Book III

1. We ought not only to remember that life is wearing off, and a smaller part of it is left daily, but also to consider that if a man's life should happen to be longer than ordinary, yet it is uncertain whether his mind will keep pace with his years, and afford him sense enough for business, and power to contemplate things human and divine. For if the man begins to dote, it is true the mere animal life goes on; he may breathe, and be nourished, and be furnished with imagination and appetite; but to make any proper use of himself, to fill up the measure of his duty, to distinguish appearances, and to know whether it is time for him to walk out of the world or not—as to all such noble functions of reason and judgment, the man is perfectly dead already. It concerns us, therefore, to push forward, and make the most of our matters, for death is continually advancing; and besides that, our understanding sometimes dies before us.

2. It is worth while to observe that the least thing that happens naturally to things natural has something in itself that is pleasing and delightful. Thus, for example, there are cracks and little breaks on the surface of a loaf, which, though never intended by the baker, have a sort of agreeableness in them, which invites the appetite. Thus figs, when they are most ripe, open and gape; and olives, when they fall of themselves and are near decaying, are particularly pretty to look at. The bending of an ear of corn, the brow of a lion, the foam of a boar, and many other things, if you take them singly, are far enough from being beautiful; but when they are looked on as effects of the products of Nature, help to adorn and attract. Thus, if a man has but inclination and thought enough to examine the product of the universe, he will find the most unpromising appearances in the results of Nature not without charm, and that the more remote appendages have somewhat to recommend them. One thus prepared will be no less pleased to see the gaping jaws of living beasts than the imitations of painters and sculptors, and with chastened eyes he will find beauty in the ripeness of age as well as in the blossom of youth. I grant many of these things will not charm everyone, but only those who are truly in harmony with Nature and her works.

3. Hippocrates, who cured so many diseases, himself fell ill and died. The Chaldeans, who foretold other people's death, at last met with their own fate. Alexander, Pompey, and Julius Cæsar, who had destroyed so many towns, and cut off so many thousands of horse and foot in the field, were forced at last to march off themselves. Heraclitus, who argued so much about the universal conflagration, died through water by a dropsy. Democritus was eaten up with vermin; another sort of vermin destroyed Socrates. What are these instances for? Look you: you have embarked, you have made your voyage and your port; debark then without more ado. If you happen to land upon another world, there will be gods enough to take care of you; but if it be your fortune to drop into nothing, why, then you will be no more solicited with pleasure and pain. Then you will have done drudging for your outer covering, which is the more unworthy in proportion as that which serves it is worthy; for the one is all soul, intelligence, and divinity, whereas the other is but dirt and corruption.

4. For the future, do not spend your thoughts upon other people, unless you are led to it by common interest. For the prying into foreign business—that is, musing upon the talk, fancies, and contrivances of another, and guessing at the what and why of his actions—does but make a man forget himself, and ramble from his own guiding principle. He ought, therefore, not to work his mind to no purpose, nor throw a superfluous link into the chain of thought; and more especially, to avoid curiosity and malice in his inquiry. Accustom yourself, therefore, to think upon nothing but what you could freely reveal, if the question were put to you; so that if your soul were thus laid open, there would nothing appear but what was sincere, good-natured, and public-spirited—not so much as one voluptuous or luxurious fancy, nothing of hatred, envy, or unreasonable suspicion, nor aught else which you could not bring to the light without blushing. A man thus qualified, who does not delay to assume the first rank among mortals, is a sort of priest and minister of the gods, and makes a right use of the Deity within him. By the assistance thereof, he is preserved, uninfected with pleasure, invulnerable against pain—out of the reach of injury, and above the malice of evil people. Thus he wrestles in the noblest fight, to hold his own against all his passions; and penetrated with the spirit of justice, welcomes with his whole heart all that happens and is allotted to him. He never minds other people's speech, thoughts, or actions, unless public necessity and general good require it. No; he keeps himself to his own business, and contemplates that portion of the whole allotted him by the fates, and endeavours to do the first as it should be, and believes that his lot is good. For every man's fate is suitable, since it is suited to him. He considers that the rational principle is akin in all men, and that general kindness and concern for the whole world is no more than a piece of human nature—that not every one's good opinion is not worth the gaining, but only that of those who seek to live in accordance with Nature. As for others, he knows their way of living, both at home and abroad, by day and by night, and their companions in their evil way of life, and he bears it in mind. And, why, indeed, should he value the commendation of such people, who are not able even to please themselves?

5. Be not unwilling, selfish, unadvised, or passionate in anything you do. Do not affect quaintness and points of wit: neither talk nor meddle more than is necessary. Take care that the divinity within you has a creditable charge to preside over; that you appear in the character of your sex and age. Act like a Roman Emperor that loves his country, and be always in a readiness to quit the field at the first summons; and ere you claim your discharge, manage your credit so, that you need neither swear yourself nor want a voucher. Let your air be cheerful; depend not upon external supports, nor beg your tranquillity of another. And, in a word, never throw away your legs, to stand upon crutches.

6. If, in the whole compass of human life, you find anything preferable to justice and truth; to temperance and fortitude; to a mind self-satisfied with its own rational conduct, and entirely resigned to fate—if, I say, you know anything better than this, turn to it with your whole soul, and enjoy it, accounting it the best. But if there is nothing more valuable than the divinity implanted within you, and this is master of its appetites, examines all impressions, and has detached itself from the senses, as Socrates used to say, and shows itself submissive to the government of the gods, and helpful and benevolent to mankind—if all things are trifles compared with this, give way to nothing else. For if you are once inclined to any such thing, it will no longer be in your power to give your undivided preference to what is your own peculiar good, for it is not lawful that anything of another kind or nature, as either popular applause, or power, or riches, or pleasures, should be suffered to contest with what is rationally and politically good. All these things, if but for a while they begin to please, presently prevail, and pervert a man's mind. Let your choice therefore run all one way, and be bold and resolute for that which is best. Now what is profitable is best. If that means profitable to man as he is a rational being, stand to it; but if it means profitable to him as a mere animal, reject it, and keep your judgment without arrogance. Only take care to make inquiry secure.

7. Think nothing for your interest which makes you break your word, quit your modesty, hate, suspect, or curse any person, or inclines you to any practice which will not bear the light and look the world in the face. For he that values his mind and the worship of his divinity before all other things, need act no tragic part, laments under no misfortune, and wants neither solitude nor company; and, which is still more, he will neither fly from life nor pursue it, but is perfectly indifferent about the length or shortness of the time in which his soul shall be encompassed by his body. And if he were to expire this moment, he is as ready for it as for any other action that may be performed with modesty and decency. For all his life long, this is his only care—that his mind may always be occupied as befits a rational and social creature.

8. If you examine a man that has been well-disciplined and purified by philosophy, you will find nothing that is unsound, foul, or false in him. Death can never surprise his life as imperfect, so that nobody can say he goes off the stage before his part is quite played. Besides, there is in him nothing servile or affected; he neither attaches himself too closely to others, nor keeps aloof from them; he is neither responsible to them, nor does he avoid them.

9. Hold in honour your opinionative faculty, for this alone is able to prevent any opinion from originating in your guiding principle that is contrary to Nature or the proper constitution of a rational creature. Now, a rational constitution enjoins us to do nothing rashly, and to be kindly disposed towards men, and to submit willingly to the gods.

10. As for other speculations, throw them all out of your head, excepting those few precepts above mentioned—remembering withal, that every man's life lies all within the present, which is but a point of time; for the past is spent, and the future is uncertain. Life moves in a very narrow compass; yes, and men live in a small corner of the world too. And the most lasting fame will stretch but to a sorry extent; for, alas! poor transitory mortals who hand it down know little even of themselves, much less of those who died long before their time.

11. To the foregoing hints you may add this which follows:—make for yourself a particular description and definition of every object that presents itself to your mind, that you may thoroughly contemplate it in its own nature, bare and naked, wholly and separately. And in your own mind call itself and the parts of which it is composed, and into which it will be resolved, by its own and proper name; for nothing is so likely to raise the mind to a pitch of greatness as the power truly and methodically to examine and consider all things that happen in this life, and so to penetrate into their natures as to apprehend at once what sort of purpose each thing serves, and what sort of universe makes use of it—what value it bears to the whole, and what to man, who is a citizen of that great capital, in respect of which all other towns are no more than single families—what is this object which makes an impression on me; how long can it last; what virtue does it require of me; is it good-nature, fortitude, truth, simplicity, self-sufficiency, or any of the rest? On each occasion a man should be ready to pronounce, "This was sent me by heaven, this by destiny, or the combinations of fate, or by one of the same clan, or family, or company as myself, who knows not what is natural for him. But I do know; therefore I am just and friendly to him, and treat him according to the natural laws of our communion. However, in things indifferent I take care to rate them according to their respective value."

12. If you will be governed by reason, and manage what lies before you with industry, vigour, and temper; if you will not run out after new distraction, but keep your divinity pure, even as though you must at once render it up again, your mind staunch and well disciplined, as if this trial of behaviour were your last; and, if you will but cleave to this, and be true to the best of yourself, fearing and desiring nothing, but living up to your nature, standing boldly by the truth of your word, and satisfied therewith, then you will be a happy man. But the whole world cannot hinder you from so doing.

13. As surgeons always have their instruments and knives ready for sudden occasions, so you always furnished with rules and principles to let you into the knowledge of things human and divine, remembering even in your slightest action the connection these two have with each other. For without a regard for things divine, you will fail in your behaviour towards men; and again, the reasoning holds for the other side of the argument.

14. Wander at random no longer. Alas! you have no time left to peruse your diary, to read over the Greek and Roman history, or so much as your own commonplace book, which you collected to serve you when you were old. Hasten then towards the goal. Do not flatter and deceive yourself. Come to your own aid while yet you may, if you have a kindness for yourself.

15. Men do not know in how many senses they can take the words to steal, to buy, to sow, to be quiet, to see what should be done; for this is not effected by eyes, but by another kind of vision.

16. There are three things which belong to a man—body, soul, and mind. Sensation belongs to the body, impulse to the soul, and reason to the mind. To have the senses stamped with the impression of an object is common to brutes and cattle; to be hurried and convulsed with passion is the quality of beasts of prey and men of pleasure—such as Phalaris and Nero—of atheists and traitors, too, and of those who do not care what they do when no man sees them. Now, since these qualities are common, let us find out the mark of a man of probity. His distinction, then, lies in letting reason guide his practice, in contentment with all that is allotted him, keeping pure the divinity within him, untroubled by a crowd of appearances, preserving it tranquil, and obeying it as a god. He is all truth in his words and justice in his actions; and if the whole world should disbelieve his integrity, dispute his character, and question his happiness, he would neither take it ill in the least, nor turn aside from that path that leads to the aim of life, towards which he must move pure, calm, well-prepared, and with perfect resignation in his fate.