| 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. | |
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------- | |
| BOOK TEN | |
| 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 | |
| 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. | |
| 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- | |
| Leaves, some the wind scatters on the ground- | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------- | |
| BOOK ELEVEN | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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? | |
| 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:- | |
| Me and my children if the gods neglect, | |
| This has its reason too. And again- | |
| We must not chale and fret at that which happens. And | |
| Life's harvest reap like the wheat's fruitful ear. And other things | |
| of the same kind. | |
| 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. | |
| 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! | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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? | |
| Men despise one another and flatter one another; and men wish to raise | |
| themselves above one another, and crouch before one another. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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. | |
| 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." | |
| 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 | |
| that they be made with regard to circumstances, that they be consistent | |
| with social interests, that they have regard to the value of the object; | |
| and as to sensual desire, he should altogether keep away from it; | |
| and as to avoidance (aversion) he should not show it with respect | |
| to any of the things which are not in our power. | |
| The dispute then, he said, is not about any common matter, but about | |
| being mad or not. | |
| Socrates used to say, What do you want? Souls of rational men or irrational?- | |
| Souls of rational men.- Of what rational men? Sound or unsound?- Sound.- | |
| Why then do you not seek for them?- Because we have them.- Why then | |
| do you fight and quarrel? | |
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------- | |
| BOOK TWELVE | |
| All those things at which thou wishest to arrive by a circuitous | |
| road, thou canst have now, if thou dost not refuse them to thyself. | |
| And this means, if thou wilt take no notice of all the past, and trust | |
| the future to providence, and direct the present only conformably | |
| to piety and justice. Conformably to piety, that thou mayest be content | |
| with the lot which is assigned to thee, for nature designed it for | |
| thee and thee for it. Conformably to justice, that thou mayest always | |
| speak the truth freely and without disguise, and do the things which | |
| are agreeable to law and according to the worth of each. And let neither | |
| another man's wickedness hinder thee, nor opinion nor voice, nor yet | |
| the sensations of the poor flesh which has grown about thee; for the | |
| passive part will look to this. If then, whatever the time may be | |
| when thou shalt be near to thy departure, neglecting everything else | |
| thou shalt respect only thy ruling faculty and the divinity within | |
| thee, and if thou shalt be afraid not because thou must some time | |
| cease to live, but if thou shalt fear never to have begun to live | |
| according to nature- then thou wilt be a man worthy of the universe | |
| which has produced thee, and thou wilt cease to be a stranger in thy | |
| native land, and to wonder at things which happen daily as if they | |
| were something unexpected, and to be dependent on this or that. | |
| God sees the minds (ruling principles) of all men bared of the material | |
| vesture and rind and impurities. For with his intellectual part alone | |
| he touches the intelligence only which has flowed and been derived | |
| from himself into these bodies. And if thou also usest thyself to | |
| do this, thou wilt rid thyself of thy much trouble. For he who regards | |
| not the poor flesh which envelops him, surely will not trouble himself | |
| by looking after raiment and dwelling and fame and such like externals | |
| and show. | |
| The things are three of which thou art composed, a little body, a | |
| little breath (life), intelligence. Of these the first two are thine, | |
| so far as it is thy duty to take care of them; but the third alone | |
| is properly thine. Therefore if thou shalt separate from thyself, | |
| that is, from thy understanding, whatever others do or say, and whatever | |
| thou hast done or said thyself, and whatever future things trouble | |
| thee because they may happen, and whatever in the body which envelops | |
| thee or in the breath (life), which is by nature associated with the | |
| body, is attached to thee independent of thy will, and whatever the | |
| external circumfluent vortex whirls round, so that the intellectual | |
| power exempt from the things of fate can live pure and free by itself, | |
| doing what is just and accepting what happens and saying the truth: | |
| if thou wilt separate, I say, from this ruling faculty the things | |
| which are attached to it by the impressions of sense, and the things | |
| of time to come and of time that is past, and wilt make thyself like | |
| Empedocles' sphere, | |
| All round, and in its joyous rest reposing; and if thou shalt strive | |
| to live only what is really thy life, that is, the present- then thou | |
| wilt be able to pass that portion of life which remains for thee up | |
| to the time of thy death, free from perturbations, nobly, and obedient | |
| to thy own daemon (to the god that is within thee). | |
| I have often wondered how it is that every man loves himself more | |
| than all the rest of men, but yet sets less value on his own opinion | |
| of himself than on the opinion of others. If then a god or a wise | |
| teacher should present himself to a man and bid him to think of nothing | |
| and to design nothing which he would not express as soon as he conceived | |
| it, he could not endure it even for a single day. So much more respect | |
| have we to what our neighbours shall think of us than to what we shall | |
| think of ourselves. | |
| How can it be that the gods after having arranged all things well | |
| and benevolently for mankind, have overlooked this alone, that some | |
| men and very good men, and men who, as we may say, have had most communion | |
| with the divinity, and through pious acts and religious observances | |
| have been most intimate with the divinity, when they have once died | |
| should never exist again, but should be completely extinguished? | |
| But if this is so, be assured that if it ought to have been otherwise, | |
| the gods would have done it. For if it were just, it would also be | |
| possible; and if it were according to nature, nature would have had | |
| it so. But because it is not so, if in fact it is not so, be thou | |
| convinced that it ought not to have been so:- for thou seest even | |
| of thyself that in this inquiry thou art disputing with the diety; | |
| and we should not thus dispute with the gods, unless they were most | |
| excellent and most just;- but if this is so, they would not have allowed | |
| anything in the ordering of the universe to be neglected unjustly | |
| and irrationally. | |
| Practise thyself even in the things which thou despairest of accomplishing. | |
| For even the left hand, which is ineffectual for all other things | |
| for want of practice, holds the bridle more vigorously than the right | |
| hand; for it has been practised in this. | |
| Consider in what condition both in body and soul a man should be when | |
| he is overtaken by death; and consider the shortness of life, the | |
| boundless abyss of time past and future, the feebleness of all matter. | |
| Contemplate the formative principles (forms) of things bare of their | |
| coverings; the purposes of actions; consider what pain is, what pleasure | |
| is, and death, and fame; who is to himself the cause of his uneasiness; | |
| how no man is hindered by another; that everything is opinion. | |
| In the application of thy principles thou must be like the pancratiast, | |
| not like the gladiator; for the gladiator lets fall the sword which | |
| he uses and is killed; but the other always has his hand, and needs | |
| to do nothing else than use it. | |
| See what things are in themselves, dividing them into matter, form | |
| and purpose. | |
| What a power man has to do nothing except what God will approve, and | |
| to accept all that God may give him. | |
| With respect to that which happens conformably to nature, we ought | |
| to blame neither gods, for they do nothing wrong either voluntarily | |
| or involuntarily, nor men, for they do nothing wrong except involuntarily. | |
| Consequently we should blame nobody. | |
| How ridiculous and what a stranger he is who is surprised at anything | |
| which happens in life. | |
| Either there is a fatal necessity and invincible order, or a kind | |
| Providence, or a confusion without a purpose and without a director | |
| (Book IV). If then there is an invincible necessity, why dost thou | |
| resist? But if there is a Providence which allows itself to be propitiated, | |
| make thyself worthy of the help of the divinity. But if there is a | |
| confusion without governor, be content that in such a tempest thou | |
| hast in thyself a certain ruling intelligence. And even if the tempest | |
| carry thee away, let it carry away the poor flesh, the poor breath, | |
| everything else; for the intelligence at least it will not carry away. | |
| Does the light of the lamp shine without losing its splendour until | |
| it is extinguished; and shall the truth which is in thee and justice | |
| and temperance be extinguished before thy death? | |
| When a man has presented the appearance of having done wrong, say, | |
| How then do I know if this is a wrongful act? And even if he has done | |
| wrong, how do I know that he has not condemned himself? and so this | |
| is like tearing his own face. Consider that he, who would not have | |
| the bad man do wrong, is like the man who would not have the fig-tree | |
| to bear juice in the figs and infants to cry and the horse to neigh, | |
| and whatever else must of necessity be. For what must a man do who | |
| has such a character? If then thou art irritable, cure this man's | |
| disposition. | |
| If it is not right, do not do it: if it is not true, do not say it. | |
| For let thy efforts be- | |
| In everything always observe what the thing is which produces for | |
| thee an appearance, and resolve it by dividing it into the formal, | |
| the material, the purpose, and the time within which it must end. | |
| 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 | |
| fear, or suspicion, or desire, or anything of the kind? | |
| First, do nothing inconsiderately, nor without a purpose. Second, | |
| make thy acts refer to nothing else than to a social end. | |
| Consider that before long thou wilt be nobody and nowhere, nor will | |
| 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. | |
| 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, | |
| and a waveless bay. | |
| 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. | |
| 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 | |
| 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. | |
| 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? | |
| Cast away opinion: thou art saved. Who then hinders thee from casting | |
| it away? | |
| 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. | |
| 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 | |
| THE END | |
| ---------------------------------------------------------------------- | |
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| The Internet Classics Archive by Daniel C. Stevenson, Web Atomics. | |
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| C. Stevenson, Web Atomics. | |
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| in any form. Direct permission requests to classics@classics.mit.edu. | |
| Translation of "The Deeds of the Divine Augustus" by Augustus is | |
| copyright (C) Thomas Bushnell, BSG. | |