CHAPTER VIII.
time and change.
1. Let not another’s vice be thy evil. For thou wast not born to be abject with others, or unfortunate with others, but to prosper with them. But if any one is unfortunate, remember that it is of his own doing. For God hath made all men to be happy, and of good estate. For this end hath He granted means and occasions, giving some things to each man as his own concern, and some things as alien; and the things that are hindered and subject to compulsion and lost are not his own concern, and those that are unhindered are; and the substance of Good and of Evil, as it were worthy of Him that careth for us and doth protect us as a father, He hath placed among our own concerns.
2.——“But I have parted from such a one, and he is grieved.”
For why did he deem things alien to be his own concern? Why, when he rejoiced to see thee, did he not reason that thou wert mortal, and apt to travel to another land? Therefore doth he pay the penalty of his own folly. But thou, for what cause or reason dost thou bewail thyself? Hast thou also given no thought to these things; but like silly women consorted with all that pleased thee as though thou shouldst consort with them forever, places and persons and pastimes? and now thou sittest weeping, because thou canst see the same persons and frequent the same places no longer. This, truly, is what thou art fit for, to be more wretched than crows and ravens that can fly whithersoever they please, and change their nests, and pass across the seas, nor ever lament nor yearn for what they have left.
——“Yea, but they are thus because they are creatures without reason.”
To us, then, was Reason given by the Gods for our misfortune and misery? that we should be wretched and sorrowful forever? Let all men be immortal, forsooth, and no man migrate to another land, nor let us ourselves ever migrate, but remain rooted to one spot like plants; and if one of our companions go, let us sit down and weep, and if he return, dance and clap hands like children!
3. Shall we not now at last wean ourselves, and remember what we heard from the philosophers? if, indeed, we did not listen to them as a wizard’s incantation. For they said that the universe is one Polity, and one is the substance out of which it is made, and there must, of necessity, be a certain cycle, and some things must give place to others, some dissolving away, and others coming into being, some abiding in one place, and others being in motion. But all things are full of love, first of the Gods, then of men, that are by nature made to have affection towards each other; and it must needs be that some dwell with each other, and some are separated, rejoicing in those who are with them, and not distressed for those who go away. And man, they said, is magnanimous by nature, and contemneth all things beyond the Will; and hath also this quality, not to be rooted to one spot, nor grown into the earth, but able to go from place to place, sometimes urged by divers needs, sometimes for the sake of what he shall see.
4. And such was the case with Ulysses:—
“The cities of many peoples and minds of men he knew.”—Od. i. 3.
And yet earlier with Hercules, who went about the whole earth—
“All disorders of men and orderly rule to see,” —Od. xvii. 487,
casting out and purging the one, and bringing in the other in its place. And how many friends, think you, had he in Thebes? how many in Argos? how many in Athens? and how many did he gain in his journeyings? And he took a wife, too, when it seemed to him due time, and begat children, and left them behind him, not with lamentations or regrets, nor leaving them as orphans; for he knew that no man is an orphan, but that there is an Eternal Father who careth continually for all. For not of report alone had he heard that Zeus is the Father of men, whom also he thought to be his own father, and called Him so, and all that he did, he did looking unto Him. And thus it was that he was able to live happily in every place.
5. For never can happiness and the longing for what is not exist together. For Happiness must have all its will. It is like unto one that hath eaten and is filled; thirst will not sort with it, nor hunger. But Ulysses longed for his wife, and lamented as he sat on the rock.[1] And do you, then, follow Homer and his stories in everything? Or if he did in truth lament, what else was he than an unfortunate man? And what good man is unfortunate? Verily, the Whole is ill-governed if Zeus taketh no care of his own citizens, that they like himself may be happy; but these things it is not lawful nor pious even to think of. But Ulysses, if indeed he lamented and complained, was not a good man. For what good man is there that knoweth not who he is? and who knoweth this who forgets that things which come into existence also perish, and that no two human beings dwell together forever? To aim, then, at things which are impossible is a contemptible and foolish thing; it is the part of a stranger and alien in God’s world who fights against God in the one way he can—by his own opinions.
6. But my mother laments if she sees me not. And wherefore hath she never learned these teachings? Yet, I say not that it is no concern of ours to prevent her grieving; but that we should not absolutely, and without exception, desire what is not our own. And the grief of another is another’s, and my grief is mine own. I will, therefore, absolutely end mine own grief, for this I can; and that of another according to my means, but this I will not attempt absolutely. For otherwise I shall be fighting with God. I shall be opposing and resisting Him in the government of the Whole; and of this strife against God, this obstinacy, not only my children’s children, but I myself, too, shall pay the penalty by day and night; for I shall leap from my bed at visions of the night, confounded, trembling at every news, having my peace at the mercy of letters of other persons. A messenger hath come from Rome; God grant it be no evil. But what evil can come upon thee there, where thou art not? There is a message from Greece; God grant it be no evil. And thus to thee every place may be a source of misfortune. Is it not enough for thee to be unfortunate where thou art, and not also across the sea, and by writings? Is this the security of thine affairs? But what if my friends which are abroad die there? What else than that creatures destined to die have died? And how dost thou desire to live to old age, and never to see the death of any whom thou lovest? Knowest thou not that in a great length of time many and various things must chance; that a fever shall overthrow one, and a robber another, and a tyrant another? Such is our environment, such our companions; cold and heat, and improper ways of living, and journeyings, and voyagings, and winds, and various circumstances will destroy one man, and exile another, and cast another into an embassy, and another into a campaign. Sit down, then, terrified at all these things; grieve and fail, and be unfortunate; depend on others, and that not on one or two, but myriads upon myriads.
7. Is this what you heard, is this what you learned from the philosophers? Know you not that our business here is a warfare? and one must watch, and one go out as a spy, and one must fight? All cannot be the same thing, nor would it be better if they were. But you neglect to do the bidding of the commander, and complain when he hath laid somewhat rougher than common upon you; and you mark not what, so far as in you lies, you are making the army to become, so that if all copy you, none will dig a trench, none will cast up a rampart, none will watch, none will run any risk, but each will appear worthless for warfare. Again, in a ship, if you go for a sailor, take up one place, and never budge from it; and if you are wanted to go aloft, refuse; or to run upon the prow, refuse; and what captain will have patience with you? Will he not cast you out like some useless thing, nothing else than a hindrance and bad example to the other sailors?
8. And thus here also: the life of every man is a sort of warfare, and a long one, and full of divers chances. And it behooveth a man to play a soldier’s part, and do all at the nod of his commander; yea, and if it be possible, to divine what he intendeth. For that commander is not such a one as this, neither in power nor in exaltation of character. You are set in a great office, and in no mean place, but are a Senator forever. Know you not that such a one can attend but little to his household, but he must be oftentimes abroad, ruling or being ruled, or fulfilling some office, or serving in the field, or judging? And will you, then, desire to be fixed and rooted like a plant in the same place? For it is pleasant. Who denies it? But so is a dainty pleasant, and a fair woman is pleasant. How otherwise are those wont to speak who make pleasure their end? See you not what kind of men they are whose words you utter? They are the words of Epicureans and profligates. And doing the works of these men, and holding their doctrines, wilt thou speak to us with the speech of Zeno and Socrates?
9. Will you not fling away from you as far as you can these alien sentiments wherewith you adorn yourself, which beseem you not at all? What other desire have such men than to sleep their fill unhindered, and when they have risen, to yawn for languor, and wash their face, and write and read whatever pleaseth them; then have some trivial talk, and be praised by their friends, whatever they say; then go forth to walk about, and having done this a little, go to the baths; then eat; then retire to rest—such a rest as is the wont of such men, and why need we say what, for it is easily guessed? Come, tell me, then, thine own way of life, such as thou desirest, O thou votary of the truth, and of Socrates and Diogenes! What wilt thou do in Athens? these very things, or others? Why, then, dost declare thyself a Stoic? Are not they sorely punished which falsely pretend to be Roman citizens; and should those go free who falsely pretend to so great and reverend a calling and name? or let this indeed be impossible; but this is the law, divine and mighty, and not to be escaped, that layeth the greatest punishments on the greatest sinners. For what saith this law? He who pretendeth to things that are not his own, let him be a cheat and braggart; he that is disobedient to the divine government, let him be an abject, a slave, let him grieve and envy and pity[2]—in a word, let him be misfortunate, and mourn.
10.——“And now will you have me attend upon such a one, and hang about his doors?”
If Reason demand it, for the sake of country, of kinsmen, of mankind, wherefore shouldst thou not go? Thou art not ashamed to go to the doors of a cobbler when thou art in want of shoes, nor to those of a gardener for lettuces; and why to those of a rich man when thou art in need of some like thing?
——“Yea, but I have no awe of the cobbler.”
Then have none of the rich.
——“Nor will I flatter the gardener.”
And do not flatter the rich.
——“How, then, shall I gain what I want?”
Did I say to thee, Go, for the sake of gaining it; or did I not only say, Go, that thou mayest do what it beseems thee to do.
——“And why, then, should I yet go?”
That thou mayest have gone; that thou mayest have played the part of a citizen, of a brother, of a friend. And, for the rest, remember that the shoemaker, the vegetable-seller, to whom thou didst go, hath nothing great or exalted to give, even though he sell it dear. Thy aim was lettuces; they are worth an obol, they are not worth a talent. And so it is here. Is the matter worth going to the rich man’s door for? So be it; I will go. Is it worth speaking to him about? So be it; I will speak. But must I also kiss his hand, and fawn upon him with praise? Out upon it! that is a talent’s worth. It is no profit to me, nor to the State, nor to my friends, that they should lose a good citizen and friend.
11.——“How, then, shall I become of an affectionate disposition?”
In having a generous and happy one. For Reason doth never decree that a man must be abject, or lament, or depend on another, or blame God or man. And thus be thou affectionate, as one who will keep this faith. But if through this affection, or what happens to be so called by thee, thou art like to prove a miserable slave, then it shall not profit thee to be affectionate. And what hinders us to love as though we loved a mortal, or one who may depart to other lands? Did Socrates not love his children? Yea, but as a free man; as one who remembered that he must first love the Gods. And, therefore, he never did transgress anything that it becomes a good man to observe, neither in his defense, nor in fixing his punishment, nor beforetime when he was of the Council, nor when he was serving in the field. But we are well supplied with every excuse for baseness; some through children, some through mothers, some through brothers. But it behooveth no man to be unhappy through any person, but happy through all, and most of all through God, which hath framed us to that end.
12. And, for the rest, in all things which are delightful to thee, set before thyself the appearances that oppose them. What harm is it, while kissing thy child, to whisper, To-morrow thou shalt die; and likewise with thy friend, To-morrow thou shall depart, either thou or I, and we shall see each other no more?
——“But these are words of ill-omen.”
And so are some incantations, but in that they are useful I regard not this; only let them be of use. But dost thou call anything of ill-omen, save only that which betokeneth some evil? Cowardice is a word of ill-omen, and baseness and grief and mourning and shamelessness, these words are of ill-omen. And not even them must we dread to speak, if so we may defend ourselves against the things. But wilt thou say that any word is of ill-omen that betokeneth some natural thing? Say that it is of ill-omen to speak of the reaping of ears of corn, for it betokeneth the destruction of the ears—but not of the universe. Say that the falling of the leaves is of ill-omen, and the dried fig coming in the place of the green, and raisins in the place of grapes. For all these things are changes from the former estate to another; no destruction, but a certain appointed order and disposition. Here is parting for foreign lands, and a little change. Here is death—a greater change, not from that which now is to that which is not, but to that which is not now.