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Title: Meditations <br>
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Author: Marcus Aurelius <br>
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June, 2001 [Etext #2680] <br>
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<p><font>NOTES</font></p>
<p><font>INTRODUCTION</font></p>
<p><font>FIRST BOOK</font></p>
<p><font>SECOND BOOK</font></p>
<p><font>THIRD BOOK</font></p>
<p><font>FOURTH BOOK</font></p>
<p><font>FIFTH BOOK</font></p>
<p><font>SIXTH BOOK</font></p>
<p><font>SEVENTH BOOK</font></p>
<p><font>EIGHTH BOOK</font></p>
<p><font>NINTH BOOK</font></p>
<p><font>TENTH BOOK</font></p>
<p><font>ELEVENTH BOOK</font></p>
<p><font>TWELFTH BOOK</font></p>
<p><font>APPENDIX</font></p>
<p><font>GLOSSARY</font></p>
<p><font>NOTES</font></p>
This text was scanned by J. Boulton using Textbridge OCR. The
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<p>INTRODUCTION</p>
<p>MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS was born on April 26, A.D. 121. His
real name was M. Annius Verus, and he was sprung of a noble
family which claimed descent from Numa, second King of Rome. Thus
the most religious of emperors came of the blood of the most
pious of early kings. His father, Annius Verus, had held high
office in Rome, and his grandfather, of the same name, had been
thrice Consul. Both his parents died young, but Marcus held them
in loving remembrance. On his father's death Marcus was adopted
by his grandfather, the consular Annius Verus, and there was deep
love between these two. On the very first page of his book Marcus
gratefully declares how of his grandfather he had learned to be
gentle and meek, and to refrain from all anger and passion. The
Emperor Hadrian divined the fine character of the lad, whom he
used to call not Verus but Verissimus, more Truthful than his own
name. He advanced Marcus to equestrian rank when six years of
age, and at the age of eight made him a member of the ancient
Salian priesthood. The boy's aunt, Annia Galeria Faustina, was
married to Antoninus Pius, afterwards emperor. Hence it came
about that Antoninus, having no son, adopted Marcus, changing his
name to that which he is known by, and betrothed him to his
daughter Faustina. His education was conducted with all care. The
ablest teachers were engaged for him, and he was trained in the
strict doctrine of the Stoic philosophy, which was his great
delight. He was taught to dress plainly and to live simply, to
avoid all softness and luxury. His body was trained to hardihood
by wrestling, hunting, and outdoor games; and though his
constitution was weak, he showed great personal courage to
encounter the fiercest boars. At the same time he was kept from
the extravagancies of his day. The great excitement in Rome was
the strife of the Factions, as they were called, in the circus.
The racing drivers used to adopt one of four colours - red, blue,
white, or green - and their partisans showed an eagerness in
supporting them which nothing could surpass. Riot and corruption
went in the train of the racing chariots; and from all these
things Marcus held severely aloof.</p>
<p>In 140 Marcus was raised to the consulship, and in 145 his
betrothal was consummated by marriage. Two years later Faustina
brought him a daughter; and soon after the tribunate and other
imperial honours were conferred upon him.</p>
<p>Antoninus Pius died in 161, and Marcus assumed the imperial
state. He at once associated with himself L. Ceionius Commodus,
whom Antoninus had adopted as a younger son at the same time with
Marcus, giving him the name of Lucius Aurelius Verus. Henceforth
the two are colleagues in the empire, the junior being trained as
it were to succeed. No sooner was Marcus settled upon the throne
than wars broke out on all sides. In the east, Vologeses III. of
Parthia began a long-meditated revolt by destroying a whole Roman
Legion and invading Syria (162). Verus was sent off in hot haste
to quell this rising; and he fulfilled his trust by plunging into
drunkenness and debauchery, while the war was left to his
officers. Soon after Marcus had to face a more serious danger at
home in the coalition of several powerful tribes on the northern
frontier. Chief among those were the Marcomanni or Marchmen, the
Quadi (mentioned in this book), the Sarmatians, the Catti, the
Jazyges. In Rome itself there was pestilence and starvation, the
one brought from the east by Verus's legions, the other caused by
floods which had destroyed vast quantities of grain. After all
had been done possible to allay famine and to supply pressing
needs - Marcus being forced even to sell the imperial jewels to
find money - both emperors set forth to a struggle which was to
continue more or less during the rest of Marcus's reign. During
these wars, in 169, Verus died. We have no means of following the
campaigns in detail; but thus much is certain, that in the end
the Romans succeeded in crushing the barbarian tribes, and
effecting a settlement which made the empire more secure. Marcus
was himself comanander-in-chief, and victory was due no less to
his own ability than to his wisdom in choice of lieutenants,
shown conspicuously in the case of Pertinax. There were several
important battles fought in these campaigns; and one of them has
become celebrated for the legend of the Thundering Legion. In a
battle against the Quadi in 174, the day seemed to he going in
favour of the foe, when on a sudden arose a great storm of
thunder and rain the lightning struck the barbarians with terror,
and they turned to rout. In later days this storm was said to
have been sent in answer to the prayers of a legion which
contained many Christians, and the name Thundering Legion should
he given to it on this account. The title of Thundering Legion is
known at an earlier date, so this part of the story at least
cannot be true; but the aid of the storm is acknowledged by one
of the scenes carved on Antonine's Column at Rome, which
commemorates these wars.</p>
<p>The settlement made after these troubles might have been more
satisfactory but for an unexpected rising in the east. Avidius
Cassius, an able captain who had won renown in the Parthian wars,
was at this time chief governor of the eastern provinces. By
whatever means induced, he had conceived the project of
proclaiming himself emperor as soon as Marcus, who was then in
feeble health, should die; and a report having been conveyed to
him that Marcus was dead, Cassius did as he had planned. Marcus,
on hearing the news, immediately patched up a peace and returned
home to meet this new peril. The emperors great grief was that he
must needs engage in the horrors of civil strife. He praised the
qualities of Cassius, and expressed a heartfelt wish that Cassius
might not be driven to do himself a hurt before he should have
the opportunity to grant a free pardon. But before he could come
to the east news had come to Cassius that the emperor still
lived; his followers fell away from him, and he was assassinated.
Marcus now went to the east, and while there the murderers
brought the head of Cassius to him; but the emperor indignantly
refused their gift, nor would he admit the men to his
presence.</p>
<p>On this journey his wife, Faustina, died. At his return the
emperor celebrated a triumph (176). Immediately afterwards he
repaired to Germany, and took up once more the burden of war. His
operations were followed by complete success; but the troubles of
late years had been too much for his constitution, at no time
robust, and on March 17, 180, he died in Pannonia.</p>
<p>The good emperor was not spared domestic troubles. Faustina
had borne him several children, of whom he was passionately fond.
Their innocent faces may still be seen in many a sculpture
gallery, recalling with odd effect the dreamy countenance of
their father. But they died one by one, and when Marcus came to
his own end only one of his sons still lived - the weak and
worthless Commodus. On his father's death Commodus, who succeeded
him, undid the work of many campaigns by a hasty and unwise
peace; and his reign of twelve years proved him to be a ferocious
and bloodthirsty tyrant. Scandal has made free with the name of
Faustina herself, who is accused not only of unfaithfulness, but
of intriguing with Cassius and egging him on to his fatal
rebellion, it must be admitted that these charges rest on no sure
evidence; and the emperor, at all events, loved her dearly, nor
ever felt the slightest qualm of suspicion.</p>
<p>As a soldier we have seen that Marcus was both capable and
successful; as an administrator he was prudent and conscientious.
Although steeped in the teachings of philosophy, he did not
attempt to remodel the world on any preconceived plan. He trod
the path beaten by his predecessors, seeking only to do his duty
as well as he could, and to keep out corruption. He did some
unwise things, it is true. To create a compeer in empire, as he
did with Verus, was a dangerous innovation which could only
succeed if one of the two effaced himself; and under Diocletian
this very precedent caused the Roman Empire to split into halves.
He erred in his civil administration by too much centralising.
But the strong point of his reign was the administration of
justice. Marcus sought by-laws to protect the weak, to make the
lot of the slaves less hard, to stand in place of father to the
fatherless. Charitable foundations were endowed for rearing and
educating poor children. The provinces were protected against
oppression, and public help was given to cities or districts
which might be visited by calamity. The great blot on his name,
and one hard indeed to explain, is his treatment of the
Christians. In his reign Justin at Rome became a martyr to his
faith, and Polycarp at Smyrna, and we know of many outbreaks of
fanaticism in the provinces which caused the death of the
faithful. It is no excuse to plead that he knew nothing about the
atrocities done in his name: it was his duty to know, and if he
did not he would have been the first to confess that he had
failed in his duty. But from his own tone in speaking of the
Christians it is clear he knew them only from calumny; and we
hear of no measures taken even to secure that they should have a
fair hearing. In this respect Trajan was better than he.</p>
<p>To a thoughtful mind such a religion as that of Rome would
give small satisfaction. Its legends were often childish or
impossible; its teaching had little to do with morality. The
Roman religion was in fact of the nature of a bargain: men paid
certain sacrifices and rites, and the gods granted their favour,
irrespective of right or wrong. In this case all devout souls
were thrown back upon philosophy, as they had been, though to a
less extent, in Greece. There were under the early empire two
rival schools which practically divided the field between them,
Stoicism and Epicureanism. The ideal set before each was
nominally much the same. The Stoics aspired to the repression of
all emotion, and the Epicureans to freedom from all disturbance;
yet in the upshot the one has become a synonym of stubborn
endurance, the other for unbridled licence. With Epicureanism we
have nothing to do now; but it will be worth while to sketch the
history and tenets of the Stoic sect. Zeno, the founder of
Stoicism, was born in Cyprus at some date unknown, but his life
may be said roughly to be between the years 350 and 250 B.C.
Cyprus has been from time immemorial a meeting-place of the East
and West, and although we cannot grant any importance to a
possible strain of Phoenician blood in him (for the Phoenicians
were no philosophers), yet it is quite likely that through Asia
Minor he may have come in touch with the Far East. He studied
under the cynic Crates, but he did not neglect other
philosophical systems. After many years' study he opened his own
school in a colonnade in Athens called the Painted Porch, or
Stoa, which gave the Stoics their name. Next to Zeno, the School
of the Porch owes most to Chrysippus (280 - 207 b.c.), who
organised Stoicism into a system. Of him it was said,</p>
<p>'But for Chrysippus, there had been no Porch.'</p>
<p>The Stoics regarded speculation as a means to an end and that
end was, as Zeno put it, to live consistently <font face=
"Symbol">omologonuenws zhn</font> <font>or as it was later
explained, to live in conformity with nature. This conforming of
the life to nature</font> <font face="Symbol">oralogoumenwz th
fusei zhn.</font> <font>was the Stoic idea of Virtue.</font></p>
<p><font>This dictum might easily be taken to mean that virtue
consists in yielding to each natural impulse; but that was very
far from the Stoic meaning. In order to live in accord with
nature, it is necessary to know what nature is; and to this end a
threefold division of philosophy is made - into Physics, dealing
with the universe and its laws, the problems of divine government
and teleology; Logic, which trains the mind to discern true from
false; and Ethics, which applies the knowledge thus gained and
tested to practical life. The Stoic system of physics was
materialism with an infusion of pantheism. In contradiction to
Plato's view that the Ideas, or Prototypes, of phenomena alone
really exist, the Stoics held that material objects alone
existed; but immanent in the material universe was a spiritual
force which acted through them, manifesting itself under many
forms, as fire, aether, spirit, soul, reason, the ruling
principle. The universe, then, is God, of whom the popular gods
are manifestations; while legends and myths are allegorical. The
soul of man is thus an emanation from the godhead, into whom it
will eventually be re-absorbed. The divine ruling principle makes
all things work together for good, but for the good of the whole.
The highest good of man is consciously to work with God for the
common good, and this is the sense in which the Stoic tried to
live in accord with nature. In the individual it is virtue alone
which enables him to do this; as Providence rules the universe,
so virtue in the soul must rule man.</font></p>
<p><font>In Logic, the Stoic system is noteworthy for their
theory as to the test of truth, the Criterion. They compared the
new-born soul to a sheet of paper ready for writing. Upon this
the senses write their impressions,</font> <font face=
"Symbol">fantasias</font> <font>and by experience of a number of
these the soul unconsciously conceives general notions</font>
<font face="Symbol">koinai eunoiai</font> <font>or
anticipations.</font></p>
<p><font><font face="Symbol">prolhyeis</font> <font>When the
impression was such as to be irresistible it was called</font>
<font face="Symbol">(katalnptikh fantasia)</font> <font>one that
holds fast, or as they explained it, one proceeding from truth.
Ideas and inferences artificially produced by deduction or the
like were tested by this 'holding perception.' Of the Ethical
application I have already spoken. The highest good was the
virtuous life. Virtue alone is happiness, and vice is
unhappiness. Carrying this theory to its extreme, the Stoic said
that there could be no gradations between virtue and vice, though
of course each has its special manifestations. Moreover, nothing
is good but virtue, and nothing but vice is bad. Those outside
things which are commonly called good or bad, such as health and
sickness, wealth and poverty, pleasure and pain, are to him
indifferent</font> <font face="Symbol">adiofora</font><font>. All
these things are merely the sphere in which virtue may act. The
ideal Wise Man is sufficient unto himself in all things,</font>
<font face="Symbol">autarkhs</font> <font>and knowing these
truths, he will be happy even when stretched upon the rack. It is
probable that no Stoic claimed for himself that he was this Wise
Man, but that each strove after it as an ideal much as the
Christian strives after a likeness to Christ. The exaggeration in
this statement was, however, so obvious, that the later Stoics
were driven to make a further subdivision of things indifferent
into what is preferable</font> <font face=
"Symbol">(prohgmena)</font> <font>and what is undesirable. They
also held that for him who had not attained to the perfect
wisdom, certain actions were proper.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font face="Symbol">(kaqhkonta)</font> <font>These
were neither virtuous nor vicious, but, like the indifferent
things, held a middle place. Two points in the Stoic system
deserve special mention. One is a careful distinction between
things which are in our power and things which are not. Desire
and dislike, opinion and affection, are within the power of the
will; whereas health, wealth, honour, and other such are
general1y not so. The Stoic was called upon to control his
desires and affections, and to guide his opinion; to bring his
whole being under the sway of the will or leading principle, just
as the universe is guided and governed by divine Providence. This
is a special application of the favourite Greek virtue of
moderation,</font> <font face="Symbol">(swfrosuum)</font> and has
also its parallel in Christian ethics. The second point is a
strong insistence on the unity of the universe, and on man's duty
as part of a great whole. Public spirit was the most splendid
political virtue of the ancient world, and it is here made
cosmopolitan. It is again instructive to note that Christian
sages insisted on the same thing. Christians are taught that they
are members of a worldwide brotherhood, where is neither Greek
nor Hebrew, bond nor free and that they live their lives as
fellowworkers with God. Such is the system which underlies the
Meditations of Marcus Aurelius. Some knowledge of it is necessary
to the right understanding of the book, but for us the chief
interest lies elsewhere. We do not come to Marcus Aurelius for a
treatise on Stoicism. He is no head of a school to lay down a
body of doctrine for students; he does not even contemplate that
others should read what he writes. His philosophy is not an eager
intellectual inquiry, but more what we should call religious
feeling. The uncompromising stiffness of Zeno or Chrysippus is
softened and transformed by passing through a nature reverent and
tolerant, gentle and free from guile; the grim resignation which
made life possible to the Stoic sage becomes in him almost a mood
of aspiration. His book records the innermost thoughts of his
heart, set down to ease it, with such moral maxims and
reflections as may help him to bear the burden of duty and the
countless annoyances of a busy life.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>It is instructive to compare the Meditations with
another famous book, the Imitation of Christ. There is the same
ideal of self-control in both. It should be a man's task, says
the Imitation, 'to overcome himself, and every day to be stronger
than himself.' 'In withstanding of the passions standeth very
peace of heart.' 'Let us set the axe to the root, that we being
purged of our passions may have a peaceable mind.' To this end
there must be continual self-examination. 'If thou may not
continually gather thyself together, namely sometimes do it, at
least once a day, the morning or the evening. In the morning
purpose, in the evening discuss the manner, what thou hast been
this day, in word, work, and thought.' But while the Roman's
temper is a modest self-reliance, the Christian aims at a more
passive mood, humbleness and meekness, and reliance on the
presence and personal friendship of God. The Roman scrutinises
his faults with severity, but without the self-contempt which
makes the Christian 'vile in his own sight.' The Christian, like
the Roman, bids 'study to withdraw thine heart from the love of
things visible'; but it is not the busy life of duty he has in
mind so much as the contempt of all worldly things, and the
'cutting away of all lower delectations.' Both rate men's praise
or blame at their real worthlessness; 'Let not thy peace,' says
the Christian, 'be in the mouths of men.' But it is to God's
censure the Christian appeals, the Roman to his own soul. The
petty annoyances of injustice or unkindness are looked on by each
with the same magnanimity. 'Why doth a little thing said or done
against thee make thee sorry? It is no new thing; it is not the
first, nor shall it be the last, if thou live long. At best
suffer patiently, if thou canst not suffer joyously.' The
Christian should sorrow more for other men's malice than for our
own wrongs; but the Roman is inclined to wash his hands of the
offender. 'Study to be patient in suffering and bearing other
men's defaults and all manner infirmities,' says the Christian;
but the Roman would never have thought to add, 'If all men were
perfect, what had we then to suffer of other men for God?' The
virtue of suffering in itself is an idea which does not meet us
in the Meditations. Both alike realise that man is one of a great
community. 'No man is sufficient to himself,' says the Christian;
'we must bear together, help together, comfort together.' But
while he sees a chief importance in zeal, in exalted emotion that
is, and avoidance of lukewarmness, the Roman thought mainly of
the duty to be done as well as might be, and less of the feeling
which should go with the doing of it. To the saint as to the
emperor, the world is a poor thing at best. 'Verily it is a
misery to live upon the earth,' says the Christian; few and evil
are the days of man's life, which passeth away suddenly as a
shadow.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>But there is one great difference between the two
books we are considering. The Imitation is addressed to others,
the Meditations by the writer to himself. We learn nothing from
the Imitation of the author's own life, except in so far as he
may be assumed to have practised his own preachings; the
Meditations reflect mood by mood the mind of him who wrote them.
In their intimacy and frankness lies their great charm. These
notes are not sermons; they are not even confessions. There is
always an air of self-consciousness in confessions; in such
revelations there is always a danger of unctuousness or of
vulgarity for the best of men. St. Augustine is not always clear
of offence, and John Bunyan himself exaggerates venial
peccadilloes into heinous sins. But Marcus Aurelius is neither
vulgar nor unctuous; he extenuates nothing, but nothing sets down
in malice. He never poses before an audience; he may not be
profound, he is always sincere. And it is a lofty and serene soul
which is here disclosed before us. Vulgar vices seem to have no
temptation for him; this is not one tied and bound with chains
which he strives to break. The faults he detects in himself are
often such as most men would have no eyes to see. To serve the
divine spirit which is implanted within him, a man must 'keep
himself pure from all violent passion and evil affection, from
all rashness and vanity, and from all manner of discontent,
either in regard of the gods or men': or, as he says elsewhere,
'unspotted by pleasure, undaunted by pain.' Unwavering courtesy
and consideration are his aims. 'Whatsoever any man either doth
or saith, thou must be good;' 'doth any man offend? It is against
himself that he doth offend: why should it trouble thee?' The
offender needs pity, not wrath; those who must needs be
corrected, should be treated with tact and gentleness; and one
must be always ready to learn better. 'The best kind of revenge
is, not to become like unto them.' There are so many hints of
offence forgiven, that we may believe the notes followed sharp on
the facts. Perhaps he has fallen short of his aim, and thus seeks
to call his principles to mind, and to strengthen himself for the
future. That these sayings are not mere talk is plain from the
story of Avidius Cassius, who would have usurped his imperial
throne. Thus the emperor faithfully carries out his own
principle, that evil must be overcome with good. For each fault
in others, Nature (says he) has given us a counteracting virtue;
'as, for example, against the unthankful, it hath given goodness
and meekness, as an antidote.'</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>One so gentle towards a foe was sure to be a good
friend; and indeed his pages are full of generous gratitude to
those who had served him. In his First Book he sets down to
account all the debts due to his kinsfolk and teachers. To his
grandfather he owed his own gentle spirit, to his father
shamefastness and courage; he learnt of his mother to be
religious and bountiful and single-minded. Rusticus did not work
in vain, if he showed his pupil that his life needed amending.
Apollonius taught him simplicity, reasonableness, gratitude, a
love of true liberty. So the list runs on; every one he had
dealings with seems to have given him something good, a sure
proof of the goodness of his nature, which thought no
evil.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>If his was that honest and true heart which is the
Christian ideal, this is the more wonderful in that he lacked the
faith which makes Christians strong. He could say, it is true,
'either there is a God, and then all is well; or if all things go
by chance and fortune, yet mayest thou use thine own providence
in those things that concern thee properly; and then art thou
well.' Or again, 'We must needs grant that there is a nature that
doth govern the universe.' But his own part in the scheme of
things is so small, that he does not hope for any personal
happiness beyond what a serene soul may win in this mortal life.
'0 my soul, the time I trust will be, when thou shalt be good,
simple, more open and visible, than that body by which it is
enclosed;' but this is said of the calm contentment with human
lot which he hopes to attain, not of a time when the trammels of
the body shall be cast off. For the rest, the world and its fame
and wealth, 'all is vanity.' The gods may perhaps have a
particular care for him, but their especial care is for the
universe at large: thus much should suffice. His gods are better
than the Stoic gods, who sit aloof from all human things,
untroubled and uncaring, but his personal hope is hardly
stronger. On this point he says little, though there are many
allusions to death as the natural end; doubtless he expected his
soul one day to be absorbed into the universal soul, since
nothing comes out of nothing, and nothing can be annihilated. His
mood is one of strenuous weariness; he does his duty as a good
soldier, waiting for the sound of the trumpet which shall sound
the retreat; he has not that cheerful confidence which led
Socrates through a life no less noble, to a death which was to
bring him into the company of gods he had worshipped and men whom
he had revered.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>But although Marcus Aurelius may have held
intellectually that his soul was destined to be absorbed, and to
lose consciousness of itself, there were times when he felt, as
all who hold it must sometimes feel, how unsatisfying is such a
creed. Then he gropes blindly after something less empty and
vain. 'Thou hast taken ship,' he says, 'thou hast sailed, thou
art come to land, go out, if to another life, there also shalt
thou find gods, who are everywhere.' There is more in this than
the assumption of a rival theory for argument's sake. If worldly
things 'be but as a dream, the thought is not far off that there
may be an awakening to what is real. When he speaks of death as a
necessary change, and points out that nothing useful and
profitable can be brought about without change, did he perhaps
think of the change in a corn of wheat, which is not quickened
except it die? Nature's marvellous power of recreating out of
Corruption is surely not confined to bodily things. Many of his
thoughts sound like far-off echoes of St. Paul; and it is strange
indeed that this most Christian of emperors has nothing good to
say of the Christians. To him they are only sectaries 'violently
and passionately set upon opposition. Profound as philosophy
these Meditations certainly are not; but Marcus Aurelius was too
sincere not to see the essence of such things as came within his
experience. Ancient religions were for the most part concerned
with outward things. Do the necessary rites, and you propitiate
the gods; and these rites were often trivial, sometimes violated
right feeling or even morality. Even when the gods stood on the
side of righteousness, they were concerned with the act more than
with the intent. But Marcus Aurelius knows that what the heart is
full of, the man will do. 'Such as thy thoughts and ordinary
cogitations are,' he says, 'such will thy mind be in time.' And
every page of the book shows us that he knew thought was sure to
issue in act. He drills his soul, as it were, in right
principles, that when the time comes, it may be guided by them.
To wait until the emergency is to be too late. He sees also the
true essence of happiness. 'If happiness did consist in pleasure,
how came notorious robbers, impure abominable livers, parricides,
and tyrants, in so large a measure to have their part of
pleasures?' He who had all the world's pleasures at command can
write thus 'A happy lot and portion is, good inclinations of the
soul, good desires, good actions.'</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>By the irony of fate this man, so gentle and good,
so desirous of quiet joys and a mind free from care, was set at
the head of the Roman Empire when great dangers threatened from
east and west. For several years he himself commanded his armies
in chief. In camp before the Quadi he dates the first book of his
Meditations, and shows how he could retire within himself amid
the coarse clangour of arms. The pomps and glories which he
despised were all his; what to most men is an ambition or a
dream, to him was a round of weary tasks which nothing but the
stern sense of duty could carry him through. And he did his work
well. His wars were slow and tedious, but successful. With a
statesman's wisdom he foresaw the danger to Rome of the barbarian
hordes from the north, and took measures to meet it. As it was,
his settlement gave two centuries of respite to the Roman Empire;
had he fulfilled the plan of pushing the imperial frontiers to
the Elbe, which seems to have been in his mind, much more might
have been accomplished. But death cut short his
designs.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>Truly a rare opportunity was given to Marcus
Aurelius of showing what the mind can do in despite of
circumstances. Most peaceful of warriors, a magnificent monarch
whose ideal was quiet happiness in home life, bent to obscurity
yet born to greatness, the loving father of children who died
young or turned out hateful, his life was one paradox. That
nothing might lack, it was in camp before the face of the enemy
that he passed away and went to his own place.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>Translations</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>THE following is a list of the chief English
translations of Marcus Aurelius: (1) By Meric Casaubon, 1634; (2)
Jeremy Collier, 1701; (3) James Thomson, 1747; (4) R. Graves,
1792; (5) H. McCormac, 1844; (6) George Long, 1862; (7) G. H.
Rendall, 1898; and (8) J. Jackson, 1906. Renan's
"Marc-Aurèle"--in his "History of the Origins of
Christianity," which appeared in 1882 - is the most vital and
original book to be had relating to the time of Marcus Aurelius.
Pater's "Marius the Epicurean" forms another outside commentary,
which is of service in the imaginative attempt to create again
the period.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS THE ROMAN EMPEROR HIS
FIRST BOOK concerning HIMSELF:</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>Wherein Antoninus recordeth, What and of whom,
whether Parents, Friends, or Masters; by their good examples, or
good advice and counsel, he had learned:</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>Divided into Numbers or
Sections.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>ANTONINUS Book vi. Num. xlviii. Whensoever thou
wilt rejoice thyself, think and meditate upon those good parts
and especial gifts, which thou hast observed in any of them that
live with thee: as industry in one, in another modesty, in
another bountifulness, in another some other thing. For nothing
can so much rejoice thee, as the resemblances and parallels of
several virtues, eminent in the dispositions of them that live
with thee, especially when all at once, as it were, they
represent themselves unto thee. See therefore, that thou have
them always in a readiness</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>THE FIRST BOOK I. Of my grandfather Verus I have
learned to be gentle and meek, and to refrain from all anger and
passion. From the fame and memory of him that begot me I have
learned both shamefastness and manlike behaviour. Of my mother I
have learned to be religious, and bountiful; and to forbear, not
only to do, but to intend any evil; to content myself with a
spare diet, and to fly all such excess as is incidental to great
wealth. Of my great-grandfather, both to frequent public schools
and auditories, and to get me good and able teachers at home; and
that I ought not to think much, if upon such occasions, I were at
excessive charges.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>II. Of him that brought me up, not to be fondly
addicted to either of the two great factions of the coursers in
the circus, called Prasini, and Veneti: nor in the amphitheatre
partially to favour any of the gladiators, or fencers, as either
the Parmularii, or the Secutores. Moreover, to endure labour; nor
to need many things; when I have anything to do, to do it myself
rather than by others; not to meddle with many businesses; and
not easily to admit of any slander.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>III. Of Diognetus, not to busy myself about vain
things, and not easily to believe those things, which are
commonly spoken, by such as take upon them to work wonders, and
by sorcerers, or prestidigitators, and impostors; concerning the
power of charms, and their driving out of demons, or evil
spirits; and the like. Not to keep quails for the game; nor to be
mad after such things. Not to be offended with other men's
liberty of speech, and to apply myself unto philosophy. Him also
I must thank, that ever I heard first Bacchius, then Tandasis and
Marcianus, and that I did write dialogues in my youth; and that I
took liking to the philosophers' little couch and skins, and such
other things, which by the Grecian discipline are proper to those
who profess philosophy.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>IV. To Rusticus I am beholding, that I first
entered into the conceit that my life wanted some redress and
cure. And then, that I did not fall into the ambition of ordinary
sophists, either to write tracts concerning the common theorems,
or to exhort men unto virtue and the study of philosophy by
public orations; as also that I never by way of ostentation did
affect to show myself an active able man, for any kind of bodily
exercises. And that I gave over the study of rhetoric and poetry,
and of elegant neat language. That I did not use to walk about
the house in my long robe, nor to do any such things. Moreover I
learned of him to write letters without any affectation, or
curiosity; such as that was, which by him was written to my
mother from Sinuessa: and to be easy and ready to be reconciled,
and well pleased again with them that had offended me, as soon as
any of them would be content to seek unto me again. To read with
diligence; not to rest satisfied with a light and superficial
knowledge, nor quickly to assent to things commonly spoken of:
whom also I must thank that ever I lighted upon Epictetus his
Hypomnemata, or moral commentaries and commonefactions: which
also he gave me of his own.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>V. From Apollonius, true liberty, and unvariable
steadfastness, and not to regard anything at all, though never so
little, but right and reason: and always, whether in the sharpest
pains, or after the loss of a child, or in long diseases, to be
still the same man; who also was a present and visible example
unto me, that it was possible for the same man to be both
vehement and remiss: a man not subject to be vexed, and offended
with the incapacity of his scholars and auditors in his lectures
and expositions; and a true pattern of a man who of all his good
gifts and faculties, least esteemed in himself, that his
excellent skill and ability to teach and persuade others the
common theorems and maxims of the Stoic philosophy. Of him also I
learned how to receive favours and kindnesses (as commonly they
are accounted:) from friends, so that I might not become
obnoxious unto them, for them, nor more yielding upon occasion,
than in right I ought; and yet so that I should not pass them
neither, as an unsensible and unthankful man.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>VI. Of Sextus, mildness and the pattern of a
family governed with paternal affection; and a purpose to live
according to nature: to be grave without affectation: to observe
carefully the several dispositions of my friends, not to be
offended with idiots, nor unseasonably to set upon those that are
carried with the vulgar opinions, with the theorems, and tenets
of philosophers: his conversation being an example how a man
might accommodate himself to all men and companies; so that
though his company were sweeter and more pleasing than any
flatterer's cogging and fawning; yet was it at the same time most
respected and reverenced: who also had a proper happiness and
faculty, rationally and methodically to find out, and set in
order all necessary determinations and instructions for a man's
life. A man without ever the least appearance of anger, or any
other passion; able at the same time most exactly to observe the
Stoic Apathia, or unpassionateness, and yet to be most
tender-hearted: ever of good credit; and yet almost without any
noise, or rumour: very learned, and yet making little
show.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>Vii. From Alexander the Grammarian, to be
unreprovable myself, and not reproachfully to reprehend any man
for a barbarism, or a solecism, or any false pronunciation, but
dextrously by way of answer, or testimony, or confirmation of the
same matter (taking no notice of the word) to utter it as it
should have been spoken; or by some other such close and indirect
admonition, handsomely and civilly to tell him of
it.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>VIII. Of Fronto, to how much envy and fraud and
hypocrisy the state of a tyrannous king is subject unto, and how
they who are commonly called [Eupatridas Gk.], i.e. nobly born,
are in some sort incapable, or void of natural
affection.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>IX. Of Alexander the Platonic, not often nor
without great necessity to say, or to write to any man in a
letter, 'I am not at leisure'; nor in this manner still to put
off those duties, which we owe to our friends and acquaintances
(to every one in his kind) under pretence of urgent
affairs.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>X. Of Catulus, not to contemn any friend's
expostulation, though unjust, but to strive to reduce him to his
former disposition: freely and heartily to speak well of all my
masters upon any occasion, as it is reported of Domitius, and
Athenodotus: and to love my children with true
affection.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XI. From my brother Severus, to be kind and loving
to all them of my house and family; by whom also I came to the
knowledge of Thrasea and Helvidius, and Cato, and Dio, and
Brutus. He it was also that did put me in the first conceit and
desire of an equal commonwealth, administered by justice and
equality; and of a kingdom wherein should be regarded nothing
more than the good and welfare of the subjects. Of him also, to
observe a constant tenor, (not interrupted, with any other cares
and distractions,) in the study and esteem of philosophy: to be
bountiful and liberal in the largest measure; always to hope the
best; and to be confident that my friends love me. In whom I
moreover observed open dealing towards those whom he reproved at
any time, and that his friends might without all doubt or much
observation know what he would, or would not, so open and plain
was he.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XII. From Claudius Maximus, in all things to
endeavour to have power of myself, and in nothing to be carried
about; to be cheerful and courageous in all sudden chances and
accidents, as in sicknesses: to love mildness, and moderation,
and gravity: and to do my business, whatsoever it be, thoroughly,
and without querulousness. Whatsoever he said, all men believed
him that as he spake, so he thought, and whatsoever he did, that
he did it with a good intent. His manner was, never to wonder at
anything; never to be in haste, and yet never slow: nor to be
perplexed, or dejected, or at any time unseemly, or excessively
to laugh: nor to be angry, or suspicious, but ever ready to do
good, and to forgive, and to speak truth; and all this, as one
that seemed rather of himself to have been straight and right,
than ever to have been rectified or redressed; neither was there
any man that ever thought himself undervalued by him, or that
could find in his heart, to think himself a better man than he.
He would also be very pleasant and gracious.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XIII. In my father, I observed his meekness; his
constancy without wavering in those things, which after a due
examination and deliberation, he had determined. How free from
all vanity he carried himself in matter of honour and dignity,
(as they are esteemed:) his laboriousness and assiduity, his
readiness to hear any man, that had aught to say tending to any
common good: how generally and impartially he would give every
man his due; his skill and knowledge, when rigour or extremity,
or when remissness or moderation was in season; how he did
abstain from all unchaste love of youths; his moderate
condescending to other men's occasions as an ordinary man,
neither absolutely requiring of his friends, that they should
wait upon him at his ordinary meals, nor that they should of
necessity accompany him in his journeys; and that whensoever any
business upon some necessary occasions was to be put off and
omitted before it could be ended, he was ever found when he went
about it again, the same man that he was before. His accurate
examination of things in consultations, and patient hearing of
others. He would not hastily give over the search of the matter,
as one easy to be satisfied with sudden notions and
apprehensions. His care to preserve his friends; how neither at
any time he would carry himself towards them with disdainful
neglect, and grow weary of them; nor yet at any time be madly
fond of them. His contented mind in all things, his cheerful
countenance, his care to foresee things afar off, and to take
order for the least, without any noise or clamour. Moreover how
all acclamations and flattery were repressed by him: how
carefully he observed all things necessary to the government, and
kept an account of the common expenses, and how patiently he did
abide that he was reprehended by some for this his strict and
rigid kind of dealing. How he was neither a superstitious
worshipper of the gods, nor an ambitious pleaser of men, or
studious of popular applause; but sober in all things, and
everywhere observant of that which was fitting; no affecter of
novelties: in those things which conduced to his ease and
convenience, (plenty whereof his fortune did afford him,) without
pride and bragging, yet with all freedom and liberty: so that as
he did freely enjoy them without any anxiety or affectation when
they were present; so when absent, he found no want of them.
Moreover, that he was never commended by any man, as either a
learned acute man, or an obsequious officious man, or a fine
orator; but as a ripe mature man, a perfect sound man; one that
could not endure to be flattered; able to govern both himself and
others. Moreover, how much he did honour all true philosophers,
without upbraiding those that were not so; his sociableness, his
gracious and delightful conversation, but never unto satiety; his
care of his body within bounds and measure, not as one that
desired to live long, or over-studious of neatness, and elegancy;
and yet not as one that did not regard it: so that through his
own care and providence, he seldom needed any inward physic, or
outward applications: but especially how ingeniously he would
yield to any that had obtained any peculiar faculty, as either
eloquence, or the knowledge of the laws, or of ancient customs,
or the like; and how he concurred with them, in his best care and
endeavour that every one of them might in his kind, for that
wherein he excelled, be regarded and esteemed: and although he
did all things carefully after the ancient customs of his
forefathers, yet even of this was he not desirous that men should
take notice, that he did imitate ancient customs. Again, how he
was not easily moved and tossed up and down, but loved to be
constant, both in the same places and businesses; and how after
his great fits of headache he would return fresh and vigorous to
his wonted affairs. Again, that secrets he neither had many, nor
often, and such only as concerned public matters: his discretion
and moderation, in exhibiting of the public sights and shows for
the pleasure and pastime of the people: in public buildings.
congiaries, and the like. In all these things, having a respect
unto men only as men, and to the equity of the things themselves,
and not unto the glory that might follow. Never wont to use the
baths at unseasonable hours; no builder; never curious, or
solicitous, either about his meat, or about the workmanship, or
colour of his clothes, or about anything that belonged to
external beauty. In all his conversation, far from all
inhumanity, all boldness, and incivility, all greediness and
impetuosity; never doing anything with such earnestness, and
intention, that a man could say of him, that he did sweat about
it: but contrariwise, all things distinctly, as at leisure;
without trouble; orderly, soundly, and agreeably. A man might
have applied that to him, which is recorded of Socrates, that he
knew how to want, and to enjoy those things, in the want whereof,
most men show themselves weak; and in the fruition, intemperate:
but to hold out firm and constant, and to keep within the compass
of true moderation and sobriety in either estate, is proper to a
man, who hath a perfect and invincible soul; such as he showed
himself in the sickness of Maximus.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XIV. From the gods I received that I had good
grandfathers, and parents, a good sister, good masters, good
domestics, loving kinsmen, almost all that I have; and that I
never through haste and rashness transgressed against any of
them, notwithstanding that my disposition was such, as that such
a thing (if occasion had been) might very well have been
committed by me, but that It was the mercy of the gods, to
prevent such a concurring of matters and occasions, as might make
me to incur this blame. That I was not long brought up by the
concubine of my father; that I preserved the flower of my youth.
That I took not upon me to be a man before my time, but rather
put it off longer than I needed. That I lived under the
government of my lord and father, who would take away from me all
pride and vainglory, and reduce me to that conceit and opinion
that it was not impossible for a prince to live in the court
without a troop of guards and followers, extraordinary apparel,
such and such torches and statues, and other like particulars of
state and magnificence; but that a man may reduce and contract
himself almost to the state of a private man, and yet for all
that not to become the more base and remiss in those public
matters and affairs, wherein power and authority is requisite.
That I have had such a brother, who by his own example might stir
me up to think of myself; and by his respect and love, delight
and please me. That I have got ingenuous children, and that they
were not born distorted, nor with any other natural deformity.
That I was no great proficient in the study of rhetoric and
poetry, and of other faculties, which perchance I might have
dwelt upon, if I had found myself to go on in them with success.
That I did by times prefer those, by whom I was brought up, to
such places and dignities, which they seemed unto me most to
desire; and that I did not put them off with hope and
expectation, that (since that they were yet but young) I would do
the same hereafter. That I ever knew Apollonius and Rusticus, and
Maximus. That I have had occasion often and effectually to
consider and meditate with myself, concerning that life which is
according to nature, what the nature and manner of it is: so that
as for the gods and such suggestions, helps and inspirations, as
might be expected from them, nothing did hinder, but that I might
have begun long before to live according to nature; or that even
now that I was not yet partaker and in present possession of that
life, that I myself (in that I did not observe those inward
motions, and suggestions, yea and almost plain and apparent
instructions and admonitions of the gods,) was the only cause of
it. That my body in such a life, hath been able to hold out so
long. That I never had to do with Benedicta and Theodotus, yea
and afterwards when I fell into some fits of love, I was soon
cured. That having been often displeased with Rusticus, I never
did him anything for which afterwards I had occasion to repent.
That it being so that my mother was to die young, yet she lived
with me all her latter years. That as often as I had a purpose to
help and succour any that either were poor, or fallen into some
present necessity, I never was answered by my officers that there
was not ready money enough to do it; and that I myself never had
occasion to require the like succour from any other. That I have
such a wife, so obedient, so loving, so ingenuous. That I had
choice of fit and able men, to whom I might commit the bringing
up of my children. That by dreams I have received help, as for
other things, so in particular, how I might stay my casting of
blood, and cure my dizziness, as that also that happened to thee
in Cajeta, as unto Chryses when he prayed by the seashore. And
when I did first apply myself to philosophy, that I did not fall
into the hands of some sophists, or spent my time either in
reading the manifold volumes of ordinary philosophers, nor in
practising myself in the solution of arguments and fallacies, nor
dwelt upon the studies of the meteors, and other natural
curiosities. All these things without the assistance of the gods,
and fortune, could not have been.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XV. In the country of the Quadi at Granua, these.
Betimes in the morning say to thyself, This day I shalt have to
do with an idle curious man, with an unthankful man, a railer, a
crafty, false, or an envious man; an unsociable uncharitable man.
All these ill qualities have happened unto them, through
ignorance of that which is truly good and truly bad. But I that
understand the nature of that which is good, that it only is to
be desired, and of that which is bad, that it only is truly
odious and shameful: who know moreover, that this transgressor,
whosoever he be, is my kinsman, not by the same blood and seed,
but by participation of the same reason, and of the same divine
particle; How can I either be hurt by any of those, since it is
not in their power to make me incur anything that is truly
reproachful? or angry, and ill affected towards him, who by
nature is so near unto me? for we are all born to be
fellow-workers, as the feet, the hands, and the eyelids; as the
rows of the upper and under teeth: for such therefore to be in
opposition, is against nature; and what is it to chafe at, and to
be averse from, but to be in opposition?</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XVI. Whatsoever I am, is either flesh, or life, or
that which we commonly call the mistress and overruling part of
man; reason. Away with thy books, suffer not thy mind any more to
be distracted, and carried to and fro; for it will not be; but as
even now ready to die, think little of thy flesh: blood, bones,
and a skin; a pretty piece of knit and twisted work, consisting
of nerves, veins and arteries; think no more of it, than so. And
as for thy life, consider what it is; a wind; not one constant
wind neither, but every moment of an hour let out, and sucked in
again. The third, is thy ruling part; and here consider; Thou art
an old man; suffer not that excellent part to be brought in
subjection, and to become slavish: suffer it not to be drawn up
and down with unreasonable and unsociable lusts and motions, as
it were with wires and nerves; suffer it not any more, either to
repine at anything now present, or to fear and fly anything to
come, which the destiny hath appointed thee.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XVII. Whatsoever proceeds from the gods
immediately, that any man will grant totally depends from their
divine providence. As for those things that are commonly said to
happen by fortune, even those must be conceived to have
dependence from nature, or from that first and general
connection, and concatenation of all those things, which more
apparently by the divine providence are administered and brought
to pass. All things flow from thence: and whatsoever it is that
is, is both necessary, and conducing to the whole (part of which
thou art), and whatsoever it is that is requisite and necessary
for the preservation of the general, must of necessity for every
particular nature, be good and behoveful. And as for the whole,
it is preserved, as by the perpetual mutation and conversion of
the simple elements one into another, so also by the mutation,
and alteration of things mixed and compounded. Let these things
suffice thee; let them be always unto thee, as thy general rules
and precepts. As for thy thirst after books, away with it with
all speed, that thou die not murmuring and complaining, but truly
meek and well satisfied, and from thy heart thankful unto the
gods.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>THE SECOND BOOK</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>I. Remember how long thou hast already put off
these things, and how often a certain day and hour as it were,
having been set unto thee by the gods, thou hast neglected it. It
is high time for thee to understand the true nature both of the
world, whereof thou art a part; and of that Lord and Governor of
the world, from whom, as a channel from the spring, thou thyself
didst flow: and that there is but a certain limit of time
appointed unto thee, which if thou shalt not make use of to calm
and allay the many distempers of thy soul, it will pass away and
thou with it, and never after return.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>II. Let it be thy earnest and incessant care as a
Roman and a man to perform whatsoever it is that thou art about,
with true and unfeigned gravity, natural affection, freedom and
justice: and as for all other cares, and imaginations, how thou
mayest ease thy mind of them. Which thou shalt do; if thou shalt
go about every action as thy last action, free from all vanity,
all passionate and wilful aberration from reason, and from all
hypocrisy, and self-love, and dislike of those things, which by
the fates or appointment of God have happened unto thee. Thou
seest that those things, which for a man to hold on in a
prosperous course, and to live a divine life, are requisite and
necessary, are not many, for the gods will require no more of any
man, that shall but keep and observe these
things.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>III. Do, soul, do; abuse and contemn thyself; yet
a while and the time for thee to respect thyself, will be at an
end. Every man's happiness depends from himself, but behold thy
life is almost at an end, whiles affording thyself no respect,
thou dost make thy happiness to consist in the souls, and
conceits of other men.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>IV Why should any of these things that happen
externally, so much distract thee? Give thyself leisure to learn
some good thing, and cease roving and wandering to and fro. Thou
must also take heed of another kind of wandering, for they are
idle in their actions, who toil and labour in this life, and have
no certain scope to which to direct all their motions, and
desires.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>V. For not observing the state of another man's
soul, scarce was ever any man known to be unhappy. tell whosoever
they be that intend not, and guide not by reason and discretion
the motions of their own souls, they must of necessity be
unhappy.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>VI. These things thou must always have in mind:
What is the nature of the universe, and what is mine - in
particular: This unto that what relation it hath: what kind of
part, of what kind of universe it is: And that there is nobody
that can hinder thee, but that thou mayest always both do and
speak those things which are agreeable to that nature, whereof
thou art a part.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>VII. Theophrastus, where he compares sin with sin
(as after a vulgar sense such things I grant may be compared:)
says well and like a philosopher, that those sins are greater
which are committed through lust, than those which are committed
through anger. For he that is angry seems with a kind of grief
and close contraction of himself, to turn away from reason; but
he that sins through lust, being overcome by pleasure, doth in
his very sin bewray a more impotent, and unmanlike disposition.
Well then and like a philosopher doth he say, that he of the two
is the more to be condemned, that sins with pleasure, than he
that sins with grief. For indeed this latter may seem first to
have been wronged, and so in some manner through grief thereof to
have been forced to be angry, whereas he who through lust doth
commit anything, did of himself merely resolve upon that
action.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>VIII. Whatsoever thou dost affect, whatsoever thou
dost project, so do, and so project all, as one who, for aught
thou knowest, may at this very present depart out of this life.
And as for death, if there be any gods, it is no grievous thing
to leave the society of men. The gods will do thee no hurt, thou
mayest be sure. But if it be so that there be no gods, or that
they take no care of the world, why should I desire to live in a
world void of gods, and of all divine providence? But gods there
be certainly, and they take care for the world; and as for those
things which be truly evil, as vice and. wickedness, such things
they have put in a man s own power, that he might avoid them if
he would: and had there been anything besides that had been truly
bad and evil, they would have had a care of that also, that a man
might have avoided it. But why should that be thought to hurt and
prejudice a man's life in this world, which cannot any ways make
man himself the better, or the worse in his own person? Neither
must we think that the nature of the universe did either through
ignorance pass these things, or if not as ignorant of them, yet
as unable either to prevent, or better to order and dispose them.
It cannot be that she through want either of power or skill,
should have committed such a thing, so as to suffer all things
both good and bad, equally and promiscuously, to happen unto all
both good and bad. As for life therefore, and death, honour and
dishonour, labour and pleasure, riches and poverty, all these
things happen unto men indeed, both good and bad, equally; but as
things which of themselves are neither good nor bad; because of
themselves, neither shameful nor praiseworthy.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>IX. Consider how quickly all things are dissolved
and resolved: the bodies and substances themselves, into the
matter and substance of the world: and their memories into the
general age and time of the world. Consider the nature of all
worldly sensible things; of those especially, which either
ensnare by pleasure, or for their irksomeness are dreadful, or
for their outward lustre and show are in great esteem and
request, how vile and contemptible, how base and corruptible, how
destitute of all true life and being they are.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>X. It is the part of a man endowed with a good
understanding faculty, to consider what they themselves are in
very deed, from whose bare conceits and voices, honour and credit
do proceed: as also what it is to die, and how if a man shall
consider this by itself alone, to die, and separate from it in
his mind all those things which with it usually represent
themselves unto us, he can conceive of it no otherwise, than as
of a work of nature, and he that fears any work of nature, is a
very child. Now death, it is not only a work of nature, but also
conducing to nature.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XI. Consider with thyself how man, and by what
part of his, is joined unto God, and how that part of man is
affected, when it is said to be diffused. There is nothing more
wretched than that soul, which in a kind of circuit compasseth
all things, searching (as he saith) even the very depths of the
earth; and by all signs and conjectures prying into the very
thoughts of other men's souls; and yet of this, is not sensible,
that it is sufficient for a man to apply himself wholly, and to
confine all his thoughts and cares to the tendance of that spirit
which is within him, and truly and really to serve him. His
service doth consist in this, that a man keep himself pure from
all violent passion and evil affection, from all rashness and
vanity, and from all manner of discontent, either in regard of
the gods or men. For indeed whatsoever proceeds from the gods,
deserves respect for their worth and excellency; and whatsoever
proceeds from men, as they are our kinsmen, should by us be
entertained, with love, always; sometimes, as proceeding from
their ignorance, of that which is truly good and bad, (a
blindness no less, than that by which we are not able to discern
between white and black:) with a kind of pity and compassion
also.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XII. If thou shouldst live three thousand, or as
many as ten thousands of years, yet remember this, that man can
part with no life properly, save with that little part of life,
which he now lives: and that which he lives, is no other, than
that which at every instant he parts with. That then which is
longest of duration, and that which is shortest, come both to one
effect. For although in regard of that which is already past
there may be some inequality, yet that time which is now present
and in being, is equal unto all men. And that being it which we
part with whensoever we die, it doth manifestly appear, that it
can be but a moment of time, that we then part with. For as for
that which is either past or to come, a man cannot be said
properly to part with it. For how should a man part with that
which he hath not? These two things therefore thou must remember.
First, that all things in the world from all eternity, by a
perpetual revolution of the same times and things ever continued
and renewed, are of one kind and nature; so that whether for a
hundred or two hundred years only, or for an infinite space of
time, a man see those things which are still the same, it can be
no matter of great moment. And secondly, that that life which any
the longest liver, or the shortest liver parts with, is for
length and duration the very same, for that only which is
present, is that, which either of them can lose, as being that
only which they have; for that which he hath not, no man can
truly be said to lose.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XIII. Remember that all is but opinion and
conceit, for those things are plain and apparent, which were
spoken unto Monimus the Cynic; and as plain and apparent is the
use that may be made of those things, if that which is true and
serious in them, be received as well as that which is sweet and
pleasing.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XIV. A man's soul doth wrong and disrespect itself
first and especially, when as much as in itself lies it becomes
an aposteme, and as it were an excrescency of the world, for to
be grieved and displeased with anything that happens in the
world, is direct apostacy from the nature of the universe; part
of which, all particular natures of the world, are. Secondly,
when she either is averse from any man, or led by contrary
desires or affections, tending to his hurt and prejudice; such as
are the souls of them that are angry. Thirdly, when she is
overcome by any pleasure or pain. Fourthly, when she doth
dissemble, and covertly and falsely either doth or saith
anything. Fifthly, when she doth either affect or endeavour
anything to no certain end, but rashly and without due
ratiocination and consideration, how consequent or inconsequent
it is to the common end. For even the least things ought not to
be done, without relation unto the end; and the end of the
reasonable creatures is, to follow and obey him, who is the
reason as it were, and the law of this great city, and ancient
commonwealth.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XV. The time of a man's life is as a point; the
substance of it ever flowing, the sense obscure; and the whole
composition of the body tending to corruption. His soul is
restless, fortune uncertain, and fame doubtful; to be brief, as a
stream so are all things belonging to the body; as a dream, or as
a smoke, so are all that belong unto the soul. Our life is a
warfare, and a mere pilgrimage. Fame after life is no better than
oblivion. What is it then that will adhere and follow? Only one
thing, philosophy. And philosophy doth consist in this, for a man
to preserve that spirit which is within him, from all manner of
contumelies and injuries, and above all pains or pleasures; never
to do anything either rashly, or feignedly, or hypocritically:
wholly to depend from himself and his own proper actions: all
things that happen unto him to embrace contentedly, as coming
from Him from whom he himself also came; and above all things,
with all meekness and a calm cheerfulness, to expect death, as
being nothing else but the resolution of those elements, of which
every creature is composed. And if the elements themselves suffer
nothing by this their perpetual conversion of one into another,
that dissolution, and alteration, which is so common unto all,
why should it be feared by any? Is not this according to nature?
But nothing that is according to nature can be
evil.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>whilst I was at Carnuntzim.
**************************</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>THE THIRD BOOK</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>I. A man must not only consider how daily his life
wasteth and decreaseth, but this also, that if he live long, he
cannot be certain, whether his understanding shall continue so
able and sufficient, for either discreet consideration, in matter
of businesses; or for contemplation: it being the thing, whereon
true knowledge of things both divine and human, doth depend. For
if once he shall begin to dote, his respiration, nutrition, his
imaginative, and appetitive, and other natural faculties, may
still continue the same: he shall find no want of them. But how
to make that right use of himself that he should, how to observe
exactly in all things that which is right and just, how to
redress and rectify all wrong, or sudden apprehensions and
imaginations, and even of this particular, whether he should live
any longer or no, to consider duly; for all such things, wherein
the best strength and vigour of the mind is most requisite; his
power and ability will be past and gone. Thou must hasten
therefore; not only because thou art every day nearer unto death
than other, but also because that intellective faculty in thee,
whereby thou art enabled to know the true nature of things, and
to order all thy actions by that knowledge, doth daily waste and
decay: or, may fail thee before thou die.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>II. This also thou must observe, that whatsoever
it is that naturally doth happen to things natural, hath somewhat
in itself that is pleasing and delightful: as a great loaf when
it is baked, some parts of it cleave as it were, and part
asunder, and make the crust of it rugged and unequal, and yet
those parts of it, though in some sort it be against the art and
intention of baking itself, that they are thus cleft and parted,
which should have been and were first made all even and uniform,
they become it well nevertheless, and have a certain peculiar
property, to stir the appetite. So figs are accounted fairest and
ripest then, when they begin to shrink, and wither as it were. So
ripe olives, when they are next to putrefaction, then are they in
their proper beauty. The hanging down of grapes - the brow of a
lion, the froth of a foaming wild boar, and many other like
things, though by themselves considered, they are far from any
beauty, yet because they happen naturally, they both are comely,
and delightful; so that if a man shall with a profound mind and
apprehension, consider all things in the world, even among all
those things which are but mere accessories and natural
appendices as it were, there will scarce appear anything unto
him, wherein he will not find matter of pleasure and delight. So
will he behold with as much pleasure the true rictus of wild
beasts, as those which by skilful painters and other artificers
are imitated. So will he be able to perceive the proper ripeness
and beauty of old age, whether in man or woman: and whatsoever
else it is that is beautiful and alluring in whatsoever is, with
chaste and continent eyes he will soon find out and discern.
Those and many other things will he discern, not credible unto
every one, but unto them only who are truly and familiarly
acquainted, both with nature itself, and all natural
things.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>III. Hippocrates having cured many sicknesses,
fell sick himself and died. The Chaldeans and Astrologians having
foretold the deaths of divers, were afterwards themselves
surprised by the fates. Alexander and Pompeius, and Caius Caesar,
having destroyed so many towns, and cut off in the field so many
thousands both of horse and foot, yet they themselves at last
were fain to part with their own lives. Heraclitus having written
so many natural tracts concerning the last and general
conflagration of the world, died afterwards all filled with water
within, and all bedaubed with dirt and dung without. Lice killed
Democritus; and Socrates, another sort of vermin, wicked ungodly
men. How then stands the case? Thou hast taken ship, thou hast
sailed, thou art come to land, go out, if to another life, there
also shalt thou find gods, who are everywhere. If all life and
sense shall cease, then shalt thou cease also to be subject to
either pains or pleasures ; and to serve and tend this vile
cottage; so much the viler, by how much that which ministers unto
it doth excel ; the one being a rational substance, and a spirit,
the other nothing but earth and blood.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>IV. Spend not the remnant of thy days in thoughts
and fancies concerning other men, when it is not in relation to
some common good, when by it thou art hindered from some other
better work. That is, spend not thy time in thinking, what such a
man doth, and to what end: what he saith, and what he thinks, and
what he is about, and such other things or curiosities, which
make a man to rove and wander from the care and observation of
that part of himself, which is rational, and overruling. See
therefore in the whole series and connection of thy thoughts,
that thou be careful to prevent whatsoever is idle and
impertinent: but especially, whatsoever is curious and malicious:
and thou must use thyself to think only of such things, of which
if a man upon a sudden should ask thee, what it is that thou art
now thinking, thou mayest answer This, and That, freely and
boldly, that so by thy thoughts it may presently appear that in
all thee is sincere, and peaceable; as becometh one that is made
for society, and regards not pleasures, nor gives way to any
voluptuous imaginations at all: free from all contentiousness,
envy, and suspicion, and from whatsoever else thou wouldest blush
to confess thy thoughts were set upon. He that is such, is he
surely that doth not put off to lay hold on that which is best
indeed, a very priest and minister of the gods, well acquainted
and in good correspondence with him especially that is seated and
placed within himself, as in a temple and sacrary: to whom also
he keeps and preserves himself unspotted by pleasure, undaunted
by pain; free from any manner of wrong, or contumely, by himself
offered unto himself: not capable of any evil from others: a
wrestler of the best sort, and for the highest prize, that he may
not be cast down by any passion or affection of his own; deeply
dyed and drenched in righteousness, embracing and accepting with
his whole heart whatsoever either happeneth or is allotted unto
him. One who not often, nor without some great necessity tending
to some public good, mindeth what any other, either speaks, or
doth, or purposeth: for those things only that are in his own
power, or that are truly his own, are the objects of his
employments, and his thoughts are ever taken up with those
things, which of the whole universe are by the fates or
Providence destinated and appropriated unto himself. Those things
that are his own, and in his own power, he himself takes order,
for that they be good: and as for those that happen unto him, he
believes them to be so. For that lot and portion which is
assigned to every one, as it is unavoidable and necessary, so is
it always profitable. He remembers besides that whatsoever
partakes of reason, is akin unto him, and that to care for all
men generally, is agreeing to the nature of a man: but as for
honour and praise, that they ought not generally to be admitted
and accepted of from all, but from such only, who live according
to nature. As for them that do not, what manner of men they be at
home, or abroad; day or night, how conditioned themselves with
what manner of conditions, or with men of what conditions they
moil and pass away the time together, he knoweth, and remembers
right well, he therefore regards not such praise and approbation,
as proceeding from them, who cannot like and approve
themselves.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>V. Do nothing against thy will, nor contrary to
the community, nor without due examination, nor with reluctancy.
Affect not to set out thy thoughts with curious neat language. Be
neither a great talker, nor a great undertaker. Moreover, let thy
God that is in thee to rule over thee, find by thee, that he hath
to do with a man; an aged man; a sociable man; a Roman; a prince;
one that hath ordered his life, as one that expecteth, as it
were, nothing but the sound of the trumpet, sounding a retreat to
depart out of this life with all expedition. One who for his word
or actions neither needs an oath, nor any man to be a
witness.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>VI. To be cheerful, and to stand in no need,
either of other men's help or attendance, or of that rest and
tranquillity, which thou must be beholding to others for. Rather
like one that is straight of himself, or hath ever been straight,
than one that hath been rectified.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>VII. If thou shalt find anything in this mortal
life better than righteousness, than truth, temperance,
fortitude, and in general better than a mind contented both with
those things which according to right and reason she doth, and in
those, which without her will and knowledge happen unto thee by
the providence; if I say, thou canst find out anything better
than this, apply thyself unto it with thy whole heart, and that
which is best wheresoever thou dost find it, enjoy freely. But if
nothing thou shalt find worthy to be preferred to that spirit
which is within thee; if nothing better than to subject unto thee
thine own lusts and desires, and not to give way to any fancies
or imaginations before thou hast duly considered of them, nothing
better than to withdraw thyself (to use Socrates his words) from
all sensuality, and submit thyself unto the gods, and to have
care of all men in general: if thou shalt find that all other
things in comparison of this, are but vile, and of little moment;
then give not way to any other thing, which being once though but
affected and inclined unto, it will no more be in thy power
without all distraction as thou oughtest to prefer and to pursue
after that good, which is thine own and thy proper good. For it
is not lawful, that anything that is of another and inferior kind
and nature, be it what it will, as either popular applause, or
honour, or riches, or pleasures; should be suffered to confront
and contest as it were, with that which is rational, and
operatively good. For all these things, if once though but for a
while, they begin to please, they presently prevail, and pervert
a man's mind, or turn a man from the right way. Do thou therefore
I say absolutely and freely make choice of that which is best,
and stick unto it. Now, that they say is best, which is most
profitable. If they mean profitable to man as he is a rational
man, stand thou to it, and maintain it; but if they mean
profitable, as he is a creature, only reject it; and from this
thy tenet and conclusion keep off carefully all plausible shows
and colours of external appearance, that thou mayest be able to
discern things rightly.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>VIII. Never esteem of anything as profitable,
which shall ever constrain thee either to break thy faith, or to
lose thy modesty; to hate any man, to suspect, to curse, to
dissemble, to lust after anything, that requireth the secret of
walls or veils. But he that preferreth before all things his
rational part and spirit, and the sacred mysteries of virtue
which issueth from it, he shall never lament and exclaim, never
sigh; he shall never want either solitude or company: and which
is chiefest of all, he shall live without either desire or fear.
And as for life, whether for a long or short time he shall enjoy
his soul thus compassed about with a body, he is altogether
indifferent. For if even now he were to depart, he is as ready
for it, as for any other action, which may be performed with
modesty and decency. For all his life long, this is his only
care, that his mind may always be occupied in such intentions and
objects, as are proper to a rational sociable
creature.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>IX. In the mind that is once truly disciplined and
purged, thou canst not find anything, either foul or impure, or
as it were festered: nothing that is either servile, or affected:
no partial tie; no malicious averseness; nothing obnoxious;
nothing concealed. The life of such an one, death can never
surprise as imperfect; as of an actor, that should die before he
had ended, or the play itself were at an end, a man might
speak.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>X. Use thine opinative faculty with all honour and
respect, for in her indeed is all: that thy opinion do not beget
in thy understanding anything contrary to either nature, or the
proper constitution of a rational creature. The end and object of
a rational constitution is, to do nothing rashly, to be kindly
affected towards men, and in all things willingly to submit unto
the gods. Casting therefore all other things aside, keep thyself
to these few, and remember withal that no man properly can be
said to live more than that which is now present, which is but a
moment of time. Whatsoever is besides either is already past, or
uncertain. The time therefore that any man doth live, is but a
little, and the place where he liveth, is but a very little
corner of the earth, and the greatest fame that can remain of a
man after his death, even that is but little, and that too, such
as it is whilst it is, is by the succession of silly mortal men
preserved, who likewise shall shortly die, and even whiles they
live know not what in very deed they themselves are: and much
less can know one, who long before is dead and
gone.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XI. To these ever-present helps and mementoes, let
one more be added, ever to make a particular description and
delineation as it were of every object that presents itself to
thy mind, that thou mayest wholly and throughly contemplate it,
in its own proper nature, bare and naked; wholly, and severally;
divided into its several parts and quarters: and then by thyself
in thy mind, to call both it, and those things of which it doth
consist, and in which it shall be resolved, by their own proper
true names, and appellations. For there is nothing so effectual
to beget true magnanimity, as to be able truly and methodically
to examine and consider all things that happen in this life, and
so to penetrate into their natures, that at the same time, this
also may concur in our apprehensions: what is the true use of it?
and what is the true nature of this universe, to which it is
useful? how much in regard of the universe may it be esteemed?
how much in regard of man, a citizen of the supreme city, of
which all other cities in the world are as it were but houses and
families?</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XII. What is this, that now my fancy is set upon ?
of what things doth it consist? how long can it last? which of
all the virtues is the proper virtue for this present use? as
whether meekness, fortitude, truth, faith, sincerity,
contentation, or any of the rest? Of everything therefore thou
must use thyself to say, This immediately comes from God, this by
that fatal connection, and concatenation of things, or (which
almost comes to one) by some coincidental casualty. And as for
this, it proceeds from my neighbour, my kinsman, my fellow:
through his ignorance indeed, because he knows not what is truly
natural unto him: but I know it, and therefore carry myself
towards him according to the natural law of fellowship; that is
kindly, and justly. As for those things that of themselves are
altogether indifferent, as in my best judgment I conceive
everything to deserve more or less, so I carry myself towards
it.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XIII. If thou shalt intend that which is present,
following the rule of right and reason carefully, solidly,
meekly, and shalt not intermix any other businesses, but shall
study this only to preserve thy spirit impolluted, and pure, and
shall cleave unto him without either hope or fear of anything, in
all things that thou shalt either do or speak, contenting thyself
with heroical truth, thou shalt live happily; and from this,
there is no man that can hinder thee.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XIV. As physicians and chirurgeons have always
their instruments ready at hand for all sudden cures; so have
thou always thy dogmata in a readiness for the knowledge of
things, both divine and human: and whatsoever thou dost, even in
the smallest things that thou dost, thou must ever remember that
mutual relation, and connection that is between these two things
divine, and things human. For without relation unto God, thou
shalt never speed in any worldly actions; nor on the other side
in any divine, without some respect had to things
human.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XV. Be not deceived; for thou shalt never live to
read thy moral commentaries, nor the acts of the famous Romans
and Grecians; nor those excerpta from several books; all which
thou hadst provided and laid up for thyself against thine old
age. Hasten therefore to an end, and giving over all vain hopes,
help thyself in time if thou carest for thyself, as thou oughtest
to do.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XVI. To steal, to sow, to buy, to be at rest, to
see what is to be done (which is not seen by the eyes, but by
another kind of sight:) what these words mean, and how many ways
to be understood, they do not understand. The body, the soul, the
understanding. As the senses naturally belong to the body, and
the desires and affections to the soul, so do the dogmata to the
understanding.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XVII. To be capable of fancies and imaginations,
is common to man and beast. To be violently drawn and moved by
the lusts and desires of the soul, is proper to wild beasts and
monsters, such as Phalaris and Nero were. To follow reason for
ordinary duties and actions is common to them also, who believe
not that there be any gods, and for their advantage would make no
conscience to betray their own country; and who when once the
doors be shut upon them, dare do anything. If therefore all
things else be common to these likewise, it follows, that for a
man to like and embrace all things that happen and are destinated
unto him, and not to trouble and molest that spirit which is
seated in the temple of his own breast, with a multitude of vain
fancies and imaginations, but to keep him propitious and to obey
him as a god, never either speaking anything contrary to truth,
or doing anything contrary to justice, is the only true property
of a good man. And such a one, though no man should believe that
he liveth as he doth, either sincerely and conscionably, or
cheerful and contentedly; yet is he neither with any man at all
angry for it, nor diverted by it from the way that leadeth to the
end of his life, through which a man must pass pure, ever ready
to depart, and willing of himself without any compulsion to fit
and accommodate himself to his proper lot and
portion.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>THE FOURTH BOOK</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>I. That inward mistress part of man if it be in
its own true natural temper, is towards all worldly chances and
events ever so disposed and affected, that it will easily turn
and apply itself to that which may be, and is within its own
power to compass, when that cannot be which at first it intended.
For it never doth absolutely addict and apply itself to any one
object, but whatsoever it is that it doth now intend and
prosecute, it doth prosecute it with exception and reservation;
so that whatsoever it is that falls out contrary to its first
intentions, even that afterwards it makes its proper object. Even
as the fire when it prevails upon those things that are in his
way; by which things indeed a little fire would have been
quenched, but a great fire doth soon turn to its own nature, and
so consume whatsoever comes in his way: yea by those very things
it is made greater and greater.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>II. Let nothing be done rashly, and at random, but
all things according to the most exact and perfect rules of
art.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>III. They seek for themselves private retiring
places, as country villages, the sea-shore, mountains; yea thou
thyself art wont to long much after such places. But all this
thou must know proceeds from simplicity in the highest degree. At
what time soever thou wilt, it is in thy power to retire into
thyself, and to be at rest, and free from all businesses. A man
cannot any whither retire better than to his own soul; he
especially who is beforehand provided of such things within,
which whensoever he doth withdraw himself to look in, may
presently afford unto him perfect ease and tranquillity. By
tranquillity I understand a decent orderly disposition and
carriage, free from all confusion and tumultuousness. Afford then
thyself this retiring continually, and thereby refresh and renew
thyself. Let these precepts be brief and fundamental, which as
soon as thou dost call them to mind, may suffice thee to purge
thy soul throughly, and to send thee away well pleased with those
things whatsoever they be, which now again after this short
withdrawing of thy soul into herself thou dost return unto. For
what is it that thou art offended at? Can it be at the wickedness
of men, when thou dost call to mind this conclusion, that all
reasonable creatures are made one for another? and that it is
part of justice to bear with them? and that it is against their
wills that they offend? and how many already, who once likewise
prosecuted their enmities, suspected, hated, and fiercely
contended, are now long ago stretched out, and reduced unto
ashes? It is time for thee to make an end. As for those things
which among the common chances of the world happen unto thee as
thy particular lot and portion, canst thou be displeased with any
of them, when thou dost call that our ordinary dilemma to mind,
either a providence, or Democritus his atoms; and with it,
whatsoever we brought to prove that the whole world is as it were
one city? And as for thy body, what canst thou fear, if thou dost
consider that thy mind and understanding, when once it hath
recollected itself, and knows its own power, hath in this life
and breath (whether it run smoothly and gently, or whether
harshly and rudely), no interest at all, but is altogether
indifferent: and whatsoever else thou hast heard and assented
unto concerning either pain or pleasure? But the care of thine
honour and reputation will perchance distract thee? How can that
be, if thou dost look back, and consider both how quickly all
things that are, are forgotten, and what an immense chaos of
eternity was before, and will follow after all things: and the
vanity of praise, and the inconstancy and variableness of human
judgments and opinions, and the narrowness of the place, wherein
it is limited and circumscribed? For the whole earth is but as
one point; and of it, this inhabited part of it, is but a very
little part; and of this part, how many in number, and what
manner of men are they, that will commend thee? What remains
then, but that thou often put in practice this kind of retiring
of thyself, to this little part of thyself; and above all things,
keep thyself from distraction, and intend not anything
vehemently, but be free and consider all things, as a man whose
proper object is Virtue, as a man whose true nature is to be kind
and sociable, as a citizen, as a mortal creature. Among other
things, which to consider, and look into thou must use to
withdraw thyself, let those two be among the most obvious and at
hand. One, that the things or objects themselves reach not unto
the soul, but stand without still and quiet, and that it is from
the opinion only which is within, that all the tumult and all the
trouble doth proceed. The next, that all these things, which now
thou seest, shall within a very little while be changed, and be
no more: and ever call to mind, how many changes and alterations
in the world thou thyself hast already been an eyewitness of in
thy time. This world is mere change, and this life,
opinion.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>IV. If to understand and to be reasonable be
common unto all men, then is that reason, for which we are termed
reasonable, common unto all. If reason is general, then is that
reason also, which prescribeth what is to be done and what not,
common unto all. If that, then law. If law, then are we
fellow-citizens. If so, then are we partners in some one
commonweal. If so, then the world is as it were a city. For which
other commonweal is it, that all men can be said to be members
of? From this common city it is, that understanding, reason, and
law is derived unto us, for from whence else? For as that which
in me is earthly I have from some common earth; and that which is
moist from some other element is imparted; as my breath and life
hath its proper fountain; and that likewise which is dry and
fiery in me: (for there is nothing which doth not proceed from
something; as also there is nothing that can be reduced unto mere
nothing:) so also is there some common beginning from whence my
understanding bath proceeded.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>V. As generation is, so also death, a secret of
nature's wisdom: a mixture of elements, resolved into the same
elements again, a thing surely which no man ought to be ashamed
of: in a series of other fatal events and consequences, which a
rational creature is subject unto, not improper or incongruous,
nor contrary to the natural and proper constitution of man
himself.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>VI. Such and such things, from such and such
causes, must of necessity proceed. He that would not have such
things to happen, is as he that would have the fig-tree grow
without any sap or moisture. In sum, remember this, that within a
very little while, both thou and he shall both be dead, and after
a little while more, not so much as your names and memories shall
be remaining.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>VII. Let opinion be taken away, and no man will
think himself wronged. If no man shall think himself wronged,
then is there no more any such thing as wrong. That which makes
not man himself the worse, cannot make his life the worse,
neither can it hurt him either inwardly or outwardly. It was
expedient in nature that it should be so, and therefore
necessary.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>VIII. Whatsoever doth happen in the world, doth
happen justly, and so if thou dost well take heed, thou shalt
find it. I say not only in right order by a series of inevitable
consequences, but according to justice and as it were by way of
equal distribution, according to the true worth of everything.
Continue then to take notice of it, as thou hast begun, and
whatsoever thou dost, do it not without this proviso, that it be
a thing of that nature that a good man (as the word good is
properly taken) may do it. This observe carefully in every
action.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>IX. Conceit no such things, as he that wrongeth
thee conceiveth, or would have thee to conceive, but look into
the matter itself, and see what it is in very
truth.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>X. These two rules, thou must have always in a
readiness. First, do nothing at all, but what reason proceeding
from that regal and supreme part, shall for the good and benefit
of men, suggest unto thee. And secondly, if any man that is
present shall be able to rectify thee or to turn thee from some
erroneous persuasion, that thou be always ready to change thy
mind, and this change to proceed, not from any respect of any
pleasure or credit thereon depending, but always from some
probable apparent ground of justice, or of some public good
thereby to be furthered; or from some other such
inducement.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XI. Hast thou reason? I have. Why then makest thou
not use of it? For if thy reason do her part, what more canst
thou require?</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XII. As a part hitherto thou hast had a particular
subsistence: and now shalt thou vanish away into the common
substance of Him, who first begot thee, or rather thou shalt be
resumed again into that original rational substance, out of which
all others have issued, and are propagated. Many small pieces of
frankincense are set upon the same altar, one drops first and is
consumed, another after; and it comes all to
one.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XIII. Within ten days, if so happen, thou shalt be
esteemed a god of them, who now if thou shalt return to the
dogmata and to the honouring of reason, will esteem of thee no
better than of a mere brute, and of an ape.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XIV. Not as though thou hadst thousands of years
to live. Death hangs over thee: whilst yet thou livest, whilst
thou mayest, be good.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XV. Now much time and leisure doth he gain, who is
not curious to know what his neighbour hath said, or hath done,
or hath attempted, but only what he doth himself, that it may be
just and holy? or to express it in Agathos' words, Not to look
about upon the evil conditions of others, but to run on straight
in the line, without any loose and extravagant
agitation.</font></font></p>
<p><font><font>XVI. He who is greedy of credit and reputation
after his death, doth not consider, that they themselves by whom
he is remembered, shall soon after every one of them be dead; and
they likewise that succeed those; until at last all memory, which
hitherto by the succession of men admiring and soon after dying
hath had its course, be quite extinct. But suppose that both they
that shall remember thee, and thy memory with them should be
immortal, what is that to thee? I will not say to thee after thou
art dead; but even to thee living, what is thy praise? But only
for a secret and politic consideration, which we call<font face=
"Symbol">oikonomian</font> <font>or dispensation. For as for
that, that it is the gift of nature, whatsoever is commended in
thee, what might be objected from thence, let that now that we
are upon another consideration be omitted as unseasonable. That
which is fair and goodly, whatsoever it be, and in what respect
soever it be, that it is fair and goodly, it is so of itself, and
terminates in itself, not admitting praise as a part or member:
that therefore which is praised, is not thereby made either
better or worse. This I understand even of those things, that are
commonly called fair and good, as those which are commended
either for the matter itself, or for curious workmanship. As for
that which is truly good, what can it stand in need of more than
either justice or truth ; or more than either kindness and
modesty? Which of all those, either becomes good or fair, because
commended; or dispraised suffers any damage? Doth the emerald
become worse in itself, or more vile if it be not commended? Doth
gold, or ivory, or purple? Is there anything that doth though
never so common, as a knife, a flower, or a
tree?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVII. If so be that the souls remain after
death (say they that will not believe it); how is the air from
all eternity able to contain them? How is the earth (say I) ever
from that time able to Contain the bodies of them that are
buried? For as here the change and resolution of dead bodies into
another kind of subsistence (whatsoever it be;) makes place for
other dead bodies : so the souls after death transferred into the
air, after they have conversed there a while, are either by way
of transmutation, or transfusion, or conflagration, received
again into that original rational substance, from which all
others do proceed: and so give way to those souls, who before
coupled and associated unto bodies, now begin to subsist single.
This, upon a supposition that the souls after death do for a
while subsist single, may be answered. And here, (besides the
number of bodies, so buried and contained by the earth), we may
further consider the number of several beasts, eaten by us men,
and by other creatures. For notwithstanding that such a multitude
of them is daily consumed, and as it were buried in the bodies of
the eaters, yet is the same place and body able to contain them,
by reason of their conversion, partly into blood, partly into air
and fire. What in these things is the speculation of truth? to
divide things into that which is passive and material; and that
which is active and formal.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVIII. Not to wander out of the way, but
upon every motion and desire, to perform that which is just: and
ever to be careful to attain to the true natural apprehension of
every fancy, that presents itself.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIX. Whatsoever is expedient unto thee, O
World, is expedient unto me; nothing can either be 'unseasonable
unto me, or out of date, which unto thee is seasonable.
Whatsoever thy seasons bear, shall ever by me be esteemed as
happy fruit, and increase. O Nature! from thee are all things, in
thee all things subsist, and to thee all tend. Could he say of
Athens, Thou lovely city of Cecrops; and shalt not thou say of
the world, Thou lovely city of God?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XX. They will say commonly, Meddle not with
many things, if thou wilt live cheerfully. Certainly there is
nothing better, than for a man to confine himself to necessary
actions; to such and so many only, as reason in a creature that
knows itself born for society, will command and enjoin. This will
not only procure that cheerfulness, which from the goodness, but
that also, which from the paucity of actions doth usually
proceed. For since it is so, that most of those things, which we
either speak or do, are unnecessary; if a man shall cut them off,
it must needs follow that he shall thereby gain much leisure, and
save much trouble, and therefore at every action a man must
privately by way of admonition suggest unto himself, What? may
not this that now I go about, be of the number of unnecessary
actions? Neither must he use himself to cut off actions only, but
thoughts and imaginations also, that are unnecessary for so will
unnecessary consequent actions the better be prevented and cut
off.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXI. Try also how a good man's life; (of
one, who is well pleased with those things whatsoever, which
among the common changes and chances of this world fall to his
own lot and share; and can live well contented and fully
satisfied in the justice of his own proper present action, and in
the goodness of his disposition for the future:) will agree with
thee. Thou hast had experience of that other kind of life : make
now trial of this also. Trouble not thyself any more henceforth,
reduce thyself unto perfect simplicity. Doth any man offend? It
is against himself that he doth offend: why should it trouble
thee? Hath anything happened unto thee ? It is well, whatsoever
it be, it is that which of all the common chances of the world
from the very beginning in the series of all other things that
have, or shall happen, was destinated and appointed unto thee. To
comprehend all in a few words, our life is short; we must
endeavour to gain the present time with best discretion and
justice. Use recreation with sobriety.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXII. Either this world is a</font> <font
face="Symbol">kosmoz</font> <font>or comely piece, because all
disposed and governed by certain order: or if it be a mixture,
though confused, yet still it is a comely piece. For is it
possible that in thee there should be any beauty at all, and that
in the whole world there should be nothing but disorder and
confusion? and all things in it too, by natural different
properties one from another differenced and distinguished; and
yet all through diffused, and by natural sympathy, one to another
united, as they are?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIII. A black or malign disposition, an
effeminate disposition; an hard inexorable disposition, a wild
inhuman disposition, a sheepish disposition, a childish
disposition; a blockish, a false, a scurril, a fraudulent, a
tyrannical: what then? If he be a stranger in the world, that
knows not the things that are in it; why not he a stranger as
well, that wonders at the things that are done in
it?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIV. He is a true fugitive, that flies from
reason, by which men are sociable. He blind, who cannot see with
the eyes of his understanding. He poor, that stands in need of
another, and hath not in himself all things needful for this
life. He an aposteme of the world, who by being discontented with
those things that happen unto him in the world, doth as it were
apostatise, and separate himself from common nature's rational
administration. For the same nature it is that brings this unto
thee, whatsoever it be, that first brought thee into the world.
He raises sedition in the city, who by irrational actions
withdraws his own soul from that one and common soul of all
rational creatures.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXV. There is, who without so much as a
coat; and there is, who without so much as a book, doth put
philosophy in practice. I am half naked, neither have I bread to
eat, and yet I depart not from reason, saith one. But I say; I
want the food of good teaching, and instructions, and yet I
depart not from reason.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVI. What art and profession soever thou
hast learned, endeavour to affect it, and comfort thyself in it;
and pass the remainder of thy life as one who from his whole
heart commits himself and whatsoever belongs unto him, unto the
gods: and as for men, carry not thyself either tyrannically or
servilely towards any.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVII. Consider in my mind, for example's
sake, the times of Vespasian: thou shalt see but the same things:
some marrying, some bringing up children, some sick, some dying,
some fighting, some feasting, some merchandising, some tilling,
some flattering, some boasting, some suspecting, some
undermining, some wishing to die, some fretting and murmuring at
their present estate, some wooing, some hoarding, some seeking
after magistracies, and some after kingdoms. And is not that
their age quite over, and ended? Again, consider now the times of
Trajan. There likewise thou seest the very self-same things, and
that age also is now over and ended. In the like manner consider
other periods, both of times and of whole nations, and see how
many men, after they had with all their might and main intended
and prosecuted some one worldly thing or other did soon after
drop away, and were resolved into the elements. But especially
thou must call to mind them, whom thou thyself in thy lifetime
hast known much distracted about vain things, and in the meantime
neglecting to do that, and closely and unseparably (as fully
satisfied with it) to adhere unto it, which their own proper
constitution did require. And here thou must remember, that thy
carriage in every business must be according to the worth and due
proportion of it, for so shalt thou not easily be tired out and
vexed, if thou shalt not dwell upon small matters longer than is
fitting.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVIII. Those words which once were common
and ordinary, are now become obscure and obsolete; and so the
names of men once commonly known and famous, are now become in a
manner obscure and obsolete names. Camillus, Cieso, Volesius,
Leonnatus; not long after, Scipio, Cato, then Augustus, then
Adrianus, then Antoninus Pius: all these in a short time will be
out of date, and, as things of another world as it were, become
fabulous. And this I say of them, who once shined as the wonders
of their ages, for as for the rest, no sooner are they expired,
than with them all their fame and memory. And what is it then
that shall always be remembered? all is vanity. What is it that
we must bestow our care and diligence upon? even upon this only:
that our minds and wills be just; that our actions be charitable;
that our speech be never deceitful, or that our understanding be
not subject to error; that our inclination be always set to
embrace whatsoever shall happen unto us, as necessary, as usual,
as ordinary, as flowing from such a beginning, and such a
fountain, from which both thou thyself and all things are.
Willingly therefore, and wholly surrender up thyself unto that
fatal concatenation, yielding up thyself unto the fates, to be
disposed of at their pleasure.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIX. Whatsoever is now present, and from
day to day hath its existence; all objects of memories, and the
minds and memories themselves, incessantly consider, all things
that are, have their being by change and alteration. Use thyself
therefore often to meditate upon this, that the nature of the
universe delights in nothing more, than in altering those things
that are, and in making others like unto them. So that we may
say, that whatsoever is, is but as it were the seed of that which
shall be. For if thou think that that only is seed, which either
the earth or the womb receiveth, thou art very
simple.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXX. Thou art now ready to die, and yet hast
thou not attained to that perfect simplicity: thou art yet
subject to many troubles and perturbations; not yet free from all
fear and suspicion of external accidents; nor yet either so
meekly disposed towards all men, as thou shouldest; or so
affected as one, whose only study and only wisdom is, to be just
in all his actions.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXI. Behold and observe, what is the state
of their rational part; and those that the world doth account
wise, see what things they fly and are afraid of; and what things
they hunt after.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXII. In another man's mind and
understanding thy evil Cannot subsist, nor in any proper temper
or distemper of the natural constitution of thy body, which is
but as it were the coat or cottage of thy soul. Wherein then, but
in that part of thee, wherein the conceit, and apprehension of
any misery can subsist? Let not that part therefore admit any
such conceit, and then all is well. Though thy body which is so
near it should either be cut or burnt, or suffer any corruption
or putrefaction, yet let that part to which it belongs to judge
of these, be still at rest; that is, let her judge this, that
whatsoever it is, that equally may happen to a wicked man, and to
a good man, is neither good nor evil. For that which happens
equally to him that lives according to nature, and to him that
doth not, is neither according to nature, nor against it; and by
consequent, neither good nor bad.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIII. Ever consider and think upon the
world as being but one living substance, and having but one soul,
and how all things in the world, are terminated into one
sensitive power; and are done by one general motion as it were,
and deliberation of that one soul; and how all things that are,
concur in the cause of one another's being, and by what manner of
connection and concatenation all things
happen.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIV. What art thou, that better and divine
part excepted, but as Epictetus said well, a wretched soul,
appointed to carry a carcass up and
down?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXV. To suffer change can be no hurt; as no
benefit it is, by change to attain to being. The age and time of
the world is as it were a flood and swift current, consisting of
the things that are brought to pass in the world. For as soon as
anything hath appeared, and is passed away, another succeeds, and
that also will presently out of sight.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVI. Whatsoever doth happen in the world,
is, in the course of nature, as usual and ordinary as a rose in
the spring, and fruit in summer. Of the same nature is sickness
and death; slander, and lying in wait, and whatsoever else
ordinarily doth unto fools use to be occasion either of joy or
sorrow. That, whatsoever it is, that comes after, doth always
very naturally, and as it were familiarly, follow upon that which
was before. For thou must consider the things of the world, not
as a loose independent number, consisting merely of necessary
events; but as a discreet connection of things orderly and
harmoniously disposed. There is then to be seen in the things of
the world, not a bare succession, but an admirable correspondence
and affinity.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVII. Let that of Heraclitus never be out
of thy mind, that the death of earth, is water, and the death of
water, is air; and the death of air, is fire; and so on the
contrary. Remember him also who was ignorant whither the way did
lead, and how that reason being the thing by which all things in
the world are administered, and which men are continually and
most inwardly conversant with: yet is the thing, which ordinarily
they are most in opposition with, and how those things which
daily happen among them, cease not daily to be strange unto them,
and that we should not either speak, or do anything as men in
their sleep, by opinion and bare imagination: for then we think
we speak and do, and that we must not be as children, who follow
their father's example; for best reason alleging their bare
successive tradition from our forefathers we have received
it.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVIII. Even as if any of the gods should
tell thee, Thou shalt certainly die to-morrow, or next day, thou
wouldst not, except thou wert extremely base and pusillanimous,
take it for a great benefit, rather to die the next day after,
than to-morrow; (for alas, what is the difference!) so, for the
same reason, think it no great matter to die rather many years
after, than the very next day.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIX. Let it be thy perpetual meditation,
how many physicians who once looked so grim, and so tetrically
shrunk their brows upon their patients, are dead and gone
themselves. How many astrologers, after that in great ostentation
they had foretold the death of some others, how many philosophers
after so many elaborate tracts and volumes concerning either
mortality or immortality; how many brave captains and commanders,
after the death and slaughter of so many; how many kings and
tyrants, after they had with such horror and insolency abused
their power upon men's lives, as though themselves had been
immortal; how many, that I may so speak, whole cities both men
and towns: Helice, Pompeii, Herculaneum, and others innumerable
are dead and gone. Run them over also, whom thou thyself, one
after another, hast known in thy time to drop away. Such and such
a one took care of such and such a one's burial, and soon after
was buried himself. So one, so another: and all things in a short
time. For herein lieth all indeed, ever to look upon all worldly
things, as things for their continuance, that are but for a day:
and for their worth, most vile, and contemptible, as for example,
What is man? That which but the other day when he was conceived
was vile snivel; and within few days shall be either an embalmed
carcass, or mere ashes. Thus must thou according to truth and
nature, throughly consider how man's life is but for a very
moment of time, and so depart meek and contented: even as if a
ripe olive falling should praise the ground that bare her, and
give thanks to the tree that begat her.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XL. Thou must be like a promontory of the
sea, against which though the waves beat continually, yet it both
itself stands, and about it are those swelling waves stilled and
quieted.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLI. Oh, wretched I, to whom this mischance
is happened! nay, happy I, to whom this thing being happened, I
can continue without grief; neither wounded by that which is
present, nor in fear of that which is to come. For as for this,
it might have happened unto any man, but any man having such a
thing befallen him, could not have continued without grief. Why
then should that rather be an unhappiness, than this a happiness?
But however, canst thou, 0 man! term that unhappiness, which is
no mischance to the nature of man I Canst thou think that a
mischance to the nature of man, which is not contrary to the end
and will of his nature? What then hast thou learned is the will
of man's nature? Doth that then which hath happened unto thee,
hinder thee from being just? or magnanimous? or temperate? or
wise? or circumspect? or true? or modest? or free? or from
anything else of all those things in the present enjoying and
possession whereof the nature of man, (as then enjoying all that
is proper unto her,) is fully satisfied? Now to conclude; upon
all occasion of sorrow remember henceforth to make use of this
dogma, that whatsoever it is that hath happened unto thee, is in
very deed no such thing of itself, as a misfortune; but that to
bear it generously, is certainly great
happiness.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLII. It is but an ordinary coarse one, yet
it is a good effectual remedy against the fear of death, for a
man to consider in his mind the examples of such, who greedily
and covetously (as it were) did for a long time enjoy their
lives. What have they got more, than they whose deaths have been
untimely? Are not they themselves dead at the last? as
Cadiciant's, Fabius, Julianus Lepidus, or any other who in their
lifetime having buried many, were at the last buried themselves.
The whole space of any man's life, is but little; and as little
as it is, with what troubles, with what manner of dispositions,
and in the society of how wretched a body must it be passed! Let
it be therefore unto thee altogether as a matter of indifferency.
For if thou shalt look backward; behold, what an infinite chaos
of time doth present itself unto thee; and as infinite a chaos,
if thou shalt look forward. In that which is so infinite, what
difference can there be between that which liveth but three days,
and that which liveth three ages?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLIII. Let thy course ever be the most
compendious way. The most compendious, is that which is according
to nature: that is, in all both words and deeds, ever to follow
that which is most sound and perfect. For such a resolution will
free a man from all trouble, strife, dissembling, and
ostentation</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>THE FIFTH BOOK</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>I. In the morning when thou findest thyself
unwilling to rise, consider with thyself presently, it is to go
about a man's work that I am stirred up. Am I then yet unwilling
to go about that, for which I myself was born and brought forth
into this world? Or was I made for this, to lay me down, and make
much of myself in a warm bed? 'O but this is pleasing.' And was
it then for this that thou wert born, that thou mightest enjoy
pleasure? Was it not in very truth for this, that thou mightest
always be busy and in action? Seest thou not how all things in
the world besides, how every tree md plant, how sparrows and
ants, spiders and bees: how all in their kind are intent as it
were orderly to perform whatsoever (towards the preservation of
this orderly universe) naturally doth become and belong unto
thin? And wilt not thou do that, which belongs unto a man to do?
Wilt not thou run to do that, which thy nature doth require? 'But
thou must have some rest.' Yes, thou must. Nature hath of that
also, as well as of eating and drinking, allowed thee a certain
stint. But thou guest beyond thy stint, and beyond that which
would suffice, and in matter of action, there thou comest short
of that which thou mayest. It must needs be therefore, that thou
dost not love thyself, for if thou didst, thou wouldst also love
thy nature, and that which thy nature doth propose unto herself
as her end. Others, as many as take pleasure in their trade and
profession, can even pine themselves at their works, and neglect
their bodies and their food for it; and doest thou less honour
thy nature, than an ordinary mechanic his trade; or a good dancer
his art? than a covetous man his silver, and vainglorious man
applause? These to whatsoever they take an affection, can be
content to want their meat and sleep, to further that every one
which he affects: and shall actions tending to the common good of
human society, seem more vile unto thee, or worthy of less
respect and intention?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>II. How easy a thing is it for a man to put
off from him all turbulent adventitious imaginations, and
presently to be in perfect rest and
tranquillity!</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>III. Think thyself fit and worthy to speak,
or to do anything that is according to nature, and let not the
reproach, or report of some that may ensue upon it, ever deter
thee. If it be right and honest to be spoken or done, undervalue
not thyself so much, as to be discouraged from it. As for them,
they have their own rational over-ruling part, and their own
proper inclination: which thou must not stand and look about to
take notice of, but go on straight, whither both thine own
particular, and the common nature do lead thee; and the way of
both these, is but one.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>IV. I continue my course by actions
according to nature, until I fall and cease, breathing out my
last breath into that air, by which continually breathed in I did
live; and falling upon that earth, out of whose gifts and fruits
my father gathered his seed, my mother her blood, and my nurse
her milk, out of which for so many years I have been provided,
both of meat and drink. And lastly, which beareth me that tread
upon it, and beareth with me that so many ways do abuse it, or so
freely make use of it, so many ways to so many
ends.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>V. No man can admire thee for thy sharp
acute language, such is thy natural disability that way. Be it
so: yet there be many other good things, for the want of which
thou canst not plead the want or natural ability. Let them be
seen in thee, which depend wholly from thee; sincerity, gravity,
laboriousness, contempt of pleasures; be not querulous, be
Content with little, be kind, be free; avoid all superfluity, all
vain prattling; be magnanimous. Doest not thou perceive, how many
things there be, which notwithstanding any pretence of natural
indisposition and unfitness, thou mightest have performed and
exhibited, and yet still thou doest voluntarily continue drooping
downwards? Or wilt thou say. that it is through defect of thy
natural constitution, that thou art constrained to murmur, to be
base and wretched to flatter; now to accuse, and now to please,
and pacify thy body: to be vainglorious, to be so giddy-headed.,
and unsettled in thy thoughts? nay (witnesses be the Gods) of all
these thou mightest have been rid long ago: only, this thou must
have been contented with, to have borne the blame of one that is
somewhat slow and dull. wherein thou must so exercise thyself, as
one who neither doth much take to heart this his natural defect,
nor yet pleaseth himself in it.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>Vi. Such there be, who when they have done a
good turn to any, are ready to set them on the score for it, and
to require retaliation. Others there be, who though they stand
not upon retaliation, to require any, yet they think with
themselves nevertheless, that such a one is their debtor, and
they know as their word is what they have done. Others again
there be, who when they have done any such thing, do not so much
as know what they have done; but are like unto the vine, which
beareth her grapes, and when once she hath borne her own proper
fruit, is contented and seeks for no further recompense. As a
horse after a race, and a hunting dog when he hath hunted, and a
bee when she hath made her honey, look not for applause and
commendation; so neither doth that man that rightly doth
understand his own nature when he hath done a good turn: but from
one doth proceed to do another, even as the vine after she hath
once borne fruit in her own proper season, is ready for another
time. Thou therefore must be one of them, who what they do,
barely do it without any further thought, and are in a manner
insensible of what they do. 'Nay but,' will some reply perchance,
'this very thing a rational man is bound unto, to understand what
it is, that he doeth.' For it is the property, say they, of one
that is naturally sociable, to be sensible, that he doth operate
sociably: nay, and to desire, that the party him self that is
sociably dealt with, should be sensible of it too. I answer, That
which thou sayest is true indeed, but the true meaning of that
which is said, thou dost not understand. And therefore art thou
one of those first, whom I mentioned. For they also are led by a
probable appearance of reason. But if thou dost desire to
understand truly what it is that is said, fear not that thou
shalt therefore give over any sociable
action.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VII. The form of the Athenians' prayer did
run thus: '0 rain, rain, good Jupiter, upon all the grounds and
fields that belong to the Athenians.' Either we should not pray
at all, or thus absolutely and freely; and not every one for
himself in particular alone.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VIII. As we say commonly, The physician hath
prescribed unto this man, riding; unto another, cold baths; unto
a third, to go barefoot: so it is alike to say, The nature of the
universe hath prescribed unto this man sickness, or blindness, or
some loss, or damage or some such thing. For as there, when we
say of a physician, that he hath prescribed anything, our meaning
is, that he hath appointed this for that, as subordinate and
conducing to health: so here, whatsoever doth happen unto any, is
ordained unto him as a thing subordinate unto the fates, and
therefore do we say of such things, that they do happen, or fall
together; as of square stones, when either in walls, or pyramids
in a certain position they fit one another, and agree as it were
in an harmony, the masons say, that they do</font> <font face=
"Symbol">(sumbainein) as if thou shouldest say, fall together: so
that in the general, though the things be divers that make it,
yet the consent or harmony itself is but one. And as the whole
world is made up of all the particular bodies of the world, one
perfect and complete body, of the same nature that particular
bodies; so is the destiny of particular causes and events one
general one, of the same nature that particular causes are. What
I now say, even they that are mere idiots are not ignorant of:
for they say commonly</font> <font face="Symbol">(touto eferen
autw)</font> <font>that is, This his destiny hath brought upon
him. This therefore is by the fates properly and particularly
brought upon this, as that unto this in particular is by the
physician prescribed. These therefore let us accept of in like
manner, as we do those that are prescribed unto us our
physicians. For them also in themselves shall We find to contain
many harsh things, but we nevertheless, in hope of health, and
recovery, accept of them. Let. the fulfilling' and accomplishment
of those things which the common nature bath determined, be unto
thee as thy health. Accept then, and be pleased with whatsoever
doth happen, though otherwise harsh and unpleasing, as tending to
that end, to the health and welfare of the universe, and to
Jove's happiness and prosperity. For this whatsoever it be,
should not have been produced, had it not conduced to the good of
the universe. For neither doth any ordinary particular nature
bring anything to pass, that is not to whatsoever is within the
sphere of its own proper administration and government agreeable
and subordinate. For these two considerations then thou must be
well pleased with anything that doth happen unto thee. First,
because that for thee properly it was brought to pass, and unto
thee it was prescribed; and that from the very beginning by the
series and connection of the first causes, it hath ever had a
reference unto thee. And secondly, because the good success and
perfect welfare, and indeed the very continuance of Him, that is
the Administrator of the whole, doth in a manner depend on it.
For the whole (because whole, therefore entire and perfect) is
maimed, and mutilated, if thou shalt cut off anything at all,
whereby the coherence, and contiguity as of parts, so of causes,
is maintained and preserved. Of which certain it is, that thou
doest (as much as lieth in thee) cut off, and in some sort
violently take somewhat away, as often as thou art displeased
with anything that happeneth.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>IX. Be not discontented, be not
disheartened, be not out of hope, if often it succeed not so well
with thee punctually and precisely to do all things according to
the right dogmata, but being once cast off, return unto them
again: and as for those many and more frequent occurrences,
either of worldly distractions, or human infirmities, which as a
man thou canst not but in some measure be subject unto, be not
thou discontented with them; but however, love and affect that
only which thou dust return unto: a philosopher's life, and
proper occupation after the most exact manner. And when thou dust
return to thy philosophy, return not unto it as the manner of
some is, after play and liberty as it were, to their
schoolmasters and pedagogues; but as they that have sore eyes to
their sponge and egg: or as another to his cataplasm; or as
others to their fomentations: so shalt not thou make it a matter
of ostentation at all to obey reason but of ease and comfort. And
remember that philosophy requireth nothing of thee, but what thy
nature requireth, and wouldest thou thyself desire anything that
is not according to nature? for which of these sayest thou; that
which is according to nature or against it, is of itself more
kind and pleasing? Is it not for that respect especially, that
pleasure itself is to so many men's hurt and overthrow, most
prevalent, because esteemed commonly most kind, and natural? But
consider well whether magnanimity rather, and true liberty, and
true simplicity, and equanimity, and holiness; whether these be
not most kind and natural? And prudency itself, what more kind
and amiable than it, when thou shalt truly consider with thyself,
what it is through all the proper objects of thy rational
intellectual faculty currently to go on without any fall or
stumble? As for the things of the world, their true nature is in
a manner so involved with obscurity, that unto many philosophers,
and those no mean ones, they seemed altogether incomprehensible.
and the Stoics themselves, though they judge them not altogether
incomprehensible, yet scarce and not without much difficulty,
comprehensible, so that all assent of ours is fallible, for who
is he that is infallible in his conclusions? >From the nature
of things, pass now unto their subjects and matter: how
temporary, how vile are they I such as may be in the power and
possession of some abominable loose liver, of some common
strumpet, of some notorious oppressor and extortioner. Pass from
thence to the dispositions of them that thou doest ordinarily
converse with, how hardly do we bear, even with the most loving
and amiable! that I may not say, how hard it is for us to bear
even with our own selves, in such obscurity, and impurity of
things: in such and so continual a flux both of the substances
and time; both of the motions themselves, and things moved; what
it is that we can fasten upon; either to honour, and respect
especially; or seriously, and studiously to seek after; I cannot
so much as conceive For indeed they are things
contrary.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>X. Thou must comfort thyself in the
expectation of thy natural dissolution, and in the meantime not
grieve at the delay; but rest contented in those two things.
First, that nothing shall happen unto thee, which is not
according to the nature of the universe. Secondly, that it is in
thy power, to do nothing against thine own proper God, and inward
spirit. For it is not in any man's power to constrain thee to
transgress against him.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XI. What is the use that now at this present
I make of my soul? Thus from time to time and upon all occasions
thou must put this question to thyself; what is now that part of
mine which they call the rational mistress part, employed about?
Whose soul do I now properly possess? a child's? or a youth's? a
woman's? or a tyrant's? some brute, or some wild beast's
soul?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XII. What those things are in themselves,
which by the greatest part are esteemed good, thou mayest gather
even from this. For if a man shall hear things mentioned as good,
which are really good indeed, such as are prudence, temperance,
justice, fortitude, after so much heard and conceived, he cannot
endure to hear of any more, for the word good is properly spoken
of them. But as for those which by the vulgar are esteemed good,
if he shall hear them mentioned as good, he doth hearken for
more. He is well contented to hear, that what is spoken by the
comedian, is but familiarly and popularly spoken, so that even
the vulgar apprehend the difference. For why is it else, that
this offends not and needs not to be excused, when virtues are
styled good: but that which is spoken in commendation of wealth,
pleasure, or honour, we entertain it only as merrily and
pleasantly spoken? Proceed therefore, and inquire further,
whether it may not be that those things also which being
mentioned upon the stage were merrily, and with great applause of
the multitude, scoffed at with this jest, that they that
possessed them had not in all the world of their own, (such was
their affluence and plenty) so much as a place where to avoid
their excrements. Whether, I say, those ought not also in very
deed to be much respected, and esteemed of, as the only things
that are truly good.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIII. All that I consist of, is either form
or matter. No corruption can reduce either of these unto nothing:
for neither did I of nothing become a subsistent creature. Every
part of mine then. will by mutation be disposed into a certain
part of the whole world, and that in time into another part; and
so in infinitum; by which kind of mutation, I also became what I
am, and so did they that begot me, and they before them, and so
upwards in infinitum. For so we may be allowed to speak, though
the age and government of the world, be to some certain periods
of time limited, and confined.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIV. Reason, and rational power, are
faculties which content themselves with themselves, and their own
proper operations. And as for their first inclination and motion,
that they take from themselves. But their progress is right to
the end and object, which is in their way, as it were, and lieth
just before them: that is, which is feasible and possible,
whether it be that which at the first they proposed to
themselves, or no. For which reason also such actions are
termed</font> <font face="Symbol">katorqwseiz</font> <font>to
intimate the directness of the way, by which they are achieved.
Nothing must be thought to belong to a man, which doth not belong
unto him as he is a man. These, the event of purposes, are not
things required in a man. The nature of man doth not profess any
such things. The final ends and consummations of actions are
nothing at all to a man's nature. The end therefore of a man, or
the summum bonum whereby that end is fulfilled, cannot consist in
the consummation of actions purposed and intended. Again,
concerning these outward worldly things, were it so that any of
them did properly belong unto man, then would it not belong unto
man, to condemn them and to stand in opposition with them.
Neither would he be praiseworthy that can live without them; or
he good, (if these were good indeed) who of his own accord doth
deprive himself of any of them. But we see contrariwise, that the
more a man doth withdraw himself from these wherein external pomp
and greatness doth consist, or any other like these; or the
better he doth bear with the loss of these, the better he is
accounted.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XV. Such as thy thoughts and ordinary
cogitations are, such will thy mind be in time. For the soul doth
as it were receive its tincture from the fancies, and
imaginations. Dye it therefore and thoroughly soak it with the
assiduity of these cogitations. As for example. Wheresoever thou
mayest live, there it is in thy power to live well and happy. But
thou mayest live at the Court, there then also mayest thou live
well and happy. Again, that which everything is made for, he is
also made unto that, and cannot but naturally incline unto it.
That which anything doth naturally incline unto, therein is his
end. Wherein the end of everything doth consist, therein also
doth his good and benefit consist. Society therefore is the
proper good of a rational creature. For that we are made for
society, it hath long since been demonstrated. Or can any man
make any question of this, that whatsoever is naturally worse and
inferior, is ordinarily subordinated to that which is better? and
that those things that are best, are made one for another? And
those things that have souls, are better than those that have
none? and of those that have, those best that have rational
souls?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVI. To desire things impossible is the part
of a mad man. But it is a thing impossible, that wicked man
should not commit some such things. Neither doth anything happen
to any man, which in the ordinary course of nature as natural
unto him doth not happen. Again, the same things happen unto
others also. And truly, if either he that is ignorant that such a
thing hath happened unto him, or he that is ambitious to be
commended for his magnanimity, can be patient, and is not
grieved: is it not a grievous thing, that either ignorance, or a
vain desire to please and to be commended, should be more
powerful and effectual than true prudence? As for the things
themselves, they touch not the soul, neither can they have any
access unto it: neither can they of themselves any ways either
affect it, or move it. For she herself alone can affect and move
herself, and according as the dogmata and opinions are, which she
doth vouchsafe herself; so are those things which, as
accessories, have any co-existence with
her.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVII. After one consideration, man is
nearest unto us; as we are bound to do them good, and to bear
with them. But as he may oppose any of our true proper actions,
so man is unto me but as a thing indifferent: even as the sun, or
the wind, or some wild beast. By some of these it may be, that
some operation or other of mine, may be hindered; however, of my
mind and resolution itself, there can be no let or impediment, by
reason of that ordinary constant both exception (or reservation
wherewith it inclineth) and ready conversion of objects; from
that which may not be, to that which may be, which in the
prosecution of its inclinations, as occasion serves, it doth
observe. For by these the mind doth turn and convert any
impediment whatsoever, to be her aim and purpose. So that what
before was the impediment, is now the principal object of her
working; and that whihch before was in her way, is now her
readiest way.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVIII. Honour that which is chiefest and
most powerful in the world, and that is it, which makes use of
all things, and governs all things. So also in thyself; honour
that which is chiefest, and most powerful; and is of one kind and
nature with that which we now spake of. For it is the very same,
which being in thee, turneth all other things to its own use, and
by whom also thy life is governed.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIX. That which doth not hurt the city
itself; cannot hurt any citizen. This rule thou must remember to
apply and make use of upon every conceit and apprehension of
wrong. If the whole city be not hurt by this, neither am I
certainly. And if the whole be not, why should I make it my
private grievance? consider rather what it is wherein he is
overseen that is thought to have done the wrong. Again, often
meditate how swiftly all things that subsist, and all things that
are done in the world, are carried away, and as it were conveyed
out of sight: for both the substance themselves, we see as a
flood, are in a continual flux; and all actions in a perpetual
change; and the causes themselves, subject to a thousand
alterations, neither is there anything almost, that may ever be
said to be now settled and constant. Next unto this, and which
follows upon it, consider both the infiniteness of the time
already past, and the immense vastness of that which is to come,
wherein all things are to be resolved and annihilated. Art not
thou then a very fool, who for these things, art either puffed up
with pride, or distracted with cares, or canst find in thy heart
to make such moans as for a thing that would trouble thee for a
very long time? Consider the whole universe whereof thou art but
a very little part, and the whole age of the world together,
whereof but a short and very momentary portion is allotted unto
thee, and all the fates and destinies together, of which how much
is it that comes to thy part and share! Again: another doth
trespass against me. Let him look to that. He is master of his
own disposition, and of his own operation. I for my part am in
the meantime in possession of as much, as the common nature would
have me to possess: and that which mine own nature would have me
do, I do.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XX. Let not that chief commanding part of
thy soul be ever subject to any variation through any corporal
either pain or pleasure, neither suffer it to be mixed with
these, but let it both circumscribe itself, and confine those
affections to their own proper parts and members. But if at any
time they do reflect and rebound upon the mind and understanding
(as in an united and compacted body it must needs;) then must
thou not go about to resist sense and feeling, it being natural.
However let not thy understanding to this natural sense and
feeling, which whether unto our flesh pleasant or painful, is
unto us nothing properly, add an opinion of either good or bad
and all is well.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXI. To live with the Gods. He liveth with
the Gods, who at all times affords unto them the spectacle of a
soul, both contented and well pleased with whatsoever is
afforded, or allotted unto her; and performing whatsoever is
pleasing to that Spirit, whom (being part of himself) Jove hath
appointed to every man as his overseer and
governor.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXII. Be not angry neither with him whose
breath, neither with him whose arm holes, are offensive. What can
he do? such is his breath naturally, and such are his arm holes;
and from such, such an effect, and such a smell must of necessity
proceed. 'O, but the man (sayest thou) hath understanding in him,
and might of himself know, that he by standing near, cannot
choose but offend.' And thou also (God bless thee!) hast
understanding. Let thy reasonable faculty, work upon his
reasonable faculty; show him his fault, admonish him. If he
hearken unto thee, thou hast cured him, and there will be no more
occasion of anger.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIII. 'Where there shall neither roarer be,
nor harlot.' Why so? As thou dost purpose to live, when thou hast
retired thyself to some such place, where neither roarer nor
harlot is: so mayest thou here. And if they will not suffer thee,
then mayest thou leave thy life rather than thy calling, but so
as one that doth not think himself anyways wronged. Only as one
would say, Here is a smoke; I will out of it. And what a great
matter is this! Now till some such thing force me out, I will
continue free; neither shall any man hinder me to do what I will,
and my will shall ever be by the proper nature of a reasonable
and sociable creature, regulated and
directed.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIV. That rational essence by which the
universe is governed, is for community and society; and therefore
hath it both made the things that are worse, for the best, and
hath allied and knit together those which are best, as it were in
an harmony. Seest thou not how it hath sub-ordinated, and
co-ordinated? and how it hath distributed unto everything
according to its worth? and those which have the pre-eminency and
superiority above all, hath it united together, into a mutual
consent and agreement.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXV. How hast thou carried thyself hitherto
towards the Gods? towards thy parents? towards thy brethren?
towards thy wife? towards thy children? towards thy masters? thy
foster-fathers? thy friends? thy domestics? thy servants? Is it
so with thee, that hitherto thou hast neither by word or deed
wronged any of them? Remember withal through how many things thou
hast already passed, and how many thou hast been able to endure;
so that now the legend of thy life is full, and thy charge is
accomplished. Again, how many truly good things have certainly by
thee been discerned? how many pleasures, how many pains hast thou
passed over with contempt? how many things eternally glorious
hast thou despised? towards how many perverse unreasonable men
hast thou carried thyself kindly, and
discreetly?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVI. Why should imprudent unlearned souls
trouble that which is both learned, and prudent? And which is
that that is so? she that understandeth the beginning and the
end, and hath the true knowledge of that rational essence, that
passeth through all things subsisting, and through all ages being
ever the same, disposing and dispensing as it were this universe
by certain periods of time.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVII. Within a very little while, thou wilt
be either ashes, or a sceletum; and a name perchance; and
perchance, not so much as a name. And what is that but an empty
sound, and a rebounding echo? Those things which in this life are
dearest unto us, and of most account, they are in themselves but
vain, putrid, contemptible. The most weighty and serious, if
rightly esteemed, but as puppies, biting one another: or untoward
children, now laughing and then crying. As for faith, and
modesty, and justice, and truth, they long since, as one of the
poets hath it, have abandoned this spacious earth, and retired
themselves unto heaven. What is it then that doth keep thee here,
if things sensible be so mutable and unsettled? and the senses so
obscure, and so fallible? and our souls nothing but an exhalation
of blood? and to be in credit among such, be but vanity? What is
it that thou dost stay for? an extinction, or a translation;
either of them with a propitious and contented mind. But still
that time come, what will content thee? what else, but to worship
and praise the Gods; and to do good unto men. To bear with them,
and to forbear to do them any wrong. And for all external things
belonging either to this thy wretched body, or life, to remember
that they are neither thine, nor in thy
power.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVIII. Thou mayest always speed, if thou
wilt but make choice of the right way; if in the course both of
thine opinions and actions, thou wilt observe a true method.
These two things be common to the souls, as of God, so of men,
and of every reasonable creature, first that in their own proper
work they cannot be hindered by anything: and secondly, that
their happiness doth consist in a disposition to, and in the
practice of righteousness; and that in these their desire is
terminated.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIX. If this neither be my wicked act, nor
an act anyways depending from any wickedness of mine, and that by
it the public is not hurt; what doth it concern me? And wherein
can the public be hurt? For thou must not altogether be carried
by conceit and common opinion: as for help thou must afford that
unto them after thy best ability, and as occasion shall require,
though they sustain damage, but in these middle or worldly
things; but however do not thou conceive that they are truly hurt
thereby: for that is not right. But as that old foster-father in
the comedy, being now to take his leave doth with a great deal of
ceremony, require his foster-child's rhombus, or rattle-top,
remembering nevertheless that it is but a rhombus; so here also
do thou likewise. For indeed what is all this pleading and public
bawling for at the courts? O man, hast thou forgotten what those
things are! yea but they are things that others much care for,
and highly esteem of. Wilt thou therefore be a fool too ? Once I
was ; let that suffice.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXX. Let death surprise rue when it will,
and where it will, I may be a happy man, nevertheless. For he is
a happy man, who in his lifetime dealeth unto himself a happy lot
and portion. A happy lot and portion is, good inclinations of the
soul, good desires, good actions.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>THE SIXTH BOOK</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>I. The matter itself, of which the universe
doth consist, is of itself very tractable and pliable. That
rational essence that doth govern it, bath in itself no cause to
do evil. It bath no evil in itsell; neither can it do anything
that is evil: neither can anything be hurt by it. And all things
are done and determined according to its will and
prescript.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>II. Be it all one unto thee, whether half
frozen or well warm; whether only slumbering, or after a full
sleep; whether discommended or commended thou do thy duty: or
whether dying or doing somewhat else; for that also 'to die,'
must among the rest be reckoned as one of the duties and actions
of our lives.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>III. Look in, let not either the proper
quality, or the true worth of anything pass thee, before thou
hast fully apprehended it.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>IV. All substances come soon to their
change, and either they shall be resolved by way of exhalation
(if so be that all things shall be reunited into one substance),
or as others maintain, they shall be scattered and dispersed. As
for that Rational Essence by which all things are governed, as it
best understandeth itself, both its own disposition, and what it
doth, and what matter it hath to do with and accordingly doth all
things; so we that do not, no wonder, if we wonder at many
things, the reasons whereof we cannot
comprehend.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>V. The best kind of revenge is, not to
become like unto them.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VI. Let this be thy only joy, and thy only
comfort, from one sociable kind action without intermission to
pass unto another, God being ever in thy
mind.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VII. The rational commanding part, as it
alone can stir up and turn itself; so it maketh both itself to
be, and everything that happeneth, to appear unto itself, as it
will itself.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VIII. According to the nature of the
universe all things particular are determined, not according to
any other nature, either about compassing and containing; or
within, dispersed and contained; or without, depending. Either
this universe is a mere confused mass, and an intricate context
of things, which shall in time be scattered and dispersed again:
or it is an union consisting of order, and administered by
Providence. If the first, why should I desire to continue any
longer in this fortuit confusion and commixtion? or why should I
take care for anything else, but that as soon as may be I may be
earth again? And why should I trouble myself any more whilst I
seek to please the Gods? Whatsoever I do, dispersion is my end,
and will come upon me whether I will or no. But if the latter be,
then am not I religious in vain; then will I be quiet and
patient, and put my trust in Him, who is the Governor of
all.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>IX. Whensoever by some present hard
occurrences thou art constrained to be in some sort troubled and
vexed, return unto thyself as soon as may be, and be not out of
tune longer than thou must needs. For so shalt thou be the better
able to keep thy part another time, and to maintain the harmony,
if thou dost use thyself to this continually; once out, presently
to have recourse unto it, and to begin
again.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>X. If it were that thou hadst at one time
both a stepmother, and a natural mother living, thou wouldst
honour and respect her also; nevertheless to thine own natural
mother would thy refuge, and recourse be continually. So let the
court and thy philosophy be unto thee. Have recourse unto it
often, and comfort thyself in her, by whom it is that those other
things are made tolerable unto thee, and thou also in those
things not intolerable unto others.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XI. How marvellous useful it is for a man to
represent unto himself meats, and all such things that are for
the mouth, under a right apprehension and imagination! as for
example: This is the carcass of a fish; this of a bird; and this
of a hog. And again more generally; This phalernum, this
excellent highly commended wine, is but the bare juice of an
ordinary grape. This purple robe, but sheep's hairs, dyed with
the blood of a shellfish. So for coitus, it is but the attrition
of an ordinary base entrail, and the excretion of a little vile
snivel, with a certain kind of convulsion: according to
Hippocrates his opinion. How excellent useful are these lively
fancies and representations of things, thus penetrating and
passing through the objects, to make their true nature known and
apparent! This must thou use all thy life long, and upon all
occasions: and then especially, when matters are apprehended as
of great worth and respect, thy art and care must be to uncover
them, and to behold their vileness, and to take away from them
all those serious circumstances and expressions, under which they
made so grave a show. For outward pomp and appearance is a great
juggler; and then especially art thou most in danger to be
beguiled by it, when (to a man's thinking) thou most seemest to
be employed about matters of moment.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XII. See what Crates pronounceth concerning
Xenocrates himself.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIII. Those things which the common sort of
people do admire, are most of them such things as are very
general, and may be comprehended under things merely natural, or
naturally affected and qualified: as stones, wood, figs, vines,
olives. Those that be admired by them that are more moderate and
restrained, are comprehended under things animated: as flocks and
herds. Those that are yet more gentle and curious, their
admiration is commonly confined to reasonable creatures only; not
in general as they are reasonable, but as they are capable of
art, or of some craft and subtile invention: or perchance barely
to reasonable creatures; as they that delight in the possession
of many slaves. But he that honours a reasonable soul in general,
as it is reasonable and naturally sociable, doth little regard
anything else: and above all things is careful to preserve his
own, in the continual habit and exercise both of reason and
sociableness: and thereby doth co-operate with him, of whose
nature he doth also participate; God.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIV. Some things hasten to be, and others to
he no more. And even whatsoever now is, some part thereof bath
already perished. Perpetual fluxes and alterations renew the
world, as the perpetual course of time doth make the age of the
world (of itself infinite) to appear always fresh and new. In
such a flux and course of all things, what of these things that
hasten so fast away should any man regard, since among all there
is not any that a man may fasten and fix upon? as if a man would
settle his affection upon some ordinary sparrow living by him,
who is no sooner seen, than out of sight. For we must not think
otherwise of our lives, than as a mere exhalation of blood, or of
an ordinary respiration of air. For what in our common
apprehension is, to breathe in the air and to breathe it out
again, which we do daily: so much is it and no more, at once to
breathe out all thy respirative faculty into that common air from
whence but lately (as being but from yesterday, and to-day), thou
didst first breathe it in, and with it,
life.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XV. Not vegetative spiration, it is not
surely (which plants have) that in this life should be so dear
unto us; nor sensitive respiration, the proper life of beasts,
both tame and wild; nor this our imaginative faculty; nor that we
are subject to be led and carried up and down by the strength of
our sensual appetites; or that we can gather, and live together;
or that we can feed: for that in effect is no better, than that
we can void the excrements of our food. What is it then that
should be dear unto us? to hear a clattering noise? if not that,
then neither to be applauded by the tongues of men. For the
praises of many tongues, is in effect no better than the
clattering of so many tongues. If then neither applause, what is
there remaining that should be dear unto thee? This I think: that
in all thy motions and actions thou be moved, and restrained
according to thine own true natural constitution and Construction
only. And to this even ordinary arts and professions do lead us.
For it is that which every art doth aim at, that whatsoever it
is, that is by art effected and prepared, may be fit for that
work that it is prepared for. This is the end that he that
dresseth the vine, and he that takes upon him either to tame
colts, or to train up dogs, doth aim at. What else doth the
education of children, and all learned professions tend unto?
Certainly then it is that, which should be dear unto us also. If
in this particular it go well with thee, care not for the
obtaining of other things. But is it so, that thou canst not but
respect other things also? Then canst not thou truly be free?
then canst thou not have self-content: then wilt thou ever be
subject to passions. For it is not possible, but that thou must
be envious, and jealous, and suspicious of them whom thou knowest
can bereave thee of such things; and again, a secret underminer
of them, whom thou seest in present possession of that which is
dear unto thee. To be short, he must of necessity be full of
confusion within himself, and often accuse the Gods, whosoever
stands in need of these things. But if thou shalt honour and
respect thy mind only, that will make thee acceptable towards
thyself, towards thy friends very tractable; and conformable and
concordant with the Gods; that is, accepting with praises
whatsoever they shall think good to appoint and allot unto
thee.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVI. Under, above, and about, are the
motions of the elements; but the motion of virtue, is none of
those motions, but is somewhat more excellent and divine. Whose
way (to speed and prosper in it) must be through a way, that is
not easily comprehended.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVII. Who can choose but wonder at them?
They will not speak well of them that are at the same time with
them, and live with them; yet they themselves are very ambitious,
that they that shall follow, whom they have never seen, nor shall
ever see, should speak well of them. As if a man should grieve
that he hath not been commended by them, that lived before
him.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVIII. Do not ever conceive anything
impossible to man, which by thee cannot, or not without much
difficulty be effected; but whatsoever in general thou canst
Conceive possible and proper unto any man, think that very
possible unto thee also.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIX. Suppose that at the palestra somebody
hath all to-torn thee with his nails, and hath broken thy head.
Well, thou art wounded. Yet thou dost not exclaim; thou art not
offended with him. Thou dost not suspect him for it afterwards,
as one that watcheth to do thee a mischief. Yea even then, though
thou dost thy best to save thyself from him, yet not from him as
an enemy. It is not by way of any suspicious indignation, but by
way of gentle and friendly declination. Keep the same mind and
disposition in other parts of thy life also. For many things
there be, which we must conceit and apprehend, as though we had
had to do with an antagonist at the palestra. For as I said, it
is very possible for us to avoid and decline, though we neither
suspect, nor hate.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XX. If anybody shall reprove me, and shall
make it apparent unto me, that in any either opinion or action of
mine I do err, I will most gladly retract. For it is the truth
that I seek after, by which I am sure that never any man was
hurt; and as sure, that he is hurt that continueth in any error,
or ignorance whatsoever.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXI. I for my part will do what belongs unto
me; as for other things, whether things unsensible or things
irrational; or if rational, yet deceived and ignorant of the true
way, they shall not trouble or distract me. For as for those
creatures which are not endued with reason and all other things
and-matters of the world whatsoever I freely, and generously, as
one endued with reason, of things that have none, make use of
them. And as for men, towards them as naturally partakers of the
same reason, my care is to carry myself sociably. But whatsoever
it is that thou art about, remember to call upon the Gods. And as
for the time how long thou shalt live to do these things, let it
be altogether indifferent unto thee, for even three such hours
are sufficient.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXII. Alexander of Macedon, and he that
dressed his mules, when once dead both came to one. For either
they were both resumed into those original rational essences from
whence all things in the world are propagated; or both after one
fashion were scattered into atoms.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIII Consider how many different things,
whether they concern our bodies, or our souls, in a moment of
time come to pass in every one of us, and so thou wilt not wonder
if many more things or rather all things that are done, can at
one time subsist, and coexist in that both one and general, which
we call the world.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIV. if any should put this question unto
thee, how this word Antoninus is written, wouldst thou not
presently fix thine intention upon it, and utter out in order
every letter of it? And if any shall begin to gainsay thee, and
quarrel with thee about it; wilt thou quarrel with him again, or
rather go on meekly as thou hast begun, until thou hast numbered
out every letter? Here then likewise remember, that every duty
that belongs unto a man doth consist of some certain letters or
numbers as it were, to which without any noise or tumult keeping
thyself thou must orderly proceed to thy proposed end, forbearing
to quarrel with him that would quarrel and fall out with
thee.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXV. Is it not a cruel thing to forbid men
to affect those things, which they conceive to agree best with
their own natures, and to tend most to their own proper good and
behoof? But thou after a sort deniest them this liberty, as often
as thou art angry with them for their sins. For surely they are
led unto those sins whatsoever they be, as to their proper good
and commodity. But it is not so (thou wilt object perchance).
Thou therefore teach them better, and make it appear unto them:
but be not thou angry with them.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVI. Death is a cessation from the
impression of the senses, the tyranny of the passions, the errors
of the mind, and the servitude of the
body.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVII. If in this kind of life thy body be
able to hold out, it is a shame that thy soul should faint first,
and give over. take heed, lest of a philosopher thou become a
mere Caesar in time, and receive a new tincture from the court.
For it may happen if thou dost not take heed. Keep thyself
therefore, truly simple, good, sincere, grave, free from all
ostentation, a lover of that which is just, religious, kind,
tender-. hearted, strong and vigorous to undergo anything that
becomes thee. Endeavour to continue such, as philosophy (hadst
thou wholly and constantly applied thyself unto it) would have
made, and secured thee. Worship the Gods, procure the welfare of
men, this life is short. Charitable actions, and a holy
disposition, is the only fruit of this earthly
life.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVIII. Do all things as becometh the
disciple of Antoninus Pius. Remember his resolute constancy in
things that were done by him according to reason, his equability
in all things, his sanctity; the cheerfulness of his countenance,
his sweetness, and how free he was from all vainglory; how
careful to come to the true and exact knowledge of matters in
hand, and how he would by no means give over till he did fully,
and plainly understand the whole state of the business; and how
patiently, and without any contestation he would bear with them,
that did unjustly condemn him: how he would never be over-hasty
in anything, nor give ear to slanders and false accusations, but
examine and observe with best diligence the several actions and
dispositions of men. Again, how he was no backbiter, nor easily
frightened, nor suspicious, and in his language free from all
affectation and curiosity: and how easily he would content
himself with few things, as lodging, bedding, clothing, and
ordinary nourishment, and attendance. How able to endure labour,
how patient; able through his spare diet to continue from morning
to evening without any necessity of withdrawing before his
accustomed hours to the necessities of nature: his uniformity and
constancy in matter of friendship. How he would bear with them
that with all boldness and liberty opposed his opinions; and even
rejoice if any man could better advise him: and lastly, how
religious he was without superstition. All these things of him
remember, that whensoever thy last hour shall come upon thee, it
may find thee, as it did him, ready for it in the possession of a
good conscience.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIX. Stir up thy mind, and recall thy wits
again from thy natural dreams, and visions, and when thou art
perfectly awoken, and canst perceive that they were but dreams
that troubled thee, as one newly awakened out of another kind of
sleep look upon these worldly things with the same mind as thou
didst upon those, that thou sawest in thy
sleep.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXX. I consist of body and soul. Unto my
body all things are indifferent, for of itself it cannot affect
one thing more than another with apprehension of any difference;
as for my mind, all things which are not within the verge of her
own operation, are indifferent unto her, and for her own
operations, those altogether depend of her; neither does she busy
herself about any, but those that are present; for as for future
and past operations, those also are now at this present
indifferent unto her.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXI. As long as the foot doth that which
belongeth unto it to do, and the hand that which belongs unto it,
their labour, whatsoever it be, is not unnatural. So a man as
long as he doth that which is proper unto a man, his labour
cannot be against nature; and if it be not against nature, then
neither is it hurtful unto him. But if it were so that happiness
did consist in pleasure: how came notorious robbers, impure
abominable livers, parricides, and tyrants, in so large a measure
to have their part of pleasures?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXII. Dost thou not see, how even those
that profess mechanic arts, though in some respect they be no
better than mere idiots, yet they stick close to the course of
their trade, neither can they find in their heart to decline from
it: and is it not a grievous thing that an architect, or a
physician shall respect the course and mysteries of their
profession, more than a man the proper course and condition of
his own nature, reason, which is common to him and to the
Gods?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIII. Asia, Europe; what are they, but as
corners of the whole world; of which the whole sea, is but as one
drop; and the great Mount Athos, but as a clod, as all present
time is but as one point of eternity. All, petty things; all
things that are soon altered, soon perished. And all things come
from one beginning; either all severally and particularly
deliberated and resolved upon, by the general ruler and governor
of all; or all by necessary consequence. So that the dreadful
hiatus of a gaping lion, and all poison, and all hurtful things,
are but (as the thorn and the mire) the necessary consequences of
goodly fair things. Think not of these therefore, as things
contrary to those which thou dost much honour, and respect; but
consider in thy mind. the true fountain of
all.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIV He that seeth the things that are now,
hath Seen all that either was ever, or ever shall be, for all
things are of one kind; and all like one unto another. Meditate
often upon the connection of all things in the world; and upon
the mutual relation that they have one unto another. For all
things are after a sort folded and involved one within another,
and by these means all agree well together. For one thing is
consequent unto another, by local motion, by natural conspiration
and agreement, and by substantial union, or, reduction of all
substances into one.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXV. Fit and accommodate thyself to that
estate and to those occurrences, which by the destinies have been
annexed unto thee; and love those men whom thy fate it is to live
with; but love them truly. An instrument, a tool, an utensil,
whatsoever it be, if it be fit for the purpose it was made for,
it is as it should be though he perchance that made and fitted
it, be out of sight and gone. But in things natural, that power
which hath framed and fitted them, is and abideth within them
still: for which reason she ought also the more to be respected,
and we are the more obliged (if we may live and pass our time
according to her purpose and intention) to think that all is well
with us, and according to our own minds. After this manner also,
and in this respect it is, that he that is all in all doth enjoy
his happiness.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVI. What things soever are not within the
proper power and jurisdiction of thine own will either to compass
or avoid, if thou shalt propose unto thyself any of those things
as either good, or evil; it must needs be that according as thou
shalt either fall into that which thou dost think evil, or miss
of that which thou dost think good, so wilt thou be ready both to
complain of the Gods, and to hate those men, who either shall be
so indeed, or shall by thee be suspected as the cause either of
thy missing of the one, or falling into the other. And indeed we
must needs commit many evils, if we incline to any of these
things, more or less, with an opinion of any difference. But if
we mind and fancy those things only, as good and bad, which
wholly depend of our own wills, there is no more occasion why we
should either murmur against the Gods, or be at enmity with any
man.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVII. We all work to one effect, some
willingly, and with a rational apprehension of what we do: others
without any such knowledge. As I think Heraclitus in a place
speaketh of them that sleep, that even they do work in their
kind, and do confer to the general operations of the world. One
man therefore doth co-operate after one sort, and another after
another sort; but even he that doth murmur, and to his power doth
resist and hinder; even he as much as any doth co-operate. For of
such also did the world stand in need. Now do thou consider among
which of these thou wilt rank thyself. For as for him who is the
Administrator of all, he will make good use of thee whether thou
wilt or no, and make thee (as a part and member of the whole) so
to co-operate with him, that whatsoever thou doest, shall turn to
the furtherance of his own counsels, and resolutions. But be not
thou for shame such a part of the whole, as that vile and
ridiculous verse (which Chrysippus in a place doth mention) is a
part of the comedy.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVIII. Doth either the sun take upon him
to do that which belongs to the rain? or his son Aesculapius
that, which unto the earth doth properly belong? How is it with
every one of the stars in particular? Though they all differ one
from another, and have their several charges and functions by
themselves, do they not all nevertheless concur and co-operate to
one end?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIX. If so be that the Gods have
deliberated in particular of those things that should happen unto
me, I must stand to their deliberation, as discrete and wise. For
that a God should be an imprudent God, is a thing hard even to
conceive: and why should they resolve to do me hurt? for what
profit either unto them or the universe (which they specially
take care for) could arise from it? But if so be that they have
not deliberated of me in particular, certainly they have of the
whole in general, and those things which in consequence and
coherence of this general deliberation happen unto me in
particular, I am bound to embrace and accept of. But if so be
that they have not deliberated at all (which indeed is very
irreligious for any man to believe: for then let us neither
sacrifice, nor pray, nor respect our oaths, neither let us any
more use any of those things, which we persuaded of the presence
and secret conversation of the Gods among us, daily use and
practise:) but, I say, if so be that they have not indeed either
in general, or particular deliberated of any of those things,
that happen unto us in this world; yet God be thanked, that of
those things that concern myself, it is lawful for me to
deliberate myself, and all my deliberation is but concerning that
which may be to me most profitable. Now that unto every one is
most profitable, which is according to his own constitution and
nature. And my nature is, to be rational in all my actions and as
a good, and natural member of a city and commonwealth, towards my
fellow members ever to be sociably and kindly disposed and
affected. My city and country as I am Antoninus, is Rome; as a
man, the whole world. Those things therefore that are expedient
and profitable to those cities, are the only things that are good
and expedient for me.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XL. Whatsoever in any kind doth happen to
any one, is expedient to the whole. And thus much to content us
might suffice, that it is expedient for the whole in general. But
yet this also shalt thou generally perceive, if thou dost
diligently take heed, that whatsoever doth happen to any one man
or men. . . . And now I am content that the word expedient,
should more generally be understood of those things which we
otherwise call middle things, or things indifferent; as health,
wealth, and the like.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLI. As the ordinary shows of the theatre
and of other such places, when thou art presented with them,
affect thee; as the same things still seen, and in the same
fashion, make the sight ingrateful and tedious; so must all the
things that we see all our life long affect us. For all things,
above and below, are still the same, and from the same causes.
When then will there be an end?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLII. Let the several deaths of men of all
sorts, and of all sorts of professions, and of all sort of
nations, be a perpetual object of thy thoughts, . . . so that
thou mayst even come down to Philistio, Phoebus, and Origanion.
Pass now to other generations. Thither shall we after many
changes, where so many brave orators are; where so many grave
philosophers; Heraclitus, Pythagoras, Socrates. Where so many
heroes of the old times; and then so many brave captains of the
latter times; and so many kings. After all these, where Eudoxus,
Hipparchus, Archimedes; where so many other sharp, generous,
industrious, subtile, peremptory dispositions; and among others,
even they, that have been the greatest scoffers and deriders of
the frailty and brevity of this our human life; as Menippus, and
others, as many as there have been such as he. Of all these
consider, that they long since are all dead, and gone. And what
do they suffer by it! Nay they that have not so much as a name
remaining, what are they the worse for it? One thing there is,
and that only, which is worth our while in this world, and ought
by us much to be esteemed; and that is, according to truth and
righteousness, meekly and lovingly to converse with false, and
unrighteous men.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLIII. When thou wilt comfort and cheer
thyself, call to mind the several gifts and virtues of them, whom
thou dost daily converse with; as for example, the industry of
the one; the modesty of another; the liberality of a third; of
another some other thing. For nothing can so much rejoice thee,
as the resemblances and parallels of several virtues, visible and
eminent in the dispositions of those who live with thee;
especially when, all at once, as near as may be, they represent
themselves unto thee. And therefore thou must have them always in
a readiness.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLIV. Dost thou grieve that thou dost weigh
but so many pounds, and not three hundred rather? Just as much
reason hast thou to grieve that thou must live but so many years,
and not longer. For as for bulk and substance thou dost content
thyself with that proportion of it that is allotted unto thee, so
shouldst thou for time.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLV. Let us do our best endeavours to
persuade them ; but however, if reason and justice lead thee to
it, do it, though they be never so much against it. But if any
shall by force withstand thee, and hinder thee in it, convert thy
virtuous inclination from one object unto another, from justice
to contented equanimity, and cheerful patience: so that what in
the one is thy hindrance, thou mayst make use of it for the
exercise of another virtue: and remember that it was with due
exception, and reservation, that thou didst at first incline and
desire. For thou didst not set thy mind upon things impossible.
Upon what then? that all thy desires might ever be moderated with
this due kind of reservation. And this thou hast, and mayst
always obtain, whether the thing desired be in thy power or no.
And what do I care for more, if that for which I was born and
brought forth into the world (to rule all my desires with reason
and discretion) may be?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLVI. The ambitious supposeth another man's
act, praise and applause, to be his own happiness; the voluptuous
his own sense and feeling; but he that is wise, his own
action.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLVII. It is in thy power absolutely to
exclude all manner of conceit and opinion, as concerning this
matter; and by the same means, to exclude all grief and sorrow
from thy soul. For as for the things and objects themselves, they
of themselves have no such power, whereby to beget and force upon
us any opinion at all.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLVIII. Use thyself when any man speaks unto
thee, so to hearken unto him, as that in the interim thou give
not way to any other thoughts; that so thou mayst (as far as is
possible) seem fixed and fastened to his very soul, whosoever he
be that speaks unto thee.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLIX. That which is not good for the
bee-hive, cannot be good for the bee.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>L. Will either passengers, or patients, find
fault and complain, either the one if they be well carried, or
the others if well cured? Do they take care for any more than
this; the one, that their shipmaster may bring them safe to land,
and the other, that their physician may effect their
recovery?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>LI. How many of them who came into the world
at the same time when I did, are already gone out of
it?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>LII. To them that are sick of the jaundice,
honey seems bitter; and to them that are bitten by a mad dog, the
water terrible; and to children, a little ball seems a fine
thing. And why then should I be angry? or do I think that error
and false opinion is less powerful to make men transgress, than
either choler, being immoderate and excessive, to cause the
jaundice; or poison, to cause rage?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>LIII. No man can hinder thee to live as thy
nature doth require. Nothing can happen unto thee, but what the
common good of nature doth require.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>LIV. What manner of men they be whom they
seek to please, and what to get, and by what actions: how soon
time will cover and bury all things, and how many it hath already
buried!</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>THE SEVENTH BOOK</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>I. What is wickedness ? It is that which
many time and often thou hast already seen and known in the
world. And so oft as anything doth happen that might otherwise
trouble thee, let this memento presently come to thy mind, that
it is that which thou hast already often Seen and known.
Generally, above and below, thou shalt find but the same things.
The very same things whereof ancient stories, middle age stories,
and fresh stories are full whereof towns are full, and houses
full. There is nothing that is new. All things that are, are both
usual and of little continuance.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>II. What fear is there that thy dogmata, or
philosophical resolutions and conclusions, should become dead in
thee, and lose their proper power and efficacy to make thee live
happy, as long as those proper and correlative fancies, and
representations of things on which they mutually depend (which
continually to stir up and revive is in thy power,) are still
kept fresh and alive? It is in my power concerning this thing
that is happened, what soever it be, to conceit that which is
right and true. If it be, why then am I troubled? Those things
that are without my understanding, are nothing to it at all: and
that is it only, which doth properly concern me. Be always in
this mind, and thou wilt be right.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>Ill. That which most men would think
themselves most happy for, and would prefer before all things, if
the Gods would grant it unto them after their deaths, thou mayst
whilst thou livest grant unto thyself; to live again. See the
things of the world again, as thou hast already seen them. For
what is it else to live again? Public shows and solemnities with
much pomp and vanity, stage plays, flocks and herds; conflicts
and con tentions: a bone thrown to a company of hungry curs; a
bait for greedy fishes; the painfulness, and continual
burden-bearing of wretched ants, the running to and fro of
terrified mice: little puppets drawn up and down with wires and
nerves: these be the objects of the world. among all these thou
must stand steadfast, meekly affected, and free from all manner
of indignation; with this right ratiocination and apprehension;
that as the worth is of those things which a man doth affect, so
is in very deed every man's worth more or
less.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>IV. Word after word, every one by itself,
must the things that are spoken be conceived and understood; and
so the things that are done, purpose after purpose, every one by
itself likewise. And as in matter of purposes and actions, we
must presently see what is the proper use and relation of every
one; so of words must we be as ready, to consider of every one
what is the true meaning, and signification of it according to
truth and nature, however it be taken in common
use.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>V. Is my reason, and understanding
sufficient for this, or no? If it be sufficient, without any
private applause, or public ostentation as of an instrument,
which by nature I am provided of, I will make use of it for the
work in hand, as of an instrument, which by nature I am provided
of. if it be not, and that otherwise it belong not unto me
particularly as a private duty, I will either give it over, and
leave it to some other that can better effect it: or I will
endeavour it; but with the help of some other, who with the joint
help of my reason, is able to bring somewhat to pass, that will
now be seasonable and useful for the common good. For whatsoever
I do either by myself, or with some other, the only thing that I
must intend, is, that it be good and expedient for the public.
For as for praise, consider how many who once were much
commended, are now already quite forgotten, yea they that
commended them, how even they themselves are long since dead and
gone. Be not therefore ashamed, whensoever thou must use the help
of others. For whatsoever it be that lieth upon thee to effect,
thou must propose it unto thyself, as the scaling of walls is
unto a soldier. And what if thou through either lameness or some
other impediment art not able to reach unto the top of the
battlements alone, which with the help of another thou mayst;
wilt thou therefore give it over, or go about it with less
courage and alacrity. because thou canst not effect it all
alone?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VI. Let not things future trouble thee. For
if necessity so require that they come to pass, thou shalt
(whensoever that is) be provided for them with the same reason,
by which whatsoever is now present, is made both tolerable and
acceptable unto thee. All things are linked and knitted together,
and the knot is sacred, neither is there anything in the world,
that is not kind and natural in regard of any other thing, or,
that hath not some kind of reference and natural correspondence
with whatsoever is in the world besides. For all things are
ranked together, and by that decency of its due place and order
that each particular doth observe, they all concur together to
the making of one and the same ["Kosmos" ed] or world: as if you
said, a comely piece, or an orderly composition. For all things
throughout, there is but one and the same order; and through all
things, one and the same God, the same substance and the same
law. There is one common reason, and one common truth, that
belongs unto all reasonable creatures, for neither is there save
one perfection of all creatures that are of the same kind, and
partakers of the same reason.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VII. Whatsoever is material, doth soon
vanish away into the common substance of the whole; and
whatsoever is formal, or, whatsoever doth animate that which is
material, is soon resumed into the common reason of the whole;
and the fame and memory of anything, is soon swallowed up by the
general age and duration of the whole.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VIII. To a reasonable creature, the same
action is both according to nature, and according to
reason.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>IX. Straight of itself, not made
straight.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>X. As several members in one body united, so
are reasonable creatures in a body divided and dispersed, all
made and prepared for one common operation. And this thou shalt
apprehend the better, if thou shalt use thyself often to say to
thyself, I am</font> <font face="Symbol">meloz</font><font>, or a
member of the mass and body of reasonable substances. But if thou
shalt say I am</font> <font face="Symbol">meroz</font><font>, or
a part, thou dost not yet love men from thy heart. The joy that
thou takest in the exercise of bounty, is not yet grounded upon a
due ratiocination and right apprehension of the nature of things.
Thou dost exercise it as yet upon this ground barely, as a thing
convenient and fitting; not, as doing good to thyself, when thou
dost good unto others.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XI. Of things that are external, happen what
will to that which can suffer by external accidents. Those things
that suffer let them complain themselves, if they will; as for
me, as long as I conceive no such thing, that that which is
happened is evil, I have no hurt; and it is in my power not to
conceive any such thing.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XII. Whatsoever any man either doth or
saith, thou must be good; not for any man's sake, but for thine
own nature's sake; as if either gold, or the emerald, or purple,
should ever be saying to themselves, Whatsoever any man either
doth or saith, I must still be an emerald, and I must keep my
colour.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIII. This may ever be my comfort and
security: my understanding, that ruleth over all, will not of
itself bring trouble and vexation upon itself. This I say; it
will not put itself in any fear, it will not lead itself into any
concupiscence. If it be in the power of any other to compel it to
fear, or to grieve, it is free for him to use his power. But sure
if itself do not of itself, through some false opinion or
supposition incline itself to any such disposition; there is no
fear. For as for the body, why should I make the grief of my
body, to be the grief of my mind? If that itself can either fear
or complain, let it. But as for the soul, which indeed, can only
be truly sensible of either fear or grief; to which only it
belongs according to its different imaginations and opinions, to
admit of either of these, or of their contraries; thou mayst look
to that thyself, that it suffer nothing. Induce her not to any
such opinion or persuasion. The understanding is of itself
sufficient unto itself, and needs not (if itself doth not bring
itself to need) any other thing besides itself, and by consequent
as it needs nothing, so neither can it be troubled or hindered by
anything, if itself doth not trouble and hinder
itself.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIV. What is rv&nfLovia, or happiness:
but a7~o~ &d~wv, or, a good da~rnon, or spirit? What then
dost thou do here, O opinion? By the Gods I adjure thee, that
thou get thee gone, as thou earnest: for I need thee not. Thou
earnest indeed unto me according to thy ancient wonted manner. It
is that, that all men have ever been subject unto. That thou
camest therefore I am not angry with thee, only begone, now that
I have found thee what thou art.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XV. Is any man so foolish as to fear change,
to which all things that once were not owe their being? And what
is it, that is more pleasing and more familiar to the nature of
the universe? How couldst thou thyself use thy ordinary hot
baths, should not the wood that heateth them first be changed?
How couldst thou receive any nourishment from those things that
thou hast eaten, if they should not be changed? Can anything else
almost (that is useful and profitable) be brought to pass without
change? How then dost not thou perceive, that for thee also, by
death, to come to change, is a thing of the very same nature, and
as necessary for the nature of the
universe?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVI. Through the substance of the universe,
as through a torrent pass all particular bodies, being all of the
same nature, and all joint workers with the universe itself as in
one of our bodies so many members among themselves. How many such
as Chrysippus, how many such as Socrates, how many such as
Epictetus, hath the age of the world long since swallowed up and
devoured? Let this, be it either men or businesses, that thou
hast occasion to think of, to the end that thy thoughts be not
distracted and thy mind too earnestly set upon anything, upon
every such occasion presently come to thy mind. Of all my
thoughts and cares, one only thing shall be the object, that I
myself do nothing which to the proper constitution of man,
(either in regard of the thing itself, or in regard of the
manner, or of the time of doing,) is contrary. The time when thou
shalt have forgotten all things, is at hand. And that time also
is at hand, when thou thyself shalt be forgotten by all. Whilst
thou art, apply thyself to that especially which unto man as he
is a mart, is most proper and agreeable, and that is, for a man
even to love them that transgress against him. This shall be, if
at the same time that any such thing doth happen, thou call to
mind, that they are thy kinsmen; that it is through ignorance and
against their wills that they sin; and that within a very short
while after, both thou and he shall be no more. But above all
things, that he hath not done thee any hurt; for that by him thy
mind and understanding is not made worse or more vile than it was
before.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVII. The nature of the universe, of the
common substance of all things as it were of so much wax hath now
perchance formed a horse; and then, destroying that figure, hath
new tempered and fashioned the matter of it into the form and
substance of a tree: then that again into the form and substance
of a man: and then that again into some other. Now every one of
these doth subsist but for a very little while. As for
dissolution, if it be no grievous thing to the chest or trunk, to
be joined together; why should it be more grievous to be put
asunder?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVIII. An angry countenance is much against
nature, and it is oftentimes the proper countenance of them that
are at the point of death. But were it so, that all anger and
passion were so thoroughly quenched in thee, that it were
altogether impossible to kindle it any more, yet herein must not
thou rest satisfied, but further endeavour by good consequence of
true ratiocination, perfectly to conceive and understand, that
all anger and passion is against reason. For if thou shalt not be
sensible of thine innocence; if that also shall be gone from
thee, the comfort of a good conscience, that thou doest all
things according to reason: what shouldest thou live any longer
for? All things that now thou seest, are but for a moment. That
nature, by which all things in the world are administered, will
soon bring change and alteration upon them, and then of their
substances make other things like unto them : and then soon after
others again of the matter and substance of these: that so by
these means, the world may still appear fresh and
new.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIX. Whensoever any man doth trespass
against other, presently consider with thyself what it was that
he did suppose to be good, what to be evil, when he did trespass.
For this when thou knowest, thou wilt pity him thou wilt have no
occasion either to wonder, or to be angry. For either thou
thyself dust yet live in that error and ignorance, as that thou
dust suppose either that very thing that he doth, or some other
like worldly thing, to be good; and so thou art bound to pardon
him if he have done that which thou in the like case wouldst have
done thyself. Or if so be that thou dost not any more suppose the
same things to be good or evil, that he doth; how canst thou but
be gentle unto him that is in an error?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XX. Fancy not to thyself things future, as
though they were present but of those that are present, take some
aside, that thou takest most benefit of, and consider of them
particularly, how wonderfully thou wouldst want them, if they
were not present. But take heed withal, lest that whilst thou
dust settle thy contentment in things present, thou grow in time
so to overprize them, as that the want of them (whensoever it
shall so fall out) should be a trouble and a vexation unto thee.
Wind up thyself into thyself. Such is the nature of thy
reasonable commanding part, as that if it exercise justice, and
have by that means tranquillity within itself, it doth rest fully
satisfied with itself without any other
thing.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXI. Wipe off all opinion stay the force and
violence of unreasonable lusts and affections: circumscribe the
present time examine whatsoever it be that is happened, either to
thyself or to another: divide all present objects, either in that
which is formal or material think of the last hour. That which
thy neighbour bath committed, where the guilt of it lieth, there
let it rest. Examine in order whatsoever is spoken. Let thy mind
penetrate both into the effects, and into the causes. Rejoice
thyself with true simplicity, and modesty; and that all middle
things between virtue and vice are indifferent unto thee.
Finally, love mankind; obey God.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXII. All things (saith he) are by certain
order and appointment. And what if the elements only. It will
suffice to remember, that all things in general are by certain
order and appointment: or if it be but few. And as concerning
death, that either dispersion, or the atoms, or annihilation, or
extinction, or translation will ensue. And as concerning pain,
that that which is intolerable is soon ended by death; and that
which holds long must needs be tolerable; and that the mind in
the meantime (which is all in all) may by way of jnterclusion, or
interception, by stopping all manner of commerce and sympathy
with the body, still retain its own tranquillity. Thy
understanding is not made worse by it. As for those parts that
suffer, let them, if they can, declare their grief themselves. As
for praise and commendation, view their mind and understanding,
what estate they are in; what kind of things they fly, and what
things they seek after: and that as in the seaside, whatsoever
was before to be seen, is by the continual succession of new
heaps of sand cast up one upon another, soon hid and covered; so
in this life, all former things by those which immediately
succeed.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIII. Out of Plato. 'He then whose mind is
endowed with true magnanimity, who hath accustomed himself to the
contemplation both of all times, and of all things in general;
can this mortal life (thinkest thou) seem any great matter unto
him? It is not possible, answered he. Then neither will such a
one account death a grievous thing? By no
means.'</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIV. Out of Antisthenes. 'It is a princely
thing to do well, and to be ill-spoken of. It is a shameful thing
that the face should be subject unto the mind, to be put into
what shape it will, and to be dressed by it as it will; and that
the mind should not bestow so much care upon herself, as to
fashion herself, and to dress herself as best becometh
her.'</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXV. Out of several poets and comics. 'It
will but little avail thee, to turn thine anger and indignation
upon the things themselves that have fallen across unto thee. For
as for them, they are not sensible of it, &c. Thou shalt but
make thyself a laughing-stock; both unto the Gods and men,
&c. Our life is reaped like a ripe ear of corn; one is yet
standing and another is down, &c. But if so be that I and my
children be neglected by the gods, there is some reason even for
that, &c. As long as right and equity is of my side, &c.
Not to lament with them, not to tremble,
&c'</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVI. Out of Plato. 'My answer, full of
justice and equity, should be this: Thy speech is not right, O
man! if thou supposest that he that is of any worth at all,
should apprehend either life or death, as a matter of great
hazard and danger; and should not make this rather his only care,
to examine his own actions, whether just or unjust: whether
actions of a good, or of a wicked man, &c. For thus in very
truth stands the case, O ye men of Athens. What place or station
soever a man either hath chosen to himself, judging it best for
himself; or is by lawful authority put and settled in, therein do
I think (all appearance of danger notwithstanding) that he should
continue, as one who feareth neither death, nor anything else, so
much as he feareth to commit anything that is vicious and
shameful, &c. But, O noble sir, consider I pray, whether true
generosity and true happiness, do not consist in somewhat else
rather, than in the preservation either of our, or other men's
lives. For it is not the part of a man that is a man indeed, to
desire to live long or to make much of his life whilst he Iiveth:
but rather (he that is such) will in these things wholly refer
himself unto the Gods, and believing that which every woman can
tell him, that no man can escape death; the only thing that he
takes thought and care for is this, that what time he liveth, he
may live as well and as virtuously as he can possibly, &c. To
look about, and with the eyes to follow the course of the stars
and planets as though thou wouldst run with them; and to mind
perpetually the several changes of the elements one into another.
For such fancies and imaginations, help much to purge away the
dross and filth of this our earthly life,' &c. That also is a
fine passage of Plato's, where he speaketh of worldly things in
these words: 'Thou must also as from some higher place look down,
as it were, upon the things of this world, as flocks, armies,
husbandmen's labours, marriages, divorces, generations, deaths:
the tumults of courts and places of judicatures; desert places;
the several nations of barbarians, public festivals, mournmgs,
fairs, markets.' How all things upon earth are pell-mell; and how
miraculously things contrary one to another, concur to the beauty
and perfection of this universe.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVII. To look back upon things of former
ages, as upon the manifold changes and conversions of several
monarchies and commonwealths. We may also foresee things future,
for they shall all be of the same kind; neither is it possible
that they should leave the tune, or break the concert that is now
begun, as it were, by these things that are now done and brought
to pass in the world. It comes all to one therefore, whether a
man be a spectator of the things of this life but forty years, or
whether he see them ten thousand years together: for what shall
he see more? 'And as for those parts that came from the earth,
they shall return unto the earth again; and those that came from
heaven, they also shall return unto those heavenly places.'
Whether it be a mere dissolution and unbinding of the manifold
intricacies and entanglements of the confused atoms; or some such
dispersion of the simple and incorruptible elements . . . 'With
meats and drinks and divers charms, they seek to divert the
channel, that they might not die. Yet must we needs endure that
blast of wind that cometh from above, though we toil and labour
never so much.'</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVIII. He hath a stronger body, and is a
better wrestler than I. What then? Is he more bountiful? is he
more modest? Doth he bear all adverse chances with more
equanimity: or with his neighbour's offences with more meekness
and gentleness than I?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIX. Where the matter may be effected
agreeably to that reason, which both unto the Gods and men is
common, there can be no just cause of grief or sorrow. For where
the fruit and benefit of an action well begun and prosecuted
according to the proper constitution of man may be reaped and
obtained, or is sure and certain, it is against reason that any
damage should there be suspected. In all places, and at all
times, it is in thy power religiously to embrace whatsoever by
God's appointment is happened unto thee, and justly to converse
with those men, whom thou hast to do with, and accurately to
examine every fancy that presents itself, that nothing may slip
and steal in, before thou hast rightly apprehended the true
nature of it.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXX. Look not about upon other men's minds
and understandings; but look right on forwards whither nature,
both that of the universe, in those things that happen unto thee;
and thine in particular, in those things that are done by thee:
doth lead, and direct thee. Now every one is bound to do that,
which is consequent and agreeable to that end which by his true
natural constitution he was ordained unto. As for all other
things, they are ordained for the use of reasonable creatures: as
in all things we see that that which is worse and inferior, is
made for that which is better. Reasonable creatures, they are
ordained one for another. That therefore which is chief in every
man's constitution, is, that he intend the common good. The
second is, that he yield not to any lusts and motions of the
flesh. For it is the part and privilege of the reasonable and
intellective faculty, that she can so bound herself, as that
neither the sensitive, nor the appetitive faculties, may not
anyways prevail upon her. For both these are brutish. And
therefore over both she challengeth mastery, and cannot anyways
endure, if in her right temper, to be subject unto either. And
this indeed most justly. For by nature she was ordained to
command all in the body. The third thing proper to man by his
constitution, is, to avoid all rashness and precipitancy; and not
to be subject to error. To these things then, let the mind apply
herself and go straight on, without any distraction about other
things, and she hath her end, and by consequent her
happiness.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXI. As one who had lived, and were now to
die by right, whatsoever is yet remaining, bestow that wholly as
a gracious overplus upon a virtuous life. Love and affect that
only, whatsoever it be that happeneth, and is by the fates
appointed unto thee. For what can be more reasonable? And as
anything doth happen unto thee by way of cross, or calamity, call
to mind presently and set before thine eyes, the examples of some
other men, to whom the self-same thing did once happen likewise.
Well, what did they? They grieved; they wondered ; they
complained. And where are they now? All dead and gone. Wilt thou
also be like one of them? Or rather leaving to men of the world
(whose life both in regard of themselves, and them that they
converse with, is nothing but mere mutability; or men of as
fickle minds, as fickle bodies; ever changing and soon changed
themselves: let it be thine only care and study, how to make a
right use of all such accidents. For there is good use to be made
of them, and they will prove fit matter for thee to work upon, if
it shall be both thy care and thy desire, that whatsoever thou
doest, thou thyself mayst like and approve thyself for it. And
both these, see, that thou remember well, according as the
diversity of the matter of the action that thou art about shall
require. Look within; within is the fountain of all good. Such a
fountain, where springing waters can never fail, so thou dig
still deeper and deeper.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXII. Thou must use thyself also to keep
thy body fixed and steady; free from all loose fluctuant either
motion, or posture. And as upon thy face and looks, thy mind hath
easily power over them to keep them to that which is grave and
decent; so let it challenge the same power over the whole body
also. But so observe all things in this kind, as that it be
without any manner of affectation.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIII. The art of true living in this world
is more like a wrestler's, than a dancer's practice. For in this
they both agree, to teach a man whatsoever falls upon him, that
he may be ready for it, and that nothing may cast him
down.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIV. Thou must continually ponder and
consider with thyself, what manner of men they be, and for their
minds and understandings what is their present estate, whose good
word and testimony thou dost desire. For then neither wilt thou
see cause to complain of them that offend against their wills; or
find any want of their applause, if once thou dost but penetrate
into the true force and ground both of their opinions, and of
their desires. 'No soul (saith he) is willingly bereft of the
truth,' and by consequent, neither of justice, or temperance, or
kindness, and mildness; nor of anything that is of the same kind.
It is most needful that thou shouldst always remember this. For
so shalt thou be far more gentle and moderate towards all
men.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXV. What pain soever thou art in, let this
presently come to thy mind, that it is not a thing whereof thou
needest to be ashamed, neither is it a thing whereby thy
understanding, that hath the government of all, can be made
worse. For neither in regard of the substance of it, nor in
regard of the end of it (which is, to intend the common good) can
it alter and corrupt it. This also of Epicurus mayst thou in most
pains find some help of, that it is 'neither intolerable, nor
eternal;' so thou keep thyself to the true bounds and limits of
reason and give not way to opinion. This also thou must consider,
that many things there be, which oftentimes unsensibly trouble
and vex thee, as not armed against them with patience, because
they go not ordinarily under the name of pains, which in very
deed are of the same nature as pain; as to slumber unquietly, to
suffer heat, to want appetite: when therefore any of these things
make thee discontented, check thyself with these words: Now hath
pain given thee the foil; thy courage hath failed
thee.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVI. Take heed lest at any time thou stand
so affected, though towards unnatural evil men, as ordinary men
are commonly one towards another.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVII. How know we whether Socrates were so
eminent indeed, and of so extraordinary a disposition? For that
he died more gloriously, that he disputed with the Sophists more
subtilly; that he watched in the frost more assiduously; that
being commanded to fetch innocent Salaminius, he refused to do it
more generously; all this will not serve. Nor that he walked in
the streets, with much gravity and majesty, as was objected unto
him by his adversaries: which nevertheless a man may well doubt
of, whether it were so or no, or, which above all the rest, if so
be that it were true, a man would well consider of, whether
commendable, or discommendable. The thing therefore that we must
inquire into, is this; what manner of soul Socrates had: whether
his disposition was such; as that all that he stood upon, and
sought after in this world, was barely this, that he might ever
carry himself justly towards men, and holily towards the Gods.
Neither vexing himself to no purpose at the wickedness of others,
nor yet ever condescending to any man's evil fact, or evil
intentions, through either fear, or engagement of friendship.
Whether of those things that happened unto him by God's
appointment, he neither did wonder at any when it did happen, or
thought it intolerable in the trial of it. And lastly, whether he
never did suffer his mind to sympathise with the senses, and
affections of the body. For we must not think that Nature hath so
mixed and tempered it with the body, as that she hath not power
to circumscribe herself, and by herself to intend her own ends
and occasions.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVIII. For it is a thing very possible,
that a man should be a very divine man, and yet be altogether
unknown. This thou must ever be mindful of, as of this also, that
a man's true happiness doth consist in very few things. And that
although thou dost despair, that thou shalt ever be a good either
logician, or naturalist, yet thou art never the further off by it
from being either liberal, or modest, or charitable, or obedient
unto God.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIX. Free from all compulsion in all
cheerfulness and alacrity thou mayst run out thy time, though men
should exclaim against thee never so much, and the wild beasts
should pull in sunder the poor members of thy pampered mass of
flesh. For what in either of these or the like cases should
hinder the mind to retain her own rest and tranquillity,
consisting both in the right judgment of those things that happen
unto her, and in the ready use of all present matters and
occasions? So that her judgment may say, to that which is
befallen her by way of cross: this thou art in very deed, and
according to thy true nature: notwithstanding that in the
judgment of opinion thou dust appear otherwise: and her
discretion to the present object; thou art that, which I sought
for. For whatsoever it be, that is now present, shall ever be
embraced by me as a fit and seasonable object, both for my
reasonable faculty, and for my sociable, or charitable
inclination to work upon. And that which is principal in this
matter, is that it may be referred either unto the praise of God,
or to the good of men. For either unto God or man, whatsoever it
is that doth happen in the world hath in the ordinary course of
nature its proper reference; neither is there anything, that in
regard of nature is either new, or reluctant and intractable, but
all things both usual and easy.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XL. Then hath a man attained to the estate
of perfection in his life and conversation, when he so spends
every day, as if it were his last day: never hot and vehement in
his affections, nor yet so cold and stupid as one that had no
sense; and free from all manner of
dissimulation.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLI. Can the Gods, who are immortal, for the
continuance of so many ages bear without indignation with such
and so many sinners, as have ever been, yea not only so, but also
take such care for them, that they want nothing; and dust thou so
grievously take on, as one that could bear with them no longer;
thou that art but for a moment of time? yea thou that art one of
those sinners thyself? A very ridiculous thing it is, that any
man should dispense with vice and wickedness in himself, which is
in his power to restrain; and should go about to suppress it in
others, which is altogether impossible.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLII. What object soever, our reasonable and
sociable faculty doth meet with, that affords nothing either for
the satisfaction of reason, or for the practice of charity, she
worthily doth think unworthy of herself.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLIII. When thou hast done well, and another
is benefited by thy action, must thou like a very fool look for a
third thing besides, as that it may appear unto others also that
thou hast done well, or that thou mayest in time, receive one
good turn for another? No man useth to be weary of that which is
beneficial unto him. But every action according to nature, is
beneficial. Be not weary then of doing that which is beneficial
unto thee, whilst it is so unto others.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLIV. The nature of the universe did once
certainly before it was created, whatsoever it hath done since,
deliberate and so resolve upon the creation of the world. Now
since that time, whatsoever it is, that is and happens in the
world, is either but a consequent of that one and first
deliberation: or if so be that this ruling rational part of the
world, takes any thought and care of things particular, they are
surely his reasonable and principal creatures, that are the
proper object of his particular care and providence. This often
thought upon, will much conduce to thy
tranquillity.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>THE EIGHTH BOOK</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>I. This also, among other things, may serve
to keep thee from vainglory; if thou shalt consider, that thou
art now altogether incapable of the commendation of one, who all
his life long, or from his youth at least, hath lived a
philosopher's life. For both unto others, and to thyself
especially, it is well known, that thou hast done many things
contrary to that perfection of life. Thou hast therefore been
confounded in thy course, and henceforth it will be hard for thee
to recover the title and credit of a philosopher. And to it also
is thy calling and profession repugnant. If therefore thou dost
truly understand, what it is that is of moment indeed; as for thy
fame and credit, take no thought or care for that: let it suffice
thee if all the rest of thy life, be it more or less, thou shalt
live as thy nature requireth, or accoring to the true and natural
end of thy making. Take pains therefore to know what it is that
thy nature requireth, and let nothing else distract thee. Thou
hast already had sufficient experience, that of those many things
that hitherto thou hast erred and wandered about, thou couldst
not find happiness in any of them. Not in syllogisms, and logical
subtilties, not in wealth, not in honour and reputation, not in
pleasure. In none of all these. Wherein then is it to be found?
In the practice of those things, which the nature of man, as he
is a man, doth require. How then shall he do those things? if his
dogmata, or moral tenets and opinions (from which all motions and
actions do proceed), be right and true. Which be those dogmata?
Those that concern that which is good or evil, as that there is
nothing truly good and beneficial unto man, but that which makes
him just, temperate, courageous, liberal; and that there is
nothing truly evil and hurtful unto man, but that which causeth
the contrary effects.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>II. Upon every action that thou art about,
put this question to thyself; How will this when it is done agree
with me? Shall I have no occasion to repent of it? Yet a very
little while and I am dead and gone; and all things are at end.
What then do I care for more than this, that my present action
whatsoever it be, may be the proper action of one that is
reasonable; whose end is, the common good; who in all things is
ruled and governed by the same law of right and reason, by which
God Himself is.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>III. Alexander, Caius, Pompeius; what are
these to Diogenes, Heraclitus, and Socrates? These penetrated
into the true nature of things; into all causes, and all
subjects: and upon these did they exercise their power and
authority. But as for those, as the extent of their error was, so
far did their slavery extend.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>IV. What they have done, they will still do,
although thou shouldst hang thyself. First; let it not trouble
thee. For all things both good and evil: come to pass according
to the nature and general condition of the universe, and within a
very little while, all things will be at an end; no man will be
remembered: as now of Africanus (for example) and Augustus it is
already come to pass. Then secondly; fix thy mind upon the thing
itself; look into it, and remembering thyself, that thou art
bound nevertheless to be a good man, and what it is that thy
nature requireth of thee as thou art a man, be not diverted from
what thou art about, and speak that which seemeth unto thee most
just: only speak it kindly, modestly, and without
hypocrisy.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>V. That which the nature of the universe
dotb busy herself about, is; that which is here, to transfer it
thither, to change it, and thence again to take it away, and to
carry it to another place. So that thou needest not fear any new
thing. For all things are usual and ordinary; and all things are
disposed by equality.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VI. Every particular nature hath content,
when in its own proper course it speeds. A reasonable nature doth
then speed, when first in matter of fancies and imaginations, it
gives no consent to that which is either false uncertain.
Secondly, when in all its motions and resolutions it takes its
level at the common good only, and that it desireth nothing, and
flieth from nothing, bet what is in its own power to compass or
avoid. And lastly, when it willingly and gladly embraceth,
whatsoever is dealt and appointed unto it by the common nature.
For it is part of it; even as the nature of any one leaf, is part
of the common nature of all plants and trees. But that the nature
of a leaf, is part of a nature both unreasonable and unsensibIe,
and which in its proper end may be hindered; or, which is servile
and slavish : whereas the nature of man is part of a common
nature which cannot be hindered, and which is both reasonable and
just. From whence also it is, that accord ing to the worth of
everything, she doth make such equal distribution of all things,
as of duration, substance form, operation, and of events and
accidents. But herein consider not whether thou shalt find this
equality rn everything abu;oluteiy and by itself; but whether in
all the particulars of some one thing taken together, and
compared with all the particulars of some other thing, and them
together likewise. VII. Thou hast no time nor opportunity to
read. What then? Hast thou not time and opportunity to exercise
thyself, not to wrong thyself; to strive against all carnal
pleasures and pains, and to aet the upper hand of them; to
contemn honour and vainglory; and not only, not to be angry with
them, whom towards thee thou doest find unsensible and
unthankful; but also to have a care of them still, and of their
welfare?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VIII. Forbear henceforth to complain of the
trouble of a courtly life, either in public before others, or in
private by thyself.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>IX. Repentance is an inward and
self-reprehension for the neglect or omission of somewhat that
was profitable. Now whatsoever is good, is also profltable, and
it is the part of an honest virtuous man to set by it, and to
make reckoning of it accordingly. But never did any honest
virtuous man repent of the neglect or omission of any carnal
pleasure : no carnal pleasure then is either good or
profitable.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>X. This, what is it in itself, and by
itself, according to its proper constitution? What is the
substance of it? What is the matter, or proper use ? What is the
form or efflcient cause? What is it for in this world, and how
long will it abide? Thus must thou examine all things, that
present themselves unto thee.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XI. When thou art hard to he stirred up and
awaked out of thy sleep, admonish thyself and call to mind, that,
to perform actions tending to the common good is that which thine
own proper constitution, and that which the nature of man do
require. ]3ut to sleep, is common to unreasonable creatures also.
And what more proper and natural, yea what more kind and
pleasing, than that which is according to
nature?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XII. As every fancy and imagination presents
itself unto thee, consider (if it be possible) the true nature,
and the proper qualities of it, and reason with thyself about
it.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIII. At thy first encounter with any one,
say presently to thyself: This man, what are his opinions
concerning that which is good or evil? as concerning pain,
pleasure, and the causes of both; concerning honour, and
dishonour, concerning life and death? thus and thus. Now if it be
no wonder that a man should have such and such opinions, how can
it be a wonder that he should do such and such things ? I will
remember then, that he cannot but do as he doth, holding those
opinions that he doth. Remember, that as it is a shame for any
man to wonder that a fig tree should bear figs, so also to wonder
that the world should bear anything, whatsoever it is which in
the ordinary course of nature it may bear. To a physician also
and to a pilot it is a shame either for the one to wonder, that
such and such a one should have an ague; or for the other, that
the winds should prove Contrary.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIV. Remember, that to change thy mind upon
occasion, and to follow him that is able to rectify thee, is
equally ingenuous, as to find out at the first, what is right and
just, without help. For of thee nothing is required, ti, is
beyond the extent of thine own deliberation and jun. merit, arid
of thine own understanding.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XV. If it were thine act and in thine own
power, wi: wouldcst thou do it ? If it were not, whom dost tin
accuse? the atoms, or the Gods? For to do either, the part of a
mad man. Thou must therefore blame nobody, but if it be in thy
power, redress what is amiss; if it be not, to what end is it to
complain? For nothing should be done but to some certain
end.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVI. Whatsoever dieth and falleth, however
and wheresoever it die and fall, it cannot fall out of the world.
here it have its abode and change, here also shall it have its
dissolution into its proper elements. The same are the world's
elements, and the elements of which thou dost consist. And they
when they are changed, they murmur not; why shouldest
thou?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVII. Whatsoever is, was made for something:
as a horse, a vine. Why wonderest thou? The sun itself will say
of itself, I was made for something; and so hath every god its
proper function. What then were then made for? to disport and
delight thyself? See how even common sense and reason cannot
brook it.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVIII. Nature hath its end as well in the
end and final consummation of anything that is, as in the
beginnine and continuation of it.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIX. As one that tosseth up a ball. And what
is a. ball the better, if the motion of it be upwards; or the
worse if it be downwards; or if it chance to fall upon the
ground? So for the bubble; if it continue, what it the better?
and if it dissolve, what is it the worse And so is it of a candle
too. And so must thou reason with thyself, both in matter of
fame, and in matter of death. For as for the body itself, (the
subject of death) wouldest thou know the vileness of it ? Turn it
about that thou mayest behold it the worst sides upwards as well,
as in its more ordinary pleasant shape; how doth it look, when it
is old and withered? when sick and pained? when in the act of
lust, and fornication? And as for fame. This life is short. Both
he that praiseth, and he that is praised; he that remembers, and
he that is remembered, will soon be dust and ashes. Besides, it
is but in one corner of this part of the world that thou art
praised; and yet in this corner, thou hast not the joint praises
of all men; no nor scarce of any one constantly. And yet the
whole earth itself, what is it but as one point, in regard of the
whole world?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XX. That which must be the subject of thy
consideration, is either the matter itself, or the dogma, or the
operation, or the true sense and
signification.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXI. Most justly have these things happened
unto thee: why dost not thou amend? O but thou hadst rather
become good to-morrow, than to be so
to-day.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXII. Shall I do it? I will; so the end of
my action be to do good unto men. Doth anything by way of cross
or adversity happen unto me? I accept it, with reference unto the
Gods, and their providence; the fountain of all things, from
which whatsoever comes to pass, doth hang and
depend.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIII. By one action judge of the rest: this
bathing which usually takes up so much of our time, what is it?
Oil, sweat, filth; or the sordes of the body: an excrementitious
viscosity, the excrements of oil and other ointments used about
the body, and mixed with the sordes of the body: all base and
loathsome. And such almost is every part of our life; and every
worldly object.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIV. Lucilla buried Verus; then was Lucilla
herself buried by others. So Secunda Maximus, then Secunda
herself. So Epitynchanus, Diotimus; then Epitynchanus himself. So
Antoninus Pius, Faustina his wife; then Antoninus himself. This
is the course of the world. First Celer, Adrianus; then Adrianus
himself. And those austere ones; those that foretold other men's
deaths; those that were so proud and stately, where are they now?
Those austere ones I mean, such as were Charax, and Demetrius the
Platonic, and Eudaemon, and others like unto those. They were all
but for one day; all dead and gone long since. Some of them no
sooner dead, than forgotten. Others soon turned into fables. Of
others, even that which was fabulous, is now long since
forgotten. This thereafter thou must remember, that whatsoever
thou art compounded of, shall soon be dispersed, and that thy
life and breath, or thy soul, shall either he no more or shall
ranslated, and appointed to some certain place and
station.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXV. The true joy of a man, is to do that
which properly belongs unto a man. That which is most proper unto
a man, is, first, to he kindly affected towards them that are of
the same kind and nature as he is himself to contemn all sensual
motions and appetites, to discern rightly all plausible fancies
and imaginations, to contemplate the nature of the universe; both
it, and things that are done in it. In which kind of con
templation three several relations are to be observed The first,
to the apparent secondary cause. The Second to the first original
cause, God, from whom originally proceeds whatsoever doth happen
in the world. The third and last, to them that we live and
converse with: what use may be made of it, to their use and
benefit</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVI. If pain be an evil, either it is in
regard of the body; (and that cannot be, because the body of
itself is altogether insensible:) or in regard of the soul But it
is in the power of the soul, to preserve her own peace and
tranquillity, and not to suppose that pain is evil. For all
judgment and deliberation; all prosecution, or aversation is from
within, whither the sense of evil (except it be let in by
opinion) cannot penetrate.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVII. Wipe off all idle fancies, and say
unto thyselF incessantly; Now if I will, it is in my power to
keep out of this my soul all wickedness, all lust, and
concupiscences, all trouble and confusion. But on the contrary to
behold and consider all things according to their true nature,
and to carry myself towards everything according to its true
worth. Remember then this thy power that nature hath given
thee.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVIII. Whether thou speak in the Senate or
whether thou speak to any particular, let thy speech In always
grave and modest. But thou must not openly and vulgarly observe
that sound and exact form of speaking, concerning that which is
truly good and truly civil; the vanity of the world, and of
worldly men: which otherwise truth and reason doth
prescribe.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIX. Augustus his court; his wife, his
daughter, his nephews, his sons-in-law his sister, Agrippa, his
kinsmen, his domestics, his friends; Areus, Maecenas, his slayers
of beasts for sacrifice and divination: there thou hast the death
of a whole court together. Proceed now on to the rest that have
been since that of Augustus. Hath death dwelt with them
otherwise, though so many and so stately whilst they lived, than
it doth use to deal with any one particular man? Consider now the
death of a whole kindred and family, as of that of the Pompeys,
as that also that useth to be written upon some monuments, HE
WASS THE LAST OF HIS OWN KINDRED. O what care did his
predecessors take, that they might leave a successor, yet behold
at last one or other must of necessity be THE LAST. Here again
therefore consider the death of a whole
kindred.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXX. Contract thy whole life to the measure
and proportion of one single action. And if in every particular
action thou dost perform what is fitting to the utmost of thy
power, let it suffice thee. And who can hinder thee, but that
thou mayest perform what is fitting? But there may be some
outward let and impediment. Not any, that can hinder thee, but
that whatsoever thou dost, thou may do it, justly, temperately,
and with the praise of God. Yea, but there may be somewhat,
whereby some operation or other of thine may he hindered. And
then, with that very thing that doth hinder, thou mayest he well
pleased, and so by this gentle and equanimious conversion of thy
mind unto that which may be, instead of that which at first thou
didst intend, in the room of that former action there succeedeth
another, which agrees as well with this contraction of thy life,
that we now speak of.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXI. Receive temporal blessings without
ostentation, when they are sent and thou shalt be able to part
with them with all readiness and facility when they are taken
from thee again.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXII. If ever thou sawest either a hand, or
a foot, or a head lying by itself, in some place or other, as cut
off from the rest of the body, such must thou conceive him to
make himself, as much as in him lieth, that either is offended
with anything that is happened, (whatsoever it be) and as it were
divides himself from it: or that commits anything against the
natural law of mutual correspondence, and society among men: or,
he that, commits any act of uncharitableness. Whosoever thou art,
thou art such, thou art cast forth I know not whither out of the
general unity, which is according to nature. Thou went born
indeed a part, but now thou hast cut thyself off. However, herein
is matter of joy and exultation, that thou mayst be united again.
God bath not granted it unto any other part, that once separated
and cut off, it might be reunited, and come together again. But,
behold, that GOODNESS how great and immense it is! which hath so
much esteemed MAN. As at first be was so made, that he needed
not, except he would himself, have divided himself from the
whole; so once divided and cut off, IT hath so provided and
ordered it, that if he would himself, he might return, and grow
together again, and be admitted into its former rank and place of
a part, as he was before.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIII. As almost all her other faculties
and properties the nature of the universe bath imparted unto
every reasonable creature, so this in particular we have received
from her, that as whatsoever doth oppose itself unto her, and
doth withstand her in her purposes and intentions, she doth,
though against its will and intention, bring it about to herself,
to serve herself of it in the execution of her own destinated
ends; and so by this though not intended co-operation of it with
herself makes it part of herself whether it will or no. So may
every reasonable creature, what crosses and impediments soever it
meets with in the course of this mortal life, it may use them as
fit and proper objects, to the furtherance of whatsoever it
intended and absolutely proposed unto itself as its natural end
and happiness.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIV. Let not the general representation
unto thyself of the wretchedness of this our mortal life, trouble
thee. Let not thy mind wander up and down, and heap together in
her thoughts the many troubles and grievous calamities which thou
art as subject unto as any other. But as everything in particular
doth happen, put this question unto thyself, and say: What is it
that in this present matter, seems unto thee so intolerable? For
thou wilt be ashamed to confess it. Then upon this presently call
to mind, that neither that which is future, nor that which is
past can hurt thee; but that only which is present. (And that
also is much lessened, if thou dost lightly circumscribe it:) and
then check thy mind if for so little a while, (a mere instant),
it cannot hold out with patience.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXV. What? are either Panthea or Pergamus
abiding to this day by their masters' tombs? or either Chabrias
or Diotimus by that of Adrianus? O foolery! For what if they did,
would their masters be sensible of It? or if sensible, would they
be glad of it? or if glad, were these immortal? Was not it
appointed unto them also (both men and women,) to become old in
time, and then to die? And these once dead, what would become of
these former? And when all is done, what is all this for, but for
a mere bag of blood and corruption?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVI. If thou beest quick-sighted, be so in
matter of judgment, and best discretion, saith
he.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVII. In the whole constitution of man, I
see not any virtue contrary to justice, whereby it may be
resisted and opposed. But one whereby pleasure and voluptuousness
may be resisted and opposed, I see:
continence.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVIII. If thou canst but withdraw conceit
and opinion concerning that which may seem hurtful and offensive,
thou thyself art as safe, as safe may be. Thou thyself? and who
is that? Thy reason. 'Yea, but I am not reason.' Well, be it so.
However, let not thy reason or understanding admit of grief, and
if there be anything in thee that is grieved, let that,
(whatsoever it be,) conceive its own grief, if it
can.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIX. That which is a hindrance of the
senses, is an evil to the sensitive nature. That which is a
hindrance of the appetitive and prosecutive faculty, is an evil
to the sensitive nature. As of the sensitive, so of the
vegetative constitution, whatsoever is a hindrance unto it, is
also in that respect an evil unto the same. And so likewise,
whatsoever is a hindrance unto the mind and understanding, must
needs be the proper evil of the reasonable nature. Now apply all
those things unto thyself. Do either pain or pleasure seize on
thee? Let the senses look to that. Hast thou met with Some
obstacle or other in thy purpose and intention? If thou didst
propose without due reservation and exception now hath thy
reasonable part received a blow indeed But if in general thou
didst propose unto thyself what soever might be, thou art not
thereby either hurt, nor properly hindered. For in those things
that properly belong unto the mind, she cannot be hindered by any
man. It is not fire, nor iron; nor the power of a tyrant nor the
power of a slandering tongue; nor anything else that can
penetrate into her.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XL. If once round and solid, there is no
fear that ever it will change.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLI. Why should I grieve myself; who never
did willingly grieve any other! One thing rejoices one and
another thing another. As for me, this is my joy , if my
understanding be right and sound, as neither averse from any man,
nor refusing any of those things which as a man I am) subject
unto; if I can look upon all things in the world meekly and
kindly; accept all things and carry myself towards everything
according to to true worth of the thing
itself.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLII. This time that is now present, bestow
thou upon thyself. They that rather hunt for fame after death, do
not consider, that those men that shall be hereafter, will be
even such, as these whom now they can so hardly bear with. And
besides they also will be mortal men. But to consider the thing
in itself, if so many with so many voices, shall make such and
such a sound, or shall have such and such an opinion concerning
thee, what is it to thee?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLIII. Take me and throw me where thou wilt:
I am indifferent. For there also I shall have that spirit which
is within me propitious; that is well pleased and fully contented
both in that constant disposition, and with those particular
actions, which to its own proper constitution are suitable and
agreeable.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLIV. Is this then a thing of that worth,
that for it my soul should suffer, and become worse than it was?
as either basely dejected, or disordinately affected, or
confounded within itself, or terrified? What can there be, that
thou shouldest so much esteem?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLV. Nothing can happen unto thee, which is
not incidental unto thee, as thou art a man. As nothing can
happen either to an ox, a vine, or to a stone, which is not
incidental unto them; unto every one in his own kind. If
therefore nothing can happen unto anything, which is not both
usual and natural; why art thou displeased? Sure the common
nature of all would not bring anything upon any, that were
intolerable. If therefore it be a thing external that causes thy
grief, know, that it is not that properly that doth cause it, but
thine own conceit and opinion concerning the thing: which thou
mayest rid thyself of, when thou wilt. But if it be somewhat that
is amiss in thine own disposition, that doth grieve thee, mayest
thou not rectify thy moral tenets and opinions. But if it grieve
thee, that thou doest not perform that which seemeth unto thee
right and just, why doest not thou choose rather to perform it
than to grieve? But somewhat that is stronger than thyself doth
hinder thee. Let it not grieve thee then, if it be not thy fault
that the thing is not performed. 'Yea but it is a thing of that
nature, as that thy life is not worth the while, except it may be
performed.' If it be so, upon condition that thou be kindly and
lovingly disposed towards all men, thou mayest be gone. For even
then, as much as at any time, art thou in a very good estate of
performance, when thou doest die in charity with those, that are
an obstacle unto thy performance.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLVI. Remember that thy mind is of that
nature as that it becometh altogether unconquerable, when once
recollected in herself, she seeks no other content than this,
that she cannot be forced: yea though it so fall out, that it be
even against reason itself, that it cloth bandy. How much less
when by the help of reason she is able to judge of things with
discretion? And therefore let thy chief fort and place of defence
be, a mind free from passions. A stronger place, (whereunto to
make his refuge, and so to bccome impregnable) and better
fortified than this, bath no man. He that seeth not this is
unlearned. He that seeth it, and betaketh not himself to this
place of refuge, is unhappy.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLVII. Keep thyself to the first bare and
naked apprehensions of things, as they present themselves unto
thee, and add not unto them. It is reported unto thee, that such
a one speaketh ill of thee. Well; that he speaketh ill of thee,
so much is reported. But that thou art hurt thereby, is not
reported: that is the addition of opinion, which thou must
exclude. I see that my child is sick. That he is sick, I see, but
that he is in danger of his life also, I see it not. Thus thou
must use to keep thyself to the first motions and apprehensions
of things, as they present themselves outwardly; and add not unto
them from within thyself through mere conceit and opinion. Or
rather add unto them: hut as one that understandeth the true
nature of all things that happen in the
world.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLVIII. Is the cucumber bitter? set it away.
Brambles are in the way? avoid them. Let this suffice. Add not
presently speaking unto thyself, What serve these things for in
the world? For, this, one that is acquainted with the mysteries
of nature, will laugh at thee for it; as a carpenter would or a
shoemaker, if meeting in either of their shops with some
shavings, or small remnants of their work, thou shouldest blame
them for it. And yet those men, it is not for want of a place
where to throw them that they keep them in their shops for a
while: but the nature of the universe hath no such out-place; but
herein doth consist the wonder of her art and skill, that she
having once circumscribed herself within some certain bounds and
limits, whatsoever is within her that seems either corrupted, or
old, or unprofitable, she can change it into herself, and of
these very things can make new things; so that she needeth not to
seek elsewhere out of herself either for a new supply of matter
and substance, or for a place where to throw out whatsoever is
irrecoverably putrid and corrupt. Thus she, as for place, so for
matter and art, is herself sufficient unto
herself.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLIX. Not to be slack and negligent; or
loose, and wanton in thy actions; nor contentious, and
troublesome in thy conversation; nor to rove and wander in thy
fancies and imaginations. Not basely to contract thy soul; nor
boisterously to sally out with it, or furiously to launch out as
it were, nor ever to want employment.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>L. 'They kill me, they cut- my flesh; they
persecute my person with curses.' What then? May not thy mind for
all this continue pure, prudent, temperate, just? As a fountain
of sweet and clear water, though she be cursed by some stander
by, yet do her springs nevertheless still run as sweet and clear
as before; yea though either dirt or dung be thrown in, yet is it
no sooner thrown, than dispersed, and she cleared. She cannot be
dyed or infected by it. What then must I do, that I may have
within myself an overflowing fountain, and not a well? Beget
thyself by continual pains and endeavours to true liberty with
charity, and true simplicity and
modesty.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>LI. He that knoweth not what the world is,
knoweth not where he himself is. And he that knoweth not what the
world was made for, cannot possibly know either what are the
qualities, or what is the nature of the world. Now he that in
either of these is to seek, for what he himself was made is
ignorant also. What then dost thou think of that man, who
proposeth unto himself, as a matter of great moment, the noise
and applause of men, who both where they are, and what they are
themselves, are altogether ignorant? Dost thou desire to be
commended of that man, who thrice in one hour perchance, doth
himself curse himself? Dost thou desire to please him, who
pleaseth not himself? or dost thou think that he pleaseth
himself, who doth use to repent himself almost of everything that
he doth?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>LII. Not only now henceforth to have a
common. breath, or to hold correspondency of breath, with that
air, that compasseth us about; but to have a common mind, or to
hold correspondency of mind also with that rational substance,
which compasseth all things. For, that also is of itself, and of
its own nature (if a man can but draw it in as he should)
everywhere diffused; and passeth through all things, no less than
the air doth, if a man can but suck it
in.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>LIII. Wickedness in general doth not hurt
the world. Particular wickedness doth not hurt any other: only
unto him it is hurtful, whosoever he be that offends, unto whom
in great favour and mercy it is granted, that whensoever he
himself shall but first desire it, he may be presently delivered
of it. Unto my free-will my neighbour's free-will, whoever he be,
(as his life, or his bode), is altogether indifferent. For though
we are all made one for another, yet have our minds and
understandings each of them their own proper and limited
jurisdiction. For else another man's wickedness might be my evil
which God would not have, that it might not be in another man's
power to make me unhappy: which nothing now can do but mine own
wickedness.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>LIV. The sun seemeth to be shed abroad. And
indeed it is diffused but not effused. For that diffusion of it
is a [-r~Jo-tc] or an extension. For therefore are the beams of
it called [~i-~m'~] from the word [~KTEIVEO-Oa,,] to be stretched
out and extended. Now what a sunbeam is, thou mayest know if thou
observe the light of the sun, when through some narrow hole it
pierceth into some room that is dark. For it is always in a
direct line. And as by any solid body, that it meets with in the
way that is not penetrable by air, it is divided and abrupted,
and yet neither slides off, or falls down, but stayeth there
nevertheless: such must the diffusion in the mind be; not an
effusion, but an extension. What obstacles and impediments soever
she meeteth within her way, she must not violently, and by way of
an impetuous onset light upon them; neither must she fall down;
but she must stand, and give light unto that which doth admit of
it. For as for that which doth not, it is its own fault and loss,
if it bereave itself of her light.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>LV. He that feareth death, either feareth
that he shall have no sense at all, or that his senses will not
be the same. Whereas, he should rather comfort himself, that
either no sense at all, and so no sense of evil; or if any sense,
then another life, and so no death
properly.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>LVI. All men are made one for another:
either then teach them better, or bear with
them.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>LVII. The motion of the mind is not as the
motion of a dart. For the mind when it is wary and cautelous, and
by way of diligent circumspection turneth herself many ways, may
then as well be said to go straight on to the object, as when it
useth no such circumspection.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>LVIII. To pierce and penetrate into the
estate of every one's understanding that thou hast to do with: as
also to make the estate of thine own open, and penetrable to any
other.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>THE NINTH BOOK</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>I. He that is unjust, is also impious. For
the nature of the universe, having made all reasonable creatures
one for another, to the end that they should do one another good;
more or less according to the several persons and occasions but
in nowise hurt one another: it is manifest that he that doth
transgress against this her will, is guilty of impiety towards
the most ancient and venerable of all the deities. For the nature
of the universe, is the nature the common parent of all, and
therefore piously to be observed of all things that are, and that
which now is, to whatsoever first was, and gave it its being,
hath relation of blood and kindred. She is also called truth and
is the first cause of all truths. He therefore that willingly and
wittingly doth lie, is impious in that he doth receive, and so
commit injustice: but he that against his will, in that he
disagreeth from the nature of the universe, and in that striving
with the nature of the world he doth in his particular, violate
the general order of the world. For he doth no better than strive
and war against it, who contrary to his own nature applieth
himself to that which is contrary to truth. For nature had before
furnished him with instincts and opportunities sufficient for the
attainment of it ; which he having hitherto neglected, is not now
able to discern that which is false from that which is true. He
also that pursues after pleasures, as that which is truly good
and flies from pains, as that which is truly evil: is impious.
For such a one must of necessity oftentimes accuse that common
nature, as distributing many things both unto the evil, and unto
the good, not according to the deserts of either: as unto the bad
oftentimes pleasures, and the causes of pleasures; so unto the
good, pains, and the occasions of pains. Again, he that feareth
pains and crosses in this world, feareth some of those things
which some time or other must needs happen in the world. And that
we have already showed to be impious. And he that pursueth after
pleasures, will not spare, to compass his desires, to do that
which is unjust, and that is manifestly impious. Now those things
which unto nature are equally indifferent (for she had not
created both, both pain and pleasure, if both had not been unto
her equally indifferent): they that will live according to
nature, must in those things (as being of the same mind and
disposition that she is) be as equally indifferent. Whosoever
therefore in either matter of pleasure and pain; death and life;
honour and dishonour, (which things nature in the administration
of the world, indifferently doth make use of), is not as
indifferent, it is apparent that he is impious. When I say that
common nature doth indifferently make use of them, my meaning is,
that they happen indifferently in the ordinary course of things,
which by a necessary consequence, whether as principal or
accessory, come to pass in the world, according to that first and
ancient deliberation of Providence, by which she from some
certain beginning, did resolve upon the creation of such a world,
conceiving then in her womb as it were some certain rational
generative seeds and faculties of things future, whether
subjects, changes, successions; both such and such, and just so
many.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>II. It were indeed more happy and
comfortable, for a man to depart out of this world, having lived
all his life long clear from all falsehood, dissimulation,
voluptuousness, and pride. But if this cannot be, yet it is some
comfort for a man joyfully to depart as weary, and out of love
with those; rather than to desire to live, and to continue long
in those wicked courses. Hath not yet experience taught thee to
fly from the plague? For a far greater plague is the corruption
of the mind, than any certain change and distemper of the common
air can be. This is a plague of creatures, as they are living
creatures; but that of men as they are men or
reasonable.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>III. Thou must not in matter of death carry
thyself scornfully, but as one that is well pleased with it, as
being one of those things that nature hath appointed. For what
thou dost conceive of these, of a boy to become a young man, to
wax old, to grow, to ripen, to get teeth, or a beard, or grey
hairs to beget, to bear, or to be delivered; or what other action
soever it be, that is natural unto man according to the several
seasons of his life; such a thing is it also to he dissolved. It
is therefore the part of a wise man, in matter of death, not in
any wise to carry himself either violently, or proudly but
patiently to wait for it, as one of nature's operations: that
with the same mind as now thou dost expect when that which yet is
but an embryo in thy wife's belly shall come forth, thou mayst
expect also when thy soul shall fall off from that outward coat
or skin: wherein as a child in the belly it lieth involved and
shut up. But thou desirest a more popular, and though not so
direct and philosophical, yet a very powerful and penetrative
recipe against the fear of death, nothing can make they more
willing to part with thy life, than if thou shalt consider, both
what the subjects themselves are that thou shalt part with, and
what manner of disposition thou shalt no more have to do with.
True it is, that. offended with them thou must not be by no
means, but take care of them, and meekly bear with them However,
this thou mayst remember, that whensoever it happens that thou
depart, it shall not be from men that held the same opinions that
thou dost. For that indeed, (if it were so) is the only thing
that might make thee averse from death, and willing to continue
here, if it were thy hap to live with men that had obtained the
same belief that thou hast. But now, what a toil it is for thee
to live with men of different opinions, thou seest: so that thou
hast rather occasion to say, Hasten, I thee pray, O Death; lest I
also in time forget myself.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>IV. He that sinneth, sinneth unto himself.
He that is unjust, hurts himself, in that he makes himself worse
than he was before. Not he only that committeth, but he also that
omitteth something, is oftentimes
unjust.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>V. If my present apprehension of the object
be right, and my present action charitable, and this, towards
whatsoever doth proceed from God, be my present disposition, to
be well pleased with it, it sufficeth.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VI. To wipe away fancy, to use deliberation,
to quench concupiscence, to keep the mind free to
herself.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VII. Of all unreasonable creatures, there is
but one unreasonable soul; and of all that are reasonable, but
one reasonable soul, divided betwixt them all. As of all earthly
things there is but one earth, and but one light that we see by;
and but one air that we breathe in, as many as either breathe or
see. Now whatsoever partakes of some common thing, naturally
affects and inclines unto that whereof it is part, being of one
kind and nature with it. Whatsoever is earthly, presseth
downwards to the common earth. Whatsoever is liquid, would flow
together. And whatsoever is airy, would be together likewise. So
that without some obstacle, and some kind of violence, they
cannot well be kept asunder. Whatsoever is fiery, doth not only
by reason of the elementary fire tend upwards; but here also is
so ready to join, and to burn together, that whatsoever doth want
sufficient moisture to make resistance, is easily set on fire.
Whatsoever therefore is partaker of that reasonable common
nature, naturally doth as much and more long after his own kind.
For by how much in its own nature it excels all other things, by
so much more is it desirous to be joined and united unto that,
which is of its own nature. As for unreasonable creatures then,
they had not long been, but presently begun among them swarms,
and flocks, and broods of young ones, and a kind of mutual love
and affection. For though but unreasonable, yet a kind of soul
these had, and therefore was that natural desire of union more
strong and intense in them, as in creatures of a more excellent
nature, than either in plants, or stones, or trees. But among
reasonable creatures, begun commonwealths, friendships, families,
public meetings, and even in their wars, conventions, and truces.
Now among them that were yet of a more excellent nature, as the
stars and planets, though by their nature far distant one from
another, yet even among them began some mutual correspondency and
unity. So proper is it to excellency in a high degree to affect
unity, as that even in things so far distant, it could operate
unto a mutual sympathy. But now behold, what is now come to pass.
Those creatures that are reasonable, are now the only creatures
that have forgotten their natural affection and inclination of
one towards another. Among them alone of all other things that
are of one kind, there is not to be found a general disposition
to flow together. But though they fly from nature, yet are they
stopt in their course, and apprehended. Do they what they can,
nature doth prevail. And so shalt thou confess, if thou dost
observe it. For sooner mayst thou find a thing earthly, where no
earthly thing is, than find a man that naturally can live by
himself alone.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VIII. Man, God, the world, every one in
their kind, bear some fruits. All things have their proper time
to bear. Though by custom, the word itself is in a manner become
proper unto the vine, and the like, yet is it so nevertheless, as
we have said. As for reason, that beareth both common fruit for
the use of others; and peculiar, which itself doth enjoy. Reason
is of a diffusive nature, what itself is in itself, it begets in
others, and so doth multiply.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>IX. Either teach them better if it be in thy
power; or if it be not, remember that for this use, to bear with
them patiently, was mildness and goodness granted unto thee. The
Gods themselves are good unto such; yea and in some things, (as
in matter of health, of wealth, of honour,) are content often to
further their endeavours: so good and gracious are they. And
mightest thou not be so too? or, tell me, what doth hinder
thee?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>X. Labour not as one to whom it is appointed
to be wretched, nor as one that either would be pitied, or
admired; but let this be thine only care and desire; so always
and in all things to prosecute or to forbear, as the law of
charity, or mutual society doth require.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XI. This day I did come out of all my
trouble. Nay I have cast out all my trouble; it should rather be
for that which troubled thee, whatsoever it was, was not without
anywhere that thou shouldest come out of it, but within in thine
own opinions, from whence it must be cast out, before thou canst
truly and constantly be at ease.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XII. All those things, for matter of
experience are usual and ordinary; for their continuance but for
a day; and for their matter, most base and filthy. As they were
in the days of those whom we have buried, so are they now also,
and no otherwise.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIII. The things themselves that affect us,
they stand without doors, neither knowing anything themselves nor
able to utter anything unto others concerning themselves. What
then is it, that passeth verdict on them? The
understanding</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIV. As virtue and wickedness consist not in
passion, but in action; so neither doth the true good or evil of
a reasonable charitable man consist in passion, but in operation
and action.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XV. To the stone that is cast up, when it
comes down it is no hurt unto it; as neither benefit, when it
doth ascend.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVI. Sift their minds and understandings,
and behold what men they be, whom thou dost stand in fear of what
they shall judge of thee, what they themselves judge of
themselves.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVII. All things that are in the world, are
always in the estate of alteration. Thou also art in a perpetual
change, yea and under corruption too, in some part: and so is the
whole world.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XVIII. it is not thine, but another man's
sin. Why should it trouble thee? Let him look to it, whose sin it
is.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XIX. Of an operation and of a purpose there
is an ending, or of an action and of a purpose we say commonly,
that it is at an end: from opinion also there is an absolute
cessation, which is as it were the death of it. In all this there
is no hurt. Apply this now to a man's age, as first, a child;
then a youth, then a young man, then an old man; every change
from one age to another is a kind of death And all this while
here no matter of grief yet. Pass now unto that life first, that
which thou livedst under thy grandfather, then under thy mother,
then under thy father. And thus when through the whole course of
thy life hitherto thou hast found and observed many alterations,
many changes, many kinds of endings and cessations, put this
question to thyself What matter of grief or sorrow dost thou find
in any of these? Or what doest thou suffer through any of these?
If in none of these, then neither in the ending and consummation
of thy whole life, which is also but a cessation and
change.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XX. As occasion shall require, either to
thine own understanding, or to that of the universe, or to his,
whom thou hast now to do with, let thy refuge be with all speed.
To thine own, that it resolve upon nothing against justice. To
that of the universe, that thou mayest remember, part of whom
thou art. Of his, that thou mayest consider. whether in the
estate of ignorance, or of knowledge. And then also must thou
call to mind, that he is thy kinsman.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXI. As thou thyself, whoever thou art, were
made for the perfection and consummation, being a member of it,
of a common society; so must every action of thine tend to the
perfection and consummation of a life that is truly sociable.
What action soever of thine therefore that either immediately or
afar off, hath not reference to the common good, that is an
exorbitant and disorderly action; yea it is seditious; as one
among the people who from such and such a consent and unity,
should factiously divide and separate
himself.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXII. Children's anger, mere babels;
wretched souls bearing up dead bodies, that they may not have
their fall so soon: even as it is in that common dirge
song.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIII. Go to the quality of the cause from
which the effect doth proceed. Behold it by itself bare and
naked, separated from all that is material. Then consider the
utmost bounds of time that that cause, thus and thus qualified,
can subsist and abide.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIV. Infinite are the troubles and
miseries, that thou hast already been put to, by reason of this
only, because that for all happiness it did not suffice thee, or,
that thou didst not account it sufficient happiness, that thy
understanding did operate according to its natural
constitution.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXV. When any shall either impeach thee with
false accusations, or hatefully reproach thee, or shall use any
such carriage towards thee, get thee presently to their minds and
understandings, and look in them, and behold what manner of men
they be. Thou shalt see, that there is no such occasion why it
should trouble thee, what such as they are think of thee. Yet
must thou love them still, for by nature they are thy friends.
And the Gods themselves, in those things that they seek from them
as matters of great moment, are well content, all manner of ways,
as by dreams and oracles, to help them as well as
others.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVI. Up and down, from one age to another,
go the ordinary things of the world; being still the same. And
either of everything in particular before it come to pass, the
mind of the universe doth consider with itself and deliberate:
and if so, then submit for shame unto the determination of such
an excellent understanding: or once for all it did resolve upon
all things in general; and since that whatsoever happens, happens
by a necessary consequence, and all things indivisibly in a
manner and inseparably hold one of another. In sum, either there
is a God, and then all is well; or if all things go by chance and
fortune, yet mayest thou use thine own providence in those things
that concern thee properly; and then art thou
well.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVII. Within a while the earth shall cover
us all, and then she herself shall have her change. And then the
course will be, from one period of eternity unto another, and so
a perpetual eternity. Now can any man that shall consider with
himself in his mind the several rollings or successions of so
many changes and alterations, and the swiftness of all these
rulings; can he otherwise but contemn in his heart and despise
all worldly things? The cause of the universe is as it were a
strong torrent, it carrieth all away.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXVIII. And these your professed
politicians, the only true practical philosophers of the world,
(as they think of themselves) so full of affected gravity, or
such professed lovers of virtue and honesty, what wretches be
they in very deed; how vile and contemptible in themselves? O
man! what ado doest thou keep? Do what thy nature doth now
require. Resolve upon it, if thou mayest: and take no thought,
whether anybody shall know it or no. Yea, but sayest thou, I must
not expect a Plato's commonwealth. If they profit though never so
little, I must be content; and think much even of that little
progress. Doth then any of them forsake their former false
opinions that I should think they profit? For without a change of
opinions, alas! what is all that ostentation, but mere
wretchedness of slavish. minds, that groan privately, and yet
would make a show of obedience to reason, and truth? Go too now
and tell me of Alexander and Philippus, and Demetrius Phalereus.
Whether they understood what the common nature requireth, and
could rule themselves or no, they know best themselves. But if
they kept a life, and swaggered; I (God be thanked) am not bound
to imitate them. The effect of true philosophy is, unaffected
simplicity and modesty. Persuade me not to ostentation and
vainglory.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXIX. From some high place as it were to
look down, and to behold here flocks, and there sacrifices,
without number; and all kind of navigation; some in a rough and
stormy sea, and some in a calm: the general differences, or
different estates of things, some, that are now first upon being;
the several and mutual relations of those things that are
together; and some other things that are at their last. Their
lives also, who were long ago, and theirs who shall be hereafter,
and the present estate and life of those many nations of
barbarians that are now in the world, thou must likewise consider
in thy mind. And how many there be, who never so much as heard of
thy name, how many that will soon forget it; how many who but
even now did commend thee, within a very little while perchance
will speak ill of tbee. So that neither fame, nor honour, nor
anything else that this world doth afford, is worth the while.
The sum then of all; whatsoever doth happen unto thee, whereof
God is the cause, to accept it contentedly: whatsoever thou
doest, whereof thou thyself art the cause, to do it justly: which
will be, if both in thy resolution and in thy action thou have no
further end, than to do good unto others, as being that, which by
thy natural constitution, as a man, thou art bound
unto.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXX. Many of those things that trouble and
straiten thee, it is in thy power to cut off, as wholly depending
from mere conceit and opinion; and then thou shalt have room
enough.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXI. To comprehend the whole world together
in thy mind, and the whole course of this present age to
represent it unto thyself, and to fix thy thoughts upon the
sudden change of every particular object. How short the time is
from the generation of anything, unto the dissolution of the
same; but how immense and infinite both that which was before the
generation, and that which after the generation of it shall be.
All things that thou seest, will soon be perished, and they that
see their corruptions, will soon vanish away themselves. He that
dieth a hundred years old, and he that dieth young, shall come
all to one.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXII. What are their minds and
understandings; and what the things that they apply themselves
unto: what do they love, and what do they hate for? Fancy to
thyself the estate of their souls openly to be seen. When they
think they hurt them shrewdly, whom they speak ill of; and when
they think they do them a very good turn, whom they commend and
extol: O how full are they then of conceit, and
opinion!</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIII. Loss and corruption, is in very deed
nothing else but change and alteration; and that is it, which the
nature of the universe doth most delight in, by which, and
according to which, whatsoever is done, is well done. For that
was the estate of worldly things from the beginning, and so shall
it ever be. Or wouldest. thou rather say, that all things in the
world have gone ill from the beginning for so many ages, and
shall ever go ill? And then among so many deities, could no
divine power be found all this while, that could rectify the
things of the world? Or is the world, to incessant woes and
miseries, for ever condemned?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIV. How base and putrid, every common
matter is! Water, dust, and from the mixture of these bones, and
all that loathsome stuff that our bodies do consist of: so
subject to be infected, and corrupted. And again those other
things that are so much prized and admired, as marble stones,
what are they, but as it were the kernels of the earth ? gold and
silver, what are they, but as the more gross faeces of the earth?
Thy most royal apparel, for matter, it is but as it were the hair
of a silly sheep, and for colour, the very blood of a shell-fish;
of this nature are all other things. Thy life itself, is some
such thing too; a mere exhalation of blood: and it also, apt to
be changed into some other common thing.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXV. Will this querulousness, this
murmuring, this complaining and dissembling never be at an end?
What then is it, that troubleth thee? Doth any new thing happen
unto thee? What doest thou so wonder at? At the cause, or the
matter? Behold either by itself, is either of that weight and
moment indeed? And besides these, there is not anything. But thy
duty towards the Gods also, it is time thou shouldst acquit
thyself of it with more goodness and
simplicity.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVI. It is all one to see these things for
a hundred of years together or but for three
years.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVII. If he have sinned, his is the harm,
not mine. But perchance he hath not.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXVIII. Either all things by the providence
of reason happen unto every particular, as a part of one general
body ; and then it is against reason that a part should complain
of anything that happens for the good of the whole; or if,
according to Epicurus, atoms be the cause of all things and that
life be nothing else but an accidentary confusion of things, and
death nothing else, but a mere dispersion and so of all other
things: what doest thou trouble thyself
for?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XXXIX. Sayest thou unto that rational part,
Thou art dead; corruption hath taken hold on thee? Doth it then
also void excrements? Doth it like either oxen, or sheep, graze
or feed; that it also should be mortal, as well as the
body?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XL. Either the Gods can do nothing for us at
all, or they can still and allay all the distractions and
distempers of thy mind. If they can do nothing, why doest thou
pray? If they can, why wouldst not thou rather pray, that they
will grant unto thee, that thou mayst neither fear, nor lust
after any of those worldly things which cause these distractions
and distempers of it? Why not rather, that thou mayst not at
either their absence or presence, be grieved and discontented:
than either that thou mayst obtain them, or that thou mayst avoid
them? For certainly it must needs be, that if the Gods can help
us in anything, they may in this kind also. But thou wilt say
perchance, 'In those things the Gods have given me my liberty:
and it is in mine own power to do what I will.' But if thou mayst
use this liberty, rather to set thy mind at true liberty, than
wilfully with baseness and servility of mind to affect those
things, which either to compass or to avoid is not in thy power,
wert not thou better? And as for the Gods, who hath told thee,
that they may not help us up even in those things that they have
put in our own power? whether it be so or no, thou shalt soon
perceive, if thou wilt but try thyself and pray. One prayeth that
he may compass his desire, to lie with such or such a one, pray
thou that thou mayst not lust to lie with her. Another how he may
be rid of such a one; pray thou that thou mayst so patiently bear
with him, as that thou have no such need to be rid of him.
Another, that he may not lose his child. Pray thou that thou
mayst not fear to lose him. To this end and purpose, let all thy
prayer be, and see what will be the
event.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLI. 'In my sickness' (saith Epicurus of
himself:) 'my discourses were not concerning the nature of my
disease, neither was that, to them that came to visit me, the
subject of my talk; but in the consideration and contemplation of
that, which was of especial weight and moment, was all my time
bestowed and spent, and among others in this very thing, how my
mind, by a natural and unavoidable sympathy partaking in some
sort with the present indisposition of my body, might
nevertheless keep herself free from trouble, and in present
possession of her own proper happiness. Neither did I leave the
ordering of my body to the physicians altogether to do with me
what they would, as though I expected any great matter from them,
or as though I thought it a matter of such great consequence, by
their means to recover my health: for my present estate,
methought, liked me very well, and gave me good content.' Whether
therefore in sickness (if thou chance to sicken) or in what other
kind of extremity soever, endeavour thou also to be in thy mind
so affected, as he doth report of himself: not to depart from thy
philosophy for anything that can befall thee, nor to give ear to
the discourses of silly people, and mere
naturalists.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLII. It is common to all trades and
professions to mind and intend that only, which now they are
about, and the instrument whereby they
work.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>XLIII. When at any time thou art offended
with any one's impudency, put presently this question to thyself:
'What? Is it then possible, that there should not be any impudent
men in the world! Certainly it is not possible.' Desire not then
that which is impossible. For this one, (thou must think)
whosoever he be, is one of those impudent ones, that the world
cannot be without. So of the subtile and crafty, so of the
perfidious, so of every one that offendeth, must thou ever be
ready to reason with thyself. For whilst in general thou dost
thus reason with thyself, that the kind of them must needs be in
the world, thou wilt be the better able to use meekness towards
every particular. This also thou shalt find of very good use,
upon every such occasion, presently to consider with thyself,
what proper virtue nature hath furnished man with, against such a
vice, or to encounter with a disposition vicious in this kind. As
for example, against the unthankful, it hath given goodness and
meekness, as an antidote, and so against another vicious in
another kind some other peculiar faculty. And generally, is it
not in thy power to instruct him better, that is in an error? For
whosoever sinneth, doth in that decline from his purposed end,
and is certainly deceived, And again, what art thou the worse for
his sin? For thou shalt not find that any one of these, against
whom thou art incensed, hath in very deed done anything whereby
thy mind (the only true subject of thy hurt and evil) can be made
worse than it was. And what a matter of either grief or wonder is
this, if he that is unlearned, do the deeds of one that is
unlearned? Should not thou rather blame thyself, who, when upon
very good grounds of reason, thou mightst have thought it very
probable, that such a thing would by such a one be committed,
didst not only not foresee it, but moreover dost wonder at it,
that such a thing should be. But then especially, when thou dost
find fault with either an unthankful, or a false man, must thou
reflect upon thyself. For without all question, thou thyself art
much in fault, if either of one that were of such a disposition,
thou didst expect that he should be true unto thee: or when unto
any thou didst a good turn, thou didst not there bound thy
thoughts, as one that had obtained his end; nor didst not think
that from the action itself thou hadst received a full reward of
the good that thou hadst done. For what wouldst thou have more?
Unto him that is a man, thou hast done a good turn: doth not that
suffice thee? What thy nature required, that hast thou done. Must
thou be rewarded for it? As if either the eye for that it seeth,
or the feet that they go, should require satisfaction. For as
these being by nature appointed for such an use, can challenge no
more, than that they may work according to their natural
constitution: so man being born to do good unto others whensoever
he doth a real good unto any by helping them out of error; or
though but in middle things, as in matter of wealth, life,
preferment, and the like, doth help to further their desires he
doth that for which he was made, and therefore can require no
more.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>THE TENTH BOOK</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>I. O my soul, the time I trust will be, when
thou shalt be good, simple, single, more open and visible, than
that body by which it is enclosed. Thou wilt one day be sensible
of their happincss, whose end is love, and their affections dead
to all worldly things. Thou shalt one day be full, and in want of
no external thing: not seeking pleasure from anything, either
living or insensible, that this world can afford; neither wanting
time for the continuation of thy pleasure, nor place and
opportunity, nor the favour either of the weather or of men. When
thou shalt have content in thy present estate, and all things
present shall add to thy content: when thou shalt persuade
thyself, that thou hast all things; all for thy good, and all by
the providence of the Gods: and of things future also shalt be as
confident, that all will do well, as tending to the maintenance
and preservation in some sort, of his perfect welfare and
happiness, who is perfection of life, of goodness, and beauty;
who begets all things, and containeth all things in himself, and
in himself doth recollect all things from all places that are
dissolved, that of them he may beget others again like unto them.
Such one day shall be thy disposition, that thou shalt be able,
both in regard of the Gods, and in regard of men, so to fit and
order thy conversation, as neither to complain of them at any
time, for anything that they do; nor to do anything thyself, for
which thou mayest justly be condemned.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>II. As one who is altogether governed by
nature, let it be thy care to observe what it is that thy nature
in general doth require. That done, if thou find not that thy
nature, as thou art a living sensible creature, will be the worse
for it, thou mayest proceed. Next then thou must examine, what
thy nature as thou art a living sensible creature, doth require.
And that, whatsoever it be, thou mayest admit of and do it, if
thy nature as thou art a reasonable living creature, will not be
the worse for it. Now whatsoever is reasonable, is also sociable,
Keep thyself to these rules, and trouble not thyself about idle
things.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>III. Whatsoever doth happen unto thee, thou
art naturally by thy natural constitution either able, or not
able to bear. If thou beest able, be not offended, but bear it
according to thy natural constitution, or as nature hath enabled
thee. If thou beest not able, be not offended. For it will soon
make an end of thee, and itself, (whatsoever it be) at the same
time end with thee. But remember, that whatsoever by the strength
of opinion, grounded upon a certain apprehension of both true
profit and duty, thou canst conceive tolerable; that thou art
able to bear that by thy natural
constitution.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>IV. Him that offends, to teach with love and
meek ness, and to show him his error. But if thou canst not, then
to blame thyself; or rather not thyself neither, if thy will and
endeavours have not been wanting.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>V. Whatsoever it be that happens unto thee,
it is that which from all time was appointed unto thee. For by
the same coherence of causes, by which thy substance from all
eternity was appointed to be, was also whatsoever should happen
unto it, destinated and appointed.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VI. Either with Epicurus, we must fondly
imagine the atoms to be the cause of all things, or we must needs
grant a nature. Let this then be thy first ground, that thou art
part of that universe, which is governed by nature. Then
secondly, that to those parts that are of the same kind and
nature as thou art, thou hast relation of kindred. For of these,
if I shall always be mindful, first as I am a part, I shall never
be displeased with anything, that falls to my particular share of
the common chances of the world. For nothing that is behoveful
unto the whole, can be truly hurtful to that which is part of it.
For this being the common privilege of all natures, that they
contain nothing in themselves that is hurtful unto them; it
cannot be that the nature of the universe (whose privilege beyond
other particular natures, is, that she cannot against her will by
any higher external cause be constrained,) should beget anything
and cherish it in her bosom that should tend to her own hurt and
prejudice. As then I bear in mind that I am a part of such an
universe, I shall not be displeased with anything that happens.
And as I have relation of kindred to those parts that are of the
same kind and nature that I am, so I shall be careful to do
nothing that is prejudicial to the community, but in all my
deliberations shall they that are of my kind ever be; and the
common good, that, which all my intentions and resolutions shall
drive unto, as that which is contrary unto it, I shall by all
means endeavour to prevent and avoid. These things once so fixed
and concluded, as thou wouldst think him a happy citizen, whose
constant study and practice were for the good and benefit of his
fellow citizens, and the carriage of the city such towards him,
that he were well pleased with it ; so must it needs be with
thee, that thou shalt live a happy life.</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VII. All parts of the world, (all things I
mean that are contained within the whole world, must of necessity
at some time or other come to corruption. Alteration I should
say, to speak truly and properly; but that I may be the better
understood, I am content at this time to use that more common
word. Now say I, if so be that this be both hurtful unto them,
and yet unavoidable, would not, thinkest thou, the whole itself
be in a sweet case, all the parts of it being subject to
alteration, yea and by their making itself fitted for corruption,
as consisting of things different and contrary? And did nature
then either of herself thus project and purpose the affliction
and misery of her parts, and therefore of purpose so made them,
not only that haply they might, but of necessity that they should
fall into evil; or did not she know what she did, when she made
them? For either of these two to say, is equally absurd. But to
let pass nature in general, and to reason of things particular
according to their own particular natures; how absurd and
ridiculous is it, first to say that all parts of the whole are,
by their proper natural constitution, subject to alteration; and
then when any such thing doth happen, as when one doth fall sick
and dieth, to take on and wonder as though some strange thing had
happened? Though this besides might move not so grievously to
take on when any such thing doth happen, that whatsoever is
dissolved, it is dissolved into those things, whereof it was
compounded. For every dissolution is either a mere dispersion, of
the elements into those elements again whereof everything did
consist, or a change, of that which is more solid into earth; and
of that which is pure and subtile or spiritual, into air. So that
by this means nothing is lost, but all resumed again into those
rational generative seeds of the universe; and this universe,
either after a certain period of time to lie consumed by fire, or
by continual changes to be renewed, and so for ever to endure.
Now that solid and spiritual that we speak of, thou must not
conceive it to be that very same, which at first was, when thou
wert born. For alas! all this that now thou art in either kind,
either for matter of substance, or of life, hath but two or three
days ago partly from meats eaten, and partly from air breathed
in, received all its influx, being the same then in no other
respect, than a running river, maintained by the perpetual influx
and new supply of waters, is the same. That therefore which thou
hast since received, not that which came from thy mother, is that
which comes to change and corruption. But suppose that that for
the general substance, and more solid part of it, should still
cleave unto thee never so close, yet what is that to the proper
qualities and affections of it, by which persons are
distinguished, which certainly are quite
different?</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font>VIII. Now that thou hast taken these names
upon thee of good, modest, true; of</font> <font face=
"Symbol">emfrwn, sumfrwn, uperfrwn; take heed lest at any times
by doing anything that is contrary, thou be but improperly so
called, and lose thy right to these appellations. Or if thou do,
return unto them again with all possible speed. And remember,
that the word</font> <font face="Symbol">emfrwn</font>
<font>notes unto thee an intent and intelligent consideration of
every object that presents itself unto thee, without distraction.
And the word</font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol">emfrwn</font> <font>a
ready and contented acceptation of whatsoever by the appointment
of the common nature, happens unto thee. And the word</font>
<font face="Symbol">sumfrwn</font><font>, a superextension, or a
transcendent, and outreaching disposition of thy mind, whereby it
passeth by all bodily pains and pleasures, honour and credit,
death and whatsoever is of the same nature, as matters of
absolute indifferency, and in no wise to be stood upon by a wise
man. These then if inviolably thou shalt observe, and shalt not
be ambitious to be so called by others, both thou thyself shalt
become a new man, and thou shalt begin a new life. For to
continue such as hitherto thou hast been, to undergo those
distractions and distempers as thou must needs for such a life as
hitherto thou hast lived, is the part of one that is very
foolish, and is overfond of his life. Whom a man might compare to
one of those half-eaten wretches, matched in the amphitheatre
with wild beasts; who as full as they are all the body over with
wounds and blood, desire for a great favour, that they may be
reserved till the next day, then also, and in the same estate to
be exposed to the same nails and teeth as before. Away therefore,
ship thyself; and from the troubles and distractions of thy
former life convey thyself as it were unto these few names; and
if thou canst abide in them, or be constant in the practice and
possession of them, continue there as glad and joyful as one that
were translated unto some such place of bliss and happiness as
that which by Hesiod and Plato is called the Islands of the
Blessed, by others called the Elysian Fields. And whensoever thou
findest thyself; that thou art in danger of a relapse, and that
thou art not able to master and overcome those difficulties and
temptations that present themselves in thy present station: get
thee into any private corner, where thou mayst be better able. Or
if that will not serve forsake even thy life rather. But so that
it be not in passion but in a plain voluntary modest way: this
being the only commendable action of thy whole life that thus
thou art departed, or this having been the main work and business
of thy whole life, that thou mightest thus depart. Now for the
better remembrance of those names that we have spoken of, thou
shalt find it a very good help, to remember the Gods as often as
may be: and that, the thing which they require at our hands of as
many of us, as are by nature reasonable creation is not that with
fair words, and outward show of piety and devotion we should
flatter them, but that we should become like unto them: and that
as all other natural creatures, the fig tree for example; the dog
the bee: both do, all of them, and apply themselves unto that.
which by their natural constitution, is proper unto them; so man
likewise should do that, which by his nature, as he is a man,
belongs unto him.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>IX. Toys and fooleries at home, wars
abroad: sometimes terror, sometimes torpor, or stupid sloth :
this is thy daily slavery. By little and little, if thou doest
not better look to it, those sacred dogmata will be blotted out
of thy mind. How many things be there, which when as a mere
naturalist, thou hast barely considered of according to their
nature, thou doest let pass without any further use? Whereas thou
shouldst in all things so join action and contemplation, that
thou mightest both at the same time attend all present occasions,
to perform everything duly and carefully and yet so intend the
contemplative part too, that no part of that delight and
pleasure, which the contemplative knowledge of everything
according to its true nature doth of itself afford, might be
lost. Or, that the true and contemn plative knowledge of
everything according to its own nature, might of itself, (action
being subject to many lets and impediments) afford unto thee
sufficient pleasure and happiness. Not apparent indeed, but not
concealed. And when shalt thou attain to the happiness of true
simplicity, and unaffected gravity? When shalt thou rejoice in
the certain knowledge of every particular object according to its
true nature: as what the matter and substance of it is; what use
it is for in the world: how long it can subsist: what things it
doth consist of: who they be that are capable of it, and who they
that can give it, and take it
away?</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>X. As the spider, when it hath caught
the fly that it hunted after, is not little proud, nor meanly
conceited of herself: as he likewise that hath caught an hare, or
hath taken a fish with his net: as another for the taking of a
boar, and another of a bear: so may they be proud, and applaud
themselves for their valiant acts against the Sarmatai, or
northern nations lately defeated. For these also, these famous
soldiers and warlike men, if thou dost look into their minds and
opinions, what do they for the most part but hunt after
prey?</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XI. To find out, and set to thyself
some certain way and method of contemplation, whereby thou mayest
clearly discern and represent unto thyself, the mutual change of
all things, the one into the other. Bear it in thy mind evermore,
and see that thou be throughly well exercised in this particular.
For there is not anything more effectual to beget true
magnanimity.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XII. He hath got loose from the bonds
of his body, and perceiving that within a very little while he
must of necessity bid the world farewell, and leave all these
things behind him, he wholly applied himself, as to righteousness
in all his actions, so to the common nature in all things that
should happen unto him. And contenting himself with these two
things, to do all things justly, and whatsoever God doth send to
like well of it: what others shall either say or think of him, or
shall do against him, he doth not so much as trouble his thoughts
with it. To go on straight, whither right and reason directed
him, and by so doing to follow God, was the only thing that he
did mind, that, his only business and
occupation.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XIII. What use is there of suspicion
at all? or, why should thoughts of mistrust, and suspicion
concerning that which is future, trouble thy mind at all? What
now is to be done, if thou mayest search and inquiry into that,
what needs thou care for more? And if thou art well able to
perceive it alone, let no man divert thee from it. But if alone
thou doest not so well perceive it, suspend thine action, and
take advice from the best. And if there be anything else that
doth hinder thee, go on with prudence and discretion, according
to the present occasion and opportunity, still proposing that
unto thyself, which thou doest conceive most right and just. For
to hit that aright, and to speed in the prosecution of it, must
needs be happiness, since it is that only which we can truly and
properly be said to miss of, or miscarry
in.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XIV. What is that that is slow, and
yet quick? merry, and yet grave? He that in all things doth
follow reason for his guide.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XV. In the morning as soon as thou art
awaked, when thy judgment, before either thy affections, or
external objects have wrought upon it, is yet most free and
impartial: put this question to thyself, whether if that which is
right and just be done, the doing of it by thyself, or by others
when thou art not able thyself; be a thing material or no. For
sure it is not. And as for these that keep such a life, and stand
so much upon the praises, or dispraises of other men, hast thou
forgotten what manner of men they be? that such and such upon
their beds, and such at their board: what their ordinary actions
are: what they pursue after, and what they fly from: what thefts
and rapines they commit, if not with their hands and feet, yet
with that more precious part of theirs, their minds: which (would
it but admit of them) might enjoy faith, modesty, truth, justice,
a good spirit.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XVL Give what thou wilt, and take away
what thou wilt, saith he that is well taught and truly modest, to
Him that gives, and takes away. And it is not out of a stout and
peremptory resolution, that he saith it, but in mere love, and
humble submission.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XVII. So live as indifferent to the
world and all worldly objects, as one who liveth by himself alone
upon some desert hill. For whether here, or there, if the whole
world be but as one town, it matters not much for the place. Let
them behold and see a man, that is a man indeed, living according
to the true nature of man. If they cannot bear with me, let them
kill me. For better were it to die, than so to live as they would
have thee.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XVIII. Make it not any longer a matter
of dispute or discourse, what are the signs and proprieties of a
good man, but really and actually to be
such.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XIX. Ever to represent unto thyself;
and to set before thee, both the general age and time of the
world, and the whole substance of it. And how all things
particular in respect of these are for their substance, as one of
the least seeds that is: and for their duration, as the turning
of the pestle in the mortar once about. Then to fix thy mind upon
every particular object of the world, and to conceive it, (as it
is indeed,) as already being in the state of dissolution, and of
change; tending to some kind of either putrefaction or
dispersion; or whatsoever else it is, that is the death as it
were of everything in his own
kind.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XX. Consider them through all actions
and occupations, of their lives: as when they eat, and when they
sleep: when they are in the act of necessary exoneration, and
when in the act of lust. Again, when they either are in their
greatest exultation; and in the middle of all their pomp and
glory; or being angry and displeased, in great state and majesty,
as from an higher place, they chide and rebuke. How base and
slavish, but a little while ago, they were fain to be, that they
might come to this; and within a very little while what will be
their estate, when death hath once seized upon
them.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXI. That is best for every one, that
the common nature of all doth send unto every one, and then is it
best, when she doth send it.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXII. The earth, saith the poet, doth
often long after the rain. So is the glorious sky often as
desirous to fall upon the earth, which argues a mutual kind of
love between them. And so (say I) doth the world bear a certain
affection of love to whatsoever shall come to pass With thine
affections shall mine concur, O world. The same (and no other)
shall the object of my longing be which is of thine. Now that the
world doth love it is true indeed so is it as commonly said, and
acknowledged ledged, when, according to the Greek phrase,
imitated by the Latins, of things that used to be, we say
commonly, that they love to be.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXIII. Either thou dost Continue in
this kind of life and that is it, which so long thou hast been
used unto and therefore tolerable: or thou doest retire, or leave
the world, and that of thine own accord, and then thou hast thy
mind: or thy life is cut off; and then mayst. thou rejoice that
thou hast ended thy charge. One of these must needs be. Be
therefore of good comfort.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXIV Let it always appear and be
manifest unto thee that solitariness, and desert places, by many
philosophers so much esteemed of and affected, are of themselves
but thus and thus; and that all things are them to them that live
in towns, and converse with others as they are the same nature
everywhere to be seen and observed: to them that have retired
themselves to the top of mountains, and to desert havens, or what
other desert and inhabited places soever. For anywhere it thou
wilt mayest thou quickly find and apply that to thyself; which
Plato saith of his philosopher, in a place: as private and
retired, saith he, as if he were shut up and enclosed about in
some shepherd's lodge, on the top of a hill. There by thyself to
put these questions to thyself. or to enter in these
considerations: What is my chief and principal part, which hath
power over the rest? What is now the present estate of it, as I
use it; and what is it, that I employ it about? Is it now void of
reason ir no ? Is it free, and separated; or so affixed, so
congealed and grown together as it were with the flesh, that it
is swayed by the motions and inclinations of
it?</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXV. He that runs away from his master
is a fugitive. But the law is every man's master. He therefore
that forsakes the law, is a fugitive. So is he, whosoever he be,
that is either sorry, angry, or afraid, or for anything that
either hath been, is, or shall be by his appointment, who is the
Lord and Governor of the universe. For he truly and properly
is</font> <font face="Symbol">Nomoz</font><font>, or the law, as
the only</font> <font face="Symbol">nemwn</font><font>, or
distributor and dispenser of all things that happen unto any one
in his lifetime- Whatsoever then is either sorry, angry, or
afraid, is a fugitive.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXVI. From man is the seed, that once
cast into the womb man hath no more to do with it. Another cause
succeedeth, and undertakes the work, and in time brings a child
(that wonderful effect from such a beginning!) to perfection.
Again, man lets food down through his throat; and that once down,
he hath no more to do with it. Another cause succeedeth and
distributeth this food into the senses, and the affections: into
life, and into strength; and doth with it those other many and
marvellous things, that belong unto man. These things therefore
that are so secretly and invisibly wrought and brought to pass,
thou must use to behold and contemplate; and not the things
themselves only, but the power also by which they are effected;
that thou mayst behold it, though not with the eyes of the body,
yet as plainly and visibly as thou canst see and discern the
outward efficient cause of the depression and elevation of
anything.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXVII. Ever to mind and consider with
thyself; how all things that now are, have been heretofore much
after the same sort, and after the same fashion that now they
are: and so to think of those things which shall be hereafter
also. Moreover, whole dramata, and uniform scenes, or scenes that
comprehend the lives and actions of men of one calling and
profession, as many as either in thine own experience thou hast
known, or by reading of ancient histories; (as the whole court of
Adrianus, the whole court of Antoninus Pius, the whole court of
Philippus, that of Alexander, that of Croesus): to set them all
before thine eyes. For thou shalt find that they are all but
after one sort and fashion: only that the actors were
others.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXVIII. As a pig that cries and flings
when his throat is cut, fancy to thyself every one to be, that
grieves for any worldly thing and takes on. Such a one is he
also, who upon his bed alone, doth bewail the miseries of this
our mortal life. And remember this, that Unto reasonable
creatures only it is granted that they may willingly and freely
submit unto Providence: but absolutely to submit, is a necessity
imposed upon all creatures
equally.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXIX. Whatsoever it is that thou goest
about, consider of it by thyself, and ask thyself, What? because
I shall do this no more when I am dead, should therefore death
seem grievous unto me?</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXX. When thou art offended with any
man's transgression, presently reflect upon thyself; and consider
what thou thyself art guilty of in the same kind. As that thou
also perchance dost think it a happiness either to be rich, or to
live in pleasure, or to be praised and commended, and so of the
rest in particular. For this if thou shalt call to mind, thou
shalt soon forget thine anger; especially when at the same time
this also shall concur in thy thoughts, that he was constrained
by his error and ignorance so to do: for how can he choose as
long as he is of that opinion? Do thou therefore if thou canst,
take away that from him, that forceth him to do as he
doth.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXXI. When thou seest Satyro, think of
Socraticus and Eutyches, or Hymen, and when Euphrates, think of
Eutychio, and Sylvanus, when Alciphron, of Tropaeophorus, when
Xenophon, of Crito, or Severus. And when thou doest look upon
thyself, fancy unto thyself some one or other of the Caasars; and
so for every one, some one or other that hath been for estate and
profession answerable unto him. Then let this come to thy mind at
the same time; and where now are they all? Nowhere or anywhere?
For so shalt thou at all time. be able to perceive how all
worldly things are but as the smoke, that vanisheth away: or,
indeed, mere nothing. Espccially when thou shalt call to mind
this also, that whatsoever is once changed, shall never be again
as long as the world endureth. And thou then, how long shalt thou
endure? And why doth it not suffice thee, if virtuously, and as
becometh thee, thou mayest pass that portion of time, how little
soever it be, that is allotted unto
thee?</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXXII. What a subject, and what a
course of life is it, that thou doest so much desire to be rid
of. For all these things, what are they, but fit objects for an
understanding, that beholdeth everything according to its true
nature, to exercise itself upon? Be patient, therefore, until
that (as a strong stomach that turns all things into his own
nature; and as a great fire that turneth in flame and light,
whatsoever thou doest cast into it) thou have made these things
also familiar, and as it were natural unto
thee.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXXIII. Let it not be in any man's
power, to say truly of thee, that thou art not truly simple, or
sincere and open, or not good. Let him be deceived whosoever he
be that shall have any such opinion of thee. For all this doth
depend of thee. For who is it that should hinder thee from being
either truly simple or good? Do thou only resolve rather not to
live, than not to be such. For indeed neither doth it stand with
reason that he should live that is not such. What then is it that
may upon this present occasion according to best reason and
discretion, either be said or done? For whatsoever it be, it is
in thy power either to do it, or to say it, and therefore seek
not any pretences, as though thou wert hindered. Thou wilt never
cease groaning and complaining, until such time as that, what
pleasure is unto the voluptuous, be unto thee, to do in
everything that presents itself, whatsoever may be done
conformably and agreeably to the proper constitution of man, or,
to man as he is a man. For thou must account that pleasure,
whatsoever it be, that thou mayest do according to thine own
nature. And to do this, every place will fit thee. Unto the
cylindrus, or roller, it is not granted to move everywhere
according to its own proper motion, as neither unto the water,
nor unto the fire, nor unto any other thing, that either is
merely natural, or natural and sensitive; but not rational. for
many things there be that can hinder their operations. But of the
mind and understanding this is the proper privilege, that
according to its own nature, and as it will itself, it can pass
through every obstacle that it finds, and keep straight on
forwards. Setting therefore before thine eyes this happiness and
felicity of thy mind, whereby it is able to pass through all
things, and is capable of all motions, whether as the fire,
upwards; or as the stone downwards, or as the cylindrus through
that which is sloping: content thyself with it, and seek not
after any other thing. For all other kind of hindrances that are
not hindrances of thy mind either they are proper to the body, or
merely proceed from the opinion, reason not making that
resistance that it should, but basely, and cowardly suffering
itself to be foiled; and of themselves can neither wound, nor do
any hurt at all. Else must he of necessity, whosoever he be that
meets with any of them, become worse than he was before. For so
is it in all other subjects, that that is thought hurtful unto
them, whereby they are made worse. But here contrariwise, man (if
he make that good use of them that he should) is rather the
better and the more praiseworthy for any of those kind of
hindrances, than otherwise. But generally remember that nothing
can hurt a natural citizen, that is not hurtful unto the city
itself, nor anything hurt the city, that is not hurtful unto the
law itself. But none of these casualties, or external hindrances,
do hurt the law itself; or, are contrary to that course of
justice and equity, by which public societies are maintained:
neither therefore do they hurt either city or
citizen.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXXIV. As he that is bitten by a mad
dog, is afraid of everything almost that he seeth: so unto him,
whom the dogmata have once bitten, or in whom true knowledge hath
made an impression, everything almost that he sees or reads be it
never so short or ordinary, doth afford a good memento; to put
him out of all grief and fear, as that of the poet, 'The winds
blow upon the trees, and their leaves fall upon the ground. Then
do the trees begin to bud again, and by the spring-time they put
forth new branches. So is the generation of men; some come into
the world, and others go out of it.' Of these leaves then thy
children are. And they also that applaud thee so gravely, or,
that applaud thy speeches, with that their usual
acclamation,</font> <font face="Symbol">axiopistwz</font><font>,
O wisely spoken I and speak well of thee, as on the other side,
they that stick not to curse thee, they that privately and
secretly dispraise and deride thee, they also are but leaves. And
they also that shall follow, in whose memories the names of men
famous after death, is preserved, they are but leaves neither.
For even so is it of all these worldly things. Their spring
comes, and they are put forth. Then blows the wind, and they go
down. And then in lieu of them grow others out of the wood or
common matter of all things, like unto them. But, to endure but
for a while, is common unto all. Why then shouldest thou so
earnestly either seek after these things, or fly from them, as
though they should endure for ever? Yet a little while, and thine
eyes will be closed up, and for him that carries thee to thy
grave shall another mourn within a while
after.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXXV. A good eye must be good to see
whatsoever is to be seen, and not green things only. For that is
proper to sore eyes. So must a good ear, and a good smell be
ready for whatsoever is either to be heard, or smelt: and a good
stomach as indifferent to all kinds of food, as a millstone is,
to whatsoever she was made for to grind. As ready therefore must
a sound understanding be for whatsoever shall happen. But he that
saith, O that my children might live! and, O that all men might
commend me for whatsoever I do! is an eye that seeks after green
things; or as teeth, after that which is
tender.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXXVI. There is not any man that is so
happy in his death, but that some of those that are by him when
he dies, will be ready to rejoice at his supposed calamity. Is it
one that was virtuous and wise indeed? will there not some one or
other be found, who thus will say to himself; 'Well now at last
shall I be at rest from this pedagogue. He did not indeed
otherwise trouble us much: but I know well enough that in his
heart, he did much condemn us.' Thus will they speak of the
virtuous. But as for us, alas I how many things be there, for
which there be many that glad would be to be rid of us. This
therefore if thou shalt think of whensoever thou diest, thou
shalt die the more willingly, when thou shalt think with thyself;
I am now to depart from that world, wherein those that have been
my nearest friends and acquaintances, they whom I have so much
suffered for, so often prayed for, and for whom I have taken such
care, even they would have me die, hoping that after my death
they shall live happier, than they did before. What then should
any man desire to continue here any longer? Nevertheless,
whensoever thou diest, thou must not be less kind and loving unto
them for it; but as before, see them, continue to be their
friend, to wish them well, and meekly, and gently to carry
thyself towards them, but yet so that on the other side, it make
thee not the more unwilling to die. But as it fareth with them
that die an easy quick death, whose soul is soon separated from
their bodies, so must thy separation from them be. To these had
nature joined and annexed me: now she parts us; I am ready to
depart, as from friends and kinsmen, but yet without either
reluctancy or compulsion. For this also is according to
Nature.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXXVII. Use thyself; as often, as thou
seest any man do anything, presently (if it be possible) to say
unto thyself, What is this man's end in this his action? But
begin this course with thyself first of all, and diligently
examine thyself concerning whatsoever thou
doest.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXXVIII. Remember, that that which
sets a man at work, and hath power over the affections to draw
them either one way, or the other way, is not any external thing
properly, but that which is hidden within every man's dogmata,
and opinions: That, that is rhetoric; that is life; that (to
speak true) is man himself. As for thy body, which as a vessel,
or a case, compasseth thee about, and the many and curious
instruments that it hath annexed unto it, let them not trouble
thy thoughts. For of themselves they are but as a carpenter's
axe, but that they are born with us, and naturally sticking unto
us. But otherwise, without the inward cause that hath power to
move them, and to restrain them, those parts are of themselves of
no more use unto us, than the shuttle is of itself to the weaver,
or the pen to the writer, or the whip to the
coachman.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>THE ELEVENTH
BOOK</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>I. The natural properties, and
privileges of a reasonable soul are: That she seeth herself; that
she can order, and compose herself: that she makes herself as she
will herself: that she reaps her own fruits whatsoever, whereas
plants, trees, unreasonable creatures, what fruit soever (be it
either fruit properly, or analogically only) they bear, they bear
them unto others, and not to themselves. Again; whensoever, and
wheresoever, sooner or later, her life doth end, she hath her own
end nevertheless. For it is not with her, as with dancers and
players, who if they be interrupted in any part of their action,
the whole action must needs be imperfect: but she in what part of
time or action soever she be surprised, can make that which she
bath in her hand whatsoever it be, complete and full, so that she
may depart with that comfort, 'I have lived; neither want I
anything of that which properly did belong unto me.' Again, she
compasseth the whole world, and penetrateth into the vanity, and
mere outside (wanting substance and solidity) of it, and
stretcheth herself unto the infiniteness of eternity; and the
revolution or restoration of all things after a certain period of
time, to the same state and place as before, she fetcheth about,
and doth comprehend in herself; and considers withal, and sees
clearly this, that neither they that shall follow us, shall see
any new thing, that we have not seen, nor they that went before,
anything more than we: but that he that is once come to forty (if
he have any wit at all) can in a manner (for that they are all of
one kind) see all things, both past and future. As proper is it,
and natural to the soul of man to love her neighbour, to be true
and modest; and to regard nothing so much as herself: which is
also the property of the law: whereby by the way it appears, that
sound reason and justice comes all to one, and therefore that
justice is the chief thing, that reasonable creatures ought to
propose unto themselves as their
end.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>II. A pleasant song or dance; the
Pancratiast's exercise, sports that thou art wont to be much
taken with, thou shalt easily contemn; if the harmonious voice
thou shalt divide into so many particular sounds whereof it doth
consist, and of every one in particular shall ask thyself;
whether this or that sound is it, that doth so conquer thee. For
thou wilt be ashamed of it. And so for shame, if accordingly thou
shalt consider it, every particular motion and posture by itself:
and so for the wrestler's exercise too. Generally then,
whatsoever it be, besides virtue, and those things that proceed
from virtue that thou art subject to be much affected with,
remember presently thus to divide it, and by this kind of
division, in each particular to attain unto the contempt of the
whole. This thou must transfer and apply to thy whole life
also.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>III. That soul which is ever ready,
even now presently (if need be) from the body, whether by way of
extinction, or dispersion, or continuation in another place and
estate to be separated, how blessed and happy is it! But this
readiness of it, it must proceed, not from an obstinate and
peremptory resolution of the mind, violently and passionately set
upon Opposition, as Christians are wont; but from a peculiar
judgment; with discretion and gravity, so that others may be
persuaded also and drawn to the like example, but without any
noise and passionate
exclamations.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>IV. Have I done anything charitably?
then am I benefited by it. See that this upon all occasions may
present itself unto thy mind, and never cease to think of it.
What is thy profession? to be good. And how should this be well
brought to pass, but by certain theorems and doctrines; some
Concerning the nature of the universe, and some Concerning the
proper and particular constitution of
man?</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>V. Tragedies were at first brought in
and instituted, to put men in mind of worldly chances and
casualties: that these things in the ordinary course of nature
did so happen: that men that were much pleased and delighted by
such accidents upon this stage, would not by the same things in a
greater stage be grieved and afflicted: for here you see what is
the end of all such things; and that even they that cry out so
mournfully to Cithaeron, must bear them for all their cries and
exclamations, as well as others. And in very truth many good
things are spoken by these poets; as that (for example) is an
excellent passage: 'But if so be that I and my two children be
neglected by the Gods, they have some reason even for that,'
&c. And again, 'It will but little avail thee to storm and
rage against the things themselves,' &c. Again, 'To reap
one's life, as a ripe ear of corn;' and whatsoever else is to be
found in them, that is of the same kind. After the tragedy, the
ancient tomedy was brought in, which had the liberty to inveigh
against personal vices; being therefore through this her freedom
and liberty of speech of very good use and effect, to restrain
men from pride and arrogancy. To which end it was, that Diogenes
took also the same liberty. After these, what were either the
Middle, or New Comedy admitted for, but merely, (Or for the most
part at least) for the delight and pleasure of curious and
excellent imitation? 'It will steal away; look to it,' &c.
Why, no man denies, but that these also have some good things
whereof that may be one: but the whole drift and foundation of
that kind of dramatical poetry, what is it else, but as we have
said?</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>VI. How clearly doth it appear unto
thee, that no other course of thy life could fit a true
philosopher's practice better, than this very course, that thou
art now already in?</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>VII. A branch cut off from the
continuity of that which was next unto it, must needs be cut off
from the whole tree: so a man that is divided from another man,
is divided from the whole society. A branch is cut off by
another, but he that hates and is averse, cuts himself off from
his neighbour, and knows not that at the same time he divides
himself from the whole body, or corporation. But herein is the
gift and mercy of God, the Author of this society, in that, once
cut off we may grow together and become part of the whole again.
But if this happen often the misery is that the further a man is
run in this division, the harder he is to be reunited and
restored again: and however the branch which, once cut of
afterwards was graffed in, gardeners can tell you is not like
that which sprouted together at first, and still continued in the
unity of the body.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>VIII. To grow together like fellow
branches in matter of good correspondence and affection; but not
in matter of opinions. They that shall oppose thee in thy right
courses, as it is not in their power to divert thee from thy good
action, so neither let it be to divert thee from thy good
affection towards them. But be it thy care to keep thyself
constant in both; both in a right judgment and action, and in
true meekness towards them, that either shall do their endeavour
to hinder thee, or at least will be displeased with thee for what
thou hast done. For to fail in either (either in the one to give
over for fear, or in the other to forsake thy natural affection
towards him, who by nature is both thy friend and thy kinsman) is
equally base, and much savouring of the disposition of a cowardly
fugitive soldier.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>IX. It is not possible that any nature
should be inferior unto art, since that all arts imitate nature.
If this be so; that the most perfect and general nature of all
natures should in her operation come short of the skill of arts,
is most improbable. Now common is it to all arts, to make that
which is worse for the better's sake. Much more then doth the
common nature do the same. Hence is the first ground of justice.
From justice all other virtues have their existence. For justice
cannot be preserved, if either we settle our minds and affections
upon worldly things; or be apt to be deceived, or rash, and
inconstant.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>X. The things themselves (which either
to get or to avoid thou art put to so much trouble) come not unto
thee themselves; but thou in a manner goest unto them. Let then
thine own judgment and opinion concerning those things be at
rest; and as for the things themselves, they stand still and
quiet, without any noise or stir at all; and so shall all
pursuing and flying cease.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XI. Then is the soul as Empedocles
doth liken it, like unto a sphere or globe, when she is all of
one form and figure: when she neither greedily stretcheth out
herself unto anything, nor basely contracts herself, or lies flat
and dejected; but shineth all with light, whereby she does see
and behold the true nature, both that of the universe, and her
own in particular.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XII. Will any contemn me? let him look
to that, upon what grounds he does it: my care shall be that I
may never be found either doing or speaking anything that doth
truly deserve contempt. Will any hate me? let him look to that. I
for my part will be kind and loving unto all, and even unto him
that hates me, whomsoever he be, will I be ready to show his
error, not by way of exprobation or ostentation of my patience,
but ingenuously and meekly: such as was that famous Phocion, if
so be that he did not dissemble. For it is inwardly that these
things must be: that the Gods who look inwardly, and not upon the
outward appearance, may behold a man truly free from all
indignation and grief. For what hurt can it be unto thee
whatsoever any man else doth, as long as thou mayest do that
which is proper and suitable to thine own nature? Wilt not thou
(a man wholly appointed to be both what, and as the common good
shall require) accept of that which is now seasonable to the
nature of the universe?</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XIII. They contemn one another, and
yet they seek to please one another: and whilest they seek to
surpass one another in worldly pomp and greatness, they most
debase and prostitute themselves in their better part one to
another.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XIV. How rotten and insincere is he,
that saith, I am resolved to carry myself hereafter towards you
with all ingenuity and simplicity. O man, what doest thou mean!
what needs this profession of thine? the thing itself will show
it. It ought to be written upon thy forehead. No sooner thy voice
is heard, than thy countenance must be able to show what is in
thy mind: even as he that is loved knows presently by the looks
of his sweetheart what is in her mind. Such must he be for all
the world, that is truly simple and good, as he whose arm-holes
are offensive, that whosoever stands by, as soon as ever he comes
near him, may as it were smell him whether he will or no. But the
affectation of simplicity is nowise laudable. There is nothing
more shameful than perfidious friendship. Above all things, that
must be avoided. However true goodness, simplicity, and kindness
cannot so be hidden, but that as we have already said in the very
eyes and countenance they will show
themselves.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XV. To live happily is an inward power
of the soul, when she is affected with indifferency, towards
those things that are by their nature indifferent. To be thus
affected she must consider all worldly objects both divided and
whole: remembering withal that no object can of itself beget any
opinion in us, neither can come to us, but stands without still
and quiet; but that we ourselves beget, and as it were print in
ourselves opinions concerning them. Now it is in our power, not
to print them; and if they creep in and lurk in some corner, it
is in our power to wipe them off. Remembering moreover, that this
care and circumspection of thine, is to continue but for a while,
and then thy life will be at an end. And what should hinder, but
that thou mayest do well with all these things? For if they be
according to nature, rejoice in them, and let them be pleasing
and acceptable unto thee. But if they be against nature, seek
thou that which is according to thine own nature, and whether it
be for thy credit or no, use all possible speed for the
attainment of it: for no man ought to be blamed, for seeking his
own good and happiness. XVI. Of everything thou must consider
from whence it came, of what things it doth consist, and into
what it will be changed: what will be the nature of it, or what
it will be like unto when it is changed; and that it can suffer
no hurt by this change. And as for other men's either foolishness
or wickedness, that it may not trouble and grieve thee; first
generally thus; What reference have I unto these? and that we are
all born for one another's good: then more particularly after
another consideration; as a ram is first in a flock of sheep, and
a bull in a herd of cattle, so am I born to rule over them. Begin
yet higher, even from this: if atoms be not the beginning of all
things, than which to believe nothing can be more absurd, then
must we needs grant that there is a nature, that doth govern the
universe. If such a nature, then are all worse things made for
the better's sake; and all better for one another's sake.
Secondly, what manner of men they be, at board, and upon their
beds, and so forth. But above all things, how they are forced by
their opinions that they hold, to do what they do; and even those
things that they do, with what pride and self-conceit they do
them. Thirdly, that if they do these things rightly, thou hast no
reason to be grieved. But if not rightly, it must needs be that
they do them against their wills, and through mere ignorance. For
as, according to Plato's opinion, no soul doth willingly err, so
by consequent neither doth it anything otherwise than it ought,
but against her will. Therefore are they grieved, whensoever they
hear themselves charged, either of injustice, or
unconscionableness, or covetousness, or in general, of any
injurious kind of dealing towards their neighbours. Fourthly,
that thou thyself doest transgress in many things, and art even
such another as they are. And though perchance thou doest forbear
the very act of some sins, yet hast thou in thyself an habitual
disposition to them, but that either through fear, or vainglory,
or some such other ambitious foolish respect, thou art
restrained. Fifthly, that whether they have sinned or no, thou
doest not understand perfectly. For many things are done by way
of discreet policy; and generally a man must know many things
first, before he be able truly and judiciously to judge of
another man's action. Sixthly, that whensoever thou doest take on
grievously, or makest great woe, little doest thou remember then
that a man's life is but for a moment of time, and that within a
while we shall all be in our graves. Seventhly, that it is not
the sins and transgressions themselves that trouble us properly;
for they have their existence in their minds and understandings
only, that commit them; but our own opinions concerning those
sins. Remove then, and be content to part with that conceit of
thine, that it is a grievous thing, and thou hast removed thine
anger. But how should I remove it? How? reasoning with thyself
that it is not shameful. For if that which is shameful, be not
the only true evil that is, thou also wilt be driven whilest thou
doest follow the common instinct of nature, to avoid that which
is evil, to commit many unjust things, and to become a thief, and
anything, that will make to the attainment of thy intended
worldly ends. Eighthly, how many things may and do oftentimes
follow upon such fits of anger and grief; far more grievous in
themselves, than those very things which we are so grieved or
angry for. Ninthly, that meekness is a thing unconquerable, if it
be true and natural, and not affected or hypocritical. For how
shall even the most fierce and malicious that thou shalt
conceive, be able to hold on against thee, if thou shalt still
continue meek and loving unto him; and that even at that time,
when he is about to do thee wrong, thou shalt be well disposed,
and in good temper, with all meekness to teach him, and to
instruct him better? As for example; My son, we were not born for
this, to hurt and annoy one another; it will be thy hurt not
mine, my son: and so to show him forcibly and fully, that it is
so in very deed: and that neither bees do it one to another, nor
any other creatures that are naturally sociable. But this thou
must do, not scoffingly, not by way of exprobation, but tenderly
without any harshness of words. Neither must thou do it by way of
exercise, or ostentation, that they that are by and hear thee,
may admire thee: but so always that nobody be privy to it, but
himself alone: yea, though there be more present at the same
time. These nine particular heads, as so many gifts from the
Muses, see that thou remember well: and begin one day, whilest
thou art yet alive, to be a man indeed. But on the other side
thou must take heed, as much to flatter them, as to be angry with
them: for both are equally uncharitable, and equally hurtful. And
in thy passions, take it presently to thy consideration, that to
be angry is not the part of a man, but that to be meek and
gentle, as it savours of more humanity, so of more manhood. That
in this, there is strength and nerves, or vigour and fortitude:
whereof anger and indignation is altogether void. For the nearer
everything is unto unpassionateness, the nearer it is unto power.
And as grief doth proceed from weakness, so doth anger. For both,
both he that is angry and that grieveth, have received a wound,
and cowardly have as it were yielded themselves unto their
affections. If thou wilt have a tenth also, receive this tenth
gift from Hercules the guide and leader of the Muses: that is a
mad man's part, to look that there should be no wicked men in the
world, because it is impossible. Now for a man to brook well
enough, that there should be wicked men in the world, but not to
endure that any should transgress against himself, is against all
equity, and indeed tyrannical.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XVII. Four several dispositions or
inclinations there be of the mind and understanding, which to be
aware of, thou must carefully observe: and whensoever thou doest
discover them, thou must rectify them, saying to thyself
concerning every one of them, This imagination is not necessary;
this is uncharitable: this thou shalt speak as another man's
slave, or instrument; than which nothing can be more senseless
and absurd: for the fourth, thou shalt sharply check and upbraid
thyself; for that thou doest suffer that more divine part in
thee, to become subject and obnoxious to that more ignoble part
of thy body, and the gross lusts and concupiscences
thereof.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XVIII. What portion soever, either of
air or fire there be in thee, although by nature it tend upwards,
submitting nevertheless to the ordinance of the universe, it
abides here below in this mixed body. So whatsoever is in thee,
either earthy, or humid, although by nature it tend downwards,
yet is it against its nature both raised upwards, and standing,
or consistent. So obedient are even the elements themselves to
the universe, abiding patiently wheresoever (though against their
nature) they are placed, until the sound as it were of their
retreat, and separation. Is it not a grievous thing then, that
thy reasonable part only should be disobedient, and should not
endure to keep its place: yea though it be nothing enjoined that
is contrary unto it, but that only which is according to its
nature? For we cannot say of it when it is disobedient, as we say
of the fire, or air, that it tends upwards towards its proper
element, for then goes it the quite contrary way. For the motion
of the mind to any injustice, or incontinency, or to sorrow, or
to fear, is nothing else but a separation from nature. Also when
the mind is grieved for anything that is happened by the divine
providence, then doth it likewise forsake its own place. For it
was ordained unto holiness and godliness, which specially consist
in an humble submission to God and His providence in all things;
as well as unto justice: these also being part of those duties,
which as naturally sociable, we are bound unto; and without which
we cannot happily converse one with another: yea and the very
ground and fountain indeed of all just
actions.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XIX. He that hath not one and the
self-same general end always as long as he liveth, cannot
possibly be one and the self-same man always. But this will not
suffice except thou add also what ought to be this general end.
For as the general conceit and apprehension of all those things
which upon no certain ground are by the greater part of men
deemed good, cannot be uniform and agreeable, but that only which
is limited and restrained by some certain proprieties and
conditions, as of community: that nothing be conceived good,
which is not commonly and publicly good: so must the end also
that we propose unto ourselves, be common and sociable. For he
that doth direct all his own private motions and purposes to that
end, all his actions will be agreeable and uniform; and by that
means will be still the same man.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XX. Remember the fable of the country
mouse and the city mouse, and the great fright and terror that
this was put into.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXI. Socrates was wont to call the
common conceits and opinions of men, the common bugbears of the
world : the proper terror of silly
children.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXII. The Lacedaemonians at their
public spectacles were wont to appoint seats and forms for their
strangers in the shadow, they themselves were content to sit
anywhere.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXIII. What Socrates answered unto
Perdiccas, why he did not come unto him, Lest of all deaths I
should die the worst kind of death, said he: that is, not able to
requite the good that hath been done unto
me.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXIV. In the ancient mystical letters
of the Ephesians, there was an item, that a man should always
have in his mind some one or other of the ancient
worthies.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXV. The Pythagoreans were wont
betimes in the morning the first thing they did, to look up unto
the heavens, to put themselves in mind of them who constantly and
invariably did perform their task: as also to put themselves in
mind of orderliness, or good order, and of purity, and of naked
simplicity. For no star or planet hath any cover before
it.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXVI. How Socrates looked, when he was
fain to gird himself with a skin, Xanthippe his wife having taken
away his clothes, and carried them abroad with her, and what he
said to his fellows and friends, who were ashamed; and out of
respect to him, did retire themselves when they saw him thus
decked.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXVII. In matter of writing or reading
thou must needs be taught before thou can do either: much more in
matter of life. 'For thou art born a mere slave, to thy senses
and brutish affections;' destitute without teaching of all true
knowledge and sound reason.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXVIII. 'My heart smiled within me.'
'They will accuse even virtue herself; with heinous and
opprobrious words.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXIX. As they that long after figs in
winter when they cannot be had; so are they that long after
children, before they be granted
them.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXX. 'As often as a father kisseth his
child, he should say secretly with himself' (said Epictetus,)
'tomorrow perchance shall he die.' But these words be ominous. No
words ominous (said he) that signify anything that is natural: in
very truth and deed not more ominous than this, 'to cut down
grapes when they are ripe.' Green grapes, ripe grapes, dried
grapes, or raisins: so many changes and mutations of one thing,
not into that which was not absolutely, but rather so many
several changes and mutations, not into that which hath no being
at all, but into that which is not yet in
being.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXXI. 'Of the free will there is no
thief or robber:' out of Epictetus; Whose is this also: that we
should find a certain art and method of assenting; and that we
should always observe with great care and heed the inclinations
of our minds, that they may always be with their due restraint
and reservation, always charitable, and according to the true
worth of every present object. And as for earnest longing, that
we should altogether avoid it: and to use averseness in those
things only, that wholly depend of our own wills. It is not about
ordinary petty matters, believe it, that all our strife and
contention is, but whether, with the vulgar, we should be mad, or
by the help of philosophy wise and sober, said
he.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXXII. Socrates said, 'What will you
have? the souls of reasonable, or unreasonable creatures? Of
reasonable. But what? Of those whose reason is sound and perfect?
or of those whose reason is vitiated and corrupted? Of those
whose reason is sound and perfect. Why then labour ye not for
such? Because we have them already. What then do ye so strive and
contend between you?'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>THE TWELFTH
BOOK</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>I. Whatsoever thou doest hereafter
aspire unto, thou mayest even now enjoy and possess, if thou
doest not envy thyself thine own happiness. And that will be, if
thou shalt forget all that is past, and for the future, refer
thyself wholly to the Divine Providence, and shalt bend and apply
all thy present thoughts and intentions to holiness and
righteousness. To holiness, in accepting willingly whatsoever is
sent by the Divine Providence, as being that which the nature of
the universe hath appointed unto thee, which also hath appointed
thee for that, whatsoever it be. To righteousness, in speaking
the truth freely, and without ambiguity; and in doing all things
justly and discreetly. Now in this good course, let not other
men's either wickedness, or opinion, or voice hinder thee: no,
nor the sense of this thy pampered mass of flesh: for let that
which suffers, look to itself. If therefore whensoever the time
of thy departing shall come, thou shalt readily leave all things,
and shalt respect thy mind only, and that divine part of thine,
and this shall be thine only fear, not that some time or other
thou shalt cease to live, but thou shalt never begin to live
according to nature : then shalt thou be a man indeed, worthy of
that world, from which thou hadst thy beginning; then shalt thou
cease to be a stranger in thy country, and to wonder at those
things that happen daily, as things strange and unexpected, and
anxiously to depend of divers things that are not in thy
power.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>II. God beholds our minds and
understandings, bare and naked from these material vessels, and
outsides, and all earthly dross. For with His simple and pure
understanding, He pierceth into our inmost and purest parts,
which from His, as it were by a water pipe and channel, first
flowed and issued. This if thou also shalt use to do, thou shalt
rid thyself of that manifold luggage, wherewith thou art round
about encumbered. For he that does regard neither his body, nor
his clothing, nor his dwelling, nor any such external furniture,
must needs gain unto himself great rest and ease. Three things
there be in all, which thou doest consist of; thy body, thy life,
and thy mind. Of these the two former, are so far forth thine, as
that thou art bound to take care for them. But the third alone is
that which is properly thine. If then thou shalt separate from
thyself, that is from thy mind, whatsoever other men either do or
say, or whatsoever thou thyself hast heretofore either done or
said; and all troublesome thoughts concerning the future, and
whatsoever, (as either belonging to thy body or life:) is without
the jurisdiction of thine own will, and whatsoever in the
ordinary course of human chances and accidents doth happen unto
thee; so that thy mind (keeping herself loose and free from all
outward coincidental entanglements; always in a readiness to
depart:) shall live by herself, and to herself, doing that which
is just, accepting whatsoever doth happen, and speaking the truth
always; if, I say, thou shalt separate from thy mind, whatsoever
by sympathy might adhere unto it, and all time both past and
future, and shalt make thyself in all points and respects, like
unto Empedocles his allegorical sphere, 'all round and circular,'
&c., and shalt think of no longer life than that which is now
present: then shalt thou be truly able to pass the remainder of
thy days without troubles and distractions; nobly and generously
disposed, and in good favour and correspondency, with that spirit
which is within thee.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>III. I have often wondered how it
should come to pass, that every man loving himself best, should
more regard other men's opinions concerning himself than his own.
For if any God or grave master standing by, should command any of
us to think nothing by himself but what he should presently speak
out; no man were able to endure it, though but for one day. Thus
do we fear more what our neighbours will think of us, than what
we ourselves.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>IV. how come it to pass that the Gods
having ordered all other things so well and so lovingly, should
be overseen in this one only thing, that whereas then. hath been
some very good men that have made many covenants as it were with
God and by many holy actions and outward services contracted a
kind of familiarity with Him; that these men when once they are
dead, should never be restored to life, but be extinct for ever.
But this thou mayest be sure of, that this (if it be so indeed)
would never have been so ordered by the Gods, had it been fit
otherwise. For certainly it was possible, had it been more just
so and had it been according to nature, the nature of the
universe would easily have borne it. But now because it is not
so, (if so be that it be not so indeed) be therefore confident
that it was not fit it should be so. for thou seest thyself, that
now seeking after this matter, how freely thou doest argue and
contest with God. But were not the Gods both just and good in the
highest degree, thou durst not thus reason with them. Now if just
and good, it could not be that in the creation of the world, they
should either unjustly or unreasonably oversee
anything.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>V. Use thyself even unto those things
that thou doest at first despair of. For the left hand we see,
which for the most part hieth idle because not used; yet doth it
hold the bridle with more strength than the right, because it
hath been used unto it.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>VI. Let these be the objects of thy
ordinary meditation: to consider, what manner of men both for
soul and body we ought to be, whensoever death shall surprise us:
the shortness of this our mortal life: the immense vastness of
the time that hath been before, and will he after us: the frailty
of every worldly material object: all these things to consider,
and behold clearly in themselves, all disguisement of external
outside being removed and taken away. Again, to consider the
efficient causes of all things: the proper ends and references of
all actions: what pain is in itself; what pleasure, what death:
what fame or honour, how every man is the true and proper ground
of his own rest and tranquillity, and that no man can truly be
hindered by any other: that all is but conceit and opinion. As
for the use of thy dogmata, thou must carry thyself in the
practice of them, rather like unto a pancratiastes, or one that
at the same time both fights and wrestles with hands and feet,
than a gladiator. For this, if he lose his sword that he fights
with, he is gone: whereas the other hath still his hand free,
which he may easily turn and manage at his
will.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>VII. All worldly things thou must
behold and consider, dividing them into matter, form, and
reference, or their proper end.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>VIII. How happy is man in this his
power that hath been granted unto him: that he needs not do
anything but what God shall approve, and that he may embrace
contentedly, whatsoever God doth send unto
him?</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>IX. Whatsoever doth happen in the
ordinary course and consequence of natural events, neither the
Gods, (for it is not possible, that they either wittingly or
unwittingly should do anything amiss) nor men, (for it is through
ignorance, and therefore against their wills that they do
anything amiss) must he accused. None then must be
accused.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>X. How ridiculous and strange is he,
that wonders at anything that happens in this life in the
ordinary course of nature!</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XI. Either fate, (and that either an
absolute necessity, and unavoidable decree; or a placable and
flexible Providence) or all is a mere casual confusion, void of
all order and government. If an absolute and unavoidable
necessity, why doest thou resist? If a placable and exorable
Providence, make thyself worthy of the divine help and
assistance. If all be a mere confusion without any moderator, or
governor, then hast thou reason to congratulate thyself; that in
such a general flood of confusion thou thyself hast obtained a
reasonable faculty, whereby thou mayest govern thine own life and
actions. But if thou beest carried away with the flood, it must
be thy body perchance, or thy life, or some other thing that
belongs unto them that is carried away: thy mind and
understanding cannot. Or should it be so, that the light of a
candle indeed is still bright and lightsome until it be put out :
and should truth, and righteousness, and temperance cease to
shine in thee whiTest thou thyself bast any
being?</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XII. At the conceit and apprehension
that such and such a one hath sinned, thus reason with thyself;
What do I know whether this be a sin indeed, as it seems to be?
But if it be, what do I know but that he himself hath already
condemned himself for it? And that is all one as if a man should
scratch and tear his own face, an object of compassion rather
than of anger. Again, that he that would not have a vicious man
to sin, is like unto him that would not have moisture in the fig,
nor children to welp nor a horse to neigh, nor anything else that
in the course of nature is necessary. For what shall he do that
hath such an habit? If thou therefore beest powerful and
eloquent, remedy it if thou
canst.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XIII. If it be not fitting, do it not.
If it be not true, speak it not. Ever maintain thine own purpose
and resolution free from all compulsion and
necessity.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XIV. Of everything that presents
itself unto thee, to consider what the true nature of it is, and
to unfold it, as it were, by dividing it into that which is
formal : that which is material: the true use or end of it, and
the just time that it is appointed to
last.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XV. It is high time for thee, to
understand that there is somewhat in thee, better and more divine
than either thy passions, or thy sensual appetites and
affections. What is now the object of my mind, is it fear, or
suspicion, or lust, or any such thing? To do nothing rashly
without some certain end; let that be thy first care. The next,
to have no other end than the common good. For, alas! yet a
little while, and thou art no more: no more will any, either of
those things that now thou seest, or of those men that now are
living, be any more. For all things are by nature appointed soon
to be changed, turned, and corrupted, that other things might
succced in their room.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XVI. Remember that all is but opinion,
and all opinion depends of the mind. Take thine opinion away, and
then as a ship that hath stricken in within the arms and mouth of
the harbour, a present calm; all things safe and steady: a bay,
not capable of any storms and tempests: as the poet hath
it.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XVII. No operation whatsoever it he,
ceasing for a while, can be truly said to suffer any evil,
because it is at an end. Neither can he that is the author of
that operation; for this very respect, because his operation is
at an end, be said to suffer any evil. Likewise then, neither can
the whole body of all our actions (which is our life) if in time
it cease, be said to suffer any evil for this very reason,
because it is at an end; nor he truly be said to have been ill
affected, that did put a period to this series of actions. Now
this time or certain period, depends of the determination of
nature: sometimes of particular nature, as when a man dieth old;
but of nature in general, however; the parts whereof thus
changing one after another, the whole world still continues fresh
and new. Now that is ever best and most seasonable, which is for
the good of the whole. Thus it appears that death of itself can
neither be hurtful to any in particular, because it is not a
shameful thing (for neither is it a thing that depends of our own
will, nor of itself contrary to the common good) and generally,
as it is both expedient and seasonable to the whole, that in that
respect it must needs be good. It is that also, which is brought
unto us by the order and appointment of the Divine Providence; so
that he whose will and mind in these things runs along with the
Divine ordinance, and by this concurrence of his will and mind
with the Divine Providence, is led and driven along, as it were
by God Himself; may truly be termed and esteemed the *OEo~p7poc*,
or divinely led and inspired.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XVIII. These three things thou must
have always in a readiness: first concerning thine own actions,
whether thou doest nothing either idly, or otherwise, than
justice and equity do require: and concerning those things that
happen unto thee externally, that either they happen unto thee by
chance, or by providence; of which two to accuse either, is
equally against reason. Secondly, what like unto our bodies are
whilest yet rude and imperfect, until they be animated: and from
their animation, until their expiration: of what things they are
compounded, and into what things they shall be dissolved.
Thirdly, how vain all things will appear unto thee when, from on
high as it were, looking down thou shalt contemplate all things
upon earth, and the wonderful mutability, that they are subject
unto: considering withal, the infinite both greatness and variety
of things aerial and things celestial that are round about it.
And that as often as thou shalt behold them, thou shalt still see
the same: as the same things, so the same shortness of
continuance of all those things. And, behold, these be the things
that we are so proud and puffed up
for.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XIX. Cast away from thee opinion, and
thou art safe. And what is it that hinders thee from casting of
it away? When thou art grieved at anything, hast thou forgotten
that all things happen according to the nature of the universe;
and that him only it concerns, who is in fault; and moreover,
that what is now done, is that which from ever hath been done in
the world, and will ever be done, and is now done everywhere: how
nearly all men are allied one to another by a kindred not of
blood, nor of seed, but of the same mind. Thou hast also
forgotten that every man's mind partakes of the Deity, and
issueth from thence; and that no man can properly call anything
his own, no not his son, nor his body, nor his life; for that
they all proceod from that One who is the giver of all things:
that all things are but opinion; that no man lives properly, but
that very instant of time which is now present. And therefore
that no man whensoever he dieth can properly be said to lose any
more, than an instant of time.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XX. Let thy thoughts ever run upon
them, who once for some one thing or other, were moved with
extraordinary indignation; who were once in the highest pitch of
either honour, or calamity; or mutual hatred and enmity; or of
any other fortune or condition whatsoever. Then consider what's
now become of all those things. All is turned to smoke; all to
ashes, and a mere fable; and perchance not so much as a fable. As
also whatsoever is of this nature, as Fabius Catulinus in the
field; Lucius Lupus, and Stertinius, at Baiae Tiberius at Caprem:
and Velius Rufus, and all such examples of vehement prosecution
in worldly matters; let these also run in thy mind at the same
time; and how vile every object of such earnest and vehement
prosecution is; and how much more agreeable to true philosophy it
is, for a man to carry himself in every matter that offers
itself; justly, and moderately, as one that followeth the Gods
with all simplicity. For, for a man to be proud and high
conceited, that he is not proud and high conceited, is of all
kind of pride and presumption, the most
intolerable.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXI. To them that ask thee, Where hast
thou seen the Gods, or how knowest thou certainly that there be
Gods, that thou art so devout in their worship? I answer first of
all, that even to the very eye, they are in some manner visible
and apparent. Secondly, neither have I ever seen mine own soul,
and yet I respect and honour it. So then for the Gods, by the
daily experience that I have of their power and providence
towards myself and others, I know certainly that they are, and
therefore worship them.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXII. Herein doth consist happiness of
life, for a man to know thoroughly the true nature of everything;
what is the matter, and what is the form of it: with all his
heart and soul, ever to do that which is just, and to speak the
truth. What then remaineth but to enjoy thy life in a course and
coherence of good actions, one upon another immediately
succeeding, and never interrupted, though for never so little a
while?</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXIII. There is but one light of the
sun, though it be intercepted by walls and mountains, and other
thousand objects. There is but one common substance of the whole
world, though it be concluded and restrained into several
different bodies, in number infinite. There is but one common
soul, though divided into innumerable particular essences and
natures. So is there but one common intellectual soul, though it
seem to be divided. And as for all other parts of those generals
which we have mentioned, as either sensitive souls or subjects,
these of themselves (as naturally irrational) have no common
mutual reference one unto another, though many of them contain a
mind, or reasonable faculty in them, whereby they are ruled and
governed. But of every reasonable mind, this the particular
nature, that it hath reference to whatsoever is of her own kind,
and desireth to be united: neither can this common affection, or
mutual unity and correspondency, be here intercepted or divided,
or confined to particulars as those other common things
are.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXIV. What doest thou desire? To live
long. What? To enjoy the operations of a sensitive soul; or of
the appetitive faculty? or wouldst thou grow, and then decrease
again? Wouldst thou long be able to talk, to think and reason
with thyself? Which of all these seems unto thee a worthy object
of thy desire? Now if of all these thou doest find that they be
but little worth in themselves, proceed on unto the last, which
is, in all things to follow God and reason. But for a man to
grieve that by death he shall be deprived of any of these things,
is both against God and reason.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXV. What a small portion of vast and
infinite eternity it is, that is allowed unto every one of us,
and how soon it vanisheth into the general age of the world: of
the common substance, and of the common soul also what a small
portion is allotted unto us: and in what a little clod of the
whole earth (as it were) it is that thou doest crawl. After thou
shalt rightly have considered these things with thyself; fancy
not anything else in the world any more to be of any weight and
moment but this, to do that only which thine own nature doth
require; and to conform thyself to that which the common nature
doth afford.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXVI. What is the present estate of my
understanding? For herein lieth all indeed. As for all other
things, they are without the compass of mine own will: and if
without the compass of my will, then are they as dead things unto
me, and as it were mere smoke.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XXVII. To stir up a man to the
contempt of death this among other things, is of good power and
efficacy, that even they who esteemed pleasure to be happiness,
and pain misery, did nevertheless many of them contemn death as
much as any. And can death be terrible to him, to whom that only
seems good, which in the ordinary course of nature is seasonable?
to him, to whom, whether his actions be many or few, so they be
all good, is all one; and who whether he behold the things of the
world being always the same either for many years, or for few
years only, is altogether indifferent? O man! as a citizen thou
hast lived, and conversed in this great city the world. Whether
just for so many years, or no, what is it unto thee? Thou hast
lived (thou mayest be sure) as long as the laws and orders of the
city required; which may be the common comfort of all. Why then
should it be grievous unto thee, if (not a tyrant, nor an unjust
judge, but) the same nature that brought thee in, doth now send
thee out of the world? As if the praetor should fairly dismiss
him from the stage, whom he had taken in to act a while. Oh, but
the play is not yet at an end, there are but three acts yet acted
of it? Thou hast well said: for in matter of life, three acts is
the whole play. Now to set a certain time to every man's acting,
belongs unto him only, who as first he was of thy composition, so
is now the cause of thy dissolution. As for thyself; thou hast to
do with neither. Go thy ways then well pleased and contented: for
so is He that dismisseth thee.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p>
<font><font><font><font>APPENDIX</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>CORRESPONDENCE OF M. AURELIUS
ANTONINUS AND M. CORNELIUS
FRONTO'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>M. CORNELIUS FRONTO(1) was a Roman by
descent, but of provincial birth, being native to Cirta, in
Numidia. Thence he migrated to Rome in the reign of Hadrian, and
became the most famous rhetorician of his day. As a pleader and
orator he was counted by his contemporaries hardly inferior to
Tully himself, and as a teacher his aid was sought for the
noblest youths of Rome. To him was entrusted the education of M.
Aurelius and of his colleague L. Verus in their boyhood; and he
was rewarded for his efforts by a seat in the Senate and the
consular rank (A.D. 143). By the exercise of his profession he
became wealthy; and if he speaks of his means as not great,(2) he
must be comparing his wealth with the grandees of Rome, not with
the ordinary citizen. Before the present century nothing was
known of the works of Fronto, except a grammatical treatise; but
in 1815 Cardinal Mai published a number of letters and some short
essays of Fronto, which he had discovered in a palimpsest at
Milan. Other parts of the same MS. he found later in the Vatican,
the whole being collected</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>(1) References are made to the edition
of Naber, Leipzig (Trübner), 1867. (2) Ad Verum imp. Aur.
Caes., ii, 7.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>and edited in the year 1823. We now
possess parts of his correspondence with Antoninus Pius, with M.
Aurelius, with L. Verus, and with certain of his friends, and
also several rhetorical and historical fragments. Though none of
the more ambitious works of Fronto have survived, there are
enough to give proof of his powers. Never was a great literary
reputation less deserved. It would be bard to conceive of
anything more vapid than the style and conception of these
letters; clearly the man was a pedant without imagination or
taste. Such indeed was the age he lived in, and it is no marvel
that he was like to his age. But there must have been more in him
than mere pedantry; there was indeed a heart in the man, which
Marcus found, arid he found also a tongue which could speak the
truth. Fronto's letters are by no means free from exaggeration
and laudation, but they do not show that loathsome flattery which
filled the Roman court. He really admires what he praises, and
his way of saying so is not unlike what often passes for
criticism at the present day. He is not afraid to reprove what he
thinks amiss; and the astonishment of Marcus at this will prove,
if proof were needed, that he was not used to plain dealing. "How
happy I am," he writes, "that my friend Marcus Cornelius, so
distinguished as an orator and so noble as a man, thinks me worth
praising and blaming."(1) In another place he deems himself blest
because Pronto had taught him to speak the truth(2) although the
context shows him to be speaking of expression, it is still a
point in favour of Pronto. A sincere heart is better than
literary taste; and if Fronto had not done his duty by the young
prince, it is not easy to understand the friendship which
remained between them up to the last. An example of the frankness
which was between them is given by a difference they had over the
case of Herodes Atticus. Herodes was a Greek rhetorician who had
a school at Rome, and Marcus Aurelius was among his pupils. Both
Marcus and the Emperor (1) Ad M. Caes iii. 17 (2) Ad M. Caes iii.
12</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Antoninus had a high opinion of
Herodes; and all we know goes to prove he was a man of high
character and princely generosity. When quite young he was made
administrator of the free cities in Asia, nor is it surprising to
find that he made bitter enemies there; indeed, a just ruler was
sure to make enemies. The end of it was that an Athenian
deputation, headed by the orators Theodotus and Demostratus, made
serious accusations against his honour. There is no need to
discuss the merits of the case here; suffice it to say, Herodes
succeeded in defending himself to the satisfaction of the
emperor. Pronto appears to have taken the delegates' part, and to
have accepted a brief for the prosecution, urged to some extent
by personal considerations; and in this cause Marcus Aurelius
writes to Fronto as follows</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'AURELIUS CAESAR to his friend FRONTO,
greeting.(1)</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'I know you have often told me you
were anxious to find how you might best please me. Now is the
time; now you can increase my love towards you, if it can be
increased. A trial is at hand, in which people seem likely not
only to hear your speech with pleasure, but to see your
indignation with impatience. I see no one who dares give you a
hint in the matter; for those who are less friendly, prefer to
see you act with some inconsistency; and those who are more
frIendly, fear to seem too friendly to your opponent if they
should dissuade you from your accusation; then again, in case you
have prepared something neat for the occasion, they cannot endure
to rob you of your harangue by silencing you. Therefore, whether
you think me a rash counsellor, or a bold boy, or too kind to
your opponent, not because I think it better, I will offer my
counsel with some caution. But why have I said, offer my counsel?
No, I demand it from you; I demand it boldly, and if I succeed, I
promise to remain under your obligation. What? you will say if I
am attackt, shall I not pay tit for tat ? Ah, but you will get
greater glory, if even when attackt you answer nothing. Indeed,
if he begins it, answer as you will and you will have fair
excuse; but I have demanded of him that he shall not begin, and I
think I have succeeded. I love each of you according to your
merits and I know that lie was educated in the house of P.
Calvisius, my gran(lfather, and that I was educated by you;
therefore I am full of anxiety that this most disagreeable
business shall be managed as honourably as possible. I trust you
may approve my advice, for my intention you will approve. At
least I prefer to write unwisely rather than to be silent
unkindly.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>(1) Ad M. Caes ii.,
2.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Fronto replied, thanking the prince
for his advice, and promising that he will confine himself to the
facts of the case. But he points out that the charges brought
against Herodes were such, that they can hardly be made
agreeable; amongst them being spoliation, violence, and murder.
However, he is willing even to let some of these drop if it be
the prince's pleasure. To this Marcus returned the following
answer:-(1) 'This one thing, my dearest Fronto, is enough to make
me truly grateful to you, that so far from rejecting my counsel,
you have even approved it. As to the question you raise in your
kind letter, my opinion is this: all that concerns the case which
you are supporting must be clearly brought forward ; what
concerns your own feelings, though you may have had just
provocation, should be left
unsaid.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>The story does credit to both. Fronto
shows no loss of temper at the interference, nor shrinks from
stating his case with frankness; and Marcus, with forbearance
remarkable in a prince, does not command that his friend be left
unmolested, but merely stipulates for a fair trial on the merits
of the case.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Another example may he given from a
letter of Fronto's (2)</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Here is something else quarrelsome and
querulous. I have sometimes found fault with you in your absence
somewhat seriously in the company of a few of my most intimate
friends : at times, for example, when you mixt in society with a
more solemn look than was fitting, or would read books in the
theatre or in a banquet ; nor did I absent myself from theatre or
banquet when you did(3). Then I used to call you a hard man, no
good company, even disagreeable, sometimes, when anger got the
better of me. But did any one else in the same banquet speak
against you, I could not endure to hear it with equanimity. Thus
it was easier for me to say something to your disadvantage
myself, than to hear others do it; just as I could more easily
bear to chastise my daughter Gratia, than to see her chastised by
another.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1. Ad. M. Caes., iii. 5. 2. iv. 12. 3
The text is obscure</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>The affection between them is clear
from every page of the correspondence. A few instances are now
given, which were written at different
periods</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>To MY
MASTER.(1)</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'This is how I have past the last few
days. My sister was suddenly seized with an internal pain, so
violent that I was horrified at her looks; my mother in her
trepidation on that account accidentally bruised her side on a
corner of the wall; she and we were greatly troubled about that
blow. For myself; on going to rest I found a scorpion in my bed;
but I did not lie down upon him, I killed him first. If you are
getting on better, that is a consolation. My mother is easier
now, thanks be to God. Good-bye, best and sweetest master. My
lady sends you greeting.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>(2)'What words can I find to fit my
had luck, or how shall I upbraid as it deserves the hard
constraint which is laid upon me? It ties me fast here, troubled
my heart is, and beset by such anxiety; nor does it allow me to
make haste to my Fronto, my life and delight, to be near him at
such a moment of ill-health in particular, to hold his hands, to
chafe gently that identical foot, so far as may be done without
discomfort, to attend him in the bath, to support his steps with
my arm.' (3)'This morning I did not write to you, because I heard
you were better, and because I was myself engaged in other
business, and I cannot ever endure to write anything to you
unless with mind at ease and untroubled and free. So if we are
all right, let me know: what I desire, you know, and how properly
I desire it, I know. Farewell, my master, always in every chance
first in my mind, as you deserve to be. My master, see I am not
asleep, and I compel myself to sleep, that you may not be angry
with me. You gather I am writing this late at
night.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>(1) Ad M. Caes., v. 8. (2) i. 2. (3)
iii. 21.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>(1)'What spirit do you suppose is in
me, when I remember how long it is since I have seen you, and why
I have not seen you 1 and it may be I shall not see you for a few
days yet, while you are strengthening yourself; as you must. So
while you lie on the sick-bed, my spirit also will lie low anti,
whenas,(2) by God's mercy you shall stand upright, my spirit too
will stand firm, which is now burning- with the strongest desire
for you. Farewell, soul of your prince,
your</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>(3)0 my dear Fronto, most
distinguished Consul! I yield, you have conquered: all who have
ever loved before, you have conquered out and out in love's
contest. Receive the victor's wreath ; and the herald shall
proclaim your victory aloud before your own tribunal: "M.
Cornelius Fronto, Consul, wins, and is crowned victor in the Open
International Love-race."(4) But beaten though I may be, I shall
neither slacken nor relax my own zeal. Well, you shall love me
more than any man loves any other man; but I, who possess a
faculty of loving less strong, shall love you more than any one
else loves you; more indeed than you love yourself. Gratia and I
will have to fight for it; I doubt I shall not get the better of
her. For, as Plautus says, her love is like rain, whose big drops
not only penetrate the dress, but drench to the very
marrow.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Marcus Aurelius seems to have been
about eighteen years of age when the correspondence begins,
Fronto being some thirty years older.(5) The systematic education
of the young prince seems to have been finisht, and Pronto now
acts more as his adviser than his tutor. He recommends the prince
to use simplicity in his public speeches, and to avoid
affectation.(6) Marcus devotes his attention to the old authors
who then had a great vogue at Rome: Ennius, Plautus, Nawius, and
such orators as Cato and Gracchus.(7) Pronto urges on him the
study of Cicero, whose letters, he says, are all worth
reading.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1 Ad M. Caes., iii. 19. 2 The writer
sometimes uses archaisms such as quom, which I render 'whenas. 3
Ad M. Caes., ii. 2. 4 The writer parodies the proclamation at the
Greek games; the words also are Greek. 5 From internal evidence:
the letters are not arranged in order of time. See Naher's
Prolegomena, p. xx. foil. 6 Ad M. Caes., iii. x. 7 Ad M. Caes ii.
10,; iii. 18,; ii. 4.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>When he wishes to compliment Marcus he
declares one or other of his letters has the true Tullian ring.
Marcus gives his nights to reading when he ought to be sleeping.
He exercises himself in verse composition and on rhetorical
themes.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'It is very nice of you,' he writes to
Fronto,(1) 'to ask for my hexameters ; I would have sent them at
once if I had them by me. The fact is my secretary, Anicetus-you
know who I mean-did not pack up any of my compositions for me to
take away with me. He knows my weakness; he was afraid that if I
got hold of them I might, as usual, make smoke of them. However,
there was no fear for the hexameters. I must confess the truth to
my master: I love them. I study at night, since the day is taken
up with the theatre. I am weary of an evening, and sleepy in the
daylight, and so I don't do much. Yet I have made extracts from
sixty books, five volumes of them, in these latter days. But when
you read remember that the "sixty" includes plays of Novius, and
farces, and some little speeches of Scipio; don't be too much
startled at the number. You remember your Polemon; but I pray you
do not remember Horace, who has died with Pollio as far as I am
concerned.(2) Farewell, my dearest and most affectionate friend,
most distinguished consul and my beloved master, whom I have not
seen these two years. Those who say two months, count the days.
Shall I ever see you again?'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Sometimes Fronto sends him a theme to
work up, as thus: 'M. Lucilius tribune of the people violently
throws into prison a free Roman citizen, against the opinion of
his colleagues who demand his release. For this act he is branded
by the censor. Analyse the case, and then take both sides in
turn, attacking and defending.'(3) Or again: 'A Roman consul,
doffing his state robe, dons the gauntlet and kills a lion
amongst the young men at the Quinquatrus in full view of the
people of Rome. Denunciation before the censors.'(4) The prince
has a fair knowledge of Greek, and quotes
from</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1 Ad M. Caes., ii. 10. 2 He implies,
as in i. 6, that he has ceased to study Horace. 3 Pollio was a
grammarian, who taught Marcus. 4 Ad M. Caes., v. 27,; V.
22.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Homer, Plato, Euripides, but for some
reason Fronto dissuaded him from this study.(5) His Meditations
are written in Greek. He continued his literary studies
throughout his life, and after he became emperor we still find
him asking his adviser for copies of Cicero's Letters, by which
he hopes to improve his vocabulary.(6) Pronto Helps him with a
supply of similes, which, it seems, he did not think of readily.
It is to be feared that the fount of Marcus's eloquence was
pumped up by artificial means.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1 Ad M. Caes., ii. 10. 2 He implies,
as in i. 6, that he has ceased to study Horace. 3 Pollio was a
grammarian, who taught Marcus. 4 Ad M. Caes., v. 27,; V. 22. 5
Ep. Gracae, 6. 6 Ad Anton. Imp., 1I.
4.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Some idea of his literary style may he
gathered from the letter which
follows:(1)</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'I heard Polemo declaim the other day,
to say something of things sublunary. If you ask what I thought
of him, listen. He seems to me an industrious farmer, endowed
with the greatest skill, who has cultivated a large estate for
corn and vines only, and indeed with a rich return of fine crops.
But yet in that land of his there is no Pompeian fig or Arician
vegetable, no Tarentine rose, or pleasing coppice, or thick
grove, or shady plane tree; all is for use rather than for
pleasure, such as one ought rather to commend, but cares not to
love. A pretty bold idea, is it not, and rash judgment, to pass
censure on a man of such reputation? But whenas I remember that I
am writing to you, I think I am less bold than you would have me.
'In that point I am wholly undecided. 'There's an unpremeditated
hendecasyllable for you. So before I begin to poetize, i'll take
an easy with you. Farewell, my heart's desire, your Verus's best
beloved, most distinguisht consul, master most sweet. Farewell I
ever pray, sweetest soul. What a letter do you think you have
written me I could make bold to say, that never did she who bore
me and nurst me, write anything SO delightful, so honey-sweet.
And this does not come of your fine style and eloquence:
otherwise not my mother only, but all who
breathe.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1 Ad M. Caes, ii.
5.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>To the pupil, never was anything on
earth so fine as his master's eloquence ; on this theme Marcus
fairly bubbles over with
enthusiasm.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>(1)'Well, if the ancient Greeks ever
wrote anything like this, let those who know decide it: for me,
if I dare say so, I never read any invective of Cato's so fine as
your encomtum. O if my Lord(2) could be sufficiently praised,
sufficiently praised he would have been undoubtedly by you! This
kind of thing is not done nowadays.(3) It were easier to match
Pheidias, easier to match Apelles, easier in a word to match
Demosthenes himself, or Cato himself; than to match this finisht
and perfect work. Never have I read anything more refined,
anything more after the ancient type, anything more delicious,
anything more Latin. 0 happy you, to be endowed with eloquence so
great! 0 happy I, to be tinder the charge of such a master! 0
arguments,(4) O arrangement, 0 elegance, 0 wit, 0 beauty, 0
words, 0 brilliancy, 0 subtilty, 0 grace, 0 treatment, 0
everything! Mischief take me, if you ought not to have a rod put
in your hand one day, a diadem on your brow, a tribunal raised
for you; then the herald would summon us all-why do I say "us"?
Would summnon all, those scholars and orators: one by one you
would beckon them forward with your rod and admonish them.
Hitherto I have had no fear of this admonition; many things help
me to enter within your school. I write this in the utmost haste;
for whenas I am sending you so kindly a letter from my Lord, what
needs a longer letter of mine? Farewell then, glory of Roman
eloquence, boast of your friends, magnifico, most delightful man,
most distinguished consul, master most sweet. 'After this you
will take care not to tell so many fibs of me, especially in the
Senate. A monstrous fine speech this is! 0 if 1 could kiss your
head at every heading of it! You have looked down on all with a
vengeance. This oration once read, in vain shall we study, in
vain shall we toil, in vain strain every nerve. Farewell always,
most sweet master.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1 Ad M. Caes., ii. 3. 2 The Emperor
Antoninus Pius is spoken of as dominus vieus. 3 This sentence is
written in Greek. 4 Several of these words are Greek, and the
meaning is not quite clear.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Sometimes Fronto descends from the
heights of eloquence to offer practical advice; as when he
suggests how Marcus should deal with his suite. It is more
difficult, he admits, to keep courtiers in harmony than to tame
lions with a lute; but if it is to be done, it must be by
eradicating jealousy. ' Do not let your friends,' says
Fronto,'(1) 'envy each other, or think that what you give to
another is filched from them. Keep away envy from your suite, and
you will find your friends kindly and
harmonious.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Here and there we meet with allusions
to his daily life, which we could wish to be more frequent. He
goes to the theatre or the law-courts,(2) or takes part in court
ceremony, but his heart is always with his books. The vintage
season, with its religious rites, was always spent by Antoninus
Pius in the country. The following letters give sonic notion of a
day's occupation at that time:(3)</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'MY DEAREST MASTER, -I am well. To-day
I studied from the ninth hour of the night to the second hour of
day, after taking food. I then put on my slippers, and from time
second to the third hour had a most enjoyable walk up and down
before my chamber. Then booted and cloaked-for so we were
commanded to appear-I went to wait upon my lord the emperor. We
went a-hunting, did doughty deeds, heard a rumour that boars had
been caught, but there was nothing to see. However, we climbed a
pretty steep hill, and in the afternoon returned home. I went
straight to my books. Off with the boots, down with the cloak; I
spent a couple of hours in bed. I read Cato's speech on the
Property of Pulchra, and another in which he impeaches a tribune.
Ho, ho! I hear you cry to your man, Off with you as fast as you
can, and bring me these speeches from the library of Apollo. No
use to send: I have those books with me too. You must get round
the Tiberian librarian; you will have to spend something on the
matter; and when I return to town, I shall expect to go shares
with him. Well, after reading these speeches I wrote a wretched
trifle, destined for drowning or burning. No, indeed my attempt
at writing did not come off at all to-day; the composition of a
hunter or a vintager, whose shouts are echoing through my
chamber, hateful and wearisome as the law-courts. What have I
said? Yes, it was rightly said, for my master is an orator. I
think I have caught cold, whether from walking in slippers or
from writing badly, I do not know. I am always annoyed with
phlegm, but to-day I seem to snivel more than usual. Well, I will
pour oil on my head and go off to sleep. I don't mean to put one
drop in my lamp to-day, so weary am I from riding and sneezing.
Farewell, dearest and most beloved master, whom I miss, I may
say, more than Rome it~dL'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1 Ad M Caes., iv. 1. 2 ii. 14 3 iv.
5,6.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'MY BELOVED MASTER,-I am well. I slept
a little more than usual for my slight cold, which seems to be
well again. So I spent the time from the eleventh hour of the
night to the third of the day partly in reading in Cato's
Agriculture, partly in writing, not quite so badly as yesterday
indeed. Then, after waiting upon my father, I soothed my throat
with honey-water, ejecting it without swallowing: I might say
gargle, but I won't, though I think the word is found in Novius
and elsewhere. After attending to my throat I went to my father,
and stood by his side as he sacrificed. Then to luncheon. What do
you think I had to eat? A bit of bread so big, while I watched
others gobbling boiled beans, onions, and fish full of roe. Then
we set to work at gathering the grapes, with plenty of sweat and
shouting, and, as the quotation runs, "A few high-hanging
clusters did we leave survivors of the vintage." After the sixth
hour we returned home. I did a little work, and poor work at
that. Then I had a long gossip with my dear mother sitting on the
bed. My conversation was: What do you think my friend Fronto is
doing just now? She said: And what do you think of my friend
Gratia?'(1) My turn now: And what of our little Gratia,(2) the
sparrowkin? After this kind of talk, and an argument as to which
of you loved the other most, the gong sounded, the signal that my
father had gone to the bath. We supped, after ablutions in the
oil-cellar-I mean we supped after ablutions, not after ablutions
in the oil-cellar; and listened with enjoyment to the rustics
gibing. After returning, before turning on my side to snore, I do
my task and give an account of the day to my delightful master,
whom if I could long for a little more, I should not mind growing
a trifle thinner. Farewell, Fronto, wherever you are,
honey-sweet, my darling, my delight. Why do I want you? I can
love you while far away.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>One anecdote puts Marcus before us in
a new light:(3)</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1 Fronto's wife. 2 Fronto's daughter 3
Ad M. Caes ii. 12.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'When my father returned home from the
vineyards, I mounted my horse as usual, and rode on ahead some
little way. Well, there on the road was a herd of sheep, standing
all crowded together as though the place were a desert, with four
dogs and two shepherds, but nothing else. Then one shepherd said
to another shepherd, on seeing a number of horsemen: 'I say,'
says he, 'look you at those horsemen; they do a deal of robbery.'
When I heard this, I clap spurs to my horse, and ride straight
for the sheep. In consternation the sheep scatter; hither and
thither they are fleeting and bleating. A shepherd throws his
fork, and the fork falls on the horseman who came next to me. We
make our escape.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>We like Marcus none the worse for this
spice of mischief. Another letter(1) describes a visit to a
country town, and shows the antiquarian spirit of the
writer</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'M. CAESAR to his MASTER M. FRONTO,
greeting.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'After I entered the carriage, after I
took leave of you, we made a journey comfortable enough, but we
had a few drops of rain to wet us. But before coming to the
countryhouse, we broke our journey at Anagnia, a mile or so from
the highroad. Then we inspected that ancient town, a miniature it
is, but has in it many antiquities, temples, and religious
ceremonies quite out of the way. There is not a corner without
its shrine, or fane, or temple; besides, many books written on
linen, which belongs to things sacred. Then on the gate as we
came out was written twice, as follows : "Priest don the
fell.'(2) I asked one of the inhabitants what that word was. He
said it was the word in the Hernican dialect for the victim's
skin, which the priest puts over his conical cap when he enters
the city. I found out many other things which I desired to know,
but the only thing I do not desire is that you should he absent
from me; that is my chief anxiety. Now for yourself, when you
left that place, did you go to Aurelia or to Campania? Be sure to
write to me, and say whether you have opened the vintage, or
carried a host of books to the country-house; this also, whether
you miss me; I am foolish to ask it, whenas you tell it me of
yourself. Now if you miss me and if you love me, send me your
letters often, which is a comfort and consolation to me. Indeed I
should prefer ten times to read your letters than all the vines
of Gaurus or the Marsians; for these Signian vines have grapes
too rank and fruit too sharp in the taste, but I prefer wine to
must for drinking. Besides, those grapes are nicer to eat dried
than fresh-ripe; I vow I would rather tread them under foot than
put my teeth in them. But I pray they may be gracious and
forgiving, and grant me free pardon for these jests of mine.
Farewell, best friend, dearest, most l~rned, sweetest master.
When you see the must ferment in the vat, remember that just so
in my heart the longing for you is gushing and flowing and
bubbling. Good-bye.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1 Ad Verum. Imp ii. 1, s. fin. 2
Santentum</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Making all allowances for conventional
exaggerations, it is clear from the correspondence that there was
deep love between Marcus and his preceptor. The letters cover
several years in succession, but soon after the birth of Marcus's
daughter, Faustina, there is a large gap. It does not follow that
the letters ceased entirely, because we know part of the
collection is lost; but there was probably less intercourse
between Marcus and Fronto after Marcus took to the study of
philosophy under the guidance of Rusticus. When Marcus succeeded
to the throne in 161, the letters begin again, with slightly
increased formality on Fronto's part, and they go on for some
four years, when Fronto, who has been continually complaining of
illhealth, appears to have died. One letter of the later period
gives some interesting particulars of the emperor's public life,
which are worth quoting. Fronto speaks of Marcus's victories and
eloquence in the usual strain of high praise, and then
continues.(1)</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'The army when you took it in hand was
sunk in luxury and revelry, and corrupted with long inactivity.
At Antiochia the soldiers had been Wont to applaud at the stage
plays, knew more of the gardens at the nearest restaurant than of
the battlefield. Horses were hairy from lack of grooming,
horsemen smooth because their hairs had been pulled out by the
roots(2) a rare thing it was to see a soldier with hair on arm or
leg. Moreover, they were better drest than armed; so much so,
that Laelianus Pontius. a strict man of the old discipline, broke
the cuirasses of some of them with his finger-tips, and observed
cushions on the horses' backs. At his direction the tufts were
cut through, and out of the horsemnen's saddles came what
appeared to be feathers pluckt from geese. Few of the men could
vault on horseback, the rest clambered up with difficulty by aid
of heel and knee and leg not many could throw a lance hurtling,
most did it without force or power, as though they were things of
wool. dicing was common in the camp, sleep lasted all night, or
if they kept watch it was over the winecup. By what regulations
to restrain such soldiers as these, and to turn them to honesty
and industry, did you not learn from Hannibal's sternness, the
discipline of Africanus, the acts of Metellus recorded in
history</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1 Ad Verum. imp., ii. I, s.fin. 2 A
common mark of the effeminate at
Rome.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>After the preceptorial letters cease
the others are concerned with domestic events, health and
sickness, visits or introductions, birth or death. Thus the
empperor writes to his old friend, who had shown some diffidence
in seeking an interview :(1)</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'To MY
MASTER.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'I have a serious grievance against
you, my dear master, yet indeed my grief is more than my
grievance, because after so long a time I neither embraced you
nor spoke to you, though you visited the palace, and the moment
after I had left the prince my brother. I reproached my brother
severc]y for not recalling me; nor durst he deny the
fault.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Fronto again writes on one occasion:
'I have seen your daughter. It was like seeing you and Faustina
in infancy, so much that is charming her face has taken from each
of yours.' Or again, at a later
date:(2)</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>I have seen your chicks, most
delightful sight that ever I saw in my life, so like you that
nothing is more like than the likeness. . . . By the mercy of
Heaven they have a healthy colour and strong lungs. One held a
piece of white bread, like a little prince, the other a common
piece, like a true philosophers
son.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1 Ad Verum. Imp. Aur. Caes., i. 3. 2
Ad Ant. Imp i., 3.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Marcus, we know, was devoted to his
children. They were delicate in health, in spite of Fronto's
assurance, and only one son survived the father. We find echoes
of this affection now and again in the
letters.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'We have summer heat here still,'
writes Marcus, 'but since my little girls are pretty well, if I
may say so, it is like the bracing climate of spring to us.'(1)
When little Faustina came back from the valley of the shadow of
death, her father at once writes to inform Fronto.(2) The
sympathy he asks he also gives, and as old age brings more and
more infirmity, Marcus becomes even more solicitous for his
beloved teacher. The poor old man suffered a heavy blow in the
death of his grandson, on which Marcus writes:(3) 'I have just
heard of your misfortune. Feeling grieved as I do when one of
your joints gives you pain, what do you think I feel, dear
master, when you have pain of mind?' The old man's reply, in
spite of a certain self-consciousness, is full of pathos. He
recounts with pride the events of a long and upright life, in
which he has wronged no man, and lived in harmony with his
friends and family. His affectations fall away from him, as the
cry of pain is forced from his
heart:</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>(4)'Many such sorrows has fortune
visited me with all my life long. To pass by my other
afflictions, I have lost five children under the most pitiful
conditions possible: for the five I lost one by one when each was
my only child, suffering these blows of bereavement in such a
manner that each child was born to one already bereaved. Thus I
ever lost my children without solace, and got them amidst fresh
grief.....'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>The letter continues with reflections
on the nature of death, 'more to be rejoiced at than bewailed,
the younger one dies,' and an arraignment of Providence not
without dignity, wrung from him as it were by this last
culminating misfortune. It concludes with a summing-up of his
life in protest against the blow which has fallen on his grey
head.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1 Ad M. Caes., v. 19 2 iv. 11 3 De
Nepote Amissa 4 De Nepote Amissa
2</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>'Through my long life I have committed
nothing which might bring dishonour, or disgrace, or shame: no
deed of avarice or treachery have I done in all my day's: nay,
but much generosity, much kindness, much truth and faithfulness
have I shown, often at the risk of my own life. I have lived in
amity with my good brother, whom I rejoice to see in possession
of the highest office by your father's goodness, and by your
friendship at peace and perfect rest. Th~ offices which I have
myself obtained I never strove for by any underhand means. I have
cultivated my mind rather than my body; the pursuit of learning I
have preferred to increasing my wealth. I preferred to he poor
rather than bound by any' man's obligation, even to want rather
than to beg. I have never been extravagant in spending money, I
have earned it sometimes because I must. I have scrupulously
spoken the truth, and have been glad to hear it spoken to me. I
have thought it better to be neglected than to fawn, to be dumb
than to feign, to be seldom a friend than to be often a
flatterer. 1 have sought little, deserved not little. So far as I
could, I have assisted each according to my means. I have given
help readily to the deserving, fearlessly to the undeserving. No
one by proving to be ungrateful has made me more slow to bestow
promptly all benefits I could give, nor have I ever been harsh to
ingratitude. (A fragmentary passage follows, in which he appears
to speak of his desire for a peaceful end, and the desolation of
his house.) I have suffered long and painful sickness, my beloved
Marcus. Then I was visited by pitiful misfortunes: my wife I have
lost, my grandson I have lost in Germany:(1) woe is me! I have
lost my Decimanus. If I were made of iron, at this tine I could
write no more.'</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>It is noteworthy that in his
meditations Marcus Aurelius mentions Fronto only once.(2) All his
literary studies, his oratory and criticism (such as it was) is
forgotten; and, says he, 'Fronto taught me not to expect natural
affection from the highly-born.' Fronto really said more than
this: that 'affection' is not a Roman quality, nor has it a Latin
name.(3) Roman or not Roman, Marcus found affection in Fronto;
and if he outgrew his master's intellectual training, he never
lost touch with the true heart of the man it is that which
Fronto's name brings up to his remembrance, not dissertations on
compound verbs or fatuous criticisms of
style.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>1 In the war against the Catti. 2 Book
I., 8. 3 Ad Verum, ii. 7</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>NOTES</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>THIS being neither a critical edition
of the text nor an emended edition of Casaubon's translation, it
has not been thought necessary to add full notes. Casaubon's own
notes have been omitted, because for the most part they are
discursive, and not necessary to an understanding of what is
written. In those which here follow, certain emendations of his
are mentioned, which he proposes in his notes, and follows in the
translation. In addition, one or two corrections are made where
he has mistaken the Greek, and the translation might be
misleading. Those which do not come under these two heads will
explain themselves.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>The text itself has been prepared by a
comparison of the editions of 1634 and 1635. It should he borne
in mind that Casaubon's is often rather a paraphrase than a close
translation; and it did not seem worth while to notice every
variation or amplification of the original. In the original
editions all that Casauhon conceives as understood, but not
expressed, is enclosed in square brackets. These brackets are
here omitted, as they interfere with the comfort of the reader;
and so have some of the alternative renderings suggested by the
translator. In a few cases, Latin words in the text have been
replaced by English.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>Numbers in brackets refer to the
Teubner text of Stich, but the divisions of the text are left
unaltered. For some of the references identified I am indebted to
Mr. G. H. Rendall's Marcus
Aurelius.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>BOOK I</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>I "Both to frequent" (4). Gr.</font>
<font face="Symbol">to mh,</font> <font>C. conjectures</font>
<font face="Symbol">to me</font><font>. The text is probably
right: "I did not frequent public lectures, and I was taught at
home." VI Idiots. . . . philosophers (9). The reading is
doubtful, but the meaning seems to be: "simple and unlearned
men"</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XII "Claudius Maximus" (15). The
reading of the Palatine MS. (now lost) was</font> <font face=
"Symbol">paraklhsiz Maximon</font><font>, which C. supposes to
conceal the letters</font> <font face="Symbol">kl</font> <font>as
an abbreviation of Claudius.</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font>XIII "Patient hearing. . . He would
not" (16). C. translates his conjectural reading</font> <font
face="Symbol">epimonon ollan. on proapsth Stich suggests a
reading with much the same sense:</font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol">.....epimonon all
antoi</font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font>"Strict and rigid
dealing" (16). C. translates</font> <font face=
"Symbol">tonvn</font> <font>(Pal. MS.) as though from</font>
<font face="Symbol">tonoz</font><font>, in the sense of "strain."
"rigour." The reading of other MSS.</font> <font face=
"Symbol">tonvn</font> <font>is
preferable.</font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font>XIII "Congiaries"
(13).</font> <font face="Symbol">dianomais</font><font>,
"doles."</font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font>XIV "Cajeta" (17).
The passage is certainly corrupt. C. spies a reference to Chryses
praying by the sea-shore in the Illiad, and supposes M. Aurelius
to have done the like. None of the emendations suggested is
satisfactory.</font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font>At § XV. Book
II. is usually reckoned to
begin.</font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font>BOOK II III. Do,
soul" (6). If the received reading be right, it must be
sarcastic; but there are several variants which show how
unsatisfactory it is. C. translates "</font><font face=
"Symbol">en gar o</font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font face="Symbol">bioz ekasty so par eanty</font>
<font>" which I do not understand. The sense required is: "Do not
violence to thyself, for thou hast not long to use self-respect.
Life is not (v. 1.</font> <font face="Symbol">so</font><font>)
<long> for each, and this life for thee is all but
done."</font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font>X. "honour and credit do proceed" (12). The verb
has dropt out of the text, but C. has supplied one of the
required meaning.</font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font>XI. "Consider," etc. (52). This verb is not in the
Greek, which means: "(And reason also shows) how man,
etc."</font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font>BOOK IV XV. "Agathos" (18): This is probably not a
proper name, but the text seems to be unsound. The meaning may be
"the good man
ought"</font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font>XVI.</font> <font face="Symbol">oikonomian</font>
<font>(16) is a "practical benefit," a secondary
end.</font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font>XXXIX. "For herein lieth all...." (~3). C.
translates his
conjecture</font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font face="Symbol">olan</font> <font>for</font>
<font face=
"Symbol">ola</font><font>.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>BOOK
V</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XIV.</font> <font face=
"Symbol">katorqwseiz</font> <font>(15): Acts of "rightness" or
"straightness."</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXIII. "Roarer" (28): Gr. "tragedian." Ed. 1
has whoremonger,' ed. 2 corrects to "harlot," but omits to alter'
the word at its second
occurrence.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXV. "Thou hast . . . them" (33): A
quotation from Homer, Odyssey, iv.
690.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXVII. " One of the poets" (33) : Hesiod,
Op. et Dies,
197.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXIX and XXX. (36). The Greek appears to
contain quotations from sources not known, and the translation is
a paraphrase. (One or two alterations are here made on the
authority of the second
edition.)</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>BOOK
VI</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XIII. "Affected and qualified" (i4):</font>
<font face="Symbol">exis</font><font>, the power of cohesion
shown in things inanimate;</font> <font face=
"Symbol">fusiz</font><font>, power of growth seen in plants and
the like.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XVII. "Wonder at them" (18) : i.e.
mankind.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXXVII. "Chrysippus" (42): C. refers to a
passage of Plutarch De Communibus Notitiis (c. xiv.), where
Chrysippus is represented as saying that a coarse phrase may be
vile in itself, yet have due place in a comedy as contributing to
a certain
effect.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XL. "Man or men . . ." There is no hiatus in
the Greek, which means: "Whatever (is beneficial) for a man is so
for other men
also."</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XLII. There is no hiatus in the
Greek.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>BOOK
VII</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>IX. C. translates his conjecture</font>
<font face="Symbol">mh</font> <font>for</font> <font face=
"Symbol">h</font><font>. The Greek means " straight, or
rectified," with a play on the literal and metaphorical meaning
of</font> <font face=
"Symbol">ortoz</font><font>.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XIV.</font> <font face=
"Symbol">endaimonia</font><font>. contains the word</font> <font
face="Symbol">daimwn</font> <font>in
composition.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXII.The text is corrupt, but the words "or
if it be but few " should be "that is little
enough."</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXIII. "Plato": Republic, vi. p. 486
A.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXV. "It will," etc. Euripides, Belerophon,
frag. 287 (Nauck). "Lives," etc. Euripides, Hypsipyle, frag. 757
(Nauck). "As long," etc. Aristophanes, Acharne, 66 i. "Plato"
Apology, p. 28 B. "For thus" Apology, p. 28
F.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXVI. "But, 0 noble sir," etc. Plato,
Gorgias, 512
D.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXVII. "And as for those parts," etc. A
quotation from Euripides, Chryssipus, frag. 839 (Nauck). "With
meats," etc. From Euripides, Supplices,
1110.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXXIII. "They both," i.e. life and
wrestling. "Says he" (63): Plato, quoted by Epictetus, Arr. i.
28, 2 and
22.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXXVII. "How know we," etc. The Greek means:
"how know we whether Telauges were not nobler in character than
Sophocles?" The allusion is
unknown.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXVII. "Frost" The word is written by
Casaubon as a proper name, " Pagus.' "The hardihood of Socrates
was famous"; see Plato, Siymposium, p.
220.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>BOOK
X</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXII. The Greek means, "paltry breath
bearing up corpses, so that the tale of Dead Man's Land is
clearer."</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXII. "The poet" (21) : Euripides, frag. 898
(Nauck); compare Aeschylus, Danaides, frag.
44.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXIV. "Plato" (23): Theaetetus, p. 174
D.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXXIV. "The poet" (34): Homer,
Iliad, vi.
147.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXXIV. "Wood": A translation of</font> <font
face="Symbol">ulh</font><font>,
"matter."</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXXVIII. "Rhetoric" (38): Rather "the gift
of speech"; or perhaps the "decree" of the reasoning
faculty.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>BOOK
XI</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>V. "Cithaeron" (6) : Oedipus utters this cry
after discovering that he has fulfilled his awful doom, he was
exposed on Cithaeron as an infant to die, and the cry implies
that he wishes he had died there. Sophocles, Oedipus Tyrannus,
1391.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>V. "New Comedy . . .," etc. C. has here
strayed from the Greek rather widely. Translate: "and understand
to what end the New Comedy was adopted, which by small degrees
degenerated into a mere show of skill in mimicry." C. writes
Comedia Vetus, Media,
Nova.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XII. "Phocion" (13): When about to be put to
death he charged his son to bear no malice against the
Athenians.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XXVIII. " My heart," etc. (31): From Homer,
Odyssey ix. 413. "They will" From Hesiod, Opera et Dies, 184.
"Epictetus" Arr. i. II, 37. XXX. "Cut down grapes" (35): Correct
"ears of corn." "Epictetus"(36): Arr. 3, 22,
105.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>GLOSSARY</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>This Glossary includes all proper names
(excepting a few which are insignificant or unknown) and all
obsolete or obscure
words.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>ADRIANUS, or Hadrian (76-138 A. D.), i4th
Roman Emperor. Agrippa, M. Vipsanius (63-12 B.C.), a
distinguished soldier under Augustus. Alexander the Great, King
of Macedonia, and Conqueror of the East, 356-323 B.C. Antisthenes
of Athens, founder of the sect of Cynic philosophers, and an
opponent of Plato, 5th century B.C Antoninus Pius, 15th Roman
Emperor, 138-161 AD. one of the best princes that ever mounted a
throne. Apathia: the Stoic ideal was calmness in all circumstance
an insensibility to pain, and absence of all exaltation at,
pleasure or good fortune. Apelles, a famous painter of antiquity.
Apollonius of Alexandria, called Dyscolus, or the 'ill-tempered,'
a great grammarian. Aposteme, tumour, excrescence. Archimedes of
Syracuse 287-212 B.C., the most famous mathematician of
antiquity. Athos, a mountain promontory at the N. of the Aegean
Sea. Augustus, first Roman Emperor (ruled 31 B.C.-14 AD.). Avoid,
void.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>BACCHIUS: there Were several persons of this
name, and the one meant is perhaps the musician. Brutus (1) the
liberator of the Roman people from their kings, and (2) the
murderer of Caesar. Both names were household
words.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>Caesar, Caius, Julius, the Dictator and
Conqueror. Caieta, a town in Latium. Camillus, a famous dictator
in the early days of the Roman Republic. Carnuntum, a town on the
Danube in Upper Pannonia. Cato, called of Utica, a Stoic who died
by his own hand after the battle of Thapsus, 46 B.C. His name was
proverbial for virtue and courage. Cautelous, cautious. Cecrops,
first legendary King of Athens. Charax, perhaps the priestly
historian of that name, whose date is unknown, except that it
must be later than Nero. Chirurgeon, surgeon. Chrysippus, 280-207
B.C., a Stoic philosopher, and the founder of Stoicism as a
systematic philosophy. Circus, the Circus Maximus at Rome, where
games were held. There were four companies who contracted to
provide horses, drivers, etc. These were called Factiones, and
each had its distinguishing colour: russata (red), albata
(white), veneta (blue), prasina (green). There was high rivalry
between them, and riots and bloodshed not infrequently.
Cithaeron, a mountain range N. of Attica. Comedy, ancient; a term
applied to the Attic comedy of Aristophanes and his time, which
criticised persons and politics, like a modern comic journal,
such as Punck. See New Comedy. Compendious, short. Conceit,
opinion. Contentation, contentment. Crates, a Cynic philosopher
of the 4th century B.C. Croesus, King of Lydia, proverbial for
wealth; he reigned 560-546 B.C. Cynics, a school of philosophers,
founded by Antisthenes. Their texts were a kind of caricature of
Socraticism. Nothing was good but virtue, nothing bad but vice.
The Cynics repudiated all civil and social claims, and attempted
to return to what they called a state of nature. Many of them
were very disgusting in their
manners.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>DEMETRIUS of Phalerum, an Athenian orator,
statesman, philosopher, and poet. Born 345 B.C. Democritus of
Abdera (460-361 B.C.), celebrated as the 'laughing philosopher,'
whose constant thought was 'What fools these mortals be.' He
invented the Atomic Theory. Dio of Syracuse, a disciple of Plato,
and afterwards tyrant of Syracuse. Murdered 353 B.C. Diogenes,
the Cynic, born about 412 B.C., renowned for his rudeness and
hardihood. Diognetus, a painter. Dispense with, put up with.
Dogmata, pithy sayings, or philosophical rules of
life.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>EMPEDOCLES of Agrigentum, fl. 5th century
B.C., a philosopher, who first laid down that there were "four
elements." He believed in the transmigration of souls, and the
indestructibility of matter. Epictetus, a famous Stoic
philosopher. He was of Phrygia, at first a slave, then freedman,
lame, poor, and contented. The work called Encheiridion was
compiled by a pupil from his discourses. Epicureans, a sect of
philosophers founded by Epicurus, who "combined the physics of
Democritus," i.e. the atomic theory, "with the ethics of
Aristippus." They proposed to live for happiness, but the word
did not bear that coarse and vulgar sense originally which it
soon took. Epicurus of Samos, 342-270 B.C. Lived at Athens in his
"gardens," an urbane and kindly, if somewhat useless, life. His
character was simple and temperate, and had none of the vice or
indulgence which was afterwards associated with the name of
Epicurean. Eudoxus of Cnidus, a famous astronomer and physician
of the 4th century B.
C.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>FATAL, fated. Fortuit, chance (adj.).
Fronto, M. Cornelius, a rhetorician and pleader, made consul in
143 A.D. A number of his letters to M, Aur. and others are
extant.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>GRANUA, a tributary of the
Danube.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>HELICE, ancient capital city of Achaia,
swallowed up by an earthquake, 373 B.C. Helvidius Priscus,
son-in-law of Thrasea Paetus, a noble man and a lover of liberty.
He was banished by Nero, and put to death by Vespasian.
Heraclitus of Ephesus, who lived in the 6th century B.C. He wrote
on philosophy and natural science. Herculaneum, near Mount
Vesuvius, buried by the eruption of 79 AD. Hercules, p. 167,
should be Apollo. See Muses. Hiatus, gap. Hipparchus of Bithynia,
an astronomer of the 2nd century B.C., "The true father of
astronomy." Hippocrates of Cos, about 460-357 B.C. One of the
most famous physicians of
antiquity.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>IDIOT, means merely the non-proficient in
anything, the "layman," he who was not technically trained in any
art, craft, or
calling.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>LEONNATUS, a distinguished general under
Alexander the Great. Lucilla, daughter of M. Aurelius, and wife
of Verus, whom she
survived.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>MAECENAS, a trusted adviser of Augustus, and
a munificent patron of wits and literary men. Maximus, Claudius,
a Stoic philosopher. Menippus, a Cynic philosopher.
Meteores,</font> <font face="Symbol">ta
metewrologika</font><font>, "high philosophy," used specially of
astronomy and natural philosophy, which were bound up with other
speculations. Middle Comedy, something midway between the Old and
New Comedy. See Comedy, Ancient, and New Comedy. Middle things,
Book 7, XXV. The Stoics divided all things into virtue, vice, and
indifferent things; but as "indifferent" they regarded most of
those things which tbe world regards as good or bad, such as
wealth or poverty. Of these, some were "to be desired," some "to
be rejected." Muses, the nine deities who presided over various
kinds of poesy, music, etc. Their leader was Apollo, one of whose
titles is Musegetes, the Leader of the
Muses.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>NERVES, strings. New Comedy, the Attic
Comedy of Menander and his school, which criticised not persons
but manners, like a modern comic opera. See Comedy,
Ancient.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>PALESTRA, wrestling school. Pancratiast,
competitor in the pancratium, a combined contest which comprised
boxing and wrestling. Parmularii, gladiators armed with a small
round shield (parma). Pheidias, the most famous sculptor of
antiquity. Philippus, founder of the Macedonian supremacy, and
father of Alexander the Great. Phocion, an Athenian general and
statesman, a noble and highminded man, 4th century B.C. He was
called by Demosthenes, "the pruner of my periods." He was put to
death by the State in 317, on a false suspicion, and left a
message for his son "to bear no grudge against the Athenians."
Pine, torment. Plato of Athens, 429-347 B.C. He used the
dialectic method invented by his master Socrates. He was,
perhaps, as much poet as philosopher. He is generally identified
with the Theory of Ideas, that things are what they are by
participation with our eternal Idea. His "Commonwealth" was a
kind of Utopia. Platonics, followers of Plato. Pompeii, near
Mount Vesuvius, buried in the eruption of 79 A. D. Pompeius, C.
Pompeius Magnus, a very successful general at the end of the
Roman Republic (106-48 B.C.). Prestidigitator, juggler.
Pythagoras of Samos, a philosopher, scientist, and moralist of
the 6th century B.C. QUADI, a tribe of S. Germany. M. Aurelius
carried on war against them, and part of this book was written in
the field.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>RICTUS, gape, jaws. Rusticus, Q. Junius, or
Stoic philosopher, twice made consul by M.
Aurelius.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>SACRARY, shrine. Salaminius, Book 7, XXXVII.
Leon of Salamis. Socrates was ordered by the Thirty Tyrants to
fetch him before them, and Socrates, at his own peril, refused.
Sarmatae, a tribe dwelling in Poland. Sceletum, skeleton.
Sceptics, a school of philosophy founded by Pyrrho (4th contury
B.C.). He advocated "suspension of judgment," and taught the
relativity of knowledge and impossibility of proof. The school is
not unlike the Agnostic school. Scipio, the name of two great
soldiers, P. Corn. Scipio Africanus, conqueror of Hannibal, and
P. Corn. Sc. Afr. Minor, who came into the family by adoption,
who destroyed Carthage. Secutoriani (a word coined by C.), the
Sececutores, light-armed gladiators, who were pitted against
others with net and trident. Sextus of Chaeronea, a Stoic
philosopher, nephew of Plutarch. Silly, simple, common. Sinuessa,
a town in Latium. Socrates, an Athenian philosopher (469-399
B.C.), founder of the dialectic method. Put to death on a
trumped-up charge by his countrymen. Stint, limit (without
implying niggardliness). Stoics, a philosophic system founded,by
Zeno (4th century B.C.), and systematised by Chrysippus (3rd
century B.C.). Their physical theory was a pantheistic
materialism, their summum bonum "to live according to nature."
Their wise man needs nothing, he is sufficient to himself; virtue
is good, vice bad, external things
indifferent.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>THEOPHRASTUS, a philosopher, pupil of
Aristotle, and his successor as president of the Lyceum. He wrote
a large number of works on philosophy and natural history. Died
287 B.C. Thrasea, P. Thrasea Pactus, a senator and Stoic
philosopher, a noble and courageous man. He was condemned to
death by Nero. Tiberius, 2nd Roman Emperor (14-31 AD.). He spent
the latter part of his life at Capreae (Capri), off Naples, in
luxury or debauchery, neglecting his imperial duties. To-torn,
torn to pieces. Trajan, 13th Roman Emperor, 52-117
A.D.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>VERUS, Lucius Aurelius, colleague of M.
Aurelius in the Empire. He married Lucilla, daughter of M. A.,
and died 169 A.D. Vespasian, 9th Roman
Emperor</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>XENOCRATES of Chalcedon, 396-. 314 B.C., a
philosopher, and president of the
Academy.</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font> </font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
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"Symbol"><font><font> </font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
<p><font><font><font><font face="Symbol"><font face=
"Symbol"><font><font>End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of
Meditations, by Marcus
Aurelius</font></font></font></font></font></font></font></p>
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