Book XI

1. The properties of a rational soul are these. She has the privilege to look into her own nature, to cut out her qualities and form herself to what character she pleases. She enjoys her product (whereas trees and cattle bring plenty for other folks). Whether life proves long or short, she gains the ends of living. Her business is never spoilt by interruption, as it happens in a dance or a play. In every part and in spite of every interruption, her acts are always finished and entire; so that she may say: I carry off all that belongs to me. Farther, she ranges through the whole world, views its figure, looks into the vacuum on the outside of it, and strains her sight on to an immeasurable length of time. She contemplates the grand revolutions of nature, and the destruction and renewal of the universe at certain periods. She considers that there will be nothing new for posterity to gaze at; and that our ancestors stood upon the same level for observation; in so much that in forty years' time a tolerable genius for sense and enquiry may acquaint himself with all that is past and all that is to come by reason of the uniformity of all things. Lastly, it is the property of a rational soul to love her neighbours, to be remarkable for truth and sobriety, to prefer nothing to her own dignity and authority, which has likewise the custom and prerogative of a law; and thus far right reason and rational justice are the same.

2. The way to despise the pleasure of a fine song, a well-performed dance, or the athletic exercises, is as follows: as for the song, take the music in pieces and examine the notes by themselves, and ask as you go along, "Is it this or this single sound, that has subdued me?" You will be ashamed to confess the conquest. Thus, to lessen the diversion of dancing, consider every movement and gesture apart; and this method will hold with respect to athletic contests. In short, all things but virtue and virtuous acts abate by taking them asunder, and, therefore, apply the expedient to all other parts of your life.

3. What a brave soul is that that is always prepared to leave the body and unconcerned about her being either extinguished, scattered, or removed—prepared, I say, upon judgment, and not out of mere obstinacy like the Christians—but with a solemn air of gravity and consideration, and in a way to persuade another and without tragic show.

4. Have I obliged anybody, or done the world any service? If so, the action has rewarded me. This answer will encourage good nature, therefore let it always be at hand.

5. What may your trade or profession be? It is to live like a man of virtue and probity. And how can this end be compassed, but by the contemplation of the nature of the world and of mankind in particular.

6. As to dramatic performances, tragedy appeared first. The design of them was to show that the misfortunes of life were customary and common, and that what attracted them upon the stage, might surprise them the less when they met with it on the larger stage of the world. Thus people see that these events must happen, and that even those who cry out, "O Cithaeron," cannot stand clear of them. And to give the stage-poets their due, they have some serviceable passages, as, for instance,

"If I and mine are by the gods neglected,
There's reason for their rigour."

Again—

"Ne'er fret at accidents, for things are sullen,
And don't regard your anger ;"

Once more—

"Fate mows down life like corn, this mortal falls,
Another stands a while."

And others like them. Next to tragedy, old comedy took a turn upon the stage; and here pride and ambition were lashed and pointed at with great freedom and authority, and not without some success; and for this reason, Diogenes sometimes borrowed from them. You are now to observe that middle comedy succeeded to the old, and the new to the middle, this last kind sinking by degrees to the buffoonery of the mimi. It is true, there are some useful expressions to be met with even here; but then you are to consider the tendency of the whole poetic art, and whether these dramatic diversions drive at any aim.

7. Nothing is clearer to me than that the present state of your life is as good for philosophy and improvement as any other whatsoever.

8. A bough by being lopped off from another, must of necessity be lopped from the whole tree; thus a man that breaks with another loses the benefit of the whole community. It is true a bough is lopped off by a foreign hand, but the man pulls himself asunder by his untoward aversion and hatred to his neighbour. He little thinks how he disincorporates himself by this unhappy division from the body of mankind! And here the goodness of God who founded this society is extraordinary. He has put it in our power to grow to the limb we left, and come again into the advantage of the main body. But if this misfortune is often repeated, it will be a hard matter to restore the part and close the division. For, as gardeners observe, a bough cut off and grafted in again is not in the same good condition with another which always flourished upon the trunk. We should be one in growth, though not in sympathy.

9. People's malice or impertinence cannot beat you off your reason, or stop your progress in virtue. Be not then disconcerted, nor check your good nature towards them. If you meet with opposition and ill-will, you must neither be diverted nor disturbed, but keep your right judgment and action and your temper. too towards people who try to hinder you or otherwise annoy you. For as it is a weakness to give in from fear and be diverted from your conduct, so it is likewise to be angry with impertinent people. They are both a sort of deserters from Providence, who are either frightened from their duty, or fall out with those of their own nature and family.

10. Nature falls short of art in no instance, art being but an imitation of nature; and if so, the most perfect and all-embracing nature cannot be supposed to work with less skill than a common artificer. Now, in all arts the less in value are contrived for the sake of the greater. This, therefore, is the method of universal nature, and upon this ground justice is founded. The other virtues are but acts of justice differently applied. But just we can never be if we are eager and anxious about external advantages, if we are apt to be led astray and grow over-hasty, and inconstant in our motion.

11. Aversions and desires are the general occasions of disturbance. Now since the objects of these passions do not press upon you, but it is you that make up to them in some measure, you should let your opinion about them lie still, and they too will keep still, and then you will neither be seen pursuing nor avoiding them any longer.

12. The figure of the soul is then round and uniform, when she neither reaches after anything foreign, nor shrinks into herself, nor is dispersed or sunk in, but shines in the light by which she surveys the truth of all things and of herself too.

13. Does anyone despise me? It is his look-out. I will take care not to give him any reason for his contempt by my words and acts. Does anyone hate me? It is his look-out. I will continue kind and good-humoured to all the world, even to the injurious person himself. I am always ready to show him his error without abuse, or making a display of my own patience, but frankly, and with cordial sincerity, as Phocion did, unless indeed this was put on. Indeed your mind should always be so disposed, that the gods may examine you, and perceive that you are neither angry nor uneasy at anything. Now, if you follow the current of your nature of your own free will, and accept that which is now suitable to the universal nature, where is the harm in it, when you know you were made on purpose to comply with the interest of the universe?

14. People generally despise where they flatter, and cringe to those they would gladly overtop.

15. How fulsome and hollow does that man look that cries, "I'm resolved to deal straightforwardly with you." Hark you, friend, what need of all this flourish? Let your actions speak; your face ought to vouch for your speech. I would have virtue look out of the eye, no less apparently than love does in the sight of the beloved. I would have honesty and sincerity so incorporated with the constitution, that it should be discoverable by the senses, and as easily distinguished as a strong breath, so that a man must be forced to find it out whether he would or no. But on the other side an affectation of sincerity is a very dagger. Nothing is more scandalous than false friendship, and, therefore, of all things avoid it. In short, a man of integrity, sincerity, and good-nature can never be concealed, for his character is wrought into his countenance.

16. To bestow no more upon objects than they deserve; and where things are indifferent, to let our thoughts be so too, is a noble expedient for happiness, and this faculty we have in our souls. The way to attain to this indifference is to look through matters, and take them quite asunder, remembering always that things cannot enter into the soul, nor force upon us any opinions about them; they are quiet. It is our fancy that makes opinions about them; it is we that write within ourselves, though it is in our power not to write. And if any false colours are laid on by surprise, we may rub them out if we please. We are likewise to consider that this trouble will not last, that death will relieve us soon. Where, then, is the difficulty of standing upon our guard a little while? If these things are in accordance with nature, bid them heartily welcome, and then your inclination will make you easy; but if they prove contrary to nature, look out for something that is more serviceable to your nature, and pursue that, even if it bring you no glory. For certainly every man may make himself happy if he can.

17. Consider the original of all things, the matter they are made of, the alterations they must run through, and the result of the change. And that all this does no manner of harm.

18. Concerning those that offend, consider in the first place, the relation you stand in towards men, and that we are all made for each other. And for my own part I am particularly set at the head of the world, like a ram over a flock, or a bull over a herd. You may go higher in your reasoning, if you please, and consider that either atoms or nature governs the universe. If the latter, then the coarser parts of the creation were made for the service of their betters; and these last for the sake of each other.

Secondly. Consider what men are at bed and board, and at other times; especially you should remember what strong compulsion of opinion they lie under, and with what pride they perform their acts.

Thirdly. Consider that if those men are in the right, you have no reason to be angry; but if they are in the wrong, it is because they know no better. They are under the necessity of their own ignorance. For as no soul is voluntarily deprived of truth, so nobody would offend against good manners, if they were rightly aware of it. And thus we see people will not endure the charge of injustice, ingratitude, selfishness, or knavery of any description, without being stung at the imputation.

Fourthly. Do not forget you are like the rest of the world, and faulty yourself in a great many instances: that though you may forbear from some errors, it is not for want of inclination, and that nothing but cowardice, vanity, or some such base principle hinders you from sinning.

Fifthly. That it is sometimes a hard matter to be certain whether men do wrong, for their actions often are done with a reference to circumstances; and one must be thoroughly informed of a great many things before he can be rightly qualified to give judgment in the case.

Sixthly, When you are most angry and vexed remember that human life lasts but a moment, and that we shall all of us very quickly be laid in our graves.

Seventhly, Consider that it is not other people's actions (for they are lodged in their ruling principles), which disturb us, but only our own opinions about them. Do but then dismiss these notions, and do not fancy the thing a grievance, and your passion will have ceased immediately. But how can this fancy be discharged? By considering that bare suffering has no infamy in it. Now unless you restrain the notion of evil to what is disgraceful, you will be under a necessity of doing a great many unwarrantable things, and become a robber and a villain generally.

Eighthly, Consider that our anger and impatience often prove much more mischievous than the things about which we are angry or impatient.

Ninthly, That gentleness is invincible, provided it is of the right stamp, without anything of hypocrisy or malice. This is the way to disarm the most insolent, if you continue kind and unmoved under ill usage, if you strike in with the right opportunity for advice. If when he is going to do you an ill turn you endeavour to recover his understanding, and retrieve his temper by such language as this: I pray you, child, be quiet, men were never made to worry one another. I shall not be injured, but you are injuring yourself, child. Then proceed to illustrate the point by general and inoffensive arguments. Show him that it is not the custom of bees to spend their stings upon their own kind, nor of cattle whose nature it is to dwell in herds. And let all this be done out of mere love and kindness, without any irony or scorn. Do not seem to lecture him or court the audience for commendation, but discourse him either alone, and if others are present, as if there was nobody but himself.

Lay up these nine heads in your memory with as much care as if they were a present from the nine muses, for now it is high time to begin to be a man for your lifetime. And here you must guard against flattery, as well as anger, for these are both unsocial qualities, and do a great deal of mischief. Remember always, when you are angry, that rage is the mark of an unmanly disposition. Mildness and temper are not only more human, but more masculine too. One thus affected appears much more brave, and firm, and manly than one that is vexed and angry. For he that has the least passion in these cases has always the most strength. On the other hand, as grief is a sign of weakness, so is anger too. A man is wounded in both these passions, and the smart is too big for him.

As you have received these nine precepts from the Muses, take this tenth if you please, from their leader, Apollo: That to wish that ill people may not do ill things is to wish an impossibility, and no better than madness. But then to give them leave to plague other folks, and desire to be privileged yourself, is a foolish and insolent expectation.

19. There are four evil qualities we must be particularly careful to avoid, and pull them up as fast as we find them, and address them as they rise in this fashion. "This fancy," say, "is unnecessary; this rough behaviour destroys society; this phrase I cannot say from my heart. Now this is most absurd, not to speak from your heart." These are three of them; and when you shall reproach yourself for anything, since this degrades the diviner part of you, makes your mind truckle to your body, and your reason to your pleasures, look upon that as the fourth.

20. Those particles of fire and air which are lodged in your body, notwithstanding their tendency to mount, submit to the laws of the universe, and keep the rest of the elements company. Again, the earthy and watery parts in you, though they naturally press downwards, are raised above their level, and stand poised in an unnatural position; thus the elements serve the interest of the world. For when they have been fixed anywhere they keep their post till the signal is given to separate. And is it not then a scandalous thing that your mind should be the only deserter, her orders agree with her constitution, and nothing that is unnatural is enjoined? And yet she will not bear the conduct of her own faculties, but runs perfectly counter to humanity. For when a man turns knave or libertine, when he gives way to fears and anger and fits of the spleen, he does as it were run away from himself and desert his own nature; and further, when his mind complains of his fortune it quits the station in which Providence has placed it; for acquiescence and piety are no less its duty than honesty; for these virtues tend to the common interest, and are rather of greater antiquity and value than justice.

21. He that does not always drive at the same end in his life will never be uniform and of a piece in his conduct. But this hint is too short, unless you describe the quality that we ought principally to aim at. Now as people do not agree in the preferences of the things that in some way seem good to the many, unless in what relates to the common good, so a man ought to propose the benefit of society and the general interest of the world as his main aim. For he that levels at this mark will keep an even hand, and thus be always consistent with himself.

22. Remember the story of the country and the town mouse, and how pitifully the former was frightened and surprised.

23. Socrates used to say the common objects of terror were nothing but bogies, fit only to scare children.

24. The Lacedæmonians, at their public shows, seated strangers under a canopy in the shade, but made their own people take their convenience as they found it.

25. Socrates, being invited to Perdiccas's court, made his excuse:—I dare not come, says he, for fear of being put under an incapacity of returning an obligation, which I take to be the worst way of destroying a man imaginable.

26. It is a precept of the Ephesian philosophers, that we should always furnish our memory with some eminent example of ancient virtue.

27. The Pythagoreans would have us look up into the sky every morning, to put us in mind of the order and constancy of the heavenly bodies, of the equality and purity of their matter, and how frankly they lie open to observation; for a star never wears a veil.

28. Remember how unconcernedly Socrates wore a sheepskin, when Xanthippe had got his coat on, and ran out with it. And how well he laughed off the matter to his friends, who were strangely out of countenance by seeing him in such a disguise.

29. People do not pretend to teach others to write and read till they have been taught themselves; this rule holds much more of life.

30. Be dumb; slaves have not the privilege of speaking.

31. "And my heart laughed within."

32. "And virtue they will curse, speaking hard words."

33. He is a madman that expects figs on the trees in winter; and he is little better that calls for his children again when they are dead and buried.

34. Epictetus would have a man when he is kissing and caressing his child, say to himself at the same time: To-morrow perhaps you may die and leave me. These are words of ill omen, you will say. That is your mistake; the consequences of mortality and the course of nature are no ominous things to think on, otherwise it would be an ominous business to cut down a little grass or corn.

35. Grapes are first sour, then ripe, then raisins, these are all no more than bare alterations; not into nothing, but into something which does not appear at present.

36. As Epictetus observes, nobody can rob another of his free will.

37. The same philosopher has taught us the art of managing our assent and movements; that we should have a regard to circumstances; that our inclinations should be generous and benevolent, and proportioned to the merit and dignity of things; that we must keep our desires from being headstrong, and never have an aversion for anything which it is out of our power to hinder.

38. Therefore, as Epictetus observes, the contest is no trifle, but whether we are to live in our wits or out of them.

39. It is a saying of Socrates to some untoward people: "What would you be at? Would you have the soul of a man or of a beast in you? Of a man. Of what sort of men, of those that use their reason, or those that abuse it? Of the first. Why then, continues the philosopher, do not you look out for this privilege? Because we have it already. What makes you then disagree, and fall foul upon each other?"

Notes

6. "O Cithaeron." The words occur in one of the choruses in Sophocles' " Œdipus Tyrannus," l. 1089. Œdipus had been exposed as an infant on Mount Cithaeron, in order to avoid the terrible doom prophesied him.
22. The first extant version of the story of the town and the country mouse occurs in Horace's "Satires," ii. 6.
26. The Ephesians are probably the followers of Heraclitus.