|
Enough of this wretched life and murmuring and apish tricks. Why art |
|
thou disturbed? What is there new in this? What unsettles thee? Is |
|
it the form of the thing? Look at it. Or is it the matter? Look at |
|
it. But besides these there is nothing. Towards the gods, then, now |
|
become at last more simple and better. It is the same whether we examine |
|
these things for a hundred years or three. |
|
|
|
If any man has done wrong, the harm is his own. But perhaps he has |
|
not done wrong. |
|
|
|
Either all things proceed from one intelligent source and come together |
|
as in one body, and the part ought not to find fault with what is |
|
done for the benefit of the whole; or there are only atoms, and nothing |
|
else than mixture and dispersion. Why, then, art thou disturbed? Say |
|
to the ruling faculty, Art thou dead, art thou corrupted, art thou |
|
playing the hypocrite, art thou become a beast, dost thou herd and |
|
feed with the rest? |
|
|
|
Either the gods have no power or they have power. If, then, they have |
|
no power, why dost thou pray to them? But if they have power, why |
|
dost thou not pray for them to give thee the faculty of not fearing |
|
any of the things which thou fearest, or of not desiring any of the |
|
things which thou desirest, or not being pained at anything, rather |
|
than pray that any of these things should not happen or happen? for |
|
certainly if they can co-operate with men, they can co-operate for |
|
these purposes. But perhaps thou wilt say, the gods have placed them |
|
in thy power. Well, then, is it not better to use what is in thy power |
|
like a free man than to desire in a slavish and abject way what is |
|
not in thy power? And who has told thee that the gods do not aid us |
|
even in the things which are in our power? Begin, then, to pray for |
|
such things, and thou wilt see. One man prays thus: How shall I be |
|
able to lie with that woman? Do thou pray thus: How shall I not desire |
|
to lie with her? Another prays thus: How shall I be released from |
|
this? Another prays: How shall I not desire to be released? Another |
|
thus: How shall I not lose my little son? Thou thus: How shall I not |
|
be afraid to lose him? In fine, turn thy prayers this way, and see |
|
what comes. |
|
|
|
Epicurus says, In my sickness my conversation was not about my bodily |
|
sufferings, nor, says he, did I talk on such subjects to those who |
|
visited me; but I continued to discourse on the nature of things as |
|
before, keeping to this main point, how the mind, while participating |
|
in such movements as go on in the poor flesh, shall be free from perturbations |
|
and maintain its proper good. Nor did I, he says, give the physicians |
|
an opportunity of putting on solemn looks, as if they were doing something |
|
great, but my life went on well and happily. Do, then, the same that |
|
he did both in sickness, if thou art sick, and in any other circumstances; |
|
for never to desert philosophy in any events that may befall us, nor |
|
to hold trifling talk either with an ignorant man or with one unacquainted |
|
with nature, is a principle of all schools of philosophy; but to be |
|
intent only on that which thou art now doing and on the instrument |
|
by which thou doest it. |
|
|
|
When thou art offended with any man's shameless conduct, immediately |
|
ask thyself, Is it possible, then, that shameless men should not be |
|
in the world? It is not possible. Do not, then, require what is impossible. |
|
For this man also is one of those shameless men who must of necessity |
|
be in the world. Let the same considerations be present to thy mind |
|
in the case of the knave, and the faithless man, and of every man |
|
who does wrong in any way. For at the same time that thou dost remind |
|
thyself that it is impossible that such kind of men should not exist, |
|
thou wilt become more kindly disposed towards every one individually. |
|
It is useful to perceive this, too, immediately when the occasion |
|
arises, what virtue nature has given to man to oppose to every wrongful |
|
act. For she has given to man, as an antidote against the stupid man, |
|
mildness, and against another kind of man some other power. And in |
|
all cases it is possible for thee to correct by teaching the man who |
|
is gone astray; for every man who errs misses his object and is gone |
|
astray. Besides wherein hast thou been injured? For thou wilt find |
|
that no one among those against whom thou art irritated has done anything |
|
by which thy mind could be made worse; but that which is evil to thee |
|
and harmful has its foundation only in the mind. And what harm is |
|
done or what is there strange, if the man who has not been instructed |
|
does the acts of an uninstructed man? Consider whether thou shouldst |
|
not rather blame thyself, because thou didst not expect such a man |
|
to err in such a way. For thou hadst means given thee by thy reason |
|
to suppose that it was likely that he would commit this error, and |
|
yet thou hast forgotten and art amazed that he has erred. But most |
|
of all when thou blamest a man as faithless or ungrateful, turn to |
|
thyself. For the fault is manifestly thy own, whether thou didst trust |
|
that a man who had such a disposition would keep his promise, or when |
|
conferring thy kindness thou didst not confer it absolutely, nor yet |
|
in such way as to have received from thy very act all the profit. |
|
For what more dost thou want when thou hast done a man a service? |
|
Art thou not content that thou hast done something conformable to |
|
thy nature, and dost thou seek to be paid for it? Just as if the eye |
|
demanded a recompense for seeing, or the feet for walking. For as |
|
these members are formed for a particular purpose, and by working |
|
according to their several constitutions obtain what is their own; |
|
so also as man is formed by nature to acts of benevolence, when he |
|
has done anything benevolent or in any other way conducive to the |
|
common interest, he has acted conformably to his constitution, and |
|
he gets what is his own. |
|
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---------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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|
|
BOOK TEN |
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|
|
Wilt thou, then, my soul, never be good and simple and one and naked, |
|
more manifest than the body which surrounds thee? Wilt thou never |
|
enjoy an affectionate and contented disposition? Wilt thou never be |
|
full and without a want of any kind, longing for nothing more, nor |
|
desiring anything, either animate or inanimate, for the enjoyment |
|
of pleasures? Nor yet desiring time wherein thou shalt have longer |
|
enjoyment, or place, or pleasant climate, or society of men with whom |
|
thou mayest live in harmony? But wilt thou be satisfied with thy present |
|
condition, and pleased with all that is about thee, and wilt thou |
|
convince thyself that thou hast everything and that it comes from |
|
the gods, that everything is well for thee, and will be well whatever |
|
shall please them, and whatever they shall give for the conservation |
|
of the perfect living being, the good and just and beautiful, which |
|
generates and holds together all things, and contains and embraces |
|
all things which are dissolved for the production of other like things? |
|
Wilt thou never be such that thou shalt so dwell in community with |
|
gods and men as neither to find fault with them at all, nor to be |
|
condemned by them? |
|
|
|
Observe what thy nature requires, so far as thou art governed by nature |
|
only: then do it and accept it, if thy nature, so far as thou art |
|
a living being, shall not be made worse by it. |
|
|
|
And next thou must observe what thy nature requires so far as thou |
|
art a living being. And all this thou mayest allow thyself, if thy |
|
nature, so far as thou art a rational animal, shall not be made worse |
|
by it. But the rational animal is consequently also a political (social) |
|
animal. Use these rules, then, and trouble thyself about nothing else. |
|
|
|
Everything which happens either happens in such wise as thou art formed |
|
by nature to bear it, or as thou art not formed by nature to bear |
|
it. If, then, it happens to thee in such way as thou art formed by |
|
nature to bear it, do not complain, but bear it as thou art formed |
|
by nature to bear it. But if it happens in such wise as thou art not |
|
formed by nature to bear it, do not complain, for it will perish after |
|
it has consumed thee. Remember, however, that thou art formed by nature |
|
to bear everything, with respect to which it depends on thy own opinion |
|
to make it endurable and tolerable, by thinking that it is either |
|
thy interest or thy duty to do this. |
|
|
|
If a man is mistaken, instruct him kindly and show him his error. |
|
But if thou art not able, blame thyself, or blame not even thyself. |
|
|
|
Whatever may happen to thee, it was prepared for thee from all eternity; |
|
and the implication of causes was from eternity spinning the thread |
|
of thy being, and of that which is incident to it. |
|
|
|
Whether the universe is a concourse of atoms, or nature is a system, |
|
let this first be established, that I am a part of the whole which |
|
is governed by nature; next, I am in a manner intimately related to |
|
the parts which are of the same kind with myself. For remembering |
|
this, inasmuch as I am a part, I shall be discontented with none of |
|
the things which are assigned to me out of the whole; for nothing |
|
is injurious to the part, if it is for the advantage of the whole. |
|
For the whole contains nothing which is not for its advantage; and |
|
all natures indeed have this common principle, but the nature of the |
|
universe has this principle besides, that it cannot be compelled even |
|
by any external cause to generate anything harmful to itself. By remembering, |
|
then, that I am a part of such a whole, I shall be content with everything |
|
that happens. And inasmuch as I am in a manner intimately related |
|
to the parts which are of the same kind with myself, I shall do nothing |
|
unsocial, but I shall rather direct myself to the things which are |
|
of the same kind with myself, and I shall turn an my efforts to the |
|
common interest, and divert them from the contrary. Now, if these |
|
things are done so, life must flow on happily, just as thou mayest |
|
observe that the life of a citizen is happy, who continues a course |
|
of action which is advantageous to his fellow-citizens, and is content |
|
with whatever the state may assign to him. |
|
|
|
The parts of the whole, everything, I mean, which is naturally comprehended |
|
in the universe, must of necessity perish; but let this be understood |
|
in this sense, that they must undergo change. But if this is naturally |
|
both an evil and a necessity for the parts, the whole would not continue |
|
to exist in a good condition, the parts being subject to change and |
|
constituted so as to perish in various ways. For whether did nature |
|
herself design to do evil to the things which are parts of herself, |
|
and to make them subject to evil and of necessity fall into evil, |
|
or have such results happened without her knowing it? Both these suppositions, |
|
indeed, are incredible. But if a man should even drop the term Nature |
|
(as an efficient power), and should speak of these things as natural, |
|
even then it would be ridiculous to affirm at the same time that the |
|
parts of the whole are in their nature subject to change, and at the |
|
same time to be surprised or vexed as if something were happening |
|
contrary to nature, particularly as the dissolution of things is into |
|
those things of which each thing is composed. For there is either |
|
a dispersion of the elements out of which everything has been compounded, |
|
or a change from the solid to the earthy and from the airy to the |
|
aerial, so that these parts are taken back into the universal reason, |
|
whether this at certain periods is consumed by fire or renewed by |
|
eternal changes. And do not imagine that the solid and the airy part |
|
belong to thee from the time of generation. For all this received |
|
its accretion only yesterday and the day before, as one may say, from |
|
the food and the air which is inspired. This, then, which has received |
|
the accretion, changes, not that which thy mother brought forth. But |
|
suppose that this which thy mother brought forth implicates thee very |
|
much with that other part, which has the peculiar quality of change, |
|
this is nothing in fact in the way of objection to what is said. |
|
|
|
When thou hast assumed these names, good, modest, true, rational, |
|
a man of equanimity, and magnanimous, take care that thou dost not |
|
change these names; and if thou shouldst lose them, quickly return |
|
to them. And remember that the term Rational was intended to signify |
|
a discriminating attention to every several thing and freedom from |
|
negligence; and that Equanimity is the voluntary acceptance of the |
|
things which are assigned to thee by the common nature; and that Magnanimity |
|
is the elevation of the intelligent part above the pleasurable or |
|
painful sensations of the flesh, and above that poor thing called |
|
fame, and death, and all such things. If, then, thou maintainest thyself |
|
in the possession of these names, without desiring to be called by |
|
these names by others, thou wilt be another person and wilt enter |
|
on another life. For to continue to be such as thou hast hitherto |
|
been, and to be tom in pieces and defiled in such a life, is the character |
|
of a very stupid man and one overfond of his life, and like those |
|
half-devoured fighters with wild beasts, who though covered with wounds |
|
and gore, still intreat to be kept to the following day, though they |
|
will be exposed in the same state to the same claws and bites. Therefore |
|
fix thyself in the possession of these few names: and if thou art |
|
able to abide in them, abide as if thou wast removed to certain islands |
|
of the Happy. But if thou shalt perceive that thou fallest out of |
|
them and dost not maintain thy hold, go courageously into some nook |
|
where thou shalt maintain them, or even depart at once from life, |
|
not in passion, but with simplicity and freedom and modesty, after |
|
doing this one laudable thing at least in thy life, to have gone out |
|
of it thus. In order, however, to the remembrance of these names, |
|
it will greatly help thee, if thou rememberest the gods, and that |
|
they wish not to be flattered, but wish all reasonable beings to be |
|
made like themselves; and if thou rememberest that what does the work |
|
of a fig-tree is a fig-tree, and that what does the work of a dog |
|
is a dog, and that what does the work of a bee is a bee, and that |
|
what does the work of a man is a man. |
|
|
|
Mimi, war, astonishment, torpor, slavery, will daily wipe out those |
|
holy principles of thine. How many things without studying nature |
|
dost thou imagine, and how many dost thou neglect? But it is thy duty |
|
so to look on and so to do everything, that at the same time the power |
|
of dealing with circumstances is perfected, and the contemplative |
|
faculty is exercised, and the confidence which comes from the knowledge |
|
of each several thing is maintained without showing it, but yet not |
|
concealed. For when wilt thou enjoy simplicity, when gravity, and |
|
when the knowledge of every several thing, both what it is in substance, |
|
and what place it has in the universe, and how long it is formed to |
|
exist and of what things it is compounded, and to whom it can belong, |
|
and who are able both to give it and take it away? |
|
|
|
A spider is proud when it has caught a fly, and another when he has |
|
caught a poor hare, and another when he has taken a little fish in |
|
a net, and another when he has taken wild boars, and another when |
|
he has taken bears, and another when he has taken Sarmatians. Are |
|
not these robbers, if thou examinest their opinions? |
|
|
|
Acquire the contemplative way of seeing how all things change into |
|
one another, and constantly attend to it, and exercise thyself about |
|
this part of philosophy. For nothing is so much adapted to produce |
|
magnanimity. Such a man has put off the body, and as he sees that |
|
he must, no one knows how soon, go away from among men and leave everything |
|
here, he gives himself up entirely to just doing in all his actions, |
|
and in everything else that happens he resigns himself to the universal |
|
nature. But as to what any man shall say or think about him or do |
|
against him, he never even thinks of it, being himself contented with |
|
these two things, with acting justly in what he now does, and being |
|
satisfied with what is now assigned to him; and he lays aside all |
|
distracting and busy pursuits, and desires nothing else than to accomplish |
|
the straight course through the law, and by accomplishing the straight |
|
course to follow God. |
|
|
|
What need is there of suspicious fear, since it is in thy power to |
|
inquire what ought to be done? And if thou seest clear, go by this |
|
way content, without turning back: but if thou dost not see clear, |
|
stop and take the best advisers. But if any other things oppose thee, |
|
go on according to thy powers with due consideration, keeping to that |
|
which appears to be just. For it is best to reach this object, and |
|
if thou dost fail, let thy failure be in attempting this. He who follows |
|
reason in all things is both tranquil and active at the same time, |
|
and also cheerful and collected. |
|
|
|
Inquire of thyself as soon as thou wakest from sleep, whether it will |
|
make any difference to thee, if another does what is just and right. |
|
It will make no difference. |
|
|
|
Thou hast not forgotten, I suppose, that those who assume arrogant |
|
airs in bestowing their praise or blame on others, are such as they |
|
are at bed and at board, and thou hast not forgotten what they do, |
|
and what they avoid and what they pursue, and how they steal and how |
|
they rob, not with hands and feet, but with their most valuable part, |
|
by means of which there is produced, when a man chooses, fidelity, |
|
modesty, truth, law, a good daemon (happiness)? |
|
|
|
To her who gives and takes back all, to nature, the man who is instructed |
|
and modest says, Give what thou wilt; take back what thou wilt. And |
|
he says this not proudly, but obediently and well pleased with her. |
|
|
|
Short is the little which remains to thee of life. Live as on a mountain. |
|
For it makes no difference whether a man lives there or here, if he |
|
lives everywhere in the world as in a state (political community). |
|
Let men see, let them know a real man who lives according to nature. |
|
If they cannot endure him, let them kill him. For that is better than |
|
to live thus as men do. |
|
|
|
No longer talk at all about the kind of man that a good man ought |
|
to be, but be such. |
|
|
|
Constantly contemplate the whole of time and the whole of substance, |
|
and consider that all individual things as to substance are a grain |
|
of a fig, and as to time, the turning of a gimlet. |
|
|
|
Look at everything that exists, and observe that it is already in |
|
dissolution and in change, and as it were putrefaction or dispersion, |
|
or that everything is so constituted by nature as to die. |
|
|
|
Consider what men are when they are eating, sleeping, generating, |
|
easing themselves and so forth. Then what kind of men they are when |
|
they are imperious and arrogant, or angry and scolding from their |
|
elevated place. But a short time ago to how many they were slaves |
|
and for what things; and after a little time consider in what a condition |
|
they will be. |
|
|
|
That is for the good of each thing, which the universal nature brings |
|
to each. And it is for its good at the time when nature brings it. |
|
|
|
"The earth loves the shower"; and "the solemn aether loves": and the |
|
universe loves to make whatever is about to be. I say then to the |
|
universe, that I love as thou lovest. And is not this too said, that |
|
"this or that loves (is wont) to be produced"? |
|
|
|
Either thou livest here and hast already accustomed thyself to it, |
|
or thou art going away, and this was thy own will; or thou art dying |
|
and hast discharged thy duty. But besides these things there is nothing. |
|
Be of good cheer, then. |
|
|
|
Let this always be plain to thee, that this piece of land is like |
|
any other; and that all things here are the same with things on top |
|
of a mountain, or on the sea-shore, or wherever thou choosest to be. |
|
For thou wilt find just what Plato says, Dwelling within the walls |
|
of a city as in a shepherd's fold on a mountain. |
|
|
|
What is my ruling faculty now to me? And of what nature am I now making |
|
it? And for what purpose am I now using it? Is it void of understanding? |
|
Is it loosed and rent asunder from social life? Is it melted into |
|
and mixed with the poor flesh so as to move together with it? |
|
|
|
He who flies from his master is a runaway; but the law is master, |
|
and he who breaks the law is a runaway. And he also who is grieved |
|
or angry or afraid, is dissatisfied because something has been or |
|
is or shall be of the things which are appointed by him who rules |
|
all things, and he is Law, and assigns to every man what is fit. He |
|
then who fears or is grieved or is angry is a runaway. |
|
|
|
A man deposits seed in a womb and goes away, and then another cause |
|
takes it, and labours on it and makes a child. What a thing from such |
|
a material! Again, the child passes food down through the throat, |
|
and then another cause takes it and makes perception and motion, and |
|
in fine life and strength and other things; how many and how strange |
|
I Observe then the things which are produced in such a hidden way, |
|
and see the power just as we see the power which carries things downwards |
|
and upwards, not with the eyes, but still no less plainly. |
|
|
|
Constantly consider how all things such as they now are, in time past |
|
also were; and consider that they will be the same again. And place |
|
before thy eyes entire dramas and stages of the same form, whatever |
|
thou hast learned from thy experience or from older history; for example, |
|
the whole court of Hadrian, and the whole court of Antoninus, and |
|
the whole court of Philip, Alexander, Croesus; for all those were |
|
such dramas as we see now, only with different actors. |
|
|
|
Imagine every man who is grieved at anything or discontented to be |
|
like a pig which is sacrificed and kicks and screams. |
|
|
|
Like this pig also is he who on his bed in silence laments the bonds |
|
in which we are held. And consider that only to the rational animal |
|
is it given to follow voluntarily what happens; but simply to follow |
|
is a necessity imposed on all. |
|
|
|
Severally on the occasion of everything that thou doest, pause and |
|
ask thyself, if death is a dreadful thing because it deprives thee |
|
of this. |
|
|
|
When thou art offended at any man's fault, forthwith turn to thyself |
|
and reflect in what like manner thou dost err thyself; for example, |
|
in thinking that money is a good thing, or pleasure, or a bit of reputation, |
|
and the like. For by attending to this thou wilt quickly forget thy |
|
anger, if this consideration also is added, that the man is compelled: |
|
for what else could he do? or, if thou art able, take away from him |
|
the compulsion. |
|
|
|
When thou hast seen Satyron the Socratic, think of either Eutyches |
|
or Hymen, and when thou hast seen Euphrates, think of Eutychion or |
|
Silvanus, and when thou hast seen Alciphron think of Tropaeophorus, |
|
and when thou hast seen Xenophon think of Crito or Severus, and when |
|
thou hast looked on thyself, think of any other Caesar, and in the |
|
case of every one do in like manner. Then let this thought be in thy |
|
mind, Where then are those men? Nowhere, or nobody knows where. For |
|
thus continuously thou wilt look at human things as smoke and nothing |
|
at all; especially if thou reflectest at the same time that what has |
|
once changed will never exist again in the infinite duration of time. |
|
But thou, in what a brief space of time is thy existence? And why |
|
art thou not content to pass through this short time in an orderly |
|
way? What matter and opportunity for thy activity art thou avoiding? |
|
For what else are all these things, except exercises for the reason, |
|
when it has viewed carefully and by examination into their nature |
|
the things which happen in life? Persevere then until thou shalt have |
|
made these things thy own, as the stomach which is strengthened makes |
|
all things its own, as the blazing fire makes flame and brightness |
|
out of everything that is thrown into it. |
|
|
|
Let it not be in any man's power to say truly of thee that thou art |
|
not simple or that thou are not good; but let him be a liar whoever |
|
shall think anything of this kind about thee; and this is altogether |
|
in thy power. For who is he that shall hinder thee from being good |
|
and simple? Do thou only determine to live no longer, unless thou |
|
shalt be such. For neither does reason allow thee to live, if thou |
|
art not such. |
|
|
|
What is that which as to this material (our life) can be done or said |
|
in the way most conformable to reason. For whatever this may be, it |
|
is in thy power to do it or to say it, and do not make excuses that |
|
thou art hindered. Thou wilt not cease to lament till thy mind is |
|
in such a condition that, what luxury is to those who enjoy pleasure, |
|
such shall be to thee, in the matter which is subjected and presented |
|
to thee, the doing of the things which are conformable to man's constitution; |
|
for a man ought to consider as an enjoyment everything which it is |
|
in his power to do according to his own nature. And it is in his power |
|
everywhere. Now, it is not given to a cylinder to move everywhere |
|
by its own motion, nor yet to water nor to fire, nor to anything else |
|
which is governed by nature or an irrational soul, for the things |
|
which check them and stand in the way are many. But intelligence and |
|
reason are able to go through everything that opposes them, and in |
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such manner as they are formed by nature and as they choose. Place |
|
before thy eyes this facility with which the reason will be carried |
|
through all things, as fire upwards, as a stone downwards, as a cylinder |
|
down an inclined surface, and seek for nothing further. For all other |
|
obstacles either affect the body only which is a dead thing; or, except |
|
through opinion and the yielding of the reason itself, they do not |
|
crush nor do any harm of any kind; for if they did, he who felt it |
|
would immediately become bad. Now, in the case of all things which |
|
have a certain constitution, whatever harm may happen to any of them, |
|
that which is so affected becomes consequently worse; but in the like |
|
case, a man becomes both better, if one may say so, and more worthy |
|
of praise by making a right use of these accidents. And finally remember |
|
that nothing harms him who is really a citizen, which does not harm |
|
the state; nor yet does anything harm the state, which does not harm |
|
law (order); and of these things which are called misfortunes not |
|
one harms law. What then does not harm law does not harm either state |
|
or citizen. |
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To him who is penetrated by true principles even the briefest precept |
|
is sufficient, and any common precept, to remind him that he should |
|
be free from grief and fear. For example- |
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Leaves, some the wind scatters on the ground- |
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So is the race of men. Leaves, also, are thy children; and leaves, |
|
too, are they who cry out as if they were worthy of credit and bestow |
|
their praise, or on the contrary curse, or secretly blame and sneer; |
|
and leaves, in like manner, are those who shall receive and transmit |
|
a man's fame to aftertimes. For all such things as these "are produced |
|
in the season of spring," as the poet says; then the wind casts them |
|
down; then the forest produces other leaves in their places. But a |
|
brief existence is common to all things, and yet thou avoidest and |
|
pursuest all things as if they would be eternal. A little time, and |
|
thou shalt close thy eyes; and him who has attended thee to thy grave |
|
another soon will lament. |
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The healthy eye ought to see all visible things and not to say, I |
|
wish for green things; for this is the condition of a diseased eye. |
|
And the healthy hearing and smelling ought to be ready to perceive |
|
all that can be heard and smelled. And the healthy stomach ought to |
|
be with respect to all food just as the mill with respect to all things |
|
which it is formed to grind. And accordingly the healthy understanding |
|
ought to be prepared for everything which happens; but that which |
|
says, Let my dear children live, and let all men praise whatever I |
|
may do, is an eye which seeks for green things, or teeth which seek |
|
for soft things. |
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There is no man so fortunate that there shall not be by him when he |
|
is dying some who are pleased with what is going to happen. Suppose |
|
that he was a good and wise man, will there not be at last some one |
|
to say to himself, Let us at last breathe freely being relieved from |
|
this schoolmaster? It is true that he was harsh to none of us, but |
|
I perceived that he tacitly condemns us.- This is what is said of |
|
a good man. But in our own case how many other things are there for |
|
which there are many who wish to get rid of us. Thou wilt consider |
|
this then when thou art dying, and thou wilt depart more contentedly |
|
by reflecting thus: I am going away from such a life, in which even |
|
my associates in behalf of whom I have striven so much, prayed, and |
|
cared, themselves wish me to depart, hoping perchance to get some |
|
little advantage by it. Why then should a man cling to a longer stay |
|
here? Do not however for this reason go away less kindly disposed |
|
to them, but preserving thy own character, and friendly and benevolent |
|
and mild, and on the other hand not as if thou wast torn away; but |
|
as when a man dies a quiet death, the poor soul is easily separated |
|
from the body, such also ought thy departure from men to be, for nature |
|
united thee to them and associated thee. But does she now dissolve |
|
the union? Well, I am separated as from kinsmen, not however dragged |
|
resisting, but without compulsion; for this too is one of the things |
|
according to nature. |
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Accustom thyself as much as possible on the occasion of anything being |
|
done by any person to inquire with thyself, For what object is this |
|
man doing this? But begin with thyself, and examine thyself first. |
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|
Remember that this which pulls the strings is the thing which is hidden |
|
within: this is the power of persuasion, this is life, this, if one |
|
may so say, is man. In contemplating thyself never include the vessel |
|
which surrounds thee and these instruments which are attached about |
|
it. For they are like to an axe, differing only in this that they |
|
grow to the body. For indeed there is no more use in these parts without |
|
the cause which moves and checks them than in the weaver's shuttle, |
|
and the writer's pen and the driver's whip. |
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---------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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BOOK ELEVEN |
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These are the properties of the rational soul: it sees itself, analyses |
|
itself, and makes itself such as it chooses; the fruit which it bears |
|
itself enjoys- for the fruits of plants and that in animals which |
|
corresponds to fruits others enjoy- it obtains its own end, wherever |
|
the limit of life may be fixed. Not as in a dance and in a play and |
|
in such like things, where the whole action is incomplete, if anything |
|
cuts it short; but in every part and wherever it may be stopped, it |
|
makes what has been set before it full and complete, so that it can |
|
say, I have what is my own. And further it traverses the whole universe, |
|
and the surrounding vacuum, and surveys its form, and it extends itself |
|
into the infinity of time, and embraces and comprehends the periodical |
|
renovation of all things, and it comprehends that those who come after |
|
us will see nothing new, nor have those before us seen anything more, |
|
but in a manner he who is forty years old, if he has any understanding |
|
at all, has seen by virtue of the uniformity that prevails all things |
|
which have been and all that will be. This too is a property of the |
|
rational soul, love of one's neighbour, and truth and modesty, and |
|
to value nothing more more than itself, which is also the property |
|
of Law. Thus then right reason differs not at all from the reason |
|
of justice. |
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Thou wilt set little value on pleasing song and dancing and the pancratium, |
|
if thou wilt distribute the melody of the voice into its several sounds, |
|
and ask thyself as to each, if thou art mastered by this; for thou |
|
wilt be prevented by shame from confessing it: and in the matter of |
|
dancing, if at each movement and attitude thou wilt do the same; and |
|
the like also in the matter of the pancratium. In all things, then, |
|
except virtue and the acts of virtue, remember to apply thyself to |
|
their several parts, and by this division to come to value them little: |
|
and apply this rule also to thy whole life. |
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|
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What a soul that is which is ready, if at any moment it must be separated |
|
from the body, and ready either to be extinguished or dispersed or |
|
continue to exist; but so that this readiness comes from a man's own |
|
judgement, not from mere obstinacy, as with the Christians, but considerately |
|
and with dignity and in a way to persuade another, without tragic |
|
show. |
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Have I done something for the general interest? Well then I have had |
|
my reward. Let this always be present to thy mind, and never stop |
|
doing such good. |
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What is thy art? To be good. And how is this accomplished well except |
|
by general principles, some about the nature of the universe, and |
|
others about the proper constitution of man? |
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|
At first tragedies were brought on the stage as means of reminding |
|
men of the things which happen to them, and that it is according to |
|
nature for things to happen so, and that, if you are delighted with |
|
what is shown on the stage, you should not be troubled with that which |
|
takes place on the larger stage. For you see that these things must |
|
be accomplished thus, and that even they bear them who cry out "O |
|
Cithaeron." And, indeed, some things are said well by the dramatic |
|
writers, of which kind is the following especially:- |
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Me and my children if the gods neglect, |
|
This has its reason too. And again- |
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We must not chale and fret at that which happens. And |
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Life's harvest reap like the wheat's fruitful ear. And other things |
|
of the same kind. |
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After tragedy the old comedy was introduced, which had a magisterial |
|
freedom of speech, and by its very plainness of speaking was useful |
|
in reminding men to beware of insolence; and for this purpose too |
|
Diogenes used to take from these writers. |
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|
But as to the middle comedy which came next, observe what it was, |
|
and again, for what object the new comedy was introduced, which gradually |
|
sunk down into a mere mimic artifice. That some good things are said |
|
even by these writers, everybody knows: but the whole plan of such |
|
poetry and dramaturgy, to what end does it look! |
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|
How plain does it appear that there is not another condition of life |
|
so well suited for philosophising as this in which thou now happenest |
|
to be. |
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|
A branch cut off from the adjacent branch must of necessity be cut |
|
off from the whole tree also. So too a man when he is separated from |
|
another man has fallen off from the whole social community. Now as |
|
to a branch, another cuts it off, but a man by his own act separates |
|
himself from his neighbour when he hates him and turns away from him, |
|
and he does not know that he has at the same time cut himself off |
|
from the whole social system. Yet he has this privilege certainly |
|
from Zeus who framed society, for it is in our power to grow again |
|
to that which is near to us, and be to come a part which helps to |
|
make up the whole. However, if it often happens, this kind of separation, |
|
it makes it difficult for that which detaches itself to be brought |
|
to unity and to be restored to its former condition. Finally, the |
|
branch, which from the first grew together with the tree, and has |
|
continued to have one life with it, is not like that which after being |
|
cut off is then ingrafted, for this is something like what the gardeners |
|
mean when they say that it grows with the rest of the tree, but that |
|
it has not the same mind with it. |
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As those who try to stand in thy way when thou art proceeding according |
|
to right reason, will not be able to turn thee aside from thy proper |
|
action, so neither let them drive thee from thy benevolent feelings |
|
towards them, but be on thy guard equally in both matters, not only |
|
in the matter of steady judgement and action, but also in the matter |
|
of gentleness towards those who try to hinder or otherwise trouble |
|
thee. For this also is a weakness, to be vexed at them, as well as |
|
to be diverted from thy course of action and to give way through fear; |
|
for both are equally deserters from their post, the man who does it |
|
through fear, and the man who is alienated from him who is by nature |
|
a kinsman and a friend. |
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There is no nature which is inferior to art, for the arts imitate |
|
the nature of things. But if this is so, that nature which is the |
|
most perfect and the most comprehensive of all natures, cannot fall |
|
short of the skill of art. Now all arts do the inferior things for |
|
the sake of the superior; therefore the universal nature does so too. |
|
And, indeed, hence is the origin of justice, and in justice the other |
|
virtues have their foundation: for justice will not be observed, if |
|
we either care for middle things (things indifferent), or are easily |
|
deceived and careless and changeable. |
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|
If the things do not come to thee, the pursuits and avoidances of |
|
which disturb thee, still in a manner thou goest to them. Let then |
|
thy judgement about them be at rest, and they will remain quiet, and |
|
thou wilt not be seen either pursuing or avoiding. |
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|
The spherical form of the soul maintains its figure, when it is neither |
|
extended towards any object, nor contracted inwards, nor dispersed |
|
nor sinks down, but is illuminated by light, by which it sees the |
|
truth, the truth of all things and the truth that is in itself. |
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Suppose any man shall despise me. Let him look to that himself. But |
|
I will look to this, that I be not discovered doing or saying anything |
|
deserving of contempt. Shall any man hate me? Let him look to it. |
|
But I will be mild and benevolent towards every man, and ready to |
|
show even him his mistake, not reproachfully, nor yet as making a |
|
display of my endurance, but nobly and honestly, like the great Phocion, |
|
unless indeed he only assumed it. For the interior parts ought to |
|
be such, and a man ought to be seen by the gods neither dissatisfied |
|
with anything nor complaining. For what evil is it to thee, if thou |
|
art now doing what is agreeable to thy own nature, and art satisfied |
|
with that which at this moment is suitable to the nature of the universe, |
|
since thou art a human being placed at thy post in order that what |
|
is for the common advantage may be done in some way? |
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|
Men despise one another and flatter one another; and men wish to raise |
|
themselves above one another, and crouch before one another. |
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|
How unsound and insincere is he who says, I have determined to deal |
|
with thee in a fair way.- What art thou doing, man? There is no occasion |
|
to give this notice. It will soon show itself by acts. The voice ought |
|
to be plainly written on the forehead. Such as a man's character is, |
|
he immediately shows it in his eyes, just as he who is beloved forthwith |
|
reads everything in the eyes of lovers. The man who is honest and |
|
good ought to be exactly like a man who smells strong, so that the |
|
bystander as soon as he comes near him must smell whether he choose |
|
or not. But the affectation of simplicity is like a crooked stick. |
|
Nothing is more disgraceful than a wolfish friendship (false friendship). |
|
Avoid this most of all. The good and simple and benevolent show all |
|
these things in the eyes, and there is no mistaking. |
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|
As to living in the best way, this power is in the soul, if it be |
|
indifferent to things which are indifferent. And it will be indifferent, |
|
if it looks on each of these things separately and all together, and |
|
if it remembers that not one of them produces in us an opinion about |
|
itself, nor comes to us; but these things remain immovable, and it |
|
is we ourselves who produce the judgements about them, and, as we |
|
may say, write them in ourselves, it being in our power not to write |
|
them, and it being in our power, if perchance these judgements have |
|
imperceptibly got admission to our minds, to wipe them out; and if |
|
we remember also that such attention will only be for a short time, |
|
and then life will be at an end. Besides, what trouble is there at |
|
all in doing this? For if these things are according to nature, rejoice |
|
in them, and they will be easy to thee: but if contrary to nature, |
|
seek what is conformable to thy own nature, and strive towards this, |
|
even if it bring no reputation; for every man is allowed to seek his |
|
own good. |
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|
Consider whence each thing is come, and of what it consists, and into |
|
what it changes, and what kind of a thing it will be when it has changed, |
|
and that it will sustain no harm. |
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If any have offended against thee, consider first: What is my relation |
|
to men, and that we are made for one another; and in another respect, |
|
I was made to be set over them, as a ram over the flock or a bull |
|
over the herd. But examine the matter from first principles, from |
|
this: If all things are not mere atoms, it is nature which orders |
|
all things: if this is so, the inferior things exist for the sake |
|
of the superior, and these for the sake of one another. |
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|
Second, consider what kind of men they are at table, in bed, and so |
|
forth: and particularly, under what compulsions in respect of opinions |
|
they are; and as to their acts, consider with what pride they do what |
|
they do. |
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|
Third, that if men do rightly what they do, we ought not to be displeased; |
|
but if they do not right, it is plain that they do so involuntarily |
|
and in ignorance. For as every soul is unwillingly deprived of the |
|
truth, so also is it unwillingly deprived of the power of behaving |
|
to each man according to his deserts. Accordingly men are pained when |
|
they are called unjust, ungrateful, and greedy, and in a word wrong-doers |
|
to their neighbours. |
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|
Fourth, consider that thou also doest many things wrong, and that |
|
thou art a man like others; and even if thou dost abstain from certain |
|
faults, still thou hast the disposition to commit them, though either |
|
through cowardice, or concern about reputation, or some such mean |
|
motive, thou dost abstain from such faults. |
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|
Fifth, consider that thou dost not even understand whether men are |
|
doing wrong or not, for many things are done with a certain reference |
|
to circumstances. And in short, a man must learn a great deal to enable |
|
him to pass a correct judgement on another man's acts. |
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|
Sixth, consider when thou art much vexed or grieved, that man's life |
|
is only a moment, and after a short time we are all laid out dead. |
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|
Seventh, that it is not men's acts which disturb us, for those acts |
|
have their foundation in men's ruling principles, but it is our own |
|
opinions which disturb us. Take away these opinions then, and resolve |
|
to dismiss thy judgement about an act as if it were something grievous, |
|
and thy anger is gone. How then shall I take away these opinions? |
|
By reflecting that no wrongful act of another brings shame on thee: |
|
for unless that which is shameful is alone bad, thou also must of |
|
necessity do many things wrong, and become a robber and everything |
|
else. |
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|
Eighth, consider how much more pain is brought on us by the anger |
|
and vexation caused by such acts than by the acts themselves, at which |
|
we are angry and vexed. |
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|
Ninth, consider that a good disposition is invincible, if it be genuine, |
|
and not an affected smile and acting a part. For what will the most |
|
violent man do to thee, if thou continuest to be of a kind disposition |
|
towards him, and if, as opportunity offers, thou gently admonishest |
|
him and calmly correctest his errors at the very time when he is trying |
|
to do thee harm, saying, Not so, my child: we are constituted by nature |
|
for something else: I shall certainly not be injured, but thou art |
|
injuring thyself, my child.- And show him with gentle tact and by |
|
general principles that this is so, and that even bees do not do as |
|
he does, nor any animals which are formed by nature to be gregarious. |
|
And thou must do this neither with any double meaning nor in the way |
|
of reproach, but affectionately and without any rancour in thy soul; |
|
and not as if thou wert lecturing him, nor yet that any bystander |
|
may admire, but either when he is alone, and if others are present... |
|
|
|
Remember these nine rules, as if thou hadst received them as a gift |
|
from the Muses, and begin at last to be a man while thou livest. But |
|
thou must equally avoid flattering men and being veied at them, for |
|
both are unsocial and lead to harm. And let this truth be present |
|
to thee in the excitement of anger, that to be moved by passion is |
|
not manly, but that mildness and gentleness, as they are more agreeable |
|
to human nature, so also are they more manly; and he who possesses |
|
these qualities possesses strength, nerves and courage, and not the |
|
man who is subject to fits of passion and discontent. For in the same |
|
degree in which a man's mind is nearer to freedom from all passion, |
|
in the same degree also is it nearer to strength: and as the sense |
|
of pain is a characteristic of weakness, so also is anger. For he |
|
who yields to pain and he who yields to anger, both are wounded and |
|
both submit. |
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|
|
But if thou wilt, receive also a tenth present from the leader of |
|
the Muses (Apollo), and it is this- that to expect bad men not to |
|
do wrong is madness, for he who expects this desires an impossibility. |
|
But to allow men to behave so to others, and to expect them not to |
|
do thee any wrong, is irrational and tyrannical. |
|
|
|
There are four principal aberrations of the superior faculty against |
|
which thou shouldst be constantly on thy guard, and when thou hast |
|
detected them, thou shouldst wipe them out and say on each occasion |
|
thus: this thought is not necessary: this tends to destroy social |
|
union: this which thou art going to say comes not from the real thoughts; |
|
for thou shouldst consider it among the most absurd of things for |
|
a man not to speak from his real thoughts. But the fourth is when |
|
thou shalt reproach thyself for anything, for this is an evidence |
|
of the diviner part within thee being overpowered and yielding to |
|
the less honourable and to the perishable part, the body, and to its |
|
gross pleasures. |
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|
|
Thy aerial part and all the fiery parts which are mingled in thee, |
|
though by nature they have an upward tendency, still in obedience |
|
to the disposition of the universe they are overpowered here in the |
|
compound mass (the body). And also the whole of the earthy part in |
|
thee and the watery, though their tendency is downward, still are |
|
raised up and occupy a position which is not their natural one. In |
|
this manner then the elemental parts obey the universal, for when |
|
they have been fixed in any place perforce they remain there until |
|
again the universal shall sound the signal for dissolution. Is it |
|
not then strange that thy intelligent part only should be disobedient |
|
and discontented with its own place? And yet no force is imposed on |
|
it, but only those things which are conformable to its nature: still |
|
it does not submit, but is carried in the opposite direction. For |
|
the movement towards injustice and intemperance and to anger and grief |
|
and fear is nothing else than the act of one who deviates from nature. |
|
And also when the ruling faculty is discontented with anything that |
|
happens, then too it deserts its post: for it is constituted for piety |
|
and reverence towards the gods no less than for justice. For these |
|
qualities also are comprehended under the generic term of contentment |
|
with the constitution of things, and indeed they are prior to acts |
|
of justice. |
|
|
|
He who has not one and always the same object in life, cannot be one |
|
and the same all through his life. But what I have said is not enough, |
|
unless this also is added, what this object ought to be. For as there |
|
is not the same opinion about all the things which in some way or |
|
other are considered by the majority to be good, but only about some |
|
certain things, that is, things which concern the common interest; |
|
so also ought we to propose to ourselves an object which shall be |
|
of a common kind (social) and political. For he who directs all his |
|
own efforts to this object, will make all his acts alike, and thus |
|
will always be the same. |
|
|
|
Think of the country mouse and of the town mouse, and of the alarm |
|
and trepidation of the town mouse. |
|
|
|
Socrates used to call the opinions of the many by the name of Lamiae, |
|
bugbears to frighten children. |
|
|
|
The Lacedaemonians at their public spectacles used to set seats in |
|
the shade for strangers, but themselves sat down anywhere. |
|
|
|
Socrates excused himself to Perdiccas for not going to him, saying, |
|
It is because I would not perish by the worst of all ends, that is, |
|
I would not receive a favour and then be unable to return it. |
|
|
|
In the writings of the Ephesians there was this precept, constantly |
|
to think of some one of the men of former times who practised virtue. |
|
|
|
The Pythagoreans bid us in the morning look to the heavens that we |
|
may be reminded of those bodies which continually do the same things |
|
and in the same manner perform their work, and also be reminded of |
|
their purity and nudity. For there is no veil over a star. |
|
|
|
Consider what a man Socrates was when he dressed himself in a skin, |
|
after Xanthippe had taken his cloak and gone out, and what Socrates |
|
said to his friends who were ashamed of him and drew back from him |
|
when they saw him dressed thus. |
|
|
|
Neither in writing nor in reading wilt thou be able to lay down rules |
|
for others before thou shalt have first learned to obey rules thyself. |
|
Much more is this so in life. |
|
|
|
A slave thou art: free speech is not for thee. |
|
And my heart laughed within. |
|
And virtue they will curse, speaking harsh words. |
|
To look for the fig in winter is a madman's act: such is he who looks |
|
for his child when it is no longer allowed. |
|
|
|
When a man kisses his child, said Epictetus, he should whisper to |
|
himself, "To-morrow perchance thou wilt die."- But those are words |
|
of bad omen.- "No word is a word of bad omen," said Epictetus, "which |
|
expresses any work of nature; or if it is so, it is also a word of |
|
bad omen to speak of the ears of corn being reaped." |
|
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|
The unripe grape, the ripe bunch, the dried grape, all are changes, |
|
not into nothing, but into something which exists not yet. |
|
|
|
No man can rob us of our free will. |
|
Epictetus also said, A man must discover an art (or rules) with respect |
|
to giving his assent; and in respect to his movements he must be careful |
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that they be made with regard to circumstances, that they be consistent |
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with social interests, that they have regard to the value of the object; |
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and as to sensual desire, he should altogether keep away from it; |
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and as to avoidance (aversion) he should not show it with respect |
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to any of the things which are not in our power. |
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The dispute then, he said, is not about any common matter, but about |
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being mad or not. |
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Socrates used to say, What do you want? Souls of rational men or irrational?- |
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Souls of rational men.- Of what rational men? Sound or unsound?- Sound.- |
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Why then do you not seek for them?- Because we have them.- Why then |
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do you fight and quarrel? |
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BOOK TWELVE |
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All those things at which thou wishest to arrive by a circuitous |
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road, thou canst have now, if thou dost not refuse them to thyself. |
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And this means, if thou wilt take no notice of all the past, and trust |
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the future to providence, and direct the present only conformably |
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to piety and justice. Conformably to piety, that thou mayest be content |
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with the lot which is assigned to thee, for nature designed it for |
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thee and thee for it. Conformably to justice, that thou mayest always |
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speak the truth freely and without disguise, and do the things which |
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are agreeable to law and according to the worth of each. And let neither |
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another man's wickedness hinder thee, nor opinion nor voice, nor yet |
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the sensations of the poor flesh which has grown about thee; for the |
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passive part will look to this. If then, whatever the time may be |
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when thou shalt be near to thy departure, neglecting everything else |
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thou shalt respect only thy ruling faculty and the divinity within |
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thee, and if thou shalt be afraid not because thou must some time |
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cease to live, but if thou shalt fear never to have begun to live |
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according to nature- then thou wilt be a man worthy of the universe |
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which has produced thee, and thou wilt cease to be a stranger in thy |
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native land, and to wonder at things which happen daily as if they |
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were something unexpected, and to be dependent on this or that. |
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God sees the minds (ruling principles) of all men bared of the material |
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vesture and rind and impurities. For with his intellectual part alone |
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he touches the intelligence only which has flowed and been derived |
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from himself into these bodies. And if thou also usest thyself to |
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do this, thou wilt rid thyself of thy much trouble. For he who regards |
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not the poor flesh which envelops him, surely will not trouble himself |
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by looking after raiment and dwelling and fame and such like externals |
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and show. |
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The things are three of which thou art composed, a little body, a |
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little breath (life), intelligence. Of these the first two are thine, |
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so far as it is thy duty to take care of them; but the third alone |
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is properly thine. Therefore if thou shalt separate from thyself, |
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that is, from thy understanding, whatever others do or say, and whatever |
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thou hast done or said thyself, and whatever future things trouble |
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thee because they may happen, and whatever in the body which envelops |
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thee or in the breath (life), which is by nature associated with the |
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body, is attached to thee independent of thy will, and whatever the |
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external circumfluent vortex whirls round, so that the intellectual |
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power exempt from the things of fate can live pure and free by itself, |
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doing what is just and accepting what happens and saying the truth: |
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if thou wilt separate, I say, from this ruling faculty the things |
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which are attached to it by the impressions of sense, and the things |
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of time to come and of time that is past, and wilt make thyself like |
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Empedocles' sphere, |
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All round, and in its joyous rest reposing; and if thou shalt strive |
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to live only what is really thy life, that is, the present- then thou |
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wilt be able to pass that portion of life which remains for thee up |
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to the time of thy death, free from perturbations, nobly, and obedient |
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to thy own daemon (to the god that is within thee). |
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I have often wondered how it is that every man loves himself more |
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than all the rest of men, but yet sets less value on his own opinion |
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of himself than on the opinion of others. If then a god or a wise |
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teacher should present himself to a man and bid him to think of nothing |
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and to design nothing which he would not express as soon as he conceived |
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it, he could not endure it even for a single day. So much more respect |
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have we to what our neighbours shall think of us than to what we shall |
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think of ourselves. |
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How can it be that the gods after having arranged all things well |
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and benevolently for mankind, have overlooked this alone, that some |
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men and very good men, and men who, as we may say, have had most communion |
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with the divinity, and through pious acts and religious observances |
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have been most intimate with the divinity, when they have once died |
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should never exist again, but should be completely extinguished? |
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But if this is so, be assured that if it ought to have been otherwise, |
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the gods would have done it. For if it were just, it would also be |
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possible; and if it were according to nature, nature would have had |
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it so. But because it is not so, if in fact it is not so, be thou |
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convinced that it ought not to have been so:- for thou seest even |
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of thyself that in this inquiry thou art disputing with the diety; |
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and we should not thus dispute with the gods, unless they were most |
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excellent and most just;- but if this is so, they would not have allowed |
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anything in the ordering of the universe to be neglected unjustly |
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and irrationally. |
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Practise thyself even in the things which thou despairest of accomplishing. |
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For even the left hand, which is ineffectual for all other things |
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for want of practice, holds the bridle more vigorously than the right |
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hand; for it has been practised in this. |
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Consider in what condition both in body and soul a man should be when |
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he is overtaken by death; and consider the shortness of life, the |
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boundless abyss of time past and future, the feebleness of all matter. |
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Contemplate the formative principles (forms) of things bare of their |
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coverings; the purposes of actions; consider what pain is, what pleasure |
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is, and death, and fame; who is to himself the cause of his uneasiness; |
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how no man is hindered by another; that everything is opinion. |
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In the application of thy principles thou must be like the pancratiast, |
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not like the gladiator; for the gladiator lets fall the sword which |
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he uses and is killed; but the other always has his hand, and needs |
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to do nothing else than use it. |
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See what things are in themselves, dividing them into matter, form |
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and purpose. |
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What a power man has to do nothing except what God will approve, and |
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to accept all that God may give him. |
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With respect to that which happens conformably to nature, we ought |
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to blame neither gods, for they do nothing wrong either voluntarily |
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or involuntarily, nor men, for they do nothing wrong except involuntarily. |
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Consequently we should blame nobody. |
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How ridiculous and what a stranger he is who is surprised at anything |
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which happens in life. |
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Either there is a fatal necessity and invincible order, or a kind |
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Providence, or a confusion without a purpose and without a director |
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(Book IV). If then there is an invincible necessity, why dost thou |
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resist? But if there is a Providence which allows itself to be propitiated, |
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make thyself worthy of the help of the divinity. But if there is a |
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confusion without governor, be content that in such a tempest thou |
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hast in thyself a certain ruling intelligence. And even if the tempest |
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carry thee away, let it carry away the poor flesh, the poor breath, |
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everything else; for the intelligence at least it will not carry away. |
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Does the light of the lamp shine without losing its splendour until |
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it is extinguished; and shall the truth which is in thee and justice |
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and temperance be extinguished before thy death? |
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When a man has presented the appearance of having done wrong, say, |
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How then do I know if this is a wrongful act? And even if he has done |
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wrong, how do I know that he has not condemned himself? and so this |
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is like tearing his own face. Consider that he, who would not have |
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the bad man do wrong, is like the man who would not have the fig-tree |
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to bear juice in the figs and infants to cry and the horse to neigh, |
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and whatever else must of necessity be. For what must a man do who |
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has such a character? If then thou art irritable, cure this man's |
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disposition. |
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If it is not right, do not do it: if it is not true, do not say it. |
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For let thy efforts be- |
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In everything always observe what the thing is which produces for |
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thee an appearance, and resolve it by dividing it into the formal, |
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the material, the purpose, and the time within which it must end. |
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Perceive at last that thou hast in thee something better and more |
|
divine than the things which cause the various affects, and as it |
|
were pull thee by the strings. What is there now in my mind? Is it |
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fear, or suspicion, or desire, or anything of the kind? |
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First, do nothing inconsiderately, nor without a purpose. Second, |
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make thy acts refer to nothing else than to a social end. |
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Consider that before long thou wilt be nobody and nowhere, nor will |
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any of the things exist which thou now seest, nor any of those who |
|
are now living. For all things are formed by nature to change and |
|
be turned and to perish in order that other things in continuous succession |
|
may exist. |
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Consider that everything is opinion, and opinion is in thy power. |
|
Take away then, when thou choosest, thy opinion, and like a mariner, |
|
who has doubled the promontory, thou wilt find calm, everything stable, |
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and a waveless bay. |
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Any one activity whatever it may be, when it has ceased at its proper |
|
time, suffers no evil because it has ceased; nor he who has done this |
|
act, does he suffer any evil for this reason that the act has ceased. |
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In like manner then the whole which consists of all the acts, which |
|
is our life, if it cease at its proper time, suffers no evil for this |
|
reason that it has ceased; nor he who has terminated this series at |
|
the proper time, has he been ill dealt with. But the proper time and |
|
the limit nature fixes, sometimes as in old age the peculiar nature |
|
of man, but always the universal nature, by the change of whose parts |
|
the whole universe continues ever young and perfect. And everything |
|
which is useful to the universal is always good and in season. Therefore |
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the termination of life for every man is no evil, because neither |
|
is it shameful, since it is both independent of the will and not opposed |
|
to the general interest, but it is good, since it is seasonable and |
|
profitable to and congruent with the universal. For thus too he is |
|
moved by the deity who is moved in the same manner with the deity |
|
and moved towards the same things in his mind. |
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These three principles thou must have in readiness. In the things |
|
which thou doest do nothing either inconsiderately or otherwise than |
|
as justice herself would act; but with respect to what may happen |
|
to thee from without, consider that it happens either by chance or |
|
according to Providence, and thou must neither blame chance nor accuse |
|
Providence. Second, consider what every being is from the seed to |
|
the time of its receiving a soul, and from the reception of a soul |
|
to the giving back of the same, and of what things every being is |
|
compounded and into what things it is resolved. Third, if thou shouldst |
|
suddenly be raised up above the earth, and shouldst look down on human |
|
things, and observe the variety of them how great it is, and at the |
|
same time also shouldst see at a glance how great is the number of |
|
beings who dwell around in the air and the aether, consider that as |
|
often as thou shouldst be raised up, thou wouldst see the same things, |
|
sameness of form and shortness of duration. Are these things to be |
|
proud of? |
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Cast away opinion: thou art saved. Who then hinders thee from casting |
|
it away? |
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When thou art troubled about anything, thou hast forgotten this, that |
|
all things happen according to the universal nature; and forgotten |
|
this, that a man's wrongful act is nothing to thee; and further thou |
|
hast forgotten this, that everything which happens, always happened |
|
so and will happen so, and now happens so everywhere; forgotten this |
|
too, how close is the kinship between a man and the whole human race, |
|
for it is a community, not of a little blood or seed, but of intelligence. |
|
And thou hast forgotten this too, that every man's intelligence is |
|
a god, and is an efflux of the deity; and forgotten this, that nothing |
|
is a man's own, but that his child and his body and his very soul |
|
came from the deity; forgotten this, that everything is opinion; and |
|
lastly thou hast forgotten that every man lives the present time only, |
|
and loses only this. |
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Constantly bring to thy recollection those who have complained greatly |
|
about anything, those who have been most conspicuous by the greatest |
|
fame or misfortunes or enmities or fortunes of any kind: then think |
|
where are they all now? Smoke and ash and a tale, or not even a tale. |
|
And let there be present to thy mind also everything of this sort, |
|
how Fabius Catullinus lived in the country, and Lucius Lupus in his |
|
gardens, and Stertinius at Baiae, and Tiberius at Capreae and Velius |
|
Rufus (or Rufus at Velia); and in fine think of the eager pursuit |
|
of anything conjoined with pride; and how worthless everything is |
|
after which men violently strain; and how much more philosophical |
|
it is for a man in the opportunities presented to him to show |
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THE END |
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---------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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Copyright statement: |
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The Internet Classics Archive by Daniel C. Stevenson, Web Atomics. |
|
World Wide Web presentation is copyright (C) 1994-2000, Daniel |
|
C. Stevenson, Web Atomics. |
|
All rights reserved under international and pan-American copyright |
|
conventions, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part |
|
in any form. Direct permission requests to [email protected]. |
|
Translation of "The Deeds of the Divine Augustus" by Augustus is |
|
copyright (C) Thomas Bushnell, BSG. |
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