Ch. 24
That we ought not to be affected by things not in our own power.
Let not another's disobedience to Nature become
an ill to you; for you were not born to be depressed and unhappy with others, but to be happy
with them. And if any is unhappy, remember that
he is so for himself; for God made all men to enjoy
felicity and peace. He hath furnished all with means
for this purpose; having given them some things for
their own, others not for their own. Whatever is
subject to restraint, compulsion, or deprivation is not
their own; whatever is not subject to restraint is
their own. And the essence of good and evil he
has placed in things which are our own, as it became
him who provides for, and protects us, with paternal
care.
"But I have parted with such a one, and he is
therefore in grief."
And why did he esteem what belonged to another
his own? Why did he not consider, while he was
happy in seeing you, that you are mortal, that you
are liable to change your abode? Therefore he bears
the punishment of his own folly. But to what purpose, or for what cause, do you too suffer depression
of spirits? Have you not studied these things? Like
trifling, silly women, have you regarded the things
you took delight in, the places, the persons, the conversations, as if they were to last for ever; and do
you now sit crying, because you do not see the same
people, nor live in the same place? Indeed, you deserve to be so overcome, and thus to become more
wretched than ravens or crows, which, without groaning or longing for their former state, can fly where
they will, build their nests in another place, and cross
the seas.
"Ay, but this happens from their want of reason."
Was reason then given to us by the gods for the
purpose of unhappiness and misery, to make us live
wretched and lamenting? Oh, by all means, let every
one be deathless! Let nobody go from home ! Let
us never go from home ourselves, but remain rooted
to a spot, like plants! And if any of our acquaintance should quit his abode, let us sit and cry; and
when he comes back, let us dance and clap our hands
like children. Shall we never wean ourselves, and
remember what we have heard from the philosophers, - unless we have heard them only as juggling
enchanters, - that the universe is one great city,
and the substance one of which it is formed; that
there must necessarily be a certain rotation of things;
that some must give way to others, some be dissolved,
and others rise in their stead; some remain in the
same situation, and others be moved; but that all is
full of beloved ones, first of the gods, and then of
men, by nature endeared to each other; that some
must be separated, others live together, rejoicing in
the present, and not grieving for the absent; and
that man, besides a natural greatness of mind and
contempt of things independent on his own will, is
likewise formed not to be rooted to the earth, but to
go at different times to different places; sometimes on
urgent occasions, and sometimes merely for the sake
of observation. Such was the case of Odysseus, who
Saw the cities and watched the habits of various men; Homer, Odyssey, 1.3. - H.
and, even before him, of Hercules, to travel over the
habitable world,
Observing manners, good or ill, of men ; Hom. Od. 15.487. - H.
to expel and clear away the one, and, in its stead,
to introduce the other. Yet how many friends do
you not think he must have at Thebes; how many
at Argos; how many at Athens; and how many did
he acquire in his travels? He married, too, when
he thought it a proper time, and became a father, and
then quitted his children; not lamenting and longing
for them, nor as if he had left them orphans; for he
knew that no human creature is an orphan, but that
there is a father who always, and without intermission, takes care of all. For he had not merely heard
it as matter of talk, that Zeus was the Father of
Mankind; but he esteemed and called him his own
Father, and performed all that he did with a view to
him. Hence he was, in every place, able to live
happy. But it is never possible to make happiness
consistent with a longing after what is not present.
For true happiness implies the possession of all which
is desired, as in case of satiety with food; there must
be no thirst, no hunger.
" But Odysseus longed for his wife, and sat weeping
on a rock."
Why do you regard Homer and his fables in everything? Or, if Odysseus really did weep, what was he
but a wretched man? But what wise and good man
is wretched? The universe is surely but ill governed,
if Zeus does not take care that his subjects may be
happy like himself. But these are unlawful and profane thoughts; and Odysseus, if he did indeed cry and
bewail himself, was not a good man. For who can
be a good man who does not know what he is? And
who knows this, and yet forgets that all things made
are perishable; and that it is not possible for man
and man always to live together? What then? To
desire impossibilities is base and foolish; it is the behavior of a stranger [to the world]; of one who fights
against God in the only way he can, by holding false
principles.
"But my mother grieves when she does not see
me."
And why has she not learned these doctrines? I
do not say that care ought not to be taken that she
may not lament; but that we are not to insist absolutely upon what is not in our own power. Now, the
grief of another is not in my power; but my own
grief is. I will therefore absolutely suppress my own,
for that is in my power; and I will endeavor to suppress another's grief so far as I am able; but I will
not insist upon it absolutely, otherwise I shall fight
against God; I shall resist Zeus, and oppose him
in the administration of the universe; and not only
my children's children will bear the punishment of
this disobedience and fighting against God, but I
myself too, - starting, and full of perturbation, both
in the day-time and in my nightly dreams; trembling
at every message, and having my peace dependent on
intelligence from others. "Somebody is come from
Rome." "I trust no harm has happened." Why,
what harm can happen to you where you are not?
"From Greece." "No harm, I hope." Why, at
this rate, every place may be the cause of misfortune to you. Is it not enough for you to be unfortunate where you are, but it must happen beyond sea,
too, and by letters? Such is the security of your
condition !
" But what if my friends there should be dead? "
What, indeed, but that those are dead who were
born to die? Do you at once wish to grow old, and
yet not to see the death of any one you love? Do you
not know that, in a long course of time, many and
various events must necessarily happen; that a fever
must get the better of one, a highwayman of another,
a tyrant of a third? For such is the world we live in;
such they who live in it with us. Heats and colds,
improper diet, journeys, voyages, winds, and various
accidents destroy some, banish others; destine one to
an embassy, another to a camp. And now, pray, will
you sit in consternation about all these things, lamenting, disappointed, wretched, dependent on another;
and not on one or two only, but ten thousand times
ten thousand?
Is this what you have heard from the philosophers;
this what you have learned? Do you not know what
sort of a thing warfare is? One must keep guard,
another go out for a spy, another even to battle. It
is neither possible, nor indeed desirable, that all should
be in the same place; but you, neglecting to perform
the orders of your General, complain whenever anything a little hard is commanded; and do not consider what influence you have on the army, so far as
lies in your power. For, if all should imitate you,
nobody will dig a trench, or throw up a rampart, or
stand guard, or expose himself to danger; but every
one will appear useless to the expedition. Again, if
you were a sailor in a voyage, suppose you were to fix
upon one place, and there remain, -if it should be
necessary to climb the mast, refuse to do it; if to run
to the bow of the ship, refuse to do it! And what
captain would tolerate you? Would he not throw you
overboard as a useless piece of goods and mere luggage,.and a bad example to the other sailors? Thus,
also, in the present case; every one's life is a warfare,
and that long and various. You must observe the
duty of a soldier, and perform everything at the nod
of your General, and even, if possible, divine what he
would have done. For there is no comparison between the above-mentioned General and this whom
you now obey, either in power or excellence of character. You are placed in an extensive command, and
not in a mean post; your life is a perpetual magistracy? Do you not know that such a one must spend
but little time on his affairs at home, but be much
abroad, either commanding or obeying; attending on
the duties either of a magistrate, a soldier, or a judge?
And now, pray, would you be fixed and rooted on the
same spot, like a plant?
" Why; it is pleasant."
Who denies it? And so is a ragout pleasant, and
a fine woman is pleasant. Is not this just what they
say who make pleasure their end? Do you not perceive whose language you have spoken? That of
Epicureans and debauchees. And while you follow
their practices and hold their principles, do you talk
to us of the doctrines of Zeno and Socrates? Why do
you not throw away as far as possible those assumed
traits which belong to others, and with which you
have nothing to do? What else do the Epicureans
desire than to sleep without hindrance, and rise without compulsion; and when they have risen, to yawn
at their leisure and wash their faces; then write and
read what they please; then prate about some trifle
or other, and be applauded by their friends, whatever
they say; then go out for a walk, and, after they have
taken a turn, bathe, and then eat, and then to bed?
In what manner they spend their time there, why
should one say? For it is easily guessed. Come
now; do you also tell me what course of life you
desire to lead, who are a zealot for truth, and Diogenes, and Socrates? What would you do at Athens,-
these very same things? Why then do you call yourself a Stoic? They who falsely pretend to the Roman
citizenship are punished severely; and must those be
dismissed with impunity who falsely claim so great a
thing, and so venerable a title, as you? Or is not
this impossible; and is there not a divine and powerful and inevitable law, which exacts the greatest punishments from those who are guilty of the greatest
offences? For what says this law? - Let him who
claims what belongs not to him be arrogant, be vainglorious, be base, be a slave; let him grieve, let him
envy, let him pity; and, in a word, let him lament and
be miserable.
"What then! would you have me pay my court to
such a one? Would you have me frequent his door? "
If reason requires it for your country, for your relations, for mankind, why should you not go? You are
not ashamed to go to the door of a shoemaker when
you want shoes, nor of a gardener when you want
lettuce. Why, then, in regard to the rich, when you
have some similar want?
" Ay; but I need not be awed before a shoemaker."
Nor before a rich man.
" I need not flatter a gardener."
Nor a rich man.
" How, then, shall I get what I want?"
Why, do I bid you go in expectation of getting it?
No; only that you may do your duty.
"Why, then, after all, should I go?"
That you may have gone; that you may have discharged the duties of a citizen, of a brother, of a
friend. And, after all, remember that you are going
as if to a shoemaker, to a gardener, who has no monopoly of anything great or respectable, though he
should sell it ever so dear. You are going as if to
buy lettuces worth an obolus, but by no means worth
a talent. So here, too, if the matter is worth going to
his door about, I will go; if it is worth talking with
him about, I will talk with him. But if one must kiss
his hand, too, and cajole him with praise, that is paying too dear. It is not expedient for myself, nor my
country, nor my fellow-citizens, nor my friends, to
destroy what constitutes the good citizen and the
friend.
" But one will appear not to have set heartily about
the business, if one thus fails."
What, have you again forgotten why you went?
Do you not know that a wise and good man does
nothing for appearance, but everything for the sake
of having acted well?
" What advantage is it, then, to him, to have acted
well?"
What advantage is it to one who writes down
the name of Dion without a blunder? The having
written it.
" Is there no reward, then? "
Why, do you seek any greater reward for a good
man than the doing what is fair and just? And yet,
at Olympia, you desire nothing else, but think it
enough to be crowned victor. Does it appear to you
so small and worthless a thing to be just, good, and
happy? Besides, being introduced by God into this
Great City [the world], and bound to discharge at this
time the duties of a man, do you still want nurses and
a mamma; and are you conquered and effeminated by
the tears of poor weak women? Are you thus determined never to cease being an infant? Do not you
know that, if one acts like a child, the older he is, so
much the more he is ridiculous?
Did you never visit any one at Athens at his own
house?
"Yes; whomsoever I pleased."
Why, now you are here, be willing to visit this per-
son, and you will still see whom you please; only let it
be without meanness, without undue desire or aversion, and your affairs will go well; but their going
well, or not, does not consist in going to the house and
standing at the door, or the contrary; but lies within,
in your own principles, when you have acquired a
contempt for things uncontrollable by Will, and esteem none of them your own, but hold that what
belongs to you is only to judge and think, to exert
rightly your aims, your desires, and aversions. What
further room is there after this for flattery, for meanness? Why do you still long for the quiet you elsewhere enjoyed; for places familiar to you? Stay a
little, and these will become familiar to you in their
turn; and then, if you are so mean-spirited, you may
weep and lament again on leaving these.
"How, then, am I to preserve an affectionate disposition? "
As becomes a noble-spirited and happy person.
For reason will never tell you to be dejected and
broken-hearted, or to depend on another, or to reproach either God or man. Be affectionate in such
a manner as to observe all this. But if, from affection, as you call it, you are to be a slave and miserable, it is not worth your while to be affectionate. And
what restrains you from loving any one as a mortal, -
as a person who may be obliged to quit you? Pray
did not Socrates love his own children? But it was
as became one who was free, and mindful that his
first duty was to gain the love of the gods. Hence
he violated no part of the character of a good man,
either in his defence or in fixing a penalty on himself.66
Nor yet before, when he was a senator or a soldier.
But we make use of every pretence to be mean-spirited; some on account of a child; some, of a mother;
and some, of a brother. But it is not fit to be unhappy on account of any one, but happy on account
of all; and chiefly of God, who has constituted us for
this purpose. What! did Diogenes love nobody,
who was so gentle and benevolent as cheerfully to
undergo so many pains and miseries of body for
the common good of mankind? Yes, he did love
them; but how? As became a minister of Zeus; at
once caring for men, and obedient to God. Hence
the whole earth, not any particular place, was his
country. And when he was taken captive he did not
long for Athens and his friends and acquaintance
there, but made himself acquainted with the pirates,
and endeavored to reform them; and when he was at
last sold into captivity, he lived at Corinth just as
before at Athens; and if he had gone to the Perrhaebeans,67 he would have been exactly the same. Thus
is freedom acquired. Hence he used to say, "Ever
since Antisthenes made me free68 I have ceased to be
a slave." How did he make him free? Hear what
he says: " He taught me what was my own and what
not. An estate is not my own. Kindred, domestics
friends, reputation, familiar places, manner of life, all
belong to another." "What is your own, then?"
" The right use of the phenomena of existence. He
showed me that I have this, not subject to restraint or
compulsion; no one can hinder or force me in this,
any otherwise than as I please. Who, then, after this,
has any power over me, - Philip, or Alexander, or
Perdiccas, or the Persian king? Whence should they
have it? For he that is to be subdued by man must
first be subdued by things. He, therefore, of whom
neither pleasure, nor pain, nor fame, nor riches can
get the better; and he who is able, whenever he thinks
fit, to abandon his whole body with contempt and depart, whose slave can he ever be? To whom is he subject? " But if Diogenes had taken pleasure in living
at Athens, and had been subdued by that manner of
life, his affairs would have been at every one's disposal; and whoever was stronger would have had the
power of grieving him. How would he have flattered
the pirates, think you, to make them sell him to some
Athenian, that he might see again the fine Piraus,
the Long Walls, and the Citadel? How would you
see them, - as a slave and a miserable wretch? And
what good would that do you? " No; but as free."
How free? See, somebody lays hold on you, takes
you away from your usual manner of life, and says:
"You are my slave; for it is in my power to restrain you from living as you like. It is in my power
to afflict and humble you. Whenever I please you
may be cheerful once more, and set out elated for
Athens." What do you say to him who thus enslaves
you? What rescuer can you find? Or dare you not
so much as look up at him; but, without making
many words, do you supplicate to be dismissed?
Why, you ought even to go to prison, man, with alacrity, with speed, outstripping your conductors. Instead of this do you regret living at Rome and long
for Greece? And when you must die, will you then,
too, come crying to us that you shall no more see
Athens, nor walk in the Lyceum? Is it for this that
you have travelled? Is it for this that you have been
seeking for somebody to do you good? What good,
- that you may the more easily solve syllogisms and
manage hypothetical arguments? And is it for this
reason you left your brother, your country, your
friends, your family, that you might carry back such
acquirements as these? So that you did not travel to
learn constancy nor tranquillity; not that. secured
from harm, you might complain of no one, accuse no
one; that no one might injure you; and that thus
you might preserve your human relations, without
impediment. You have made a fine traffic of it, to
carry home hypothetical arguments and convertible
propositions! If you please, too, sit in the market,
and cry them for sale, as mountebanks do their medicines. Why will you not rather deny that you know
even what you have learned, for fear of bringing
a scandal upon such theorems as useless? What
harm has philosophy done you, - in what has Chrysippus injured you, - that you should demonstrate by
your actions that such studies are of no value? Had
you not evils enough at home? How many causes for
grief and lamentation had you there, even if you had
not travelled? But you have added more; and if
you ever get any new acquaintance and friends, you
will find fresh causes for groaning; and, in like manner, if you attach yourself to any other country. To
what purpose, therefore, do you live, - to heap sorrow upon sorrow, to make you wretched? And then
you tell me this is affection. What affection, man?
If it be good, it cannot be the cause of any ill; if ill, I
will have nothing to do with it. I was born for my
own good, not ill.
"What, then, is the proper training for these
cases? "
First, the highest and principal means, and as obvious as if at your very door, is this, - that when you
attach yourself to anything, it may not be as to a
secure possession.
"How, then?"
As to something brittle as glass or earthenware;
that when it happens to be broken, you may not lose
your self-command. So here, too, when you embrace your child, or your brother, or your friend,
never yield yourself wholly to the fair semblance, nor
let the passion pass into excess; but curb it, restrain
it, - like those who stand behind triumphant victors,
and remind them that they are men. Do you likewise remind yourself that you love what is mortal;
that you love what is not your own. It is allowed
you for the present, not irrevocably, nor forever;
but as a fig, or a bunch of grapes, in the appointed
season. If you long for these in winter, you are foolish. So, if you long for your son, or your friend,
when you cannot have him, remember that you are
wishing for figs in winter. For as winter is to a fig,
so is every accident in the universe to those things
with which it interferes. In the next place, whatever objects give you pleasure, call before yourself the
opposite images. What harm is there, while you
kiss your child, in saying softly, "To-morrow you
may die ; " and so to your friend, " To-morrow either
you or I may go away, and we may see each other
no more "?
" But these sayings are ominous."
And so are some incantations; but because they
are useful, I do not mind it; only let them be useful.
But do you call anything ominous except what implies some ill? Cowardice is ominous; baseness is
ominous; lamentation, grief, shamelessness. These
are words of bad omen; and yet we ought not to
shrink from using them, as a guard against the things
they mean. But do you tell me that a word is ominous which is significant of anything natural? Say,
too, that it is ominous for ears of corn to be reaped;
for this signifies the destruction of the corn, but not
of the world. Say, too, that the fall of the leaf is
ominous; and that confectionery should be produced
from figs, and raisins from grapes. For all these are
changes from a former state into another, - not a destruction, but a certain appointed economy and administration. Such is absence, a slight change; such
is death, a greater change, -not from what now is
nothing, but to what now is not.
" What, then; shall I be no more? "
True; but you will be something else, of which at
present the world has no need; for even you were
not produced when you pleased, but when the world
had need of you. Hence a wise and good man, mindful who he is and whence he came, and by whom
he was produced, is attentive only how he may fill
his post regularly and dutifully before God. "Dost
thou wish me still to live? Let me live free and
noble, as thou desirest; for thou hast made me
incapable of restraint in what is my own. But hast
thou no further use for me? Farewell! I have
stayed thus long through thee alone, and no other;
and now I depart in obedience to thee." "How
do you depart?" "Still as thou wilt; as one free,
as thy servant, as one sensible of thy commands and
thy prohibitions. But, while I am employed in thy
service, what wouldst thou have me to be, - a prince,
or a private man; a senator, or a plebeian; a soldier,
or a general; a preceptor, or a master of a family?
Whatever post or rank thou shalt assign me, like
Socrates, I will die a thousand times rather than
desert it. Where wouldst thou have me to be, - at
Rome, or at Athens; at Thebes, or at Gyaros? Only
remember me there. If thou shalt send me where
men cannot live conformably to nature, I will not
depart unbidden, but upon a recall as it were sounded
by thee. Even then I do not desert thee; Heaven
forbid ! but I perceive that thou hast no use for me.
If a life conformable to nature be granted, I will seek
no other place but that in which I am, nor any other
company but those with whom I dwell."
Let these things be ready at hand, night and day.
These things write; these things read; of these things
talk both to yourself and others. [Ask them,] " Have
you any assistance to give me for this purpose?"
And, again, go and ask another and another. Then,
if any of those things should happen that are called
disagreeable, this will surely be a relief to you, in
the first place, that it was not unexpected. For it is
much to be able always to say, " I knew that I begot
one born to die." 69 Thus do you say too, " I knew
that I was liable to die, to travel, to be exiled, to be
imprisoned." If afterwards you turn to yourself, and
seek from what quarter the event proceeds, you will
presently recollect: "It is from things uncontrollable
by will, not from what is my own. What then is it
to me?" Then, further, which is the chief point:
"Who sent this, - the commander, the general, the
city, the public law? Give it to me, then, for I must
always obey the law in all things."
Further yet, when any delusive appearance molests
you (for this may not depend on you), strive against
it, and conquer it through reason. Do not suffer it
to gain strength, nor to lead you indefinitely on,
beguiling you at its own will. If you are at Gyaros,
do not represent to yourself the manner of living at
Rome, - how many pleasures you used to find there,
and how many would attend your return; but dwell
rather on this point, - how he who must live at Gyaros may live there nobly. And if you are at Rome,
do not represent to yourself the manner of living at
Athens; but consider only how you ought to live
where you are.
Lastly, for all other pleasures substitute the consciousness that you are obeying God, and performing
not in word, but in deed, the duty of a wise and good
man. How great a thing is it to be able to say to
yourself: " What others are now solemnly arguing in
the schools, and can state in paradoxes, this I put in
practice. Those qualities which are there discoursed,
disputed, celebrated, I have made mine own. Zeus
hath been pleased to let me recognize this within
myself, and himself to discern whether he hath in
me one fit for a soldier and a citizen, and to employ
me as a witness to other men, concerning things uncontrollable by will. See that your fears were vain,
your appetites vain. Seek not good from without;
seek it within yourselves, or you will never find it.
For this reason he now brings me hither, now sends
me thither; sets me before mankind, poor, powerless,
sick; banishes me to Gyaros; leads me to prison;
not that he hates me, - Heaven forbid! for who
hates the most faithful of his servants? - nor that he
neglects me, for he neglects not one of the smallest
things; but to exercise me, and make use of me as
a witness to others. Appointed to such a service,
do I still care where I am, or with whom, or what
is said of me, - instead of being wholly attentive to
God and to his orders and commands?"
Having these principles always at hand, and practising them by yourself, and making them ready for
use, you will never want any one to comfort and
strengthen you. For shame does not consist in having nothing to eat, but in not having wisdom enough
to exempt you from fear and sorrow. But if you
once acquire that exemption, will a tyrant or his
guards or courtiers be anything to you? Will offices
or office-seekers disturb you, who have received so
great a command from Zeus? Only do not make
a parade over it, nor grow insolent upon it; but
show it by your actions; and though no one else
should notice it, be content that you are well and
blessed.