they have their own rational over-ruling part, and
their own proper inclination: which thou must not stand and look
about to take notice of, but go on straight, whither both thine own
particular, and the common nature do lead thee; and the way of both
these, is but one.
IV. I continue my course by actions according to nature, until I
fall and cease, breathing out my last breath into that air, by which
continually breathed in I did live; and falling upon that earth, out of
whose gifts and fruits my father gathered his seed, my mother her
blood, and my nurse her milk, out of which for so many years I have
been provided, both of meat and drink. And lastly, which beareth me that
tread upon it, and beareth with me that so many ways do abuse it, or
so freely make use of it, so many ways to so many ends.
V. No man can admire thee for thy sharp acute language, such is thy
natural disability that way. Be it so: yet there be many other good
things, for the want of which thou canst not plead the want or natural
ability. Let them be seen in thee, which depend wholly from thee;
sincerity, gravity, laboriousness, contempt of pleasures; be not
querulous, be Content with little, be kind, be free; avoid all
superfluity, all vain prattling; be magnanimous. Doest not thou
perceive, how many things there be, which notwithstanding any pretence
of natural indisposition and unfitness, thou mightest have performed and
exhibited, and yet still thou doest voluntarily continue drooping
downwards? Or wilt thou say that it is through defect of thy natural
constitution, that thou art constrained to murmur, to be base and
wretched to flatter; now to accuse, and now to please, and pacify thy
body: to be vainglorious, to be so giddy-headed. , and unsettled in thy
thoughts? nay (witnesses be the Gods) of all these thou mightest have
been rid long ago: only, this thou must have been contented with, to
have borne the blame of one that is somewhat slow and dull, wherein thou
must so exercise thyself, as one who neither doth much take to heart
this his natural defect, nor yet pleaseth himself in it.
VI. Such there be, who when they have done a good turn to any, are ready
to set them on the score for it, and to require retaliation. Others
there be, who though they stand not upon retaliation, to require any,
yet they think with themselves nevertheless, that such a one is their
debtor, and they know as their word is what they have done. Others again
there be, who when they have done any such thing, do not so much as
know what they have done; but are like unto the vine, which beareth her
grapes, and when once she hath borne her own proper fruit, is contented
and seeks for no further recompense. As a horse after a race, and a
hunting dog when he hath hunted, and a bee when she hath made her honey,
look not for applause and commendation; so neither doth that man that
rightly doth understand his own nature when he hath done a good turn:
but from one doth proceed to do another, even as the vine after she hath
once borne fruit in her own proper season, is ready for another time.
Thou therefore must be one of them, who what they do, barely do it
without any further thought, and are in a manner insensible of what they
do. 'Nay but,' will some reply perchance, 'this very thing a rational
man is bound unto, to understand what it is, that he doeth. ' For it
is the property, say they, of one that is naturally sociable, to be
sensible, that he doth operate sociably: nay, and to desire, that the
party him self that is sociably dealt with, should be sensible of it
too. I answer, That which thou sayest is true indeed, but the true
meaning of that which is said, thou dost not understand. And therefore
art thou one of those first, whom I mentioned. For they also are led by
a probable appearance of reason. But if thou dost desire to understand
truly what it is that is said, fear not that thou shalt therefore give
over any sociable action.
VII. The form of the Athenians' prayer did run thus: 'O rain, rain, good
Jupiter, upon all the grounds and fields that belong to the Athenians. '
Either we should not pray at all, or thus absolutely and freely; and not
every one for himself in particular alone.
VIII. As we say commonly, The physician hath prescribed unto this man,
riding; unto another, cold baths; unto a third, to go barefoot: so it is
alike to say, The nature of the universe hath prescribed unto this man
sickness, or blindness, or some loss, or damage or some such thing. For
as there, when we say of a physician, that he hath prescribed anything,
our meaning is, that he hath appointed this for that, as subordinate
and conducing to health: so here, whatsoever doth happen unto any, is
ordained unto him as a thing subordinate unto the fates, and therefore
do we say of such things, that they do happen, or fall together; as of
square stones, when either in walls, or pyramids in a certain position
they fit one another, and agree as it were in an harmony, the masons
say, that they do (sumbainein) as if thou shouldest say, fall together:
so that in the general, though the things be divers that make it, yet
the consent or harmony itself is but one. And as the whole world is made
up of all the particular bodies of the world, one perfect and complete
body, of the same nature that particular bodies; so is the destiny of
particular causes and events one general one, of the same nature that
particular causes are. What I now say, even they that are mere idiots
are not ignorant of: for they say commonly (touto eferen autw) that is,
This his destiny hath brought upon him. This therefore is by the fates
properly and particularly brought upon this, as that unto this in
particular is by the physician prescribed. These therefore let us
accept of in like manner, as we do those that are prescribed unto us our
physicians. For them also in themselves shall We find to contain many
harsh things, but we nevertheless, in hope of health, and recovery,
accept of them. Let the fulfilling and accomplishment of those things
which the common nature hath determined, be unto thee as thy health.
Accept then, and be pleased with whatsoever doth happen, though
otherwise harsh and un-pleasing, as tending to that end, to the health
and welfare of the universe, and to Jove's happiness and prosperity.
For this whatsoever it be, should not have been produced, had it not
conduced to the good of the universe. For neither doth any ordinary
particular nature bring anything to pass, that is not to whatsoever
is within the sphere of its own proper administration and government
agreeable and subordinate. For these two considerations then thou must
be well pleased with anything that doth happen unto thee. First, because
that for thee properly it was brought to pass, and unto thee it
was prescribed; and that from the very beginning by the series and
connection of the first causes, it hath ever had a reference unto thee.
And secondly, because the good success and perfect welfare, and indeed
the very continuance of Him, that is the Administrator of the whole,
doth in a manner depend on it. For the whole (because whole, therefore
entire and perfect) is maimed, and mutilated, if thou shalt cut off
anything at all, whereby the coherence, and contiguity as of parts, so
of causes, is maintained and preserved. Of which certain it is,
that thou doest (as much as lieth in thee) cut off, and in some sort
violently take somewhat away, as often as thou art displeased with
anything that happeneth.
IX. Be not discontented, be not disheartened, be not out of hope, if
often it succeed not so well with thee punctually and precisely to do
all things according to the right dogmata, but being once cast off,
return unto them again: and as for those many and more frequent
occurrences, either of worldly distractions, or human infirmities, which
as a man thou canst not but in some measure be subject unto, be not thou
discontented with them; but however, love and affect that only which
thou dust return unto: a philosopher's life, and proper occupation after
the most exact manner. And when thou dust return to thy philosophy,
return not unto it as the manner of some is, after play and liberty as
it were, to their schoolmasters and pedagogues; but as they that have
sore eyes to their sponge and egg: or as another to his cataplasm; or
as others to their fomentations: so shalt not thou make it a matter of
ostentation at all to obey reason but of ease and comfort. And
remember that philosophy requireth nothing of thee, but what thy
nature requireth, and wouldest thou thyself desire anything that is
not according to nature? for which of these sayest thou; that which is
according to nature or against it, is of itself more kind and pleasing?
Is it not for that respect especially, that pleasure itself is to so
many men's hurt and overthrow, most prevalent, because esteemed commonly
most kind, and natural? But consider well whether magnanimity rather,
and true liberty, and true simplicity, and equanimity, and holiness;
whether these be not most kind and natural? And prudency itself, what
more kind and amiable than it, when thou shalt truly consider with
thyself, what it is through all the proper objects of thy rational
intellectual faculty currently to go on without any fall or stumble?
As for the things of the world, their true nature is in a manner so
involved with obscurity, that unto many philosophers, and those no
mean ones, they seemed altogether incomprehensible, and the Stoics
themselves, though they judge them not altogether incomprehensible,
yet scarce and not without much difficulty, comprehensible, so that
all assent of ours is fallible, for who is he that is infallible in his
conclusions? From the nature of things, pass now unto their subjects
and matter: how temporary, how vile are they I such as may be in the
power and possession of some abominable loose liver, of some common
strumpet, of some notorious oppressor and extortioner. Pass from thence
to the dispositions of them that thou doest ordinarily converse with,
how hardly do we bear, even with the most loving and amiable! that I may
not say, how hard it is for us to bear even with our own selves, in such
obscurity, and impurity of things: in such and so continual a flux both
of the substances and time; both of the motions themselves, and things
moved; what it is that we can fasten upon; either to honour, and respect
especially; or seriously, and studiously to seek after; I cannot so much
as conceive For indeed they are things contrary.
X. Thou must comfort thyself in the expectation of thy natural
dissolution, and in the meantime not grieve at the delay; but rest
contented in those two things. First, that nothing shall happen unto
thee, which is not according to the nature of the universe. Secondly,
that it is in thy power, to do nothing against thine own proper God, and
inward spirit. For it is not in any man's power to constrain thee to
transgress against him.
XI. What is the use that now at this present I make of my soul? Thus
from time to time and upon all occasions thou must put this question to
thyself; what is now that part of mine which they call the rational
mistress part, employed about? Whose soul do I now properly possess? a
child's? or a youth's? a woman's? or a tyrant's? some brute, or some
wild beast's soul?
XII. What those things are in themselves, which by the greatest part are
esteemed good, thou mayest gather even from this. For if a man shall
hear things mentioned as good, which are really good indeed, such as are
prudence, temperance, justice, fortitude, after so much heard and
conceived, he cannot endure to hear of any more, for the word good is
properly spoken of them. But as for those which by the vulgar are
esteemed good, if he shall hear them mentioned as good, he doth hearken
for more. He is well contented to hear, that what is spoken by the
comedian, is but familiarly and popularly spoken, so that even the
vulgar apprehend the difference. For why is it else, that this offends
not and needs not to be excused, when virtues are styled good: but that
which is spoken in commendation of wealth, pleasure, or honour, we
entertain it only as merrily and pleasantly spoken? Proceed therefore,
and inquire further, whether it may not be that those things also which
being mentioned upon the stage were merrily, and with great applause of
the multitude, scoffed at with this jest, that they that possessed them
had not in all the world of their own, (such was their affluence and
plenty) so much as a place where to avoid their excrements. Whether, I
say, those ought not also in very deed to be much respected, and
esteemed of, as the only things that are truly good.
XIII. All that I consist of, is either form or matter. No corruption can
reduce either of these unto nothing: for neither did I of nothing become
a subsistent creature. Every part of mine then will by mutation be
disposed into a certain part of the whole world, and that in time into
another part; and so in infinitum; by which kind of mutation, I also
became what I am, and so did they that begot me, and they before them,
and so upwards in infinitum. For so we may be allowed to speak, though
the age and government of the world, be to some certain periods of time
limited, and confined.
XIV. Reason, and rational power, are faculties which content themselves
with themselves, and their own proper operations. And as for their first
inclination and motion, that they take from themselves. But their
progress is right to the end and object, which is in their way, as it
were, and lieth just before them: that is, which is feasible and
possible, whether it be that which at the first they proposed to
themselves, or no. For which reason also such actions are termed
katorqwseiz to intimate the directness of the way, by which they are
achieved. Nothing must be thought to belong to a man, which doth not
belong unto him as he is a man. These, the event of purposes, are not
things required in a man. The nature of man doth not profess any such
things. The final ends and consummations of actions are nothing at all
to a man's nature. The end therefore of a man, or the summum bonum
whereby that end is fulfilled, cannot consist in the consummation of
actions purposed and intended. Again, concerning these outward worldly
things, were it so that any of them did properly belong unto man, then
would it not belong unto man, to condemn them and to stand in opposition
with them. Neither would he be praiseworthy that can live without them;
or he good, (if these were good indeed) who of his own accord doth
deprive himself of any of them. But we see contrariwise, that the more a
man doth withdraw himself from these wherein external pomp and greatness
doth consist, or any other like these; or the better he doth bear with
the loss of these, the better he is accounted.
XV. Such as thy thoughts and ordinary cogitations are, such will thy
mind be in time. For the soul doth as it were receive its tincture from
the fancies, and imaginations. Dye it therefore and thoroughly soak it
with the assiduity of these cogitations. As for example. Wheresoever
thou mayest live, there it is in thy power to live well and happy. But
thou mayest live at the Court, there then also mayest thou live well and
happy. Again, that which everything is made for, he is also made unto
that, and cannot but naturally incline unto it. That which anything
doth naturally incline unto, therein is his end. Wherein the end of
everything doth consist, therein also doth his good and benefit consist.
Society therefore is the proper good of a rational creature. For that we
are made for society, it hath long since been demonstrated. Or can any
man make any question of this, that whatsoever is naturally worse and
inferior, is ordinarily subordinated to that which is better? and that
those things that are best, are made one for another? And those things
that have souls, are better than those that have none? and of those that
have, those best that have rational souls?
XVI. To desire things impossible is the part of a mad man. But it is a
thing impossible, that wicked man should not commit some such things.
Neither doth anything happen to any man, which in the ordinary course
of nature as natural unto him doth not happen. Again, the same things
happen unto others also. And truly, if either he that is ignorant that
such a thing hath happened unto him, or he that is ambitious to be
commended for his magnanimity, can be patient, and is not grieved: is it
not a grievous thing, that either ignorance, or a vain desire to please
and to be commended, should be more powerful and effectual than true
prudence? As for the things themselves, they touch not the soul, neither
can they have any access unto it: neither can they of themselves any
ways either affect it, or move it. For she herself alone can affect and
move herself, and according as the dogmata and opinions are, which she
doth vouchsafe herself; so are those things which, as accessories, have
any co-existence with her.
XVII. After one consideration, man is nearest unto us; as we are bound
to do them good, and to bear with them. But as he may oppose any of our
true proper actions, so man is unto me but as a thing indifferent: even
as the sun, or the wind, or some wild beast. By some of these it may be,
that some operation or other of mine, may be hindered; however, of my
mind and resolution itself, there can be no let or impediment, by reason
of that ordinary constant both exception (or reservation wherewith it
inclineth) and ready conversion of objects; from that which may not be,
to that which may be, which in the prosecution of its inclinations, as
occasion serves, it doth observe. For by these the mind doth turn and
convert any impediment whatsoever, to be her aim and purpose. So that
what before was the impediment, is now the principal object of her
working; and that which before was in her way, is now her readiest way.
XVIII. Honour that which is chiefest and most powerful in the world, and
that is it, which makes use of all things, and governs all things. So
also in thyself; honour that which is chiefest, and most powerful; and
is of one kind and nature with that which we now spake of. For it is the
very same, which being in thee, turneth all other things to its own use,
and by whom also thy life is governed.
XIX. That which doth not hurt the city itself; cannot hurt any citizen.
This rule thou must remember to apply and make use of upon every conceit
and apprehension of wrong. If the whole city be not hurt by this,
neither am I certainly. And if the whole be not, why should I make it
my private grievance? consider rather what it is wherein he is overseen
that is thought to have done the wrong. Again, often meditate how
swiftly all things that subsist, and all things that are done in the
world, are carried away, and as it were conveyed out of sight: for both
the substance themselves, we see as a flood, are in a continual flux;
and all actions in a perpetual change; and the causes themselves,
subject to a thousand alterations, neither is there anything almost,
that may ever be said to be now settled and constant. Next unto this,
and which follows upon it, consider both the infiniteness of the time
already past, and the immense vastness of that which is to come, wherein
all things are to be resolved and annihilated. Art not thou then a
very fool, who for these things, art either puffed up with pride, or
distracted with cares, or canst find in thy heart to make such moans as
for a thing that would trouble thee for a very long time? Consider the
whole universe whereof thou art but a very little part, and the whole
age of the world together, whereof but a short and very momentary
portion is allotted unto thee, and all the fates and destinies together,
of which how much is it that comes to thy part and share! Again: another
doth trespass against me. Let him look to that. He is master of his own
disposition, and of his own operation. I for my part am in the meantime
in possession of as much, as the common nature would have me to possess:
and that which mine own nature would have me do, I do.
XX. Let not that chief commanding part of thy soul be ever subject to
any variation through any corporal either pain or pleasure, neither
suffer it to be mixed with these, but let it both circumscribe itself,
and confine those affections to their own proper parts and members.
