|
From my grandfather Verus I learned good morals and the government |
|
of my temper. |
|
|
|
From the reputation and remembrance of my father, modesty and a manly |
|
character. |
|
|
|
From my mother, piety and beneficence, and abstinence, not only from |
|
evil deeds, but even from evil thoughts; and further, simplicity in |
|
my way of living, far removed from the habits of the rich. |
|
|
|
From my great-grandfather, not to have frequented public schools, |
|
and to have had good teachers at home, and to know that on such things |
|
a man should spend liberally. |
|
|
|
From my governor, to be neither of the green nor of the blue party |
|
at the games in the Circus, nor a partizan either of the Parmularius |
|
or the Scutarius at the gladiators' fights; from him too I learned |
|
endurance of labour, and to want little, and to work with my own hands, |
|
and not to meddle with other people's affairs, and not to be ready |
|
to listen to slander. |
|
|
|
From Diognetus, not to busy myself about trifling things, and not |
|
to give credit to what was said by miracle-workers and jugglers about |
|
incantations and the driving away of daemons and such things; and |
|
not to breed quails for fighting, nor to give myself up passionately |
|
to such things; and to endure freedom of speech; and to have become |
|
intimate with philosophy; and to have been a hearer, first of Bacchius, |
|
then of Tandasis and Marcianus; and to have written dialogues in my |
|
youth; and to have desired a plank bed and skin, and whatever else |
|
of the kind belongs to the Grecian discipline. |
|
|
|
From Rusticus I received the impression that my character required |
|
improvement and discipline; and from him I learned not to be led astray |
|
to sophistic emulation, nor to writing on speculative matters, nor |
|
to delivering little hortatory orations, nor to showing myself off |
|
as a man who practises much discipline, or does benevolent acts in |
|
order to make a display; and to abstain from rhetoric, and poetry, |
|
and fine writing; and not to walk about in the house in my outdoor |
|
dress, nor to do other things of the kind; and to write my letters |
|
with simplicity, like the letter which Rusticus wrote from Sinuessa |
|
to my mother; and with respect to those who have offended me by words, |
|
or done me wrong, to be easily disposed to be pacified and reconciled, |
|
as soon as they have shown a readiness to be reconciled; and to read |
|
carefully, and not to be satisfied with a superficial understanding |
|
of a book; nor hastily to give my assent to those who talk overmuch; |
|
and I am indebted to him for being acquainted with the discourses |
|
of Epictetus, which he communicated to me out of his own collection. |
|
|
|
From Apollonius I learned freedom of will and undeviating steadiness |
|
of purpose; and to look to nothing else, not even for a moment, except |
|
to reason; and to be always the same, in sharp pains, on the occasion |
|
of the loss of a child, and in long illness; and to see clearly in |
|
a living example that the same man can be both most resolute and yielding, |
|
and not peevish in giving his instruction; and to have had before |
|
my eyes a man who clearly considered his experience and his skill |
|
in expounding philosophical principles as the smallest of his merits; |
|
and from him I learned how to receive from friends what are esteemed |
|
favours, without being either humbled by them or letting them pass |
|
unnoticed. |
|
|
|
From Sextus, a benevolent disposition, and the example of a family |
|
governed in a fatherly manner, and the idea of living conformably |
|
to nature; and gravity without affectation, and to look carefully |
|
after the interests of friends, and to tolerate ignorant persons, |
|
and those who form opinions without consideration: he had the power |
|
of readily accommodating himself to all, so that intercourse with |
|
him was more agreeable than any flattery; and at the same time he |
|
was most highly venerated by those who associated with him: and he |
|
had the faculty both of discovering and ordering, in an intelligent |
|
and methodical way, the principles necessary for life; and he never |
|
showed anger or any other passion, but was entirely free from passion, |
|
and also most affectionate; and he could express approbation without |
|
noisy display, and he possessed much knowledge without ostentation. |
|
|
|
From Alexander the grammarian, to refrain from fault-finding, and |
|
not in a reproachful way to chide those who uttered any barbarous |
|
or solecistic or strange-sounding expression; but dexterously to introduce |
|
the very expression which ought to have been used, and in the way |
|
of answer or giving confirmation, or joining in an inquiry about the |
|
thing itself, not about the word, or by some other fit suggestion. |
|
|
|
From Fronto I learned to observe what envy, and duplicity, and hypocrisy |
|
are in a tyrant, and that generally those among us who are called |
|
Patricians are rather deficient in paternal affection. |
|
|
|
From Alexander the Platonic, not frequently nor without necessity |
|
to say to any one, or to write in a letter, that I have no leisure; |
|
nor continually to excuse the neglect of duties required by our relation |
|
to those with whom we live, by alleging urgent occupations. |
|
|
|
From Catulus, not to be indifferent when a friend finds fault, even |
|
if he should find fault without reason, but to try to restore him |
|
to his usual disposition; and to be ready to speak well of teachers, |
|
as it is reported of Domitius and Athenodotus; and to love my children |
|
truly. |
|
|
|
From my brother Severus, to love my kin, and to love truth, and to |
|
love justice; and through him I learned to know Thrasea, Helvidius, |
|
Cato, Dion, Brutus; and from him I received the idea of a polity in |
|
which there is the same law for all, a polity administered with regard |
|
to equal rights and equal freedom of speech, and the idea of a kingly |
|
government which respects most of all the freedom of the governed; |
|
I learned from him also consistency and undeviating steadiness in |
|
my regard for philosophy; and a disposition to do good, and to give |
|
to others readily, and to cherish good hopes, and to believe that |
|
I am loved by my friends; and in him I observed no concealment of |
|
his opinions with respect to those whom he condemned, and that his |
|
friends had no need to conjecture what he wished or did not wish, |
|
but it was quite plain. |
|
|
|
From Maximus I learned self-government, and not to be led aside by |
|
anything; and cheerfulness in all circumstances, as well as in illness; |
|
and a just admixture in the moral character of sweetness and dignity, |
|
and to do what was set before me without complaining. I observed that |
|
everybody believed that he thought as he spoke, and that in all that |
|
he did he never had any bad intention; and he never showed amazement |
|
and surprise, and was never in a hurry, and never put off doing a |
|
thing, nor was perplexed nor dejected, nor did he ever laugh to disguise |
|
his vexation, nor, on the other hand, was he ever passionate or suspicious. |
|
He was accustomed to do acts of beneficence, and was ready to forgive, |
|
and was free from all falsehood; and he presented the appearance of |
|
a man who could not be diverted from right rather than of a man who |
|
had been improved. I observed, too, that no man could ever think that |
|
he was despised by Maximus, or ever venture to think himself a better |
|
man. He had also the art of being humorous in an agreeable way. |
|
|
|
In my father I observed mildness of temper, and unchangeable resolution |
|
in the things which he had determined after due deliberation; and |
|
no vainglory in those things which men call honours; and a love of |
|
labour and perseverance; and a readiness to listen to those who had |
|
anything to propose for the common weal; and undeviating firmness |
|
in giving to every man according to his deserts; and a knowledge derived |
|
from experience of the occasions for vigorous action and for remission. |
|
And I observed that he had overcome all passion for boys; and he considered |
|
himself no more than any other citizen; and he released his friends |
|
from all obligation to sup with him or to attend him of necessity |
|
when he went abroad, and those who had failed to accompany him, by |
|
reason of any urgent circumstances, always found him the same. I observed |
|
too his habit of careful inquiry in all matters of deliberation, and |
|
his persistency, and that he never stopped his investigation through |
|
being satisfied with appearances which first present themselves; and |
|
that his disposition was to keep his friends, and not to be soon tired |
|
of them, nor yet to be extravagant in his affection; and to be satisfied |
|
on all occasions, and cheerful; and to foresee things a long way off, |
|
and to provide for the smallest without display; and to check immediately |
|
popular applause and all flattery; and to be ever watchful over the |
|
things which were necessary for the administration of the empire, |
|
and to be a good manager of the expenditure, and patiently to endure |
|
the blame which he got for such conduct; and he was neither superstitious |
|
with respect to the gods, nor did he court men by gifts or by trying |
|
to please them, or by flattering the populace; but he showed sobriety |
|
in all things and firmness, and never any mean thoughts or action, |
|
nor love of novelty. And the things which conduce in any way to the |
|
commodity of life, and of which fortune gives an abundant supply, |
|
he used without arrogance and without excusing himself; so that when |
|
he had them, he enjoyed them without affectation, and when he had |
|
them not, he did not want them. No one could ever say of him that |
|
he was either a sophist or a home-bred flippant slave or a pedant; |
|
but every one acknowledged him to be a man ripe, perfect, above flattery, |
|
able to manage his own and other men's affairs. Besides this, he honoured |
|
those who were true philosophers, and he did not reproach those who |
|
pretended to be philosophers, nor yet was he easily led by them. He |
|
was also easy in conversation, and he made himself agreeable without |
|
any offensive affectation. He took a reasonable care of his body's |
|
health, not as one who was greatly attached to life, nor out of regard |
|
to personal appearance, nor yet in a careless way, but so that, through |
|
his own attention, he very seldom stood in need of the physician's |
|
art or of medicine or external applications. He was most ready to |
|
give way without envy to those who possessed any particular faculty, |
|
such as that of eloquence or knowledge of the law or of morals, or |
|
of anything else; and he gave them his help, that each might enjoy |
|
reputation according to his deserts; and he always acted conformably |
|
to the institutions of his country, without showing any affectation |
|
of doing so. Further, he was not fond of change nor unsteady, but |
|
he loved to stay in the same places, and to employ himself about the |
|
same things; and after his paroxysms of headache he came immediately |
|
fresh and vigorous to his usual occupations. His secrets were not |
|
but very few and very rare, and these only about public matters; and |
|
he showed prudence and economy in the exhibition of the public spectacles |
|
and the construction of public buildings, his donations to the people, |
|
and in such things, for he was a man who looked to what ought to be |
|
done, not to the reputation which is got by a man's acts. He did not |
|
take the bath at unseasonable hours; he was not fond of building houses, |
|
nor curious about what he ate, nor about the texture and colour of |
|
his clothes, nor about the beauty of his slaves. His dress came from |
|
Lorium, his villa on the coast, and from Lanuvium generally. We know |
|
how he behaved to the toll-collector at Tusculum who asked his pardon; |
|
and such was all his behaviour. There was in him nothing harsh, nor |
|
implacable, nor violent, nor, as one may say, anything carried to |
|
the sweating point; but he examined all things severally, as if he |
|
had abundance of time, and without confusion, in an orderly way, vigorously |
|
and consistently. And that might be applied to him which is recorded |
|
of Socrates, that he was able both to abstain from, and to enjoy, |
|
those things which many are too weak to abstain from, and cannot enjoy |
|
without excess. But to be strong enough both to bear the one and to |
|
be sober in the other is the mark of a man who has a perfect and invincible |
|
soul, such as he showed in the illness of Maximus. |
|
|
|
To the gods I am indebted for having good grandfathers, good parents, |
|
a good sister, good teachers, good associates, good kinsmen and friends, |
|
nearly everything good. Further, I owe it to the gods that I was not |
|
hurried into any offence against any of them, though I had a disposition |
|
which, if opportunity had offered, might have led me to do something |
|
of this kind; but, through their favour, there never was such a concurrence |
|
of circumstances as put me to the trial. Further, I am thankful to |
|
the gods that I was not longer brought up with my grandfather's concubine, |
|
and that I preserved the flower of my youth, and that I did not make |
|
proof of my virility before the proper season, but even deferred the |
|
time; that I was subjected to a ruler and a father who was able to |
|
take away all pride from me, and to bring me to the knowledge that |
|
it is possible for a man to live in a palace without wanting either |
|
guards or embroidered dresses, or torches and statues, and such-like |
|
show; but that it is in such a man's power to bring himself very near |
|
to the fashion of a private person, without being for this reason |
|
either meaner in thought, or more remiss in action, with respect to |
|
the things which must be done for the public interest in a manner |
|
that befits a ruler. I thank the gods for giving me such a brother, |
|
who was able by his moral character to rouse me to vigilance over |
|
myself, and who, at the same time, pleased me by his respect and affection; |
|
that my children have not been stupid nor deformed in body; that I |
|
did not make more proficiency in rhetoric, poetry, and the other studies, |
|
in which I should perhaps have been completely engaged, if I had seen |
|
that I was making progress in them; that I made haste to place those |
|
who brought me up in the station of honour, which they seemed to desire, |
|
without putting them off with hope of my doing it some time after, |
|
because they were then still young; that I knew Apollonius, Rusticus, |
|
Maximus; that I received clear and frequent impressions about living |
|
according to nature, and what kind of a life that is, so that, so |
|
far as depended on the gods, and their gifts, and help, and inspirations, |
|
nothing hindered me from forthwith living according to nature, though |
|
I still fall short of it through my own fault, and through not observing |
|
the admonitions of the gods, and, I may almost say, their direct instructions; |
|
that my body has held out so long in such a kind of life; that I never |
|
touched either Benedicta or Theodotus, and that, after having fallen |
|
into amatory passions, I was cured; and, though I was often out of |
|
humour with Rusticus, I never did anything of which I had occasion |
|
to repent; that, though it was my mother's fate to die young, she |
|
spent the last years of her life with me; that, whenever I wished |
|
to help any man in his need, or on any other occasion, I was never |
|
told that I had not the means of doing it; and that to myself the |
|
same necessity never happened, to receive anything from another; that |
|
I have such a wife, so obedient, and so affectionate, and so simple; |
|
that I had abundance of good masters for my children; and that remedies |
|
have been shown to me by dreams, both others, and against bloodspitting |
|
and giddiness...; and that, when I had an inclination to philosophy, |
|
I did not fall into the hands of any sophist, and that I did not waste |
|
my time on writers of histories, or in the resolution of syllogisms, |
|
or occupy myself about the investigation of appearances in the heavens; |
|
for all these things require the help of the gods and fortune. |
|
|
|
Among the Quadi at the Granua. |
|
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------- |
|
|
|
BOOK TWO |
|
|
|
Begin the morning by saying to thyself, I shall meet with the busy-body, |
|
the ungrateful, arrogant, deceitful, envious, unsocial. All these |
|
things happen to them by reason of their ignorance of what is good |
|
and evil. But I who have seen the nature of the good that it is beautiful, |
|
and of the bad that it is ugly, and the nature of him who does wrong, |
|
that it is akin to me, not only of the same blood or seed, but that |
|
it participates in the same intelligence and the same portion of the |
|
divinity, I can neither be injured by any of them, for no one can |
|
fix on me what is ugly, nor can I be angry with my kinsman, nor hate |
|
him, For we are made for co-operation, like feet, like hands, like |
|
eyelids, like the rows of the upper and lower teeth. To act against |
|
one another then is contrary to nature; and it is acting against one |
|
another to be vexed and to turn away. |
|
|
|
Whatever this is that I am, it is a little flesh and breath, and the |
|
ruling part. Throw away thy books; no longer distract thyself: it |
|
is not allowed; but as if thou wast now dying, despise the flesh; |
|
it is blood and bones and a network, a contexture of nerves, veins, |
|
and arteries. See the breath also, what kind of a thing it is, air, |
|
and not always the same, but every moment sent out and again sucked |
|
in. The third then is the ruling part: consider thus: Thou art an |
|
old man; no longer let this be a slave, no longer be pulled by the |
|
strings like a puppet to unsocial movements, no longer either be dissatisfied |
|
with thy present lot, or shrink from the future. |
|
|
|
All that is from the gods is full of Providence. That which is from |
|
fortune is not separated from nature or without an interweaving and |
|
involution with the things which are ordered by Providence. From thence |
|
all things flow; and there is besides necessity, and that which is |
|
for the advantage of the whole universe, of which thou art a part. |
|
But that is good for every part of nature which the nature of the |
|
whole brings, and what serves to maintain this nature. Now the universe |
|
is preserved, as by the changes of the elements so by the changes |
|
of things compounded of the elements. Let these principles be enough |
|
for thee, let them always be fixed opinions. But cast away the thirst |
|
after books, that thou mayest not die murmuring, but cheerfully, truly, |
|
and from thy heart thankful to the gods. |
|
|
|
Remember how long thou hast been putting off these things, and how |
|
often thou hast received an opportunity from the gods, and yet dost |
|
not use it. Thou must now at last perceive of what universe thou art |
|
a part, and of what administrator of the universe thy existence is |
|
an efflux, and that a limit of time is fixed for thee, which if thou |
|
dost not use for clearing away the clouds from thy mind, it will go |
|
and thou wilt go, and it will never return. |
|
|
|
Every moment think steadily as a Roman and a man to do what thou hast |
|
in hand with perfect and simple dignity, and feeling of affection, |
|
and freedom, and justice; and to give thyself relief from all other |
|
thoughts. And thou wilt give thyself relief, if thou doest every act |
|
of thy life as if it were the last, laying aside all carelessness |
|
and passionate aversion from the commands of reason, and all hypocrisy, |
|
and self-love, and discontent with the portion which has been given |
|
to thee. Thou seest how few the things are, the which if a man lays |
|
hold of, he is able to live a life which flows in quiet, and is like |
|
the existence of the gods; for the gods on their part will require |
|
nothing more from him who observes these things. |
|
|
|
Do wrong to thyself, do wrong to thyself, my soul; but thou wilt no |
|
longer have the opportunity of honouring thyself. Every man's life |
|
is sufficient. But thine is nearly finished, though thy soul reverences |
|
not itself but places thy felicity in the souls of others. |
|
|
|
Do the things external which fall upon thee distract thee? Give thyself |
|
time to learn something new and good, and cease to be whirled around. |
|
But then thou must also avoid being carried about the other way. For |
|
those too are triflers who have wearied themselves in life by their |
|
activity, and yet have no object to which to direct every movement, |
|
and, in a word, all their thoughts. |
|
|
|
Through not observing what is in the mind of another a man has seldom |
|
been seen to be unhappy; but those who do not observe the movements |
|
of their own minds must of necessity be unhappy. |
|
|
|
This thou must always bear in mind, what is the nature of the whole, |
|
and what is my nature, and how this is related to that, and what kind |
|
of a part it is of what kind of a whole; and that there is no one |
|
who hinders thee from always doing and saying the things which are |
|
according to the nature of which thou art a part. |
|
|
|
Theophrastus, in his comparison of bad acts- such a comparison as |
|
one would make in accordance with the common notions of mankind- says, |
|
like a true philosopher, that the offences which are committed through |
|
desire are more blameable than those which are committed through anger. |
|
For he who is excited by anger seems to turn away from reason with |
|
a certain pain and unconscious contraction; but he who offends through |
|
desire, being overpowered by pleasure, seems to be in a manner more |
|
intemperate and more womanish in his offences. Rightly then, and in |
|
a way worthy of philosophy, he said that the offence which is committed |
|
with pleasure is more blameable than that which is committed with |
|
pain; and on the whole the one is more like a person who has been |
|
first wronged and through pain is compelled to be angry; but the other |
|
is moved by his own impulse to do wrong, being carried towards doing |
|
something by desire. |
|
|
|
Since it is possible that thou mayest depart from life this very moment, |
|
regulate every act and thought accordingly. But to go away from among |
|
men, if there are gods, is not a thing to be afraid of, for the gods |
|
will not involve thee in evil; but if indeed they do not exist, or |
|
if they have no concern about human affairs, what is it to me to live |
|
in a universe devoid of gods or devoid of Providence? But in truth |
|
they do exist, and they do care for human things, and they have put |
|
all the means in man's power to enable him not to fall into real evils. |
|
And as to the rest, if there was anything evil, they would have provided |
|
for this also, that it should be altogether in a man's power not to |
|
fall into it. Now that which does not make a man worse, how can it |
|
make a man's life worse? But neither through ignorance, nor having |
|
the knowledge, but not the power to guard against or correct these |
|
things, is it possible that the nature of the universe has overlooked |
|
them; nor is it possible that it has made so great a mistake, either |
|
through want of power or want of skill, that good and evil should |
|
happen indiscriminately to the good and the bad. But death certainly, |
|
and life, honour and dishonour, pain and pleasure, all these things |
|
equally happen to good men and bad, being things which make us neither |
|
better nor worse. Therefore they are neither good nor evil. |
|
|
|
How quickly all things disappear, in the universe the bodies themselves, |
|
but in time the remembrance of them; what is the nature of all sensible |
|
things, and particularly those which attract with the bait of pleasure |
|
or terrify by pain, or are noised abroad by vapoury fame; how worthless, |
|
and contemptible, and sordid, and perishable, and dead they are- all |
|
this it is the part of the intellectual faculty to observe. To observe |
|
too who these are whose opinions and voices give reputation; what |
|
death is, and the fact that, if a man looks at it in itself, and by |
|
the abstractive power of reflection resolves into their parts all |
|
the things which present themselves to the imagination in it, he will |
|
then consider it to be nothing else than an operation of nature; and |
|
if any one is afraid of an operation of nature, he is a child. This, |
|
however, is not only an operation of nature, but it is also a thing |
|
which conduces to the purposes of nature. To observe too how man comes |
|
near to the deity, and by what part of him, and when this part of |
|
man is so disposed. |
|
|
|
Nothing is more wretched than a man who traverses everything in a |
|
round, and pries into the things beneath the earth, as the poet says, |
|
and seeks by conjecture what is in the minds of his neighbours, without |
|
perceiving that it is sufficient to attend to the daemon within him, |
|
and to reverence it sincerely. And reverence of the daemon consists |
|
in keeping it pure from passion and thoughtlessness, and dissatisfaction |
|
with what comes from gods and men. For the things from the gods merit |
|
veneration for their excellence; and the things from men should be |
|
dear to us by reason of kinship; and sometimes even, in a manner, |
|
they move our pity by reason of men's ignorance of good and bad; this |
|
defect being not less than that which deprives us of the power of |
|
distinguishing things that are white and black. |
|
|
|
Though thou shouldst be going to live three thousand years, and as |
|
many times ten thousand years, still remember that no man loses any |
|
other life than this which he now lives, nor lives any other than |
|
this which he now loses. The longest and shortest are thus brought |
|
to the same. For the present is the same to all, though that which |
|
perishes is not the same; and so that which is lost appears to be |
|
a mere moment. For a man cannot lose either the past or the future: |
|
for what a man has not, how can any one take this from him? These |
|
two things then thou must bear in mind; the one, that all things from |
|
eternity are of like forms and come round in a circle, and that it |
|
makes no difference whether a man shall see the same things during |
|
a hundred years or two hundred, or an infinite time; and the second, |
|
that the longest liver and he who will die soonest lose just the same. |
|
For the present is the only thing of which a man can be deprived, |
|
if it is true that this is the only thing which he has, and that a |
|
man cannot lose a thing if he has it not. |
|
|
|
Remember that all is opinion. For what was said by the Cynic Monimus |
|
is manifest: and manifest too is the use of what was said, if a man |
|
receives what may be got out of it as far as it is true. |
|
|
|
The soul of man does violence to itself, first of all, when it becomes |
|
an abscess and, as it were, a tumour on the universe, so far as it |
|
can. For to be vexed at anything which happens is a separation of |
|
ourselves from nature, in some part of which the natures of all other |
|
things are contained. In the next place, the soul does violence to |
|
itself when it turns away from any man, or even moves towards him |
|
with the intention of injuring, such as are the souls of those who |
|
are angry. In the third place, the soul does violence to itself when |
|
it is overpowered by pleasure or by pain. Fourthly, when it plays |
|
a part, and does or says anything insincerely and untruly. Fifthly, |
|
when it allows any act of its own and any movement to be without an |
|
aim, and does anything thoughtlessly and without considering what |
|
it is, it being right that even the smallest things be done with reference |
|
to an end; and the end of rational animals is to follow the reason |
|
and the law of the most ancient city and polity. |
|
|
|
Of human life the time is a point, and the substance is in a flux, |
|
and the perception dull, and the composition of the whole body subject |
|
to putrefaction, and the soul a whirl, and fortune hard to divine, |
|
and fame a thing devoid of judgement. And, to say all in a word, everything |
|
which belongs to the body is a stream, and what belongs to the soul |
|
is a dream and vapour, and life is a warfare and a stranger's sojourn, |
|
and after-fame is oblivion. What then is that which is able to conduct |
|
a man? One thing and only one, philosophy. But this consists in keeping |
|
the daemon within a man free from violence and unharmed, superior |
|
to pains and pleasures, doing nothing without purpose, nor yet falsely |
|
and with hypocrisy, not feeling the need of another man's doing or |
|
not doing anything; and besides, accepting all that happens, and all |
|
that is allotted, as coming from thence, wherever it is, from whence |
|
he himself came; and, finally, waiting for death with a cheerful mind, |
|
as being nothing else than a dissolution of the elements of which |
|
every living being is compounded. But if there is no harm to the elements |
|
themselves in each continually changing into another, why should a |
|
man have any apprehension about the change and dissolution of all |
|
the elements? For it is according to nature, and nothing is evil which |
|
is according to nature. |
|
|
|
This in Carnuntum. |
|
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------- |
|
|
|
BOOK THREE |
|
|
|
We ught to consider not only that our life is daily wasting away |
|
and a smaller part of it is left, but another thing also must be taken |
|
into the account, that if a man should live longer, it is quite uncertain |
|
whether the understanding will still continue sufficient for the comprehension |
|
of things, and retain the power of contemplation which strives to |
|
acquire the knowledge of the divine and the human. For if he shall |
|
begin to fall into dotage, perspiration and nutrition and imagination |
|
and appetite, and whatever else there is of the kind, will not fail; |
|
but the power of making use of ourselves, and filling up the measure |
|
of our duty, and clearly separating all appearances, and considering |
|
whether a man should now depart from life, and whatever else of the |
|
kind absolutely requires a disciplined reason, all this is already |
|
extinguished. We must make haste then, not only because we are daily |
|
nearer to death, but also because the conception of things and the |
|
understanding of them cease first. |
|
|
|
We ought to observe also that even the things which follow after the |
|
things which are produced according to nature contain something pleasing |
|
and attractive. For instance, when bread is baked some parts are split |
|
at the surface, and these parts which thus open, and have a certain |
|
fashion contrary to the purpose of the baker's art, are beautiful |
|
in a manner, and in a peculiar way excite a desire for eating. And |
|
again, figs, when they are quite ripe, gape open; and in the ripe |
|
olives the very circumstance of their being near to rottenness adds |
|
a peculiar beauty to the fruit. And the ears of corn bending down, |
|
and the lion's eyebrows, and the foam which flows from the mouth of |
|
wild boars, and many other things- though they are far from being |
|
beautiful, if a man should examine them severally- still, because |
|
they are consequent upon the things which are formed by nature, help |
|
to adorn them, and they please the mind; so that if a man should have |
|
a feeling and deeper insight with respect to the things which are |
|
produced in the universe, there is hardly one of those which follow |
|
by way of consequence which will not seem to him to be in a manner |
|
disposed so as to give pleasure. And so he will see even the real |
|
gaping jaws of wild beasts with no less pleasure than those which |
|
painters and sculptors show by imitation; and in an old woman and |
|
an old man he will be able to see a certain maturity and comeliness; |
|
and the attractive loveliness of young persons he will be able to |
|
look on with chaste eyes; and many such things will present themselves, |
|
not pleasing to every man, but to him only who has become truly familiar |
|
with nature and her works. |
|
|
|
Hippocrates after curing many diseases himself fell sick and died. |
|
The Chaldaei foretold the deaths of many, and then fate caught them |
|
too. Alexander, and Pompeius, and Caius Caesar, after so often completely |
|
destroying whole cities, and in battle cutting to pieces many ten |
|
thousands of cavalry and infantry, themselves too at last departed |
|
from life. Heraclitus, after so many speculations on the conflagration |
|
of the universe, was filled with water internally and died smeared |
|
all over with mud. And lice destroyed Democritus; and other lice killed |
|
Socrates. What means all this? Thou hast embarked, thou hast made |
|
the voyage, thou art come to shore; get out. If indeed to another |
|
life, there is no want of gods, not even there. But if to a state |
|
without sensation, thou wilt cease to be held by pains and pleasures, |
|
and to be a slave to the vessel, which is as much inferior as that |
|
which serves it is superior: for the one is intelligence and deity; |
|
the other is earth and corruption. |
|
|
|
Do not waste the remainder of thy life in thoughts about others, when |
|
thou dost not refer thy thoughts to some object of common utility. |
|
For thou losest the opportunity of doing something else when thou |
|
hast such thoughts as these, What is such a person doing, and why, |
|
and what is he saying, and what is he thinking of, and what is he |
|
contriving, and whatever else of the kind makes us wander away from |
|
the observation of our own ruling power. We ought then to check in |
|
the series of our thoughts everything that is without a purpose and |
|
useless, but most of all the over-curious feeling and the malignant; |
|
and a man should use himself to think of those things only about which |
|
if one should suddenly ask, What hast thou now in thy thoughts? With |
|
perfect openness thou mightest, immediately answer, This or That; |
|
so that from thy words it should be plain that everything in thee |
|
is simple and benevolent, and such as befits a social animal, and |
|
one that cares not for thoughts about pleasure or sensual enjoyments |
|
at all, nor has any rivalry or envy and suspicion, or anything else |
|
for which thou wouldst blush if thou shouldst say that thou hadst |
|
it in thy mind. For the man who is such and no longer delays being |
|
among the number of the best, is like a priest and minister of the |
|
gods, using too the deity which is planted within him, which makes |
|
the man uncontaminated by pleasure, unharmed by any pain, untouched |
|
by any insult, feeling no wrong, a fighter in the noblest fight, one |
|
who cannot be overpowered by any passion, dyed deep with justice, |
|
accepting with all his soul everything which happens and is assigned |
|
to him as his portion; and not often, nor yet without great necessity |
|
and for the general interest, imagining what another says, or does, |
|
or thinks. For it is only what belongs to himself that he makes the |
|
matter for his activity; and he constantly thinks of that which is |
|
allotted to himself out of the sum total of things, and he makes his |
|
own acts fair, and he is persuaded that his own portion is good. For |
|
the lot which is assigned to each man is carried along with him and |
|
carries him along with it. And he remembers also that every rational |
|
animal is his kinsman, and that to care for all men is according to |
|
man's nature; and a man should hold on to the opinion not of all, |
|
but of those only who confessedly live according to nature. But as |
|
to those who live not so, he always bears in mind what kind of men |
|
they are both at home and from home, both by night and by day, and |
|
what they are, and with what men they live an impure life. Accordingly, |
|
he does not value at all the praise which comes from such men, since |
|
they are not even satisfied with themselves. |
|
|
|
Labour not unwillingly, nor without regard to the common interest, |
|
nor without due consideration, nor with distraction; nor let studied |
|
ornament set off thy thoughts, and be not either a man of many words, |
|
or busy about too many things. And further, let the deity which is |
|
in thee be the guardian of a living being, manly and of ripe age, |
|
and engaged in matter political, and a Roman, and a ruler, who has |
|
taken his post like a man waiting for the signal which summons him |
|
from life, and ready to go, having need neither of oath nor of any |
|
man's testimony. Be cheerful also, and seek not external help nor |
|
the tranquility which others give. A man then must stand erect, not |
|
be kept erect by others. |
|
|
|
If thou findest in human life anything better than justice, truth, |
|
temperance, fortitude, and, in a word, anything better than thy own |
|
mind's self-satisfaction in the things which it enables thee to do |
|
according to right reason, and in the condition that is assigned to |
|
thee without thy own choice; if, I say, thou seest anything better |
|
than this, turn to it with all thy soul, and enjoy that which thou |
|
hast found to be the best. But if nothing appears to be better than |
|
the deity which is planted in thee, which has subjected to itself |
|
all thy appetites, and carefully examines all the impressions, and, |
|
as Socrates said, has detached itself from the persuasions of sense, |
|
and has submitted itself to the gods, and cares for mankind; if thou |
|
findest everything else smaller and of less value than this, give |
|
place to nothing else, for if thou dost once diverge and incline to |
|
it, thou wilt no longer without distraction be able to give the preference |
|
to that good thing which is thy proper possession and thy own; for |
|
it is not right that anything of any other kind, such as praise from |
|
the many, or power, or enjoyment of pleasure, should come into competition |
|
with that which is rationally and politically or practically good. |
|
All these things, even though they may seem to adapt themselves to |
|
the better things in a small degree, obtain the superiority all at |
|
once, and carry us away. But do thou, I say, simply and freely choose |
|
the better, and hold to it.- But that which is useful is the better.- |
|
Well then, if it is useful to thee as a rational being, keep to it; |
|
but if it is only useful to thee as an animal, say so, and maintain |
|
thy judgement without arrogance: only take care that thou makest the |
|
inquiry by a sure method. |
|
|
|
Never value anything as profitable to thyself which shall compel thee |
|
to break thy promise, to lose thy self-respect, to hate any man, to |
|
suspect, to curse, to act the hypocrite, to desire anything which |
|
needs walls and curtains: for he who has preferred to everything intelligence |
|
and daemon and the worship of its excellence, acts no tragic part, |
|
does not groan, will not need either solitude or much company; and, |
|
what is chief of all, he will live without either pursuing or flying |
|
from death; but whether for a longer or a shorter time he shall have |
|
the soul inclosed in the body, he cares not at all: for even if he |
|
must depart immediately, he will go as readily as if he were going |
|
to do anything else which can be done with decency and order; taking |
|
care of this only all through life, that his thoughts turn not away |
|
from anything which belongs to an intelligent animal and a member |
|
of a civil community. |
|
|
|
In the mind of one who is chastened and purified thou wilt find no |
|
corrupt matter, nor impurity, nor any sore skinned over. Nor is his |
|
life incomplete when fate overtakes him, as one may say of an actor |
|
who leaves the stage before ending and finishing the play. Besides, |
|
there is in him nothing servile, nor affected, nor too closely bound |
|
to other things, nor yet detached from other things, nothing worthy |
|
of blame, nothing which seeks a hiding-place. |
|
|
|
Reverence the faculty which produces opinion. On this faculty it entirely |
|
depends whether there shall exist in thy ruling part any opinion inconsistent |
|
with nature and the constitution of the rational animal. And this |
|
faculty promises freedom from hasty judgement, and friendship towards |
|
men, and obedience to the gods. |
|
|
|
Throwing away then all things, hold to these only which are few; and |
|
besides bear in mind that every man lives only this present time, |
|
which is an indivisible point, and that all the rest of his life is |
|
either past or it is uncertain. Short then is the time which every |
|
man lives, and small the nook of the earth where he lives; and short |
|
too the longest posthumous fame, and even this only continued by a |
|
succession of poor human beings, who will very soon die, and who know |
|
not even themselves, much less him who died long ago. |
|
|
|
To the aids which have been mentioned let this one still be added:- |
|
Make for thyself a definition or description of the thing which is |
|
presented to thee, so as to see distinctly what kind of a thing it |
|
is in its substance, in its nudity, in its complete entirety, and |
|
tell thyself its proper name, and the names of the things of which |
|
it has been compounded, and into which it will be resolved. For nothing |
|
is so productive of elevation of mind as to be able to examine methodically |
|
and truly every object which is presented to thee in life, and always |
|
to look at things so as to see at the same time what kind of universe |
|
this is, and what kind of use everything performs in it, and what |
|
value everything has with reference to the whole, and what with reference |
|
to man, who is a citizen of the highest city, of which all other cities |
|
are like families; what each thing is, and of what it is composed, |
|
and how long it is the nature of this thing to endure which now makes |
|
an impression on me, and what virtue I have need of with respect to |
|
it, such as gentleness, manliness, truth, fidelity, simplicity, contentment, |
|
and the rest. Wherefore, on every occasion a man should say: this |
|
comes from God; and this is according to the apportionment and spinning |
|
of the thread of destiny, and such-like coincidence and chance; and |
|
this is from one of the same stock, and a kinsman and partner, one |
|
who knows not however what is according to his nature. But I know; |
|
for this reason I behave towards him according to the natural law |
|
of fellowship with benevolence and justice. At the same time however |
|
in things indifferent I attempt to ascertain the value of each. |
|
|
|
If thou workest at that which is before thee, following right reason |
|
seriously, vigorously, calmly, without allowing anything else to distract |
|
thee, but keeping thy divine part pure, as if thou shouldst be bound |
|
to give it back immediately; if thou holdest to this, expecting nothing, |
|
fearing nothing, but satisfied with thy present activity according |
|
to nature, and with heroic truth in every word and sound which thou |
|
utterest, thou wilt live happy. And there is no man who is able to |
|
prevent this. |
|
|
|
As physicians have always their instruments and knives ready for cases |
|
which suddenly require their skill, so do thou have principles ready |
|
for the understanding of things divine and human, and for doing everything, |
|
even the smallest, with a recollection of the bond which unites the |
|
divine and human to one another. For neither wilt thou do anything |
|
well which pertains to man without at the same time having a reference |
|
to things divine; nor the contrary. |
|
|
|
No longer wander at hazard; for neither wilt thou read thy own memoirs, |
|
nor the acts of the ancient Romans and Hellenes, and the selections |
|
from books which thou wast reserving for thy old age. Hasten then |
|
to the end which thou hast before thee, and throwing away idle hopes, |
|
come to thy own aid, if thou carest at all for thyself, while it is |
|
in thy power. |
|
|
|
They know not how many things are signified by the words stealing, |
|
sowing, buying, keeping quiet, seeing what ought to be done; for this |
|
is not effected by the eyes, but by another kind of vision. |
|
|
|
Body, soul, intelligence: to the body belong sensations, to the soul |
|
appetites, to the intelligence principles. To receive the impressions |
|
of forms by means of appearances belongs even to animals; to be pulled |
|
by the strings of desire belongs both to wild beasts and to men who |
|
have made themselves into women, and to a Phalaris and a Nero: and |
|
to have the intelligence that guides to the things which appear suitable |
|
belongs also to those who do not believe in the gods, and who betray |
|
their country, and do their impure deeds when they have shut the doors. |
|
If then everything else is common to all that I have mentioned, there |
|
remains that which is peculiar to the good man, to be pleased and |
|
content with what happens, and with the thread which is spun for him; |
|
and not to defile the divinity which is planted in his breast, nor |
|
disturb it by a crowd of images, but to preserve it tranquil, following |
|
it obediently as a god, neither saying anything contrary to the truth, |
|
nor doing anything contrary to justice. And if all men refuse to believe |
|
that he lives a simple, modest, and contented life, he is neither |
|
angry with any of them, nor does he deviate from the way which leads |
|
to the end of life, to which a man ought to come pure, tranquil, ready |
|
to depart, and without any compulsion perfectly reconciled to his |
|
lot. |
|
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------- |
|
|
|
BOOK FOUR |
|
|
|
That which rules within, when it is according to nature, is so affected |
|
with respect to the events which happen, that it always easily adapts |
|
itself to that which is and is presented to it. For it requires no |
|
definite material, but it moves towards its purpose, under certain |
|
conditions however; and it makes a material for itself out of that |
|
which opposes it, as fire lays hold of what falls into it, by which |
|
a small light would have been extinguished: but when the fire is strong, |
|
it soon appropriates to itself the matter which is heaped on it, and |
|
consumes it, and rises higher by means of this very material. |
|
|
|
Let no act be done without a purpose, nor otherwise than according |
|
to the perfect principles of art. |
|
|
|
Men seek retreats for themselves, houses in the country, sea-shores, |
|
and mountains; and thou too art wont to desire such things very much. |
|
But this is altogether a mark of the most common sort of men, for |
|
it is in thy power whenever thou shalt choose to retire into thyself. |
|
For nowhere either with more quiet or more freedom from trouble does |
|
a man retire than into his own soul, particularly when he has within |
|
him such thoughts that by looking into them he is immediately in perfect |
|
tranquility; and I affirm that tranquility is nothing else than the |
|
good ordering of the mind. Constantly then give to thyself this retreat, |
|
and renew thyself; and let thy principles be brief and fundamental, |
|
which, as soon as thou shalt recur to them, will be sufficient to |
|
cleanse the soul completely, and to send thee back free from all discontent |
|
with the things to which thou returnest. For with what art thou discontented? |
|
With the badness of men? Recall to thy mind this conclusion, that |
|
rational animals exist for one another, and that to endure is a part |
|
of justice, and that men do wrong involuntarily; and consider how |
|
many already, after mutual enmity, suspicion, hatred, and fighting, |
|
have been stretched dead, reduced to ashes; and be quiet at last.- |
|
But perhaps thou art dissatisfied with that which is assigned to thee |
|
out of the universe.- Recall to thy recollection this alternative; |
|
either there is providence or atoms, fortuitous concurrence of things; |
|
or remember the arguments by which it has been proved that the world |
|
is a kind of political community, and be quiet at last.- But perhaps |
|
corporeal things will still fasten upon thee.- Consider then further |
|
that the mind mingles not with the breath, whether moving gently or |
|
violently, when it has once drawn itself apart and discovered its |
|
own power, and think also of all that thou hast heard and assented |
|
to about pain and pleasure, and be quiet at last.- But perhaps the |
|
desire of the thing called fame will torment thee.- See how soon everything |
|
is forgotten, and look at the chaos of infinite time on each side |
|
of the present, and the emptiness of applause, and the changeableness |
|
and want of judgement in those who pretend to give praise, and the |
|
narrowness of the space within which it is circumscribed, and be quiet |
|
at last. For the whole earth is a point, and how small a nook in it |
|
is this thy dwelling, and how few are there in it, and what kind of |
|
people are they who will praise thee. |
|
|
|
This then remains: Remember to retire into this little territory of |
|
thy own, and above all do not distract or strain thyself, but be free, |
|
and look at things as a man, as a human being, as a citizen, as a |
|
mortal. But among the things readiest to thy hand to which thou shalt |
|
turn, let there be these, which are two. One is that things do not |
|
touch the soul, for they are external and remain immovable; but our |
|
perturbations come only from the opinion which is within. The other |
|
is that all these things, which thou seest, change immediately and |
|
will no longer be; and constantly bear in mind how many of these changes |
|
thou hast already witnessed. The universe is transformation: life |
|
is opinion. |
|
|
|
If our intellectual part is common, the reason also, in respect of |
|
which we are rational beings, is common: if this is so, common also |
|
is the reason which commands us what to do, and what not to do; if |
|
this is so, there is a common law also; if this is so, we are fellow-citizens; |
|
if this is so, we are members of some political community; if this |
|
is so, the world is in a manner a state. For of what other common |
|
political community will any one say that the whole human race are |
|
members? And from thence, from this common political community comes |
|
also our very intellectual faculty and reasoning faculty and our capacity |
|
for law; or whence do they come? For as my earthly part is a portion |
|
given to me from certain earth, and that which is watery from another |
|
element, and that which is hot and fiery from some peculiar source |
|
(for nothing comes out of that which is nothing, as nothing also returns |
|
to non-existence), so also the intellectual part comes from some source. |
|
|
|
Death is such as generation is, a mystery of nature; a composition |
|
out of the same elements, and a decomposition into the same; and altogether |
|
not a thing of which any man should be ashamed, for it is not contrary |
|
to the nature of a reasonable animal, and not contrary to the reason |
|
of our constitution. |
|
|
|
It is natural that these things should be done by such persons, it |
|
is a matter of necessity; and if a man will not have it so, he will |
|
not allow the fig-tree to have juice. But by all means bear this in |
|
mind, that within a very short time both thou and he will be dead; |
|
and soon not even your names will be left behind. |
|
|
|
Take away thy opinion, and then there is taken away the complaint, |
|
"I have been harmed." Take away the complaint, "I have been harmed," |
|
and the harm is taken away. |
|
|
|
That which does not make a man worse than he was, also does not make |
|
his life worse, nor does it harm him either from without or from within. |
|
|
|
The nature of that which is universally useful has been compelled |
|
to do this. |
|
|
|
Consider that everything which happens, happens justly, and if thou |
|
observest carefully, thou wilt find it to be so. I do not say only |
|
with respect to the continuity of the series of things, but with respect |
|
to what is just, and as if it were done by one who assigns to each |
|
thing its value. Observe then as thou hast begun; and whatever thou |
|
doest, do it in conjunction with this, the being good, and in the |
|
sense in which a man is properly understood to be good. Keep to this |
|
in every action. |
|
|
|
Do not have such an opinion of things as he has who does thee wrong, |
|
or such as he wishes thee to have, but look at them as they are in |
|
truth. |
|
|
|
A man should always have these two rules in readiness; the one, to |
|
do only whatever the reason of the ruling and legislating faculty |
|
may suggest for the use of men; the other, to change thy opinion, |
|
if there is any one at hand who sets thee right and moves thee from |
|
any opinion. But this change of opinion must proceed only from a certain |
|
persuasion, as of what is just or of common advantage, and the like, |
|
not because it appears pleasant or brings reputation. |
|
|
|
Hast thou reason? I have.- Why then dost not thou use it? For if this |
|
does its own work, what else dost thou wish? |
|
|
|
Thou hast existed as a part. Thou shalt disappear in that which produced |
|
thee; but rather thou shalt be received back into its seminal principle |
|
by transmutation. |
|
|
|
Many grains of frankincense on the same altar: one falls before, another |
|
falls after; but it makes no difference. |
|
|
|
Within ten days thou wilt seem a god to those to whom thou art now |
|
a beast and an ape, if thou wilt return to thy principles and the |
|
worship of reason. |
|
|
|
Do not act as if thou wert going to live ten thousand years. Death |
|
hangs over thee. While thou livest, while it is in thy power, be good. |
|
|
|
How much trouble he avoids who does not look to see what his neighbour |
|
says or does or thinks, but only to what he does himself, that it |
|
may be just and pure; or as Agathon says, look not round at the depraved |
|
morals of others, but run straight along the line without deviating |
|
from it. |
|
|
|
He who has a vehement desire for posthumous fame does not consider |
|
that every one of those who remember him will himself also die very |
|
soon; then again also they who have succeeded them, until the whole |
|
remembrance shall have been extinguished as it is transmitted through |
|
men who foolishly admire and perish. But suppose that those who will |
|
remember are even immortal, and that the remembrance will be immortal, |
|
what then is this to thee? And I say not what is it to the dead, but |
|
what is it to the living? What is praise except indeed so far as it |
|
has a certain utility? For thou now rejectest unseasonably the gift |
|
of nature, clinging to something else... |
|
|
|
Everything which is in any way beautiful is beautiful in itself, and |
|
terminates in itself, not having praise as part of itself. Neither |
|
worse then nor better is a thing made by being praised. I affirm this |
|
also of the things which are called beautiful by the vulgar, for example, |
|
material things and works of art. That which is really beautiful has |
|
no need of anything; not more than law, not more than truth, not more |
|
than benevolence or modesty. Which of these things is beautiful because |
|
it is praised, or spoiled by being blamed? Is such a thing as an emerald |
|
made worse than it was, if it is not praised? Or gold, ivory, purple, |
|
a lyre, a little knife, a flower, a shrub? |
|
|
|
If souls continue to exist, how does the air contain them from eternity?- |
|
But how does the earth contain the bodies of those who have been buried |
|
from time so remote? For as here the mutation of these bodies after |
|
a certain continuance, whatever it may be, and their dissolution make |
|
room for other dead bodies; so the souls which are removed into the |
|
air after subsisting for some time are transmuted and diffused, and |
|
assume a fiery nature by being received into the seminal intelligence |
|
of the universe, and in this way make room for the fresh souls which |
|
come to dwell there. And this is the answer which a man might give |
|
on the hypothesis of souls continuing to exist. But we must not only |
|
think of the number of bodies which are thus buried, but also of the |
|
number of animals which are daily eaten by us and the other animals. |
|
For what a number is consumed, and thus in a manner buried in the |
|
bodies of those who feed on them! And nevertheless this earth receives |
|
them by reason of the changes of these bodies into blood, and the |
|
transformations into the aerial or the fiery element. |
|
|
|
What is the investigation into the truth in this matter? The division |
|
into that which is material and that which is the cause of form, the |
|
formal. |
|
|
|
Do not be whirled about, but in every movement have respect to justice, |
|
and on the occasion of every impression maintain the faculty of comprehension |
|
or understanding. |
|
|
|
Everything harmonizes with me, which is harmonious to thee, O Universe. |
|
Nothing for me is too early nor too late, which is in due time for |
|
thee. Everything is fruit to me which thy seasons bring, O Nature: |
|
from thee are all things, in thee are all things, to thee all things |
|
return. The poet says, Dear city of Cecrops; and wilt not thou say, |
|
Dear city of Zeus? |
|
|
|
Occupy thyself with few things, says the philosopher, if thou wouldst |
|
be tranquil.- But consider if it would not be better to say, Do what |
|
is necessary, and whatever the reason of the animal which is naturally |
|
social requires, and as it requires. For this brings not only the |
|
tranquility which comes from doing well, but also that which comes |
|
from doing few things. For the greatest part of what we say and do |
|
being unnecessary, if a man takes this away, he will have more leisure |
|
and less uneasiness. Accordingly on every occasion a man should ask |
|
himself, Is this one of the unnecessary things? Now a man should take |
|
away not only unnecessary acts, but also, unnecessary thoughts, for |
|
thus superfluous acts will not follow after. |
|
|
|
Try how the life of the good man suits thee, the life of him who is |
|
satisfied with his portion out of the whole, and satisfied with his |
|
own just acts and benevolent disposition. |
|
|
|
Hast thou seen those things? Look also at these. Do not disturb thyself. |
|
Make thyself all simplicity. Does any one do wrong? It is to himself |
|
that he does the wrong. Has anything happened to thee? Well; out of |
|
the universe from the beginning everything which happens has been |
|
apportioned and spun out to thee. In a word, thy life is short. Thou |
|
must turn to profit the present by the aid of reason and justice. |
|
Be sober in thy relaxation. |
|
|
|
Either it is a well-arranged universe or a chaos huddled together, |
|
but still a universe. But can a certain order subsist in thee, and |
|
disorder in the All? And this too when all things are so separated |
|
and diffused and sympathetic. |
|
|
|
A black character, a womanish character, a stubborn character, bestial, |
|
childish, animal, stupid, counterfeit, scurrilous, fraudulent, tyrannical. |
|
|
|
If he is a stranger to the universe who does not know what is in it, |
|
no less is he a stranger who does not know what is going on in it. |
|
He is a runaway, who flies from social reason; he is blind, who shuts |
|
the eyes of the understanding; he is poor, who has need of another, |
|
and has not from himself all things which are useful for life. He |
|
is an abscess on the universe who withdraws and separates himself |
|
from the reason of our common nature through being displeased with |
|
the things which happen, for the same nature produces this, and has |
|
produced thee too: he is a piece rent asunder from the state, who |
|
tears his own soul from that of reasonable animals, which is one. |
|
|
|
The one is a philosopher without a tunic, and the other without a |
|
book: here is another half naked: Bread I have not, he says, and I |
|
abide by reason.- And I do not get the means of living out of my learning, |
|
and I abide by my reason. |
|
|
|
Love the art, poor as it may be, which thou hast learned, and be content |
|
with it; and pass through the rest of life like one who has intrusted |
|
to the gods with his whole soul all that he has, making thyself neither |
|
the tyrant nor the slave of any man. |
|
|
|
Consider, for example, the times of Vespasian. Thou wilt see all these |
|
things, people marrying, bringing up children, sick, dying, warring, |
|
feasting, trafficking, cultivating the ground, flattering, obstinately |
|
arrogant, suspecting, plotting, wishing for some to die, grumbling |
|
about the present, loving, heaping up treasure, desiring counsulship, |
|
kingly power. Well then, that life of these people no longer exists |
|
at all. Again, remove to the times of Trajan. Again, all is the same. |
|
Their life too is gone. In like manner view also the other epochs |
|
of time and of whole nations, and see how many after great efforts |
|
soon fell and were resolved into the elements. But chiefly thou shouldst |
|
think of those whom thou hast thyself known distracting themselves |
|
about idle things, neglecting to do what was in accordance with their |
|
proper constitution, and to hold firmly to this and to be content |
|
with it. And herein it is necessary to remember that the attention |
|
given to everything has its proper value and proportion. For thus |
|
thou wilt not be dissatisfied, if thou appliest thyself to smaller |
|
matters no further than is fit. |
|
|
|
The words which were formerly familiar are now antiquated: so also |
|
the names of those who were famed of old, are now in a manner antiquated, |
|
Camillus, Caeso, Volesus, Leonnatus, and a little after also Scipio |
|
and Cato, then Augustus, then also Hadrian and Antoninus. For all |
|
things soon pass away and become a mere tale, and complete oblivion |
|
soon buries them. And I say this of those who have shone in a wondrous |
|
way. For the rest, as soon as they have breathed out their breath, |
|
they are gone, and no man speaks of them. And, to conclude the matter, |
|
what is even an eternal remembrance? A mere nothing. What then is |
|
that about which we ought to employ our serious pains? This one thing, |
|
thoughts just, and acts social, and words which never lie, and a disposition |
|
which gladly accepts all that happens, as necessary, as usual, as |
|
flowing from a principle and source of the same kind. |
|
|
|
Willingly give thyself up to Clotho, one of the Fates, allowing her |
|
to spin thy thread into whatever things she pleases. |
|
|
|
Everything is only for a day, both that which remembers and that which |
|
is remembered. |
|
|
|
Observe constantly that all things take place by change, and accustom |
|
thyself to consider that the nature of the Universe loves nothing |
|
so much as to change the things which are and to make new things like |
|
them. For everything that exists is in a manner the seed of that which |
|
will be. But thou art thinking only of seeds which are cast into the |
|
earth or into a womb: but this is a very vulgar notion. |
|
|
|
Thou wilt soon die, and thou art not yet simple, not free from perturbations, |
|
nor without suspicion of being hurt by external things, nor kindly |
|
disposed towards all; nor dost thou yet place wisdom only in acting |
|
justly. |
|
|
|
Examine men's ruling principles, even those of the wise, what kind |
|
of things they avoid, and what kind they pursue. |
|
|
|
What is evil to thee does not subsist in the ruling principle of another; |
|
nor yet in any turning and mutation of thy corporeal covering. Where |
|
is it then? It is in that part of thee in which subsists the power |
|
of forming opinions about evils. Let this power then not form such |
|
opinions, and all is well. And if that which is nearest to it, the |
|
poor body, is burnt, filled with matter and rottenness, nevertheless |
|
let the part which forms opinions about these things be quiet, that |
|
is, let it judge that nothing is either bad or good which can happen |
|
equally to the bad man and the good. For that which happens equally |
|
to him who lives contrary to nature and to him who lives according |
|
to nature, is neither according to nature nor contrary to nature. |
|
|
|
Constantly regard the universe as one living being, having one substance |
|
and one soul; and observe how all things have reference to one perception, |
|
the perception of this one living being; and how all things act with |
|
one movement; and how all things are the cooperating causes of all |
|
things which exist; observe too the continuous spinning of the thread |
|
and the contexture of the web. |
|
|
|
Thou art a little soul bearing about a corpse, as Epictetus used to |
|
say. |
|
|
|
It is no evil for things to undergo change, and no good for things |
|
to subsist in consequence of change. |
|
|
|
Time is like a river made up of the events which happen, and a violent |
|
stream; for as soon as a thing has been seen, it is carried away, |
|
and another comes in its place, and this will be carried away too. |
|
|
|
Everything which happens is as familiar and well known as the rose |
|
in spring and the fruit in summer; for such is disease, and death, |
|
and calumny, and treachery, and whatever else delights fools or vexes |
|
them. |
|
|
|
In the series of things those which follow are always aptly fitted |
|
to those which have gone before; for this series is not like a mere |
|
enumeration of disjointed things, which has only a necessary sequence, |
|
but it is a rational connection: and as all existing things are arranged |
|
together harmoniously, so the things which come into existence exhibit |
|
no mere succession, but a certain wonderful relationship. |
|
|
|
Always remember the saying of Heraclitus, that the death of earth |
|
is to become water, and the death of water is to become air, and the |
|
death of air is to become fire, and reversely. And think too of him |
|
who forgets whither the way leads, and that men quarrel with that |
|
with which they are most constantly in communion, the reason which |
|
governs the universe; and the things which daily meet with seem to |
|
them strange: and consider that we ought not to act and speak as if |
|
we were asleep, for even in sleep we seem to act and speak; and that |
|
we ought not, like children who learn from their parents, simply to |
|
act and speak as we have been taught. |
|
|
|
If any god told thee that thou shalt die to-morrow, or certainly on |
|
the day after to-morrow, thou wouldst not care much whether it was |
|
on the third day or on the morrow, unless thou wast in the highest |
|
degree mean-spirited- for how small is the difference?- So think it |
|
no great thing to die after as many years as thou canst name rather |
|
than to-morrow. |
|
|
|
Think continually how many physicians are dead after often contracting |
|
their eyebrows over the sick; and how many astrologers after predicting |
|
with great pretensions the deaths of others; and how many philosophers |
|
after endless discourses on death or immortality; how many heroes |
|
after killing thousands; and how many tyrants who have used their |
|
power over men's lives with terrible insolence as if they were immortal; |
|
and how many cities are entirely dead, so to speak, Helice and Pompeii |
|
and Herculaneum, and others innumerable. Add to the reckoning all |
|
whom thou hast known, one after another. One man after burying another |
|
has been laid out dead, and another buries him: and all this in a |
|
short time. To conclude, always observe how ephemeral and worthless |
|
human things are, and what was yesterday a little mucus to-morrow |
|
will be a mummy or ashes. Pass then through this little space of time |
|
conformably to nature, and end thy journey in content, just as an |
|
olive falls off when it is ripe, blessing nature who produced it, |
|
and thanking the tree on which it grew. |
|
|
|
Be like the promontory against which the waves continually break, |
|
but it stands firm and tames the fury of the water around it. |
|
|
|
Unhappy am I because this has happened to me.- Not so, but happy am |
|
I, though this has happened to me, because I continue free from pain, |
|
neither crushed by the present nor fearing the future. For such a |
|
thing as this might have happened to every man; but every man would |
|
not have continued free from pain on such an occasion. Why then is |
|
that rather a misfortune than this a good fortune? And dost thou in |
|
all cases call that a man's misfortune, which is not a deviation from |
|
man's nature? And does a thing seem to thee to be a deviation from |
|
man's nature, when it is not contrary to the will of man's nature? |
|
Well, thou knowest the will of nature. Will then this which has happened |
|
prevent thee from being just, magnanimous, temperate, prudent, secure |
|
against inconsiderate opinions and falsehood; will it prevent thee |
|
from having modesty, freedom, and everything else, by the presence |
|
of which man's nature obtains all that is its own? Remember too on |
|
every occasion which leads thee to vexation to apply this principle: |
|
not that this is a misfortune, but that to bear it nobly is good fortune. |
|
|
|
It is a vulgar, but still a useful help towards contempt of death, |
|
to pass in review those who have tenaciously stuck to life. What more |
|
then have they gained than those who have died early? Certainly they |
|
lie in their tombs somewhere at last, Cadicianus, Fabius, Julianus, |
|
Lepidus, or any one else like them, who have carried out many to be |
|
buried, and then were carried out themselves. Altogether the interval |
|
is small between birth and death; and consider with how much trouble, |
|
and in company with what sort of people and in what a feeble body |
|
this interval is laboriously passed. Do not then consider life a thing |
|
of any value. For look to the immensity of time behind thee, and to |
|
the time which is before thee, another boundless space. In this infinity |
|
then what is the difference between him who lives three days and him |
|
who lives three generations? |
|
|
|
Always run to the short way; and the short way is the natural: accordingly |
|
say and do everything in conformity with the soundest reason. For |
|
such a purpose frees a man from trouble, and warfare, and all artifice |
|
and ostentatious display. |
|
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------- |
|
|
|
BOOK FIVE |
|
|
|
In he morning when thou risest unwillingly, let this thought be present- |
|
I am rising to the work of a human being. Why then am I dissatisfied |
|
if I am going to do the things for which I exist and for which I was |
|
brought into the world? Or have I been made for this, to lie in the |
|
bed-clothes and keep myself warm?- But this is more pleasant.- Dost |
|
thou exist then to take thy pleasure, and not at all for action or |
|
exertion? Dost thou not see the little plants, the little birds, the |
|
ants, the spiders, the bees working together to put in order their |
|
several parts of the universe? And art thou unwilling to do the work |
|
of a human being, and dost thou not make haste to do that which is |
|
according to thy nature?- But it is necessary to take rest also.- |
|
It is necessary: however nature has fixed bounds to this too: she |
|
has fixed bounds both to eating and drinking, and yet thou goest beyond |
|
these bounds, beyond what is sufficient; yet in thy acts it is not |
|
so, but thou stoppest short of what thou canst do. So thou lovest |
|
not thyself, for if thou didst, thou wouldst love thy nature and her |
|
will. But those who love their several arts exhaust themselves in |
|
working at them unwashed and without food; but thou valuest thy own |
|
own nature less than the turner values the turning art, or the dancer |
|
the dancing art, or the lover of money values his money, or the vainglorious |
|
man his little glory. And such men, when they have a violent affection |
|
to a thing, choose neither to eat nor to sleep rather than to perfect |
|
the things which they care for. But are the acts which concern society |
|
more vile in thy eyes and less worthy of thy labour? |
|
|
|
How easy it is to repel and to wipe away every impression which is |
|
troublesome or unsuitable, and immediately to be in all tranquility. |
|
|
|
Judge every word and deed which are according to nature to be fit |
|
for thee; and be not diverted by the blame which follows from any |
|
people nor by their words, but if a thing is good to be done or said, |
|
do not consider it unworthy of thee. For those persons have their |
|
peculiar leading principle and follow their peculiar movement; which |
|
things do not thou regard, but go straight on, following thy own nature |
|
and the common nature; and the way of both is one. |
|
|
|
I go through the things which happen according to nature until I shall |
|
fall and rest, breathing out my breath into that element out of which |
|
I daily draw it in, and falling upon that earth out of which my father |
|
collected the seed, and my mother the blood, and my nurse the milk; |
|
out of which during so many years I have been supplied with food and |
|
drink; which bears me when I tread on it and abuse it for so many |
|
purposes. |
|
|
|
Thou sayest, Men cannot admire the sharpness of thy wits.- Be it so: |
|
but there are many other things of which thou canst not say, I am |
|
not formed for them by nature. Show those qualities then which are |
|
altogether in thy power, sincerity, gravity, endurance of labour, |
|
aversion to pleasure, contentment with thy portion and with few things, |
|
benevolence, frankness, no love of superfluity, freedom from trifling |
|
magnanimity. Dost thou not see how many qualities thou art immediately |
|
able to exhibit, in which there is no excuse of natural incapacity |
|
and unfitness, and yet thou still remainest voluntarily below the |
|
mark? Or art thou compelled through being defectively furnished by |
|
nature to murmur, and to be stingy, and to flatter, and to find fault |
|
with thy poor body, and to try to please men, and to make great display, |
|
and to be so restless in thy mind? No, by the gods: but thou mightest |
|
have been delivered from these things long ago. Only if in truth thou |
|
canst be charged with being rather slow and dull of comprehension, |
|
thou must exert thyself about this also, not neglecting it nor yet |
|
taking pleasure in thy dulness. |
|
|
|
One man, when he has done a service to another, is ready to set it |
|
down to his account as a favour conferred. Another is not ready to |
|
do this, but still in his own mind he thinks of the man as his debtor, |
|
and he knows what he has done. A third in a manner does not even know |
|
what he has done, but he is like a vine which has produced grapes, |
|
and seeks for nothing more after it has once produced its proper fruit. |
|
As a horse when he has run, a dog when he has tracked the game, a |
|
bee when it has made the honey, so a man when he has done a good act, |
|
does not call out for others to come and see, but he goes on to another |
|
act, as a vine goes on to produce again the grapes in season.- Must |
|
a man then be one of these, who in a manner act thus without observing |
|
it?- Yes.- But this very thing is necessary, the observation of what |
|
a man is doing: for, it may be said, it is characteristic of the social |
|
animal to perceive that he is working in a social manner, and indeed |
|
to wish that his social partner also should perceive it.- It is true |
|
what thou sayest, but thou dost not rightly understand what is now |
|
said: and for this reason thou wilt become one of those of whom I |
|
spoke before, for even they are misled by a certain show of reason. |
|
But if thou wilt choose to understand the meaning of what is said, |
|
do not fear that for this reason thou wilt omit any social act. |
|
|
|
A prayer of the Athenians: Rain, rain, O dear Zeus, down on the ploughed |
|
fields of the Athenians and on the plains.- In truth we ought not |
|
to pray at all, or we ought to pray in this simple and noble fashion. |
|
|
|
Just as we must understand when it is said, That Aesculapius prescribed |
|
to this man horse-exercise, or bathing in cold water or going without |
|
shoes; so we must understand it when it is said, That the nature of |
|
the universe prescribed to this man disease or mutilation or loss |
|
or anything else of the kind. For in the first case Prescribed means |
|
something like this: he prescribed this for this man as a thing adapted |
|
to procure health; and in the second case it means: That which happens |
|
to (or, suits) every man is fixed in a manner for him suitably to |
|
his destiny. For this is what we mean when we say that things are |
|
suitable to us, as the workmen say of squared stones in walls or the |
|
pyramids, that they are suitable, when they fit them to one another |
|
in some kind of connexion. For there is altogether one fitness, harmony. |
|
And as the universe is made up out of all bodies to be such a body |
|
as it is, so out of all existing causes necessity (destiny) is made |
|
up to be such a cause as it is. And even those who are completely |
|
ignorant understand what I mean, for they say, It (necessity, destiny) |
|
brought this to such a person.- This then was brought and this was |
|
precribed to him. Let us then receive these things, as well as those |
|
which Aesculapius prescribes. Many as a matter of course even among |
|
his prescriptions are disagreeable, but we accept them in the hope |
|
of health. Let the perfecting and accomplishment of the things, which |
|
the common nature judges to be good, be judged by thee to be of the |
|
same kind as thy health. And so accept everything which happens, even |
|
if it seem disagreeable, because it leads to this, to the health of |
|
the universe and to the prosperity and felicity of Zeus (the universe). |
|
For he would not have brought on any man what he has brought, if it |
|
were not useful for the whole. Neither does the nature of anything, |
|
whatever it may be, cause anything which is not suitable to that which |
|
is directed by it. For two reasons then it is right to be content |
|
with that which happens to thee; the one, because it was done for |
|
thee and prescribed for thee, and in a manner had reference to thee, |
|
originally from the most ancient causes spun with thy destiny; and |
|
the other, because even that which comes severally to every man is |
|
to the power which administers the universe a cause of felicity and |
|
perfection, nay even of its very continuance. For the integrity of |
|
the whole is mutilated, if thou cuttest off anything whatever from |
|
the conjunction and the continuity either of the parts or of the causes. |
|
And thou dost cut off, as far as it is in thy power, when thou art |
|
dissatisfied, and in a manner triest to put anything out of the way. |
|
|
|
Be not disgusted, nor discouraged, nor dissatisfied, if thou dost |
|
not succeed in doing everything according to right principles; but |
|
when thou bast failed, return back again, and be content if the greater |
|
part of what thou doest is consistent with man's nature, and love |
|
this to which thou returnest; and do not return to philosophy as if |
|
she were a master, but act like those who have sore eyes and apply |
|
a bit of sponge and egg, or as another applies a plaster, or drenching |
|
with water. For thus thou wilt not fail to obey reason, and thou wilt |
|
repose in it. And remember that philosophy requires only the things |
|
which thy nature requires; but thou wouldst have something else which |
|
is not according to nature.- It may be objected, Why what is more |
|
agreeable than this which I am doing?- But is not this the very reason |
|
why pleasure deceives us? And consider if magnanimity, freedom, simplicity, |
|
equanimity, piety, are not more agreeable. For what is more agreeable |
|
than wisdom itself, when thou thinkest of the security and the happy |
|
course of all things which depend on the faculty of understanding |
|
and knowledge? |
|
|
|
Things are in such a kind of envelopment that they have seemed to |
|
philosophers, not a few nor those common philosophers, altogether |
|
unintelligible; nay even to the Stoics themselves they seem difficult |
|
to understand. And all our assent is changeable; for where is the |
|
man who never changes? Carry thy thoughts then to the objects themselves, |
|
and consider how short-lived they are and worthless, and that they |
|
may be in the possession of a filthy wretch or a whore or a robber. |
|
Then turn to the morals of those who live with thee, and it is hardly |
|
possible to endure even the most agreeable of them, to say nothing |
|
of a man being hardly able to endure himself. In such darkness then |
|
and dirt and in so constant a flux both of substance and of time, |
|
and of motion and of things moved, what there is worth being highly |
|
prized or even an object of serious pursuit, I cannot imagine. But |
|
on the contrary it is a man's duty to comfort himself, and to wait |
|
for the |
|
|
|
natural dissolution and not to be vexed at the delay, but to rest |
|
in these principles only: the one, that nothing will happen to me |
|
which is not conformable to the nature of the universe; and the other, |
|
that it is in my power never to act contrary to my god and daemon: |
|
for there is no man who will compel me to this. |
|
|
|
About what am I now employing my own soul? On every occasion I must |
|
ask myself this question, and inquire, what have I now in this part |
|
of me which they call the ruling principle? And whose soul have I |
|
now? That of a child, or of a young man, or of a feeble woman, or |
|
of a tyrant, or of a domestic animal, or of a wild beast? |
|
|
|
What kind of things those are which appear good to the many, we may |
|
learn even from this. For if any man should conceive certain things |
|
as being really good, such as prudence, temperance, justice, fortitude, |
|
he would not after having first conceived these endure to listen to |
|
anything which should not be in harmony with what is really good. |
|
But if a man has first conceived as good the things which appear to |
|
the many to be good, he will listen and readily receive as very applicable |
|
that which was said by the comic writer. Thus even the many perceive |
|
the difference. For were it not so, this saying would not offend and |
|
would not be rejected in the first case, while we receive it when |
|
it is said of wealth, and of the means which further luxury and fame, |
|
as said fitly and wittily. Go on then and ask if we should value and |
|
think those things to be good, to which after their first conception |
|
in the mind the words of the comic writer might be aptly applied- |
|
that he who has them, through pure abundance has not a place to ease |
|
himself in. |
|
|
|
I am composed of the formal and the material; and neither of them |
|
will perish into non-existence, as neither of them came into existence |
|
out of non-existence. Every part of me then will be reduced by change |
|
into some part of the universe, and that again will change into another |
|
part of the universe, and so on for ever. And by consequence of such |
|
a change I too exist, and those who begot me, and so on for ever in |
|
the other direction. For nothing hinders us from saying so, even if |
|
the universe is administered according to definite periods of revolution. |
|
|
|
Reason and the reasoning art (philosophy) are powers which are sufficient |
|
for themselves and for their own works. They move then from a first |
|
principle which is their own, and they make their way to the end which |
|
is proposed to them; and this is the reason why such acts are named |
|
catorthoseis or right acts, which word signifies that they proceed |
|
by the right road. |
|
|
|
None of these things ought to be called a man's, which do not belong |
|
to a man, as man. They are not required of a man, nor does man's nature |
|
promise them, nor are they the means of man's nature attaining its |
|
end. Neither then does the end of man lie in these things, nor yet |
|
that which aids to the accomplishment of this end, and that which |
|
aids towards this end is that which is good. Besides, if any of these |
|
things did belong to man, it would not be right for a man to despise |
|
them and to set himself against them; nor would a man be worthy of |
|
praise who showed that he did not want these things, nor would he |
|
who stinted himself in any of them be good, if indeed these things |
|
were good. But now the more of these things a man deprives himself |
|
of, or of other things like them, or even when he is deprived of any |
|
of them, the more patiently he endures the loss, just in the same |
|
degree he is a better man. |
|
|
|
Such as are thy habitual thoughts, such also will be the character |
|
of thy mind; for the soul is dyed by the thoughts. Dye it then with |
|
a continuous series of such thoughts as these: for instance, that |
|
where a man can live, there he can also live well. But he must live |
|
in a palace;- well then, he can also live well in a palace. And again, |
|
consider that for whatever purpose each thing has been constituted, |
|
for this it has been constituted, and towards this it is carried; |
|
and its end is in that towards which it is carried; and where the |
|
end is, there also is the advantage and the good of each thing. Now |
|
the good for the reasonable animal is society; for that we are made |
|
for society has been shown above. Is it not plain that the inferior |
|
exist for the sake of the superior? But the things which have life |
|
are superior to those which have not life, and of those which have |
|
life the superior are those which have reason. |
|
|
|
To seek what is impossible is madness: and it is impossible that the |
|
bad should not do something of this kind. |
|
|
|
Nothing happens to any man which he is not formed by nature to bear. |
|
The same things happen to another, and either because he does not |
|
see that they have happened or because he would show a great spirit |
|
he is firm and remains unharmed. It is a shame then that ignorance |
|
and conceit should be stronger than wisdom. |
|
|
|
Things themselves touch not the soul, not in the least degree; nor |
|
have they admission to the soul, nor can they turn or move the soul: |
|
but the soul turns and moves itself alone, and whatever judgements |
|
it may think proper to make, such it makes for itself the things which |
|
present themselves to it. |
|
|
|
In one respect man is the nearest thing to me, so far as I must do |
|
good to men and endure them. But so far as some men make themselves |
|
obstacles to my proper acts, man becomes to me one of the things which |
|
are indifferent, no less than the sun or wind or a wild beast. Now |
|
it is true that these may impede my action, but they are no impediments |
|
to my affects and disposition, which have the power of acting conditionally |
|
and changing: for the mind converts and changes every hindrance to |
|
its activity into an aid; and so that which is a hindrance is made |
|
a furtherance to an act; and that which is an obstacle on the road |
|
helps us on this road. |
|
|
|
Reverence that which is best in the universe; and this is that which |
|
makes use of all things and directs all things. And in like manner |
|
also reverence that which is best in thyself; and this is of the same |
|
kind as that. For in thyself also, that which makes use of everything |
|
else, is this, and thy life is directed by this. |
|
|
|
That which does no harm to the state, does no harm to the citizen. |
|
In the case of every appearance of harm apply this rule: if the state |
|
is not harmed by this, neither am I harmed. But if the state is harmed, |
|
thou must not be angry with him who does harm to the state. Show him |
|
where his error is. |
|
|
|
Often think of the rapidity with which things pass by and disappear, |
|
both the things which are and the things which are produced. For substance |
|
is like a river in a continual flow, and the activities of things |
|
are in constant change, and the causes work in infinite varieties; |
|
and there is hardly anything which stands still. And consider this |
|
which is near to thee, this boundless abyss of the past and of the |
|
future in which all things disappear. How then is he not a fool who |
|
is puffed up with such things or plagued about them and makes himself |
|
miserable? for they vex him only for a time, and a short time. |
|
|
|
Think of the universal substance, of which thou hast a very small |
|
portion; and of universal time, of which a short and indivisible interval |
|
has been assigned to thee; and of that which is fixed by destiny, |
|
and how small a part of it thou art. |
|
|
|
Does another do me wrong? Let him look to it. He has his own disposition, |
|
his own activity. I now have what the universal nature wills me to |
|
have; and I do what my nature now wills me to do. |
|
|
|
Let the part of thy soul which leads and governs be undisturbed by |
|
the movements in the flesh, whether of pleasure or of pain; and let |
|
it not unite with them, but let it circumscribe itself and limit those |
|
affects to their parts. But when these affects rise up to the mind |
|
by virtue of that other sympathy that naturally exists in a body which |
|
is all one, then thou must not strive to resist the sensation, for |
|
it is natural: but let not the ruling part of itself add to the sensation |
|
the opinion that it is either good or bad. |
|
|
|
Live with the gods. And he does live with the gods who constantly |
|
shows to them, his own soul is satisfied with that which is assigned |
|
to him, and that it does all that the daemon wishes, which Zeus hath |
|
given to every man for his guardian and guide, a portion of himself. |
|
And this is every man's understanding and reason. |
|
|
|
Art thou angry with him whose armpits stink? Art thou angry with him |
|
whose mouth smells foul? What good will this danger do thee? He has |
|
such a mouth, he has such arm-pits: it is necessary that such an emanation |
|
must come from such things- but the man has reason, it will be said, |
|
and he is able, if he takes pain, to discover wherein he offends- |
|
I wish thee well of thy discovery. Well then, and thou hast reason: |
|
by thy rational faculty stir up his rational faculty; show him his |
|
error, admonish him. For if he listens, thou wilt cure him, and there |
|
is no need of anger. Neither tragic actor nor whore... |
|
|
|
As thou intendest to live when thou art gone out,...so it is in thy |
|
power to live here. But if men do not permit thee, then get away out |
|
of life, yet so as if thou wert suffering no harm. The house is smoky, |
|
and I quit it. Why dost thou think that this is any trouble? But so |
|
long as nothing of the kind drives me out, I remain, am free, and |
|
no man shall hinder me from doing what I choose; and I choose to do |
|
what is according to the nature of the rational and social animal. |
|
|
|
The intelligence of the universe is social. Accordingly it has made |
|
the inferior things for the sake of the superior, and it has fitted |
|
the superior to one another. Thou seest how it has subordinated, co-ordinated |
|
and assigned to everything its proper portion, and has brought together |
|
into concord with one another the things which are the best. |
|
|
|
How hast thou behaved hitherto to the gods, thy parents, brethren, |
|
children, teachers, to those who looked after thy infancy, to thy |
|
friends, kinsfolk, to thy slaves? Consider if thou hast hitherto behaved |
|
to all in such a way that this may be said of thee: |
|
|
|
Never has wronged a man in deed or word. And call to recollection |
|
both how many things thou hast passed through, and how many things |
|
thou hast been able to endure: and that the history of thy life is |
|
now complete and thy service is ended: and how many beautiful things |
|
thou hast seen: and how many pleasures and pains thou hast despised; |
|
and how many things called honourable thou hast spurned; and to how |
|
many ill-minded folks thou hast shown a kind disposition. |
|
|
|
Why do unskilled and ignorant souls disturb him who has skill and |
|
knowledge? What soul then has skill and knowledge? That which knows |
|
beginning and end, and knows the reason which pervades all substance |
|
and through all time by fixed periods (revolutions) administers the |
|
universe. |
|
|
|
Soon, very soon, thou wilt be ashes, or a skeleton, and either a name |
|
or not even a name; but name is sound and echo. And the things which |
|
are much valued in life are empty and rotten and trifling, and like |
|
little dogs biting one another, and little children quarrelling, laughing, |
|
and then straightway weeping. But fidelity and modesty and justice |
|
and truth are fled |
|
|
|
Up to Olympus from the wide-spread earth. What then is there which |
|
still detains thee here? If the objects of sense are easily changed |
|
and never stand still, and the organs of perception are dull and easily |
|
receive false impressions; and the poor soul itself is an exhalation |
|
from blood. But to have good repute amidst such a world as this is |
|
an empty thing. Why then dost thou not wait in tranquility for thy |
|
end, whether it is extinction or removal to another state? And until |
|
that time comes, what is sufficient? Why, what else than to venerate |
|
the gods and bless them, and to do good to men, and to practise tolerance |
|
and self-restraint; but as to everything which is beyond the limits |
|
of the poor flesh and breath, to remember that this is neither thine |
|
nor in thy power. |
|
|
|
Thou canst pass thy life in an equable flow of happiness, if thou |
|
canst go by the right way, and think and act in the right way. These |
|
two things are common both to the soul of God and to the soul of man, |
|
and to the soul of every rational being, not to be hindered by another; |
|
and to hold good to consist in the disposition to justice and the |
|
practice of it, and in this to let thy desire find its termination. |
|
|
|
If this is neither my own badness, nor an effect of my own badness, |
|
and the common weal is not injured, why am I troubled about it? And |
|
what is the harm to the common weal? |
|
|
|
Do not be carried along inconsiderately by the appearance of things, |
|
but give help to all according to thy ability and their fitness; and |
|
if they should have sustained loss in matters which are indifferent, |
|
do not imagine this to be a damage. For it is a bad habit. But as |
|
the old man, when he went away, asked back his foster-child's top, |
|
remembering that it was a top, so do thou in this case also. |
|
|
|
When thou art calling out on the Rostra, hast thou forgotten, man, |
|
what these things are?- Yes; but they are objects of great concern |
|
to these people- wilt thou too then be made a fool for these things?- |
|
I was once a fortunate man, but I lost it, I know not how.- But fortunate |
|
means that a man has assigned to himself a good fortune: and a good |
|
fortune is good disposition of the soul, good emotions, good actions. |
|
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------- |
|
|
|
BOOK SIX |
|
|
|
The substance of the universe is obedient and compliant; and the |
|
reason which governs it has in itself no cause for doing evil, for |
|
it has no malice, nor does it do evil to anything, nor is anything |
|
harmed by it. But all things are made and perfected according to this |
|
reason. |
|
|
|
Let it make no difference to thee whether thou art cold or warm, if |
|
thou art doing thy duty; and whether thou art drowsy or satisfied |
|
with sleep; and whether ill-spoken of or praised; and whether dying |
|
or doing something else. For it is one of the acts of life, this act |
|
by which we die: it is sufficient then in this act also to do well |
|
what we have in hand. |
|
|
|
Look within. Let neither the peculiar quality of anything nor its |
|
value escape thee. |
|
|
|
All existing things soon change, and they will either be reduced to |
|
vapour, if indeed all substance is one, or they will be dispersed. |
|
|
|
The reason which governs knows what its own disposition is, and what |
|
it does, and on what material it works. |
|
|
|
The best way of avenging thyself is not to become like the wrong doer. |
|
|
|
Take pleasure in one thing and rest in it, in passing from one social |
|
act to another social act, thinking of God. |
|
|
|
The ruling principle is that which rouses and turns itself, and while |
|
it makes itself such as it is and such as it wills to be, it also |
|
makes everything which happens appear to itself to be such as it wills. |
|
|
|
In conformity to the nature of the universe every single thing is |
|
accomplished, for certainly it is not in conformity to any other nature |
|
that each thing is accomplished, either a nature which externally |
|
comprehends this, or a nature which is comprehended within this nature, |
|
or a nature external and independent of this. |
|
|
|
The universe is either a confusion, and a mutual involution of things, |
|
and a dispersion; or it is unity and order and providence. If then |
|
it is the former, why do I desire to tarry in a fortuitous combination |
|
of things and such a disorder? And why do I care about anything else |
|
than how I shall at last become earth? And why am I disturbed, for |
|
the dispersion of my elements will happen whatever I do. But if the |
|
other supposition is true, I venerate, and I am firm, and I trust |
|
in him who governs. |
|
|
|
When thou hast been compelled by circumstances to be disturbed in |
|
a manner, quickly return to thyself and do not continue out of tune |
|
longer than the compulsion lasts; for thou wilt have more mastery |
|
over the harmony by continually recurring to it. |
|
|
|
If thou hadst a step-mother and a mother at the same time, thou wouldst |
|
be dutiful to thy step-mother, but still thou wouldst constantly return |
|
to thy mother. Let the court and philosophy now be to thee step-mother |
|
and mother: return to philosophy frequently and repose in her, through |
|
whom what thou meetest with in the court appears to thee tolerable, |
|
and thou appearest tolerable in the court. |
|
|
|
When we have meat before us and such eatables we receive the impression, |
|
that this is the dead body of a fish, and this is the dead body of |
|
a bird or of a pig; and again, that this Falernian is only a little |
|
grape juice, and this purple robe some sheep's wool dyed with the |
|
blood of a shell-fish: such then are these impressions, and they reach |
|
the things themselves and penetrate them, and so we see what kind |
|
of things they are. Just in the same way ought we to act all through |
|
life, and where there are things which appear most worthy of our approbation, |
|
we ought to lay them bare and look at their worthlessness and strip |
|
them of all the words by which they are exalted. For outward show |
|
is a wonderful perverter of the reason, and when thou art most sure |
|
that thou art employed about things worth thy pains, it is then that |
|
it cheats thee most. Consider then what Crates says of Xenocrates |
|
himself. |
|
|
|
Most of the things which the multitude admire are referred to objects |
|
of the most general kind, those which are held together by cohesion |
|
or natural organization, such as stones, wood, fig-trees, vines, olives. |
|
But those which are admired by men who are a little more reasonable |
|
are referred to the things which are held together by a living principle, |
|
as flocks, herds. Those which are admired by men who are still more |
|
instructed are the things which are held together by a rational soul, |
|
not however a universal soul, but rational so far as it is a soul |
|
skilled in some art, or expert in some other way, or simply rational |
|
so far as it possesses a number of slaves. But he who values rational |
|
soul, a soul universal and fitted for political life, regards nothing |
|
else except this; and above all things he keeps his soul in a condition |
|
and in an activity conformable to reason and social life, and he co-operates |
|
to this end with those who are of the same kind as himself. |
|
|
|
Some things are hurrying into existence, and others are hurrying out |
|
of it; and of that which is coming into existence part is already |
|
extinguished. Motions and changes are continually renewing the world, |
|
just as the uninterrupted course of time is always renewing the infinite |
|
duration of ages. In this flowing stream then, on which there is no |
|
abiding, what is there of the things which hurry by on which a man |
|
would set a high price? It would be just as if a man should fall in |
|
love with one of the sparrows which fly by, but it has already passed |
|
out of sight. Something of this kind is the very life of every man, |
|
like the exhalation of the blood and the respiration of the air. For |
|
such as it is to have once drawn in the air and to have given it back, |
|
which we do every moment, just the same is it with the whole respiratory |
|
power, which thou didst receive at thy birth yesterday and the day |
|
before, to give it back to the element from which thou didst first |
|
draw it. |
|
|
|
Neither is transpiration, as in plants, a thing to be valued, nor |
|
respiration, as in domesticated animals and wild beasts, nor the receiving |
|
of impressions by the appearances of things, nor being moved by desires |
|
as puppets by strings, nor assembling in herds, nor being nourished |
|
by food; for this is just like the act of separating and parting with |
|
the useless part of our food. What then is worth being valued? To |
|
be received with clapping of hands? No. Neither must we value the |
|
clapping of tongues, for the praise which comes from the many is a |
|
clapping of tongues. Suppose then that thou hast given up this worthless |
|
thing called fame, what remains that is worth valuing? This in my |
|
opinion, to move thyself and to restrain thyself in conformity to |
|
thy proper constitution, to which end both all employments and arts |
|
lead. For every art aims at this, that the thing which has been made |
|
should be adapted to the work for which it has been made; and both |
|
the vine-planter who looks after the vine, and the horse-breaker, |
|
and he who trains the dog, seek this end. But the education and the |
|
teaching of youth aim at something. In this then is the value of the |
|
education and the teaching. And if this is well, thou wilt not seek |
|
anything else. Wilt thou not cease to value many other things too? |
|
Then thou wilt be neither free, nor sufficient for thy own happiness, |
|
nor without passion. For of necessity thou must be envious, jealous, |
|
and suspicious of those who can take away those things, and plot against |
|
those who have that which is valued by thee. Of necessity a man must |
|
be altogether in a state of perturbation who wants any of these things; |
|
and besides, he must often find fault with the gods. But to reverence |
|
and honour thy own mind will make thee content with thyself, and in |
|
harmony with society, and in agreement with the gods, that is, praising |
|
all that they give and have ordered. |
|
|
|
Above, below, all around are the movements of the elements. But the |
|
motion of virtue is in none of these: it is something more divine, |
|
and advancing by a way hardly observed it goes happily on its road. |
|
|
|
How strangely men act. They will not praise those who are living at |
|
the same time and living with themselves; but to be themselves praised |
|
by posterity, by those whom they have never seen or ever will see, |
|
this they set much value on. But this is very much the same as if |
|
thou shouldst be grieved because those who have lived before thee |
|
did not praise thee. |
|
|
|
If a thing is difficult to be accomplished by thyself, do not think |
|
that it is impossible for man: but if anything is possible for man |
|
and conformable to his nature, think that this can be attained by |
|
thyself too. |
|
|
|
In the gymnastic exercises suppose that a man has torn thee with his |
|
nails, and by dashing against thy head has inflicted a wound. Well, |
|
we neither show any signs of vexation, nor are we offended, nor do |
|
we suspect him afterwards as a treacherous fellow; and yet we are |
|
on our guard against him, not however as an enemy, nor yet with suspicion, |
|
but we quietly get out of his way. Something like this let thy behaviour |
|
be in all the other parts of life; let us overlook many things in |
|
those who are like antagonists in the gymnasium. For it is in our |
|
power, as I said, to get out of the way, and to have no suspicion |
|
nor hatred. |
|
|
|
If any man is able to convince me and show me that I do not think |
|
or act right, I will gladly change; for I seek the truth by which |
|
no man was ever injured. But he is injured who abides in his error |
|
and ignorance. |
|
|
|
I do my duty: other things trouble me not; for they are either things |
|
without life, or things without reason, or things that have rambled |
|
and know not the way. |
|
|
|
As to the animals which have no reason and generally all things and |
|
objects, do thou, since thou hast reason and they have none, make |
|
use of them with a generous and liberal spirit. But towards human |
|
beings, as they have reason, behave in a social spirit. And on all |
|
occasions call on the gods, and do not perplex thyself about the length |
|
of time in which thou shalt do this; for even three hours so spent |
|
are sufficient. |
|
|
|
Alexander the Macedonian and his groom by death were brought to the |
|
same state; for either they were received among the same seminal principles |
|
of the universe, or they were alike dispersed among the atoms. |
|
|
|
Consider how many things in the same indivisible time take place in |
|
each of us, things which concern the body and things which concern |
|
the soul: and so thou wilt not wonder if many more things, or rather |
|
all things which come into existence in that which is the one and |
|
all, which we call Cosmos, exist in it at the same time. |
|
|
|
If any man should propose to thee the question, how the name Antoninus |
|
is written, wouldst thou with a straining of the voice utter each |
|
letter? What then if they grow angry, wilt thou be angry too? Wilt |
|
thou not go on with composure and number every letter? just so then |
|
in this life also remember that every duty is made up of certain parts. |
|
These it is thy duty to observe and without being disturbed or showing |
|
anger towards those who are angry with thee to go on thy way and finish |
|
that which is set before thee. |
|
|
|
How cruel it is not to allow men to strive after the things which |
|
appear to them to be suitable to their nature and profitable! And |
|
yet in a manner thou dost not allow them to do this, when thou art |
|
vexed because they do wrong. For they are certainly moved towards |
|
things because they suppose them to be suitable to their nature and |
|
profitable to them.- But it is not so.- Teach them then, and show |
|
them without being angry. |
|
|
|
Death is a cessation of the impressions through the senses, and of |
|
the pulling of the strings which move the appetites, and of the discursive |
|
movements of the thoughts, and of the service to the flesh. |
|
|
|
It is a shame for the soul to be first to give way in this life, when |
|
thy body does not give way. |
|
|
|
Take care that thou art not made into a Caesar, that thou art not |
|
dyed with this dye; for such things happen. Keep thyself then simple, |
|
good, pure, serious, free from affectation, a friend of justice, a |
|
worshipper of the gods, kind, affectionate, strenuous in all proper |
|
acts. Strive to continue to be such as philosophy wished to make thee. |
|
Reverence the gods, and help men. Short is life. There is only one |
|
fruit of this terrene life, a pious disposition and social acts. Do |
|
everything as a disciple of Antoninus. Remember his constancy in every |
|
act which was conformable to reason, and his evenness in all things, |
|
and his piety, and the serenity of his countenance, and his sweetness, |
|
and his disregard of empty fame, and his efforts to understand things; |
|
and how he would never let anything pass without having first most |
|
carefully examined it and clearly understood it; and how he bore with |
|
those who blamed him unjustly without blaming them in return; how |
|
he did nothing in a hurry; and how he listened not to calumnies, and |
|
how exact an examiner of manners and actions he was; and not given |
|
to reproach people, nor timid, nor suspicious, nor a sophist; and |
|
with how little he was satisfied, such as lodging, bed, dress, food, |
|
servants; and how laborious and patient; and how he was able on account |
|
of his sparing diet to hold out to the evening, not even requiring |
|
to relieve himself by any evacuations except at the usual hour; and |
|
his firmness and uniformity in his friendships; and how he tolerated |
|
freedom of speech in those who opposed his opinions; and the pleasure |
|
that he had when any man showed him anything better; and how religious |
|
he was without superstition. Imitate all this that thou mayest have |
|
as good a conscience, when thy last hour comes, as he had. |
|
|
|
Return to thy sober senses and call thyself back; and when thou hast |
|
roused thyself from sleep and hast perceived that they were only dreams |
|
which troubled thee, now in thy waking hours look at these (the things |
|
about thee) as thou didst look at those (the dreams). |
|
|
|
I consist of a little body and a soul. Now to this little body all |
|
things are indifferent, for it is not able to perceive differences. |
|
But to the understanding those things only are indifferent, which |
|
are not the works of its own activity. But whatever things are the |
|
works of its own activity, all these are in its power. And of these |
|
however only those which are done with reference to the present; for |
|
as to the future and the past activities of the mind, even these are |
|
for the present indifferent. |
|
|
|
Neither the labour which the hand does nor that of the foot is contrary |
|
to nature, so long as the foot does the foot's work and the hand the |
|
hand's. So then neither to a man as a man is his labour contrary to |
|
nature, so long as it does the things of a man. But if the labour |
|
is not contrary to his nature, neither is it an evil to him. |
|
|
|
How many pleasures have been enjoyed by robbers, patricides, tyrants. |
|
|
|
Dost thou not see how the handicraftsmen accommodate themselves up |
|
to a certain point to those who are not skilled in their craft- nevertheless |
|
they cling to the reason (the principles) of their art and do not |
|
endure to depart from it? Is it not strange if the architect and the |
|
physician shall have more respect to the reason (the principles) of |
|
their own arts than man to his own reason, which is common to him |
|
and the gods? |
|
|
|
Asia, Europe are corners of the universe: all the sea a drop in the |
|
universe; Athos a little clod of the universe: all the present time |
|
is a point in eternity. All things are little, changeable, perishable. |
|
All things come from thence, from that universal ruling power either |
|
directly proceeding or by way of sequence. And accordingly the lion's |
|
gaping jaws, and that which is poisonous, and every harmful thing, |
|
as a thorn, as mud, are after-products of the grand and beautiful. |
|
Do not then imagine that they are of another kind from that which |
|
thou dost venerate, but form a just opinion of the source of all. |
|
|
|
He who has seen present things has seen all, both everything which |
|
has taken place from all eternity and everything which will be for |
|
time without end; for all things are of one kin and of one form. |
|
|
|
Frequently consider the connexion of all things in the universe and |
|
their relation to one another. For in a manner all things are implicated |
|
with one another, and all in this way are friendly to one another; |
|
for one thing comes in order after another, and this is by virtue |
|
of the active movement and mutual conspiration and the unity of the |
|
substance. |
|
|
|
Adapt thyself to the things with which thy lot has been cast: and |
|
the men among whom thou hast received thy portion, love them, but |
|
do it truly, sincerely. |
|
|
|
Every instrument, tool, vessel, if it does that for which it has been |
|
made, is well, and yet he who made it is not there. But in the things |
|
which are held together by nature there is within and there abides |
|
in them the power which made them; wherefore the more is it fit to |
|
reverence this power, and to think, that, if thou dost live and act |
|
according to its will, everything in thee is in conformity to intelligence. |
|
And thus also in the universe the things which belong to it are in |
|
conformity to intelligence. |
|
|
|
Whatever of the things which are not within thy power thou shalt suppose |
|
to be good for thee or evil, it must of necessity be that, if such |
|
a bad thing befall thee or the loss of such a good thing, thou wilt |
|
blame the gods, and hate men too, those who are the cause of the misfortune |
|
or the loss, or those who are suspected of being likely to be the |
|
cause; and indeed we do much injustice, because we make a difference |
|
between these things. But if we judge only those things which are |
|
in our power to be good or bad, there remains no reason either for |
|
finding fault with God or standing in a hostile attitude to man. |
|
|
|
We are all working together to one end, some with knowledge and design, |
|
and others without knowing what they do; as men also when they are |
|
asleep, of whom it is Heraclitus, I think, who says that they are |
|
labourers and co-operators in the things which take place in the universe. |
|
But men co-operate after different fashions: and even those co-operate |
|
abundantly, who find fault with what happens and those who try to |
|
oppose it and to hinder it; for the universe had need even of such |
|
men as these. It remains then for thee to understand among what kind |
|
of workmen thou placest thyself; for he who rules all things will |
|
certainly make a right use of thee, and he will receive thee among |
|
some part of the co-operators and of those whose labours conduce to |
|
one end. But be not thou such a part as the mean and ridiculous verse |
|
in the play, which Chrysippus speaks of. |
|
|
|
Does the sun undertake to do the work of the rain, or Aesculapius |
|
the work of the Fruit-bearer (the earth)? And how is it with respect |
|
to each of the stars, are they not different and yet they work together |
|
to the same end? |
|
|
|
If the gods have determined about me and about the things which must |
|
happen to me, they have determined well, for it is not easy even to |
|
imagine a deity without forethought; and as to doing me harm, why |
|
should they have any desire towards that? For what advantage would |
|
result to them from this or to the whole, which is the special object |
|
of their providence? But if they have not determined about me individually, |
|
they have certainly determined about the whole at least, and the things |
|
which happen by way of sequence in this general arrangement I ought |
|
to accept with pleasure and to be content with them. But if they determine |
|
about nothing- which it is wicked to believe, or if we do believe |
|
it, let us neither sacrifice nor pray nor swear by them nor do anything |
|
else which we do as if the gods were present and lived with us- but |
|
if however the gods determine about none of the things which concern |
|
us, I am able to determine about myself, and I can inquire about that |
|
which is useful; and that is useful to every man which is conformable |
|
to his own constitution and nature. But my nature is rational and |
|
social; and my city and country, so far as I am Antoninus, is Rome, |
|
but so far as I am a man, it is the world. The things then which are |
|
useful to these cities are alone useful to me. Whatever happens to |
|
every man, this is for the interest of the universal: this might be |
|
sufficient. But further thou wilt observe this also as a general truth, |
|
if thou dost observe, that whatever is profitable to any man is profitable |
|
also to other men. But let the word profitable be taken here in the |
|
common sense as said of things of the middle kind, neither good nor |
|
bad. |
|
|
|
As it happens to thee in the amphitheatre and such places, that the |
|
continual sight of the same things and the uniformity make the spectacle |
|
wearisome, so it is in the whole of life; for all things above, below, |
|
are the same and from the same. How long then? |
|
|
|
Think continually that all kinds of men and of all kinds of pursuits |
|
and of all nations are dead, so that thy thoughts come down even to |
|
Philistion and Phoebus and Origanion. Now turn thy thoughts to the |
|
other kinds of men. To that place then we must remove, where there |
|
are so many great orators, and so many noble philosophers, Heraclitus, |
|
Pythagoras, Socrates; so many heroes of former days, and so many generals |
|
after them, and tyrants; besides these, Eudoxus, Hipparchus, Archimedes, |
|
and other men of acute natural talents, great minds, lovers of labour, |
|
versatile, confident, mockers even of the perishable and ephemeral |
|
life of man, as Menippus and such as are like him. As to all these |
|
consider that they have long been in the dust. What harm then is this |
|
to them; and what to those whose names are altogether unknown? One |
|
thing here is worth a great deal, to pass thy life in truth and justice, |
|
with a benevolent disposition even to liars and unjust men. |
|
|
|
When thou wishest to delight thyself, think of the virtues of those |
|
who live with thee; for instance, the activity of one, and the modesty |
|
of another, and the liberality of a third, and some other good quality |
|
of a fourth. For nothing delights so much as the examples of the virtues, |
|
when they are exhibited in the morals of those who live with us and |
|
present themselves in abundance, as far as is possible. Wherefore |
|
we must keep them before us. |
|
|
|
Thou art not dissatisfied, I suppose, because thou weighest only so |
|
many litrae and not three hundred. Be not dissatisfied then that thou |
|
must live only so many years and not more; for as thou art satisfied |
|
with the amount of substance which has been assigned to thee, so be |
|
content with the time. |
|
|
|
Let us try to persuade them (men). But act even against their will, |
|
when the principles of justice lead that way. If however any man by |
|
using force stands in thy way, betake thyself to contentment and tranquility, |
|
and at the same time employ the hindrance towards the exercise of |
|
some other virtue; and remember that thy attempt was with a reservation, |
|
that thou didst not desire to do impossibilities. What then didst |
|
thou desire?- Some such effort as this.- But thou attainest thy object, |
|
if the things to which thou wast moved are accomplished. |
|
|
|
He who loves fame considers another man's activity to be his own good; |
|
and he who loves pleasure, his own sensations; but he who has understanding, |
|
considers his own acts to be his own good. |
|
|
|
It is in our power to have no opinion about a thing, and not to be |
|
disturbed in our soul; for things themselves have no natural power |
|
to form our judgements. |
|
|
|
Accustom thyself to attend carefully to what is said by another, and |
|
as much as it is possible, be in the speaker's mind. |
|
|
|
That which is not good for the swarm, neither is it good for the bee. |
|
|
|
If sailors abused the helmsman or the sick the doctor, would they |
|
listen to anybody else; or how could the helmsman secure the safety |
|
of those in the ship or the doctor the health of those whom he attends? |
|
|
|
How many together with whom I came into the world are already gone |
|
out of it. |
|
|
|
To the jaundiced honey tastes bitter, and to those bitten by mad dogs |
|
water causes fear; and to little children the ball is a fine thing. |
|
Why then am I angry? Dost thou think that a false opinion has less |
|
power than the bile in the jaundiced or the poison in him who is bitten |
|
by a mad dog? |
|
|
|
No man will hinder thee from living according to the reason of thy |
|
own nature: nothing will happen to thee contrary to the reason of |
|
the universal nature. |
|
|
|
What kind of people are those whom men wish to please, and for what |
|
objects, and by what kind of acts? How soon will time cover all things, |
|
and how many it has covered already. |
|
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------- |
|
|
|
BOOK SEVEN |
|
|
|
What is badness? It is that which thou hast often seen. And on the |
|
occasion of everything which happens keep this in mind, that it is |
|
that which thou hast often seen. Everywhere up and down thou wilt |
|
find the same things, with which the old histories are filled, those |
|
of the middle ages and those of our own day; with which cities and |
|
houses are filled now. There is nothing new: all things are both familiar |
|
and short-lived. |
|
|
|
How can our principles become dead, unless the impressions (thoughts) |
|
which correspond to them are extinguished? But it is in thy power |
|
continuously to fan these thoughts into a flame. I can have that opinion |
|
about anything, which I ought to have. If I can, why am I disturbed? |
|
The things which are external to my mind have no relation at all to |
|
my mind.- Let this be the state of thy affects, and thou standest |
|
erect. To recover thy life is in thy power. Look at things again as |
|
thou didst use to look at them; for in this consists the recovery |
|
of thy life. |
|
|
|
The idle business of show, plays on the stage, flocks of sheep, herds, |
|
exercises with spears, a bone cast to little dogs, a bit of bread |
|
into fish-ponds, labourings of ants and burden-carrying, runnings |
|
about of frightened little mice, puppets pulled by strings- all alike. |
|
It is thy duty then in the midst of such things to show good humour |
|
and not a proud air; to understand however that every man is worth |
|
just so much as the things are worth about which he busies himself. |
|
|
|
In discourse thou must attend to what is said, and in every movement |
|
thou must observe what is doing. And in the one thou shouldst see |
|
immediately to what end it refers, but in the other watch carefully |
|
what is the thing signified. |
|
|
|
Is my understanding sufficient for this or not? If it is sufficient, |
|
I use it for the work as an instrument given by the universal nature. |
|
But if it is not sufficient, then either I retire from the work and |
|
give way to him who is able to do it better, unless there be some |
|
reason why I ought not to do so; or I do it as well as I can, taking |
|
to help me the man who with the aid of my ruling principle can do |
|
what is now fit and useful for the general good. For whatsoever either |
|
by myself or with another I can do, ought to be directed to this only, |
|
to that which is useful and well suited to society. |
|
|
|
How many after being celebrated by fame have been given up to oblivion; |
|
and how many who have celebrated the fame of others have long been |
|
dead. |
|
|
|
Be not ashamed to be helped; for it is thy business to do thy duty |
|
like a soldier in the assault on a town. How then, if being lame thou |
|
canst not mount up on the battlements alone, but with the help of |
|
another it is possible? |
|
|
|
Let not future things disturb thee, for thou wilt come to them, if |
|
it shall be necessary, having with thee the same reason which now |
|
thou usest for present things. |
|
|
|
All things are implicated with one another, and the bond is holy; |
|
and there is hardly anything unconnected with any other thing. For |
|
things have been co-ordinated, and they combine to form the same universe |
|
(order). For there is one universe made up of all things, and one |
|
God who pervades all things, and one substance, and one law, one common |
|
reason in all intelligent animals, and one truth; if indeed there |
|
is also one perfection for all animals which are of the same stock |
|
and participate in the same reason. |
|
|
|
Everything material soon disappears in the substance of the whole; |
|
and everything formal (causal) is very soon taken back into the universal |
|
reason; and the memory of everything is very soon overwhelmed in time. |
|
|
|
To the rational animal the same act is according to nature and according |
|
to reason. |
|
|
|
Be thou erect, or be made erect. |
|
Just as it is with the members in those bodies which are united in |
|
one, so it is with rational beings which exist separate, for they |
|
have been constituted for one co-operation. And the perception of |
|
this will be more apparent to thee, if thou often sayest to thyself |
|
that I am a member (melos) of the system of rational beings. But if |
|
(using the letter r) thou sayest that thou art a part (meros) thou |
|
dost not yet love men from thy heart; beneficence does not yet delight |
|
thee for its own sake; thou still doest it barely as a thing of propriety, |
|
and not yet as doing good to thyself. |
|
|
|
Let there fall externally what will on the parts which can feel the |
|
effects of this fall. For those parts which have felt will complain, |
|
if they choose. But I, unless I think that what has happened is an |
|
evil, am not injured. And it is in my power not to think so. |
|
|
|
Whatever any one does or says, I must be good, just as if the gold, |
|
or the emerald, or the purple were always saying this, Whatever any |
|
one does or says, I must be emerald and keep my colour. |
|
|
|
The ruling faculty does not disturb itself; I mean, does not frighten |
|
itself or cause itself pain. But if any one else can frighten or pain |
|
it, let him do so. For the faculty itself will not by its own opinion |
|
turn itself into such ways. Let the body itself take care, if it can, |
|
that is suffer nothing, and let it speak, if it suffers. But the soul |
|
itself, that which is subject to fear, to pain, which has completely |
|
the power of forming an opinion about these things, will suffer nothing, |
|
for it will never deviate into such a judgement. The leading principle |
|
in itself wants nothing, unless it makes a want for itself; and therefore |
|
it is both free from perturbation and unimpeded, if it does not disturb |
|
and impede itself. |
|
|
|
Eudaemonia (happiness) is a good daemon, or a good thing. What then |
|
art thou doing here, O imagination? Go away, I entreat thee by the |
|
gods, as thou didst come, for I want thee not. But thou art come according |
|
to thy old fashion. I am not angry with thee: only go away. |
|
|
|
Is any man afraid of change? Why what can take place without change? |
|
What then is more pleasing or more suitable to the universal nature? |
|
And canst thou take a bath unless the wood undergoes a change? And |
|
canst thou be nourished, unless the food undergoes a change? And can |
|
anything else that is useful be accomplished without change? Dost |
|
thou not see then that for thyself also to change is just the same, |
|
and equally necessary for the universal nature? |
|
|
|
Through the universal substance as through a furious torrent all bodies |
|
are carried, being by their nature united with and cooperating with |
|
the whole, as the parts of our body with one another. How many a Chrysippus, |
|
how many a Socrates, how many an Epictetus has time already swallowed |
|
up? And let the same thought occur to thee with reference to every |
|
man and thing. |
|
|
|
One thing only troubles me, lest I should do something which the constitution |
|
of man does not allow, or in the way which it does not allow, or what |
|
it does not allow now. |
|
|
|
Near is thy forgetfulness of all things; and near the forgetfulness |
|
of thee by all. |
|
|
|
It is peculiar to man to love even those who do wrong. And this happens, |
|
if when they do wrong it occurs to thee that they are kinsmen, and |
|
that they do wrong through ignorance and unintentionally, and that |
|
soon both of you will die; and above all, that the wrong-doer has |
|
done thee no harm, for he has not made thy ruling faculty worse than |
|
it was before. |
|
|
|
The universal nature out of the universal substance, as if it were |
|
wax, now moulds a horse, and when it has broken this up, it uses the |
|
material for a tree, then for a man, then for something else; and |
|
each of these things subsists for a very short time. But it is no |
|
hardship for the vessel to be broken up, just as there was none in |
|
its being fastened together. |
|
|
|
A scowling look is altogether unnatural; when it is often assumed, |
|
the result is that all comeliness dies away, and at last is so completely |
|
extinguished that it cannot be again lighted up at all. Try to conclude |
|
from this very fact that it is contrary to reason. For if even the |
|
perception of doing wrong shall depart, what reason is there for living |
|
any longer? |
|
|
|
Nature which governs the whole will soon change all things which thou |
|
seest, and out of their substance will make other things, and again |
|
other things from the substance of them, in order that the world may |
|
be ever new. |
|
|
|
When a man has done thee any wrong, immediately consider with what |
|
opinion about good or evil he has done wrong. For when thou hast seen |
|
this, thou wilt pity him, and wilt neither wonder nor be angry. For |
|
either thou thyself thinkest the same thing to be good that he does |
|
or another thing of the same kind. It is thy duty then to pardon him. |
|
But if thou dost not think such things to be good or evil, thou wilt |
|
more readily be well disposed to him who is in error. |
|
|
|
Think not so much of what thou hast not as of what thou hast: but |
|
of the things which thou hast select the best, and then reflect how |
|
eagerly they would have been sought, if thou hadst them not. At the |
|
same time however take care that thou dost not through being so pleased |
|
with them accustom thyself to overvalue them, so as to be disturbed |
|
if ever thou shouldst not have them. |
|
|
|
Retire into thyself. The rational principle which rules has this nature, |
|
that it is content with itself when it does what is just, and so secures |
|
tranquility. |
|
|
|
Wipe out the imagination. Stop the pulling of the strings. Confine |
|
thyself to the present. Understand well what happens either to thee |
|
or to another. Divide and distribute every object into the causal |
|
(formal) and the material. Think of thy last hour. Let the wrong which |
|
is done by a man stay there where the wrong was done. |
|
|
|
Direct thy attention to what is said. Let thy understanding enter |
|
into the things that are doing and the things which do them. |
|
|
|
Adorn thyself with simplicity and modesty and with indifference towards |
|
the things which lie between virtue and vice. Love mankind. Follow |
|
God. The poet says that Law rules all.- And it is enough to remember |
|
that Law rules all. |
|
|
|
About death: Whether it is a dispersion, or a resolution into atoms, |
|
or annihilation, it is either extinction or change. |
|
|
|
About pain: The pain which is intolerable carries us off; but that |
|
which lasts a long time is tolerable; and the mind maintains its own |
|
tranquility by retiring into itself, and the ruling faculty is not |
|
made worse. But the parts which are harmed by pain, let them, if they |
|
can, give their opinion about it. |
|
|
|
About fame: Look at the minds of those who seek fame, observe what |
|
they are, and what kind of things they avoid, and what kind of things |
|
they pursue. And consider that as the heaps of sand piled on one another |
|
hide the former sands, so in life the events which go before are soon |
|
covered by those which come after. |
|
|
|
From Plato: The man who has an elevated mind and takes a view of all |
|
time and of all substance, dost thou suppose it possible for him to |
|
think that human life is anything great? it is not possible, he said.- |
|
Such a man then will think that death also is no evil.- Certainly |
|
not. |
|
|
|
From Antisthenes: It is royal to do good and to be abused. |
|
|
|
It is a base thing for the countenance to be obedient and to regulate |
|
and compose itself as the mind commands, and for the mind not to be |
|
regulated and composed by itself. |
|
|
|
It is not right to vex ourselves at things, |
|
For they care nought about it. |
|
|
|
To the immortal gods and us give joy. |
|
|
|
Life must be reaped like the ripe ears of corn: |
|
One man is born; another dies. |
|
|
|
If gods care not for me and for my children, |
|
There is a reason for it. |
|
|
|
For the good is with me, and the just. |
|
|
|
No joining others in their wailing, no violent emotion. |
|
|
|
From Plato: But I would make this man a sufficient answer, which is |
|
this: Thou sayest not well, if thou thinkest that a man who is good |
|
for anything at all ought to compute the hazard of life or death, |
|
and should not rather look to this only in all that he does, whether |
|
he is doing what is just or unjust, and the works of a good or a bad |
|
man. |
|
|
|
For thus it is, men of Athens, in truth: wherever a man has placed |
|
himself thinking it the best place for him, or has been placed by |
|
a commander, there in my opinion he ought to stay and to abide the |
|
hazard, taking nothing into the reckoning, either death or anything |
|
else, before the baseness of deserting his post. |
|
|
|
But, my good friend, reflect whether that which is noble and good |
|
is not something different from saving and being saved; for as to |
|
a man living such or such a time, at least one who is really a man, |
|
consider if this is not a thing to be dismissed from the thoughts: |
|
and there must be no love of life: but as to these matters a man must |
|
intrust them to the deity and believe what the women say, that no |
|
man can escape his destiny, the next inquiry being how he may best |
|
live the time that he has to live. |
|
|
|
Look round at the courses of the stars, as if thou wert going along |
|
with them; and constantly consider the changes of the elements into |
|
one another; for such thoughts purge away the filth of the terrene |
|
life. |
|
|
|
This is a fine saying of Plato: That he who is discoursing about men |
|
should look also at earthly things as if he viewed them from some |
|
higher place; should look at them in their assemblies, armies, agricultural |
|
labours, marriages, treaties, births, deaths, noise of the courts |
|
of justice, desert places, various nations of barbarians, feasts, |
|
lamentations, markets, a mixture of all things and an orderly combination |
|
of contraries. |
|
|
|
Consider the past; such great changes of political supremacies. Thou |
|
mayest foresee also the things which will be. For they will certainly |
|
be of like form, and it is not possible that they should deviate from |
|
the order of the things which take place now: accordingly to have |
|
contemplated human life for forty years is the same as to have contemplated |
|
it for ten thousand years. For what more wilt thou see? |
|
|
|
That which has grown from the earth to the earth, |
|
But that which has sprung from heavenly seed, |
|
Back to the heavenly realms returns. This is either a dissolution |
|
of the mutual involution of the atoms, or a similar dispersion of |
|
the unsentient elements. |
|
|
|
With food and drinks and cunning magic arts |
|
Turning the channel's course to 'scape from death. |
|
The breeze which heaven has sent |
|
We must endure, and toil without complaining. |
|
|
|
Another may be more expert in casting his opponent; but he is not |
|
more social, nor more modest, nor better disciplined to meet all that |
|
happens, nor more considerate with respect to the faults of his neighbours. |
|
|
|
Where any work can be done conformably to the reason which is common |
|
to gods and men, there we have nothing to fear: for where we are able |
|
to get profit by means of the activity which is successful and proceeds |
|
according to our constitution, there no harm is to be suspected. |
|
|
|
Everywhere and at all times it is in thy power piously to acquiesce |
|
in thy present condition, and to behave justly to those who are about |
|
thee, and to exert thy skill upon thy present thoughts, that nothing |
|
shall steal into them without being well examined. |
|
|
|
Do not look around thee to discover other men's ruling principles, |
|
but look straight to this, to what nature leads thee, both the universal |
|
nature through the things which happen to thee, and thy own nature |
|
through the acts which must be done by thee. But every being ought |
|
to do that which is according to its constitution; and all other things |
|
have been constituted for the sake of rational beings, just as among |
|
irrational things the inferior for the sake of the superior, but the |
|
rational for the sake of one another. |
|
|
|
The prime principle then in man's constitution is the social. And |
|
the second is not to yield to the persuasions of the body, for it |
|
is the peculiar office of the rational and intelligent motion to circumscribe |
|
itself, and never to be overpowered either by the motion of the senses |
|
or of the appetites, for both are animal; but the intelligent motion |
|
claims superiority and does not permit itself to be overpowered by |
|
the others. And with good reason, for it is formed by nature to use |
|
all of them. The third thing in the rational constitution is freedom |
|
from error and from deception. Let then the ruling principle holding |
|
fast to these things go straight on, and it has what is its own. |
|
|
|
Consider thyself to be dead, and to have completed thy life up to |
|
the present time; and live according to nature the remainder which |
|
is allowed thee. |
|
|
|
Love that only which happens to thee and is spun with the thread of |
|
thy destiny. For what is more suitable? |
|
|
|
In everything which happens keep before thy eyes those to whom the |
|
same things happened, and how they were vexed, and treated them as |
|
strange things, and found fault with them: and now where are they? |
|
Nowhere. Why then dost thou too choose to act in the same way? And |
|
why dost thou not leave these agitations which are foreign to nature, |
|
to those who cause them and those who are moved by them? And why art |
|
thou not altogether intent upon the right way of making use of the |
|
things which happen to thee? For then thou wilt use them well, and |
|
they will be a material for thee to work on. Only attend to thyself, |
|
and resolve to be a good man in every act which thou doest: and remember... |
|
|
|
Look within. Within is the fountain of good, and it will ever bubble |
|
up, if thou wilt ever dig. |
|
|
|
The body ought to be compact, and to show no irregularity either in |
|
motion or attitude. For what the mind shows in the face by maintaining |
|
in it the expression of intelligence and propriety, that ought to |
|
be required also in the whole body. But all of these things should |
|
be observed without affectation. |
|
|
|
The art of life is more like the wrestler's art than the dancer's, |
|
in respect of this, that it should stand ready and firm to meet onsets |
|
which are sudden and unexpected. |
|
|
|
Constantly observe who those are whose approbation thou wishest to |
|
have, and what ruling principles they possess. For then thou wilt |
|
neither blame those who offend involuntarily, nor wilt thou want their |
|
approbation, if thou lookest to the sources of their opinions and |
|
appetites. |
|
|
|
Every soul, the philosopher says, is involuntarily deprived of truth; |
|
consequently in the same way it is deprived of justice and temperance |
|
and benevolence and everything of the kind. It is most necessary to |
|
bear this constantly in mind, for thus thou wilt be more gentle towards |
|
all. |
|
|
|
In every pain let this thought be present, that there is no dishonour |
|
in it, nor does it make the governing intelligence worse, for it does |
|
not damage the intelligence either so far as the intelligence is rational |
|
or so far as it is social. Indeed in the case of most pains let this |
|
remark of Epicurus aid thee, that pain is neither intolerable nor |
|
everlasting, if thou bearest in mind that it has its limits, and if |
|
thou addest nothing to it in imagination: and remember this too, that |
|
we do not perceive that many things which are disagreeable to us are |
|
the same as pain, such as excessive drowsiness, and the being scorched |
|
by heat, and the having no appetite. When then thou art discontented |
|
about any of these things, say to thyself, that thou art yielding |
|
to pain. |
|
|
|
Take care not to feel towards the inhuman, as they feel towards men. |
|
|
|
How do we know if Telauges was not superior in character to Socrates? |
|
For it is not enough that Socrates died a more noble death, and disputed |
|
more skilfully with the sophists, and passed the night in the cold |
|
with more endurance, and that when he was bid to arrest Leon of Salamis, |
|
he considered it more noble to refuse, and that he walked in a swaggering |
|
way in the streets- though as to this fact one may have great doubts |
|
if it was true. But we ought to inquire, what kind of a soul it was |
|
that Socrates possessed, and if he was able to be content with being |
|
just towards men and pious towards the gods, neither idly vexed on |
|
account of men's villainy, nor yet making himself a slave to any man's |
|
ignorance, nor receiving as strange anything that fell to his share |
|
out of the universal, nor enduring it as intolerable, nor allowing |
|
his understanding to sympathize with the affects of the miserable |
|
flesh. |
|
|
|
Nature has not so mingled the intelligence with the composition of |
|
the body, as not to have allowed thee the power of circumscribing |
|
thyself and of bringing under subjection to thyself all that is thy |
|
own; for it is very possible to be a divine man and to be recognised |
|
as such by no one. Always bear this in mind; and another thing too, |
|
that very little indeed is necessary for living a happy life. And |
|
because thou hast despaired of becoming a dialectician and skilled |
|
in the knowledge of nature, do not for this reason renounce the hope |
|
of being both free and modest and social and obedient to God. |
|
|
|
It is in thy power to live free from all compulsion in the greatest |
|
tranquility of mind, even if all the world cry out against thee as |
|
much as they choose, and even if wild beasts tear in pieces the members |
|
of this kneaded matter which has grown around thee. For what hinders |
|
the mind in the midst of all this from maintaining itself in tranquility |
|
and in a just judgement of all surrounding things and in a ready use |
|
of the objects which are presented to it, so that the judgement may |
|
say to the thing which falls under its observation: This thou art |
|
in substance (reality), though in men's opinion thou mayest appear |
|
to be of a different kind; and the use shall say to that which falls |
|
under the hand: Thou art the thing that I was seeking; for to me that |
|
which presents itself is always a material for virtue both rational |
|
and political, and in a word, for the exercise of art, which belongs |
|
to man or God. For everything which happens has a relationship either |
|
to God or man, and is neither new nor difficult to handle, but usual |
|
and apt matter to work on. |
|
|
|
The perfection of moral character consists in this, in passing every |
|
day as the last, and in being neither violently excited nor torpid |
|
nor playing the hypocrite. |
|
|
|
The gods who are immortal are not vexed because during so long a time |
|
they must tolerate continually men such as they are and so many of |
|
them bad; and besides this, they also take care of them in all ways. |
|
But thou, who art destined to end so soon, art thou wearied of enduring |
|
the bad, and this too when thou art one of them? |
|
|
|
It is a ridiculous thing for a man not to fly from his own badness, |
|
which is indeed possible, but to fly from other men's badness, which |
|
is impossible. |
|
|
|
Whatever the rational and political (social) faculty finds to be neither |
|
intelligent nor social, it properly judges to be inferior to itself. |
|
|
|
When thou hast done a good act and another has received it, why dost |
|
thou look for a third thing besides these, as fools do, either to |
|
have the reputation of having done a good act or to obtain a return? |
|
|
|
No man is tired of receiving what is useful. But it is useful to act |
|
according to nature. Do not then be tired of receiving what is useful |
|
by doing it to others. |
|
|
|
The nature of the An moved to make the universe. But now either everything |
|
that takes place comes by way of consequence or continuity; or even |
|
the chief things towards which the ruling power of the universe directs |
|
its own movement are governed by no rational principle. If this is |
|
remembered it will make thee more tranquil in many things. |
|
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------- |
|
|
|
BOOK EIGHT |
|
|
|
This reflection also tends to the removal of the desire of empty |
|
fame, that it is no longer in thy power to have lived the whole of |
|
thy life, or at least thy life from thy youth upwards, like a philosopher; |
|
but both to many others and to thyself it is plain that thou art far |
|
from philosophy. Thou hast fallen into disorder then, so that it is |
|
no longer easy for thee to get the reputation of a philosopher; and |
|
thy plan of life also opposes it. If then thou hast truly seen where |
|
the matter lies, throw away the thought, How thou shalt seem to others, |
|
and be content if thou shalt live the rest of thy life in such wise |
|
as thy nature wills. Observe then what it wills, and let nothing else |
|
distract thee; for thou hast had experience of many wanderings without |
|
having found happiness anywhere, not in syllogisms, nor in wealth, |
|
nor in reputation, nor in enjoyment, nor anywhere. Where is it then? |
|
In doing what man's nature requires. How then shall a man do this? |
|
If he has principles from which come his affects and his acts. What |
|
principles? Those which relate to good and bad: the belief that there |
|
is nothing good for man, which does not make him just, temperate, |
|
manly, free; and that there is nothing bad, which does not do the |
|
contrary to what has been mentioned. |
|
|
|
On the occasion of every act ask thyself, How is this with respect |
|
to me? Shall I repent of it? A little time and I am dead, and all |
|
is gone. What more do I seek, if what I am now doing is work of an |
|
intelligent living being, and a social being, and one who is under |
|
the same law with God? |
|
|
|
Alexander and Gaius and Pompeius, what are they in comparison with |
|
Diogenes and Heraclitus and Socrates? For they were acquainted with |
|
things, and their causes (forms), and their matter, and the ruling |
|
principles of these men were the same. But as to the others, how many |
|
things had they to care for, and to how many things were they slaves? |
|
|
|
Consider that men will do the same things nevertheless, even though |
|
thou shouldst burst. |
|
|
|
This is the chief thing: Be not perturbed, for all things are according |
|
to the nature of the universal; and in a little time thou wilt be |
|
nobody and nowhere, like Hadrian and Augustus. In the next place having |
|
fixed thy eyes steadily on thy business look at it, and at the same |
|
time remembering that it is thy duty to be a good man, and what man's |
|
nature demands, do that without turning aside; and speak as it seems |
|
to thee most just, only let it be with a good disposition and with |
|
modesty and without hypocrisy. |
|
|
|
The nature of the universal has this work to do, to remove to that |
|
place the things which are in this, to change them, to take them away |
|
hence, and to carry them there. All things are change, yet we need |
|
not fear anything new. All things are familiar to us; but the distribution |
|
of them still remains the same. |
|
|
|
Every nature is contented with itself when it goes on its way well; |
|
and a rational nature goes on its way well, when in its thoughts it |
|
assents to nothing false or uncertain, and when it directs its movements |
|
to social acts only, and when it confines its desires and aversions |
|
to the things which are in its power, and when it is satisfied with |
|
everything that is assigned to it by the common nature. For of this |
|
common nature every particular nature is a part, as the nature of |
|
the leaf is a part of the nature of the plant; except that in the |
|
plant the nature of the leaf is part of a nature which has not perception |
|
or reason, and is subject to be impeded; but the nature of man is |
|
part of a nature which is not subject to impediments, and is intelligent |
|
and just, since it gives to everything in equal portions and according |
|
to its worth, times, substance, cause (form), activity, and incident. |
|
But examine, not to discover that any one thing compared with any |
|
other single thing is equal in all respects, but by taking all the |
|
parts together of one thing and comparing them with all the parts |
|
together of another. |
|
|
|
Thou hast not leisure or ability to read. But thou hast leisure or |
|
ability to check arrogance: thou hast leisure to be superior to pleasure |
|
and pain: thou hast leisure to be superior to love of fame, and not |
|
to be vexed at stupid and ungrateful people, nay even to care for |
|
them. |
|
|
|
Let no man any longer hear thee finding fault with the court life |
|
or with thy own. |
|
|
|
Repentance is a kind of self-reproof for having neglected something |
|
useful; but that which is good must be something useful, and the perfect |
|
good man should look after it. But no such man would ever repent of |
|
having refused any sensual pleasure. Pleasure then is neither good |
|
nor useful. |
|
|
|
This thing, what is it in itself, in its own constitution? What is |
|
its substance and material? And what its causal nature (or form)? |
|
And what is it doing in the world? And how long does it subsist? |
|
|
|
When thou risest from sleep with reluctance, remember that it is according |
|
to thy constitution and according to human nature to perform social |
|
acts, but sleeping is common also to irrational animals. But that |
|
which is according to each individual's nature is also more peculiarly |
|
its own, and more suitable to its nature, and indeed also more agreeable. |
|
|
|
Constantly and, if it be possible, on the occasion of every impression |
|
on the soul, apply to it the principles of Physic, of Ethic, and of |
|
Dialectic. |
|
|
|
Whatever man thou meetest with, immediately say to thyself: What opinions |
|
has this man about good and bad? For if with respect to pleasure and |
|
pain and the causes of each, and with respect to fame and ignominy, |
|
death and life, he has such and such opinions, it will seem nothing |
|
wonderful or strange to me, if he does such and such things; and I |
|
shall bear in mind that he is compelled to do so. |
|
|
|
Remember that as it is a shame to be surprised if the fig-tree produces |
|
figs, so it is to be surprised if the world produces such and such |
|
things of which it is productive; and for the physician and the helmsman |
|
it is a shame to be surprised, if a man has a fever, or if the wind |
|
is unfavourable. |
|
|
|
Remember that to change thy opinion and to follow him who corrects |
|
thy error is as consistent with freedom as it is to persist in thy |
|
error. For it is thy own, the activity which is exerted according |
|
to thy own movement and judgement, and indeed according to thy own |
|
understanding too. |
|
|
|
If a thing is in thy own power, why dost thou do it? But if it is |
|
in the power of another, whom dost thou blame? The atoms (chance) |
|
or the gods? Both are foolish. Thou must blame nobody. For if thou |
|
canst, correct that which is the cause; but if thou canst not do this, |
|
correct at least the thing itself; but if thou canst not do even this, |
|
of what use is it to thee to find fault? For nothing should be done |
|
without a purpose. |
|
|
|
That which has died falls not out of the universe. If it stays here, |
|
it also changes here, and is dissolved into its proper parts, which |
|
are elements of the universe and of thyself. And these too change, |
|
and they murmur not. |
|
|
|
Everything exists for some end, a horse, a vine. Why dost thou wonder? |
|
Even the sun will say, I am for some purpose, and the rest of the |
|
gods will say the same. For what purpose then art thou? to enjoy pleasure? |
|
See if common sense allows this. |
|
|
|
Nature has had regard in everything no less to the end than to the |
|
beginning and the continuance, just like the man who throws up a ball. |
|
What good is it then for the ball to be thrown up, or harm for it |
|
to come down, or even to have fallen? And what good is it to the bubble |
|
while it holds together, or what harm when it is burst? The same may |
|
be said of a light also. |
|
|
|
Turn it (the body) inside out, and see what kind of thing it is; and |
|
when it has grown old, what kind of thing it becomes, and when it |
|
is diseased. |
|
|
|
Short-lived are both the praiser and the praised, and the rememberer |
|
and the remembered: and all this in a nook of this part of the world; |
|
and not even here do all agree, no, not any one with himself: and |
|
the whole earth too is a point. |
|
|
|
Attend to the matter which is before thee, whether it is an opinion |
|
or an act or a word. |
|
|
|
Thou sufferest this justly: for thou choosest rather to become good |
|
to-morrow than to be good to-day. |
|
|
|
Am I doing anything? I do it with reference to the good of mankind. |
|
Does anything happen to me? I receive it and refer it to the gods, |
|
and the source of all things, from which all that happens is derived. |
|
|
|
Such as bathing appears to thee- oil, sweat, dirt, filthy water, all |
|
things disgusting- so is every part of life and everything. |
|
|
|
Lucilla saw Verus die, and then Lucilla died. Secunda saw Maximus |
|
die, and then Secunda died. Epitynchanus saw Diotimus die, and Epitynchanus |
|
died. Antoninus saw Faustina die, and then Antoninus died. Such is |
|
everything. Celer saw Hadrian die, and then Celer died. And those |
|
sharp-witted men, either seers or men inflated with pride, where are |
|
they? For instance the sharp-witted men, Charax and Demetrius the |
|
Platonist and Eudaemon, and any one else like them. All ephemeral, |
|
dead long ago. Some indeed have not been remembered even for a short |
|
time, and others have become the heroes of fables, and again others |
|
have disappeared even from fables. Remember this then, that this little |
|
compound, thyself, must either be dissolved, or thy poor breath must |
|
be extinguished, or be removed and placed elsewhere. |
|
|
|
It is satisfaction to a man to do the proper works of a man. Now it |
|
is a proper work of a man to be benevolent to his own kind, to despise |
|
the movements of the senses, to form a just judgement of plausible |
|
appearances, and to take a survey of the nature of the universe and |
|
of the things which happen in it. |
|
|
|
There are three relations between thee and other things: the one to |
|
the body which surrounds thee; the second to the divine cause from |
|
which all things come to all; and the third to those who live with |
|
thee. |
|
|
|
Pain is either an evil to the body- then let the body say what it |
|
thinks of it- or to the soul; but it is in the power of the soul to |
|
maintain its own serenity and tranquility, and not to think that pain |
|
is an evil. For every judgement and movement and desire and aversion |
|
is within, and no evil ascends so high. |
|
|
|
Wipe out thy imaginations by often saying to thyself: now it is in |
|
my power to let no badness be in this soul, nor desire nor any perturbation |
|
at all; but looking at all things I see what is their nature, and |
|
I use each according to its value.- Remember this power which thou |
|
hast from nature. |
|
|
|
Speak both in the senate and to every man, whoever he may be, appropriately, |
|
not with any affectation: use plain discourse. |
|
|
|
Augustus' court, wife, daughter, descendants, ancestors, sister, Agrippa, |
|
kinsmen, intimates, friends, Areius, Maecenas, physicians and sacrificing |
|
priests- the whole court is dead. Then turn to the rest, not considering |
|
the death of a single man, but of a whole race, as of the Pompeii; |
|
and that which is inscribed on the tombs- The last of his race. Then |
|
consider what trouble those before them have had that they might leave |
|
a successor; and then, that of necessity some one must be the last. |
|
Again here consider the death of a whole race. |
|
|
|
It is thy duty to order thy life well in every single act; and if |
|
every act does its duty, as far as is possible, be content; and no |
|
one is able to hinder thee so that each act shall not do its duty.- |
|
But something external will stand in the way.- Nothing will stand |
|
in the way of thy acting justly and soberly and considerately.- But |
|
perhaps some other active power will be hindered.- Well, but by acquiescing |
|
in the hindrance and by being content to transfer thy efforts to that |
|
which is allowed, another opportunity of action is immediately put |
|
before thee in place of that which was hindered, and one which will |
|
adapt itself to this ordering of which we are speaking. |
|
|
|
Receive wealth or prosperity without arrogance; and be ready to let |
|
it go. |
|
|
|
If thou didst ever see a hand cut off, or a foot, or a head, lying |
|
anywhere apart from the rest of the body, such does a man make himself, |
|
as far as he can, who is not content with what happens, and separates |
|
himself from others, or does anything unsocial. Suppose that thou |
|
hast detached thyself from the natural unity- for thou wast made by |
|
nature a part, but now thou hast cut thyself off- yet here there is |
|
this beautiful provision, that it is in thy power again to unite thyself. |
|
God has allowed this to no other part, after it has been separated |
|
and cut asunder, to come together again. But consider the kindness |
|
by which he has distinguished man, for he has put it in his power |
|
not to be separated at all from the universal; and when he has been |
|
separated, he has allowed him to return and to be united and to resume |
|
his place as a part. |
|
|
|
As the nature of the universal has given to every rational being all |
|
the other powers that it has, so we have received from it this power |
|
also. For as the universal nature converts and fixes in its predestined |
|
place everything which stands in the way and opposes it, and makes |
|
such things a part of itself, so also the rational animal is able |
|
to make every hindrance its own material, and to use it for such purposes |
|
as it may have designed. |
|
|
|
Do not disturb thyself by thinking of the whole of thy life. Let not |
|
thy thoughts at once embrace all the various troubles which thou mayest |
|
expect to befall thee: but on every occasion ask thyself, What is |
|
there in this which is intolerable and past bearing? For thou wilt |
|
be ashamed to confess. In the next place remember that neither the |
|
future nor the past pains thee, but only the present. But this is |
|
reduced to a very little, if thou only circumscribest it, and chidest |
|
thy mind, if it is unable to hold out against even this. |
|
|
|
Does Panthea or Pergamus now sit by the tomb of Verus? Does Chaurias |
|
or Diotimus sit by the tomb of Hadrian? That would be ridiculous. |
|
Well, suppose they did sit there, would the dead be conscious of it? |
|
And if the dead were conscious, would they be pleased? And if they |
|
were pleased, would that make them immortal? Was it not in the order |
|
of destiny that these persons too should first become old women and |
|
old men and then die? What then would those do after these were dead? |
|
All this is foul smell and blood in a bag. |
|
|
|
If thou canst see sharp, look and judge wisely, says the philosopher. |
|
|
|
In the constitution of the rational animal I see no virtue which is |
|
opposed to justice; but I see a virtue which is opposed to love of |
|
pleasure, and that is temperance. |
|
|
|
If thou takest away thy opinion about that which appears to give thee |
|
pain, thou thyself standest in perfect security.- Who is this self?- |
|
The reason.- But I am not reason.- Be it so. Let then the reason itself |
|
not trouble itself. But if any other part of thee suffers, let it |
|
have its own opinion about itself. |
|
|
|
Hindrance to the perceptions of sense is an evil to the animal nature. |
|
Hindrance to the movements (desires) is equally an evil to the animal |
|
nature. And something else also is equally an impediment and an evil |
|
to the constitution of plants. So then that which is a hindrance to |
|
the intelligence is an evil to the intelligent nature. Apply all these |
|
things then to thyself. Does pain or sensuous pleasure affect thee? |
|
The senses will look to that.- Has any obstacle opposed thee in thy |
|
efforts towards an object? if indeed thou wast making this effort |
|
absolutely (unconditionally, or without any reservation), certainly |
|
this obstacle is an evil to thee considered as a rational animal. |
|
But if thou takest into consideration the usual course of things, |
|
thou hast not yet been injured nor even impeded. The things however |
|
which are proper to the understanding no other man is used to impede, |
|
for neither fire, nor iron, nor tyrant, nor abuse, touches it in any |
|
way. When it has been made a sphere, it continues a sphere. |
|
|
|
It is not fit that I should give myself pain, for I have never intentionally |
|
given pain even to another. |
|
|
|
Different things delight different people. But it is my delight to |
|
keep the ruling faculty sound without turning away either from any |
|
man or from any of the things which happen to men, but looking at |
|
and receiving all with welcome eyes and using everything according |
|
to its value. |
|
|
|
See that thou secure this present time to thyself: for those who rather |
|
pursue posthumous fame do consider that the men of after time will |
|
be exactly such as these whom they cannot bear now; and both are mortal. |
|
And what is it in any way to thee if these men of after time utter |
|
this or that sound, or have this or that opinion about thee? |
|
|
|
Take me and cast me where thou wilt; for there I shall keep my divine |
|
part tranquil, that is, content, if it can feel and act conformably |
|
to its proper constitution. Is this change of place sufficient reason |
|
why my soul should be unhappy and worse than it was, depressed, expanded, |
|
shrinking, affrighted? And what wilt thou find which is sufficient |
|
reason for this? |
|
|
|
Nothing can happen to any man which is not a human accident, nor to |
|
an ox which is not according to the nature of an ox, nor to a vine |
|
which is not according to the nature of a vine, nor to a stone which |
|
is not proper to a stone. If then there happens to each thing both |
|
what is usual and natural, why shouldst thou complain? For the common |
|
nature brings nothing which may not be borne by thee. |
|
|
|
If thou art pained by any external thing, it is not this thing that |
|
disturbs thee, but thy own judgement about it. And it is in thy power |
|
to wipe out this judgement now. But if anything in thy own disposition |
|
gives thee pain, who hinders thee from correcting thy opinion? And |
|
even if thou art pained because thou art not doing some particular |
|
thing which seems to thee to be right, why dost thou not rather act |
|
than complain?- But some insuperable obstacle is in the way?- Do not |
|
be grieved then, for the cause of its not being done depends not on |
|
thee.- But it is not worth while to live if this cannot be done.- |
|
Take thy departure then from life contentedly, just as he dies who |
|
is in full activity, and well pleased too with the things which are |
|
obstacles. |
|
|
|
Remember that the ruling faculty is invincible, when self-collected |
|
it is satisfied with itself, if it does nothing which it does not |
|
choose to do, even if it resist from mere obstinacy. What then will |
|
it be when it forms a judgement about anything aided by reason and |
|
deliberately? Therefore the mind which is free from passions is a |
|
citadel, for man has nothing more secure to which he can fly for, |
|
refuge and for the future be inexpugnable. He then who has not seen |
|
this is an ignorant man; but he who has seen it and does not fly to |
|
this refuge is unhappy. |
|
|
|
Say nothing more to thyself than what the first appearances report. |
|
Suppose that it has been reported to thee that a certain person speaks |
|
ill of thee. This has been reported; but that thou hast been injured, |
|
that has not been reported. I see that my child is sick. I do see; |
|
but that he is in danger, I do not see. Thus then always abide by |
|
the first appearances, and add nothing thyself from within, and then |
|
nothing happens to thee. Or rather add something, like a man who knows |
|
everything that happens in the world. |
|
|
|
A cucumber is bitter.- Throw it away.- There are briars in the road.- |
|
Turn aside from them.- This is enough. Do not add, And why were such |
|
things made in the world? For thou wilt be ridiculed by a man who |
|
is acquainted with nature, as thou wouldst be ridiculed by a carpenter |
|
and shoemaker if thou didst find fault because thou seest in their |
|
workshop shavings and cuttings from the things which they make. And |
|
yet they have places into which they can throw these shavings and |
|
cuttings, and the universal nature has no external space; but the |
|
wondrous part of her art is that though she has circumscribed herself, |
|
everything within her which appears to decay and to grow old and to |
|
be useless she changes into herself, and again makes other new things |
|
from these very same, so that she requires neither substance from |
|
without nor wants a place into which she may cast that which decays. |
|
She is content then with her own space, and her own matter and her |
|
own art. |
|
|
|
Neither in thy actions be sluggish nor in thy conversation without |
|
method, nor wandering in thy thoughts, nor let there be in thy soul |
|
inward contention nor external effusion, nor in life be so busy as |
|
to have no leisure. |
|
|
|
Suppose that men kill thee, cut thee in pieces, curse thee. What then |
|
can these things do to prevent thy mind from remaining pure, wise, |
|
sober, just? For instance, if a man should stand by a limpid pure |
|
spring, and curse it, the spring never ceases sending up potable water; |
|
and if he should cast clay into it or filth, it will speedily disperse |
|
them and wash them out, and will not be at all polluted. How then |
|
shalt thou possess a perpetual fountain and not a mere well? By forming |
|
thyself hourly to freedom conjoined with contentment, simplicity and |
|
modesty. |
|
|
|
He who does not know what the world is, does not know where he is. |
|
And he who does not know for what purpose the world exists, does not |
|
know who he is, nor what the world is. But he who has failed in any |
|
one of these things could not even say for what purpose he exists |
|
himself. What then dost thou think of him who avoids or seeks the |
|
praise of those who applaud, of men who know not either where they |
|
are or who they are? |
|
|
|
Dost thou wish to be praised by a man who curses himself thrice every |
|
hour? Wouldst thou wish to please a man who does not please himself? |
|
Does a man please himself who repents of nearly everything that he |
|
does? |
|
|
|
No longer let thy breathing only act in concert with the air which |
|
surrounds thee, but let thy intelligence also now be in harmony with |
|
the intelligence which embraces all things. For the intelligent power |
|
is no less diffused in all parts and pervades all things for him who |
|
is willing to draw it to him than the aerial power for him who is |
|
able to respire it. |
|
|
|
Generally, wickedness does no harm at all to the universe; and particularly, |
|
the wickedness of one man does no harm to another. It is only harmful |
|
to him who has it in his power to be released from it, as soon as |
|
he shall choose. |
|
|
|
To my own free will the free will of my neighbour is just as indifferent |
|
as his poor breath and flesh. For though we are made especially for |
|
the sake of one another, still the ruling power of each of us has |
|
its own office, for otherwise my neighbour's wickedness would be my |
|
harm, which God has not willed in order that my unhappiness may not |
|
depend on another. |
|
|
|
The sun appears to be poured down, and in all directions indeed it |
|
is diffused, yet it is not effused. For this diffusion is extension: |
|
Accordingly its rays are called Extensions [aktines] because they |
|
are extended [apo tou ekteinesthai]. But one may judge what kind of |
|
a thing a ray is, if he looks at the sun's light passing through a |
|
narrow opening into a darkened room, for it is extended in a right |
|
line, and as it were is divided when it meets with any solid body |
|
which stands in the way and intercepts the air beyond; but there the |
|
light remains fixed and does not glide or fall off. Such then ought |
|
to be the out-pouring and diffusion of the understanding, and it should |
|
in no way be an effusion, but an extension, and it should make no |
|
violent or impetuous collision with the obstacles which are in its |
|
way; nor yet fall down, but be fixed and enlighten that which receives |
|
it. For a body will deprive itself of the illumination, if it does |
|
not admit it. |
|
|
|
He who fears death either fears the loss of sensation or a different |
|
kind of sensation. But if thou shalt have no sensation, neither wilt |
|
thou feel any harm; and if thou shalt acquire another kind of sensation, |
|
thou wilt be a different kind of living being and thou wilt not cease |
|
to live. |
|
|
|
Men exist for the sake of one another. Teach them then or bear with |
|
them. |
|
|
|
In one way an arrow moves, in another way the mind. The mind indeed, |
|
both when it exercises caution and when it is employed about inquiry, |
|
moves straight onward not the less, and to its object. |
|
|
|
Enter into every man's ruling faculty; and also let every other man |
|
enter into thine. |
|
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------- |
|
|
|
BOOK NINE |
|
|
|
He ho acts unjustly acts impiously. For since the universal nature |
|
has made rational animals for the sake of one another to help one |
|
another according to their deserts, but in no way to injure one another, |
|
he who transgresses her will, is clearly guilty of impiety towards |
|
the highest divinity. And he too who lies is guilty of impiety to |
|
the same divinity; for the universal nature is the nature of things |
|
that are; and things that are have a relation to all things that come |
|
into existence. And further, this universal nature is named truth, |
|
and is the prime cause of all things that are true. He then who lies |
|
intentionally is guilty of impiety inasmuch as he acts unjustly by |
|
deceiving; and he also who lies unintentionally, inasmuch as he is |
|
at variance with the universal nature, and inasmuch as he disturbs |
|
the order by fighting against the nature of the world; for he fights |
|
against it, who is moved of himself to that which is contrary to truth, |
|
for he had received powers from nature through the neglect of which |
|
he is not able now to distinguish falsehood from truth. And indeed |
|
he who pursues pleasure as good, and avoids pain as evil, is guilty |
|
of impiety. For of necessity such a man must often find fault with |
|
the universal nature, alleging that it assigns things to the bad and |
|
the good contrary to their deserts, because frequently the bad are |
|
in the enjoyment of pleasure and possess the things which procure |
|
pleasure, but the good have pain for their share and the things which |
|
cause pain. And further, he who is afraid of pain will sometimes also |
|
be afraid of some of the things which will happen in the world, and |
|
even this is impiety. And he who pursues pleasure will not abstain |
|
from injustice, and this is plainly impiety. Now with respect to the |
|
things towards which the universal nature is equally affected- for |
|
it would not have made both, unless it was equally affected towards |
|
both- towards these they who wish to follow nature should be of the |
|
same mind with it, and equally affected. With respect to pain, then, |
|
and pleasure, or death and life, or honour and dishonour, which the |
|
universal nature employs equally, whoever is not equally affected |
|
is manifestly acting impiously. And I say that the universal nature |
|
employs them equally, instead of saying that they happen alike to |
|
those who are produced in continuous series and to those who come |
|
after them by virtue of a certain original movement of Providence, |
|
according to which it moved from a certain beginning to this ordering |
|
of things, having conceived certain principles of the things which |
|
were to be, and having determined powers productive of beings and |
|
of changes and of such like successions. |
|
|
|
It would be a man's happiest lot to depart from mankind without having |
|
had any taste of lying and hypocrisy and luxury and pride. However |
|
to breathe out one's life when a man has had enough of these things |
|
is the next best voyage, as the saying is. Hast thou determined to |
|
abide with vice, and has not experience yet induced thee to fly from |
|
this pestilence? For the destruction of the understanding is a pestilence, |
|
much more indeed than any such corruption and change of this atmosphere |
|
which surrounds us. For this corruption is a pestilence of animals |
|
so far as they are animals; but the other is a pestilence of men so |
|
far as they are men. |
|
|
|
Do not despise death, but be well content with it, since this too |
|
is one of those things which nature wills. For such as it is to be |
|
young and to grow old, and to increase and to reach maturity, and |
|
to have teeth and beard and grey hairs, and to beget, and to be pregnant |
|
and to bring forth, and all the other natural operations which the |
|
seasons of thy life bring, such also is dissolution. This, then, is |
|
consistent with the character of a reflecting man, to be neither careless |
|
nor impatient nor contemptuous with respect to death, but to wait |
|
for it as one of the operations of nature. As thou now waitest for |
|
the time when the child shall come out of thy wife's womb, so be ready |
|
for the time when thy soul shall fall out of this envelope. But if |
|
thou requirest also a vulgar kind of comfort which shall reach thy |
|
heart, thou wilt be made best reconciled to death by observing the |
|
objects from which thou art going to be removed, and the morals of |
|
those with whom thy soul will no longer be mingled. For it is no way |
|
right to be offended with men, but it is thy duty to care for them |
|
and to bear with them gently; and yet to remember that thy departure |
|
will be not from men who have the same principles as thyself. For |
|
this is the only thing, if there be any, which could draw us the contrary |
|
way and attach us to life, to be permitted to live with those who |
|
have the same principles as ourselves. But now thou seest how great |
|
is the trouble arising from the discordance of those who live together, |
|
so that thou mayest say, Come quick, O death, lest perchance I, too, |
|
should forget myself. |
|
|
|
He who does wrong does wrong against himself. He who acts unjustly |
|
acts unjustly to himself, because he makes himself bad. |
|
|
|
He often acts unjustly who does not do a certain thing; not only he |
|
who does a certain thing. |
|
|
|
Thy present opinion founded on understanding, and thy present conduct |
|
directed to social good, and thy present disposition of contentment |
|
with everything which happens- that is enough. |
|
|
|
Wipe out imagination: check desire: extinguish appetite: keep the |
|
ruling faculty in its own power. |
|
|
|
Among the animals which have not reason one life is distributed; but |
|
among reasonable animals one intelligent soul is distributed: just |
|
as there is one earth of all things which are of an earthy nature, |
|
and we see by one light, and breathe one air, all of us that have |
|
the faculty of vision and all that have life. |
|
|
|
All things which participate in anything which is common to them all |
|
move towards that which is of the same kind with themselves. Everything |
|
which is earthy turns towards the earth, everything which is liquid |
|
flows together, and everything which is of an aerial kind does the |
|
same, so that they require something to keep them asunder, and the |
|
application of force. Fire indeed moves upwards on account of the |
|
elemental fire, but it is so ready to be kindled together with all |
|
the fire which is here, that even every substance which is somewhat |
|
dry, is easily ignited, because there is less mingled with it of that |
|
which is a hindrance to ignition. Accordingly then everything also |
|
which participates in the common intelligent nature moves in like |
|
manner towards that which is of the same kind with itself, or moves |
|
even more. For so much as it is superior in comparison with all other |
|
things, in the same degree also is it more ready to mingle with and |
|
to be fused with that which is akin to it. Accordingly among animals |
|
devoid of reason we find swarms of bees, and herds of cattle, and |
|
the nurture of young birds, and in a manner, loves; for even in animals |
|
there are souls, and that power which brings them together is seen |
|
to exert itself in the superior degree, and in such a way as never |
|
has been observed in plants nor in stones nor in trees. But in rational |
|
animals there are political communities and friendships, and families |
|
and meetings of people; and in wars, treaties and armistices. But |
|
in the things which are still superior, even though they are separated |
|
from one another, unity in a manner exists, as in the stars. Thus |
|
the ascent to the higher degree is able to produce a sympathy even |
|
in things which are separated. See, then, what now takes place. For |
|
only intelligent animals have now forgotten this mutual desire and |
|
inclination, and in them alone the property of flowing together is |
|
not seen. But still though men strive to avoid this union, they are |
|
caught and held by it, for their nature is too strong for them; and |
|
thou wilt see what I say, if thou only observest. Sooner, then, will |
|
one find anything earthy which comes in contact with no earthy thing |
|
than a man altogether separated from other men. |
|
|
|
Both man and God and the universe produce fruit; at the proper seasons |
|
each produces it. But if usage has especially fixed these terms to |
|
the vine and like things, this is nothing. Reason produces fruit both |
|
for all and for itself, and there are produced from it other things |
|
of the same kind as reason itself. |
|
|
|
If thou art able, correct by teaching those who do wrong; but if thou |
|
canst not, remember that indulgence is given to thee for this purpose. |
|
And the gods, too, are indulgent to such persons; and for some purposes |
|
they even help them to get health, wealth, reputation; so kind they |
|
are. And it is in thy power also; or say, who hinders thee? |
|
|
|
Labour not as one who is wretched, nor yet as one who would be pitied |
|
or admired: but direct thy will to one thing only, to put thyself |
|
in motion and to check thyself, as the social reason requires. |
|
|
|
To-day I have got out of all trouble, or rather I have cast out all |
|
trouble, for it was not outside, but within and in my opinions. |
|
|
|
All things are the same, familiar in experience, and ephemeral in |
|
time, and worthless in the matter. Everything now is just as it was |
|
in the time of those whom we have buried. |
|
|
|
Things stand outside of us, themselves by themselves, neither knowing |
|
aught of themselves, nor expressing any judgement. What is it, then, |
|
which does judge about them? The ruling faculty. |
|
|
|
Not in passivity, but in activity lie the evil and the good of the |
|
rational social animal, just as his virtue and his vice lie not in |
|
passivity, but in activity. |
|
|
|
For the stone which has been thrown up it is no evil to come down, |
|
nor indeed any good to have been carried up. |
|
|
|
Penetrate inwards into men's leading principles, and thou wilt see |
|
what judges thou art afraid of, and what kind of judges they are of |
|
themselves. |
|
|
|
All things are changing: and thou thyself art in continuous mutation |
|
and in a manner in continuous destruction, and the whole universe |
|
too. |
|
|
|
It is thy duty to leave another man's wrongful act there where it |
|
is. |
|
|
|
Termination of activity, cessation from movement and opinion, and |
|
in a sense their death, is no evil. Turn thy thoughts now to the consideration |
|
of thy life, thy life as a child, as a youth, thy manhood, thy old |
|
age, for in these also every change was a death. Is this anything |
|
to fear? Turn thy thoughts now to thy life under thy grandfather, |
|
then to thy life under thy mother, then to thy life under thy father; |
|
and as thou findest many other differences and changes and terminations, |
|
ask thyself, Is this anything to fear? In like manner, then, neither |
|
are the termination and cessation and change of thy whole life a thing |
|
to be afraid of. |
|
|
|
Hasten to examine thy own ruling faculty and that of the universe |
|
and that of thy neighbour: thy own that thou mayest make it just: |
|
and that of the universe, that thou mayest remember of what thou art |
|
a part; and that of thy neighbour, that thou mayest know whether he |
|
has acted ignorantly or with knowledge, and that thou mayest also |
|
consider that his ruling faculty is akin to thine. |
|
|
|
As thou thyself art a component part of a social system, so let every |
|
act of thine be a component part of social life. Whatever act of thine |
|
then has no reference either immediately or remotely to a social end, |
|
this tears asunder thy life, and does not allow it to be one, and |
|
it is of the nature of a mutiny, just as when in a popular assembly |
|
a man acting by himself stands apart from the general agreement. |
|
|
|
Quarrels of little children and their sports, and poor spirits carrying |
|
about dead bodies, such is everything; and so what is exhibited in |
|
the representation of the mansions of the dead strikes our eyes more |
|
clearly. |
|
|
|
Examine into the quality of the form of an object, and detach it altogether |
|
from its material part, and then contemplate it; then determine the |
|
time, the longest which a thing of this peculiar form is naturally |
|
made to endure. |
|
|
|
Thou hast endured infinite troubles through not being contented with |
|
thy ruling faculty, when it does the things which it is constituted |
|
by nature to do. But enough of this. |
|
|
|
When another blames thee or hates thee, or when men say about thee |
|
anything injurious, approach their poor souls, penetrate within, and |
|
see what kind of men they are. Thou wilt discover that there is no |
|
reason to take any trouble that these men may have this or that opinion |
|
about thee. However thou must be well disposed towards them, for by |
|
nature they are friends. And the gods too aid them in all ways, by |
|
dreams, by signs, towards the attainment of those things on which |
|
they set a value. |
|
|
|
The periodic movements of the universe are the same, up and down from |
|
age to age. And either the universal intelligence puts itself in motion |
|
for every separate effect, and if this is so, be thou content with |
|
that which is the result of its activity; or it puts itself in motion |
|
once, and everything else comes by way of sequence in a manner; or |
|
indivisible elements are the origin of all things.- In a word, if |
|
there is a god, all is well; and if chance rules, do not thou also |
|
be governed by it. |
|
|
|
Soon will the earth cover us all: then the earth, too, will change, |
|
and the things also which result from change will continue to change |
|
for ever, and these again for ever. For if a man reflects on the changes |
|
and transformations which follow one another like wave after wave |
|
and their rapidity, he will despise everything which is perishable. |
|
|
|
The universal cause is like a winter torrent: it carries everything |
|
along with it. But how worthless are all these poor people who are |
|
engaged in matters political, and, as they suppose, are playing the |
|
philosopher! All drivellers. Well then, man: do what nature now requires. |
|
Set thyself in motion, if it is in thy power, and do not look about |
|
thee to see if any one will observe it; nor yet expect Plato's Republic: |
|
but be content if the smallest thing goes on well, and consider such |
|
an event to be no small matter. For who can change men's opinions? |
|
And without a change of opinions what else is there than the slavery |
|
of men who groan while they pretend to obey? Come now and tell me |
|
of Alexander and Philip and Demetrius of Phalerum. They themselves |
|
shall judge whether they discovered what the common nature required, |
|
and trained themselves accordingly. But if they acted like tragedy |
|
heroes, no one has condemned me to imitate them. Simple and modest |
|
is the work of philosophy. Draw me not aside to indolence and pride. |
|
|
|
Look down from above on the countless herds of men and their countless |
|
solemnities, and the infinitely varied voyagings in storms and calms, |
|
and the differences among those who are born, who live together, and |
|
die. And consider, too, the life lived by others in olden time, and |
|
the life of those who will live after thee, and the life now lived |
|
among barbarous nations, and how many know not even thy name, and |
|
how many will soon forget it, and how they who perhaps now are praising |
|
thee will very soon blame thee, and that neither a posthumous name |
|
is of any value, nor reputation, nor anything else. |
|
|
|
Let there be freedom from perturbations with respect to the things |
|
which come from the external cause; and let there be justice in the |
|
things done by virtue of the internal cause, that is, let there be |
|
movement and action terminating in this, in social acts, for this |
|
is according to thy nature. |
|
|
|
Thou canst remove out of the way many useless things among those which |
|
disturb thee, for they lie entirely in thy opinion; and thou wilt |
|
then gain for thyself ample space by comprehending the whole universe |
|
in thy mind, and by contemplating the eternity of time, and observing |
|
the rapid change of every several thing, how short is the time from |
|
birth to dissolution, and the illimitable time before birth as well |
|
as the equally boundless time after dissolution. |
|
|
|
All that thou seest will quickly perish, and those who have been spectators |
|
of its dissolution will very soon perish too. And he who dies at the |
|
extremest old age will be brought into the same condition with him |
|
who died prematurely. |
|
|
|
What are these men's leading principles, and about what kind of things |
|
are they busy, and for what kind of reasons do they love and honour? |
|
Imagine that thou seest their poor souls laid bare. When they think |
|
that they do harm by their blame or good by their praise, what an |
|
idea! |
|
|
|
Loss is nothing else than change. But the universal nature delights |
|
in change, and in obedience to her all things are now done well, and |
|
from eternity have been done in like form, and will be such to time |
|
without end. What, then, dost thou say? That all things have been |
|
and all things always will be bad, and that no power has ever been |
|
found in so many gods to rectify these things, but the world has been |
|
condemned to be found in never ceasing evil? |
|
|
|
The rottenness of the matter which is the foundation of everything! |
|
Water, dust, bones, filth: or again, marble rocks, the callosities |
|
of the earth; and gold and silver, the sediments; and garments, only |
|
bits of hair; and purple dye, blood; and everything else is of the |
|
same kind. And that which is of the nature of breath is also another |
|
thing of the same kind, changing from this to that. |
|
|
|
|