3. Thou art a little soul bearing up a corpse.
4. What solitude, then, is there any longer, what lack? Why do we make ourselves worse than children, which, when they are left alone, what do they?—they take shells and sand and build up somewhat, and then throw it down, and again build up something else, and so they never lack pastime. And shall I, if ye sail away from me, sit down and weep for that I am left alone and solitary? Shall I have no shells nor sand? But children do these things through their folly, and we through our wisdom are made unhappy.
CHAPTER X.
against the contentious and revengeful.
1. To suppose that we shall become contemptible in the eyes of others, unless in some way we inflict an injury on those who first showed hostility to us, is the character of most ignoble and thoughtless men. For thus we say, that a man is to be despised according to his inability to do hurt; but much rather is he to be despised according to his inability to do good.
2. The wise and good man neither strives with any himself, nor in the measure of his power will he allow another to strive. And in this, as in all other things, the life of Socrates is set before us as an example; who did not only himself fly all contention, but also forbade it to others. See in Xenophon’s Symposium how many quarrels he ended; and, again, how he bore with Thrasymachus, and how with Polus and with Callicles; and how he endured his wife, and how his son, which opposed him with sophistical arguments. For he remembered very well that no man can command the ruling faculty of another.
3. How, then, is there yet any place for contention in one so minded? For what event can amaze him? what appear strange to him? Doth he not look for even worse and more grievous things at the hands of evil men than do befall him? Doth he not count everything for gain which is short of the extreme of injury? Hath such a one reviled thee? Much thanks to him that he did not strike thee. But he did also strike me. Much thanks that he did not wound thee. But he did also wound me. Much thanks that he did not slay thee. For when did he learn, or from whom, that he was a tame animal, and affectionate to others, and that to the wrongdoer the wrong-doing itself is a heavy injury? For since he hath not learned these things, nor believes them, wherefore should he not follow that which appears to be his advantage? Thy neighbor hath flung stones! Hast thou, then, sinned in aught? But he has broken things in the house? And art thou a household vessel? Nay—but a Will.
4. What, then, hath been given thee for this occasion? To a wolf it were given to bite—to fling more stones. But if thou seek what is becoming for a man, look into thy stores, see what faculties thou hast come here furnished withal. Hast thou the nature of a wild beast? the temper of revenge?
5. When is a horse in wretched case? When he is bereaved of his natural faculties; not when he cannot crow, but when he cannot run. When is a dog? Not when he cannot fly, but when he cannot track. Is not a man, then, also thus wretched, not when he cannot strangle lions or embrace statues[1]—for to this he came endowed with no faculties by Nature—but when he hath lost his honesty, his faithfulness? Surely we should meet together and lament over such a man; so great are the evils into which he hath fallen. Not, indeed, that we should lament for his birth, or for his death, but in that while yet living he hath suffered the loss of his own true possessions. I speak not of his paternal inheritance, not of his land, or his house, or his inn, or his slaves (for not one of these things is the true possession of a man, but all are alien, servile, subject, given now to some, now to others, by those that can command them); but of his human qualities, the stamps of his spirit wherewith he came into the world. Even such we seek for also on coins, and if we find them we approve the coins, and if not, we cast them away. What is the stamp of this sestertius? The stamp of Trajan. Then give it me. The stamp of Nero.[2] Fling it away—it will not pass, it is bad. And so here too. What is the stamp of his mind? He is gentle, social, forbearing, affectionate. Come, then, I receive him, I admit him to citizenship, I receive him as a neighbor, a fellow-traveler. See to it only that he have not Nero’s stamp. Is he wrathful, revengeful, complaining? Doth he, when it may seem good to him, break the heads of all who stand in his way? Why, then, didst thou say he was a man? Shall everything be judged by the bare form? If so, then say that a wax apple is a real apple, and that it has the smell and taste of an apple. But the outward shape doth not suffice, nor are eyes and nose enough to make a man, but he is a man only if he have a man’s mind. Here is one that will not hear reason, that will not submit when he is confuted—he is an ass. In another, reverence hath died—he is worthless, anything rather than a man. This one seeketh whom he may meet and kick or bite—so that he is not even a sheep or an ass, but some kind of savage beast.
6. But this is the nature of every creature, to pursue the Good and fly the Evil; and to hold every man an enemy and a plotter for our woe, were it even a brother, or son, or father, who takes away from us the one, or brings us into the other. For nothing is nearer or dearer to us than the Good. It remains, therefore, if outward things be good and evil, that a father is no longer the friend of his sons, nor the brother of his brother, but every place is full of enemies and plotters and slanderers. But if the only Good is that the Will should be as it ought to be, and the only Evil as it ought not, where is there then any place for strife, for reviling? For about what things shall we strive? about those that are nothing to us? and with whom? with the ignorant, the unhappy, with men who are deceived concerning the greatest things?