Meditations
XXXV. To suffer change can be no hurt; as no benefit it is, by change to
attain to being. The age and time of the world is as it were a flood and
swift current, consisting of the things that are brought to pass in
the world. For as soon as anything hath appeared, and is passed away,
another succeeds, and that also will presently out of sight.
XXXVI. Whatsoever doth happen in the world, is, in the course of nature,
as usual and ordinary as a rose in the spring, and fruit in summer. Of
the same nature is sickness and death; slander, and lying in wait, and
whatsoever else ordinarily doth unto fools use to be occasion either
of joy or sorrow. That, whatsoever it is, that comes after, doth always
very naturally, and as it were familiarly, follow upon that which was
before. For thou must consider the things of the world, not as a loose
independent number, consisting merely of necessary events; but as a
discreet connection of things orderly and harmoniously disposed. There
is then to be seen in the things of the world, not a bare succession,
but an admirable correspondence and affinity.
XXXVII. Let that of Heraclitus never be out of thy mind, that the death
of earth, is water, and the death of water, is air; and the death of
air, is fire; and so on the contrary. Remember him also who was
ignorant whither the way did lead, and how that reason being the thing
by which all things in the world are administered, and which men are
continually and most inwardly conversant with: yet is the thing, which
ordinarily they are most in opposition with, and how those things which
daily happen among them, cease not daily to be strange unto them, and
that we should not either speak, or do anything as men in their sleep,
by opinion and bare imagination: for then we think we speak and do, and
that we must not be as children, who follow their father's example; for
best reason alleging their bare καθότι παρειλήφαμεν; or, as by
successive tradition from our forefathers we have received it.
XXXVIII. Even as if any of the gods should tell thee, Thou shalt
certainly die to-morrow, or next day, thou wouldst not, except thou wert
extremely base and pusillanimous, take it for a great benefit, rather
to die the next day after, than to-morrow; (for alas, what is the
difference!) so, for the same reason, think it no great matter to die
rather many years after, than the very next day.
XXXIX. Let it be thy perpetual meditation, how many physicians who
once looked so grim, and so theatrically shrunk their brows upon their
patients, are dead and gone themselves. How many astrologers, after that
in great ostentation they had foretold the death of some others, how
many philosophers after so many elaborate tracts and volumes concerning
either mortality or immortality; how many brave captains and commanders,
after the death and slaughter of so many; how many kings and tyrants,
after they had with such horror and insolency abused their power upon
men's lives, as though themselves had been immortal; how many, that
I may so speak, whole cities both men and towns: Helice, Pompeii,
Herculaneum, and others innumerable are dead and gone. Run them over
also, whom thou thyself, one after another, hast known in thy time
to drop away. Such and such a one took care of such and such a one's
burial, and soon after was buried himself. So one, so another: and all
things in a short time. For herein lieth all indeed, ever to look upon
all worldly things, as things for their continuance, that are but for a
day: and for their worth, most vile, and contemptible, as for example,
What is man? That which but the other day when he was conceived was vile
snivel; and within few days shall be either an embalmed carcass, or mere
ashes. Thus must thou according to truth and nature, throughly consider
how man's life is but for a very moment of time, and so depart meek and
contented: even as if a ripe olive falling should praise the ground that
bare her, and give thanks to the tree that begat her.
XL. Thou must be like a promontory of the sea, against which though
the waves beat continually, yet it both itself stands, and about it are
those swelling waves stilled and quieted.
XLI. Oh, wretched I, to whom this mischance is happened! nay, happy I,
to whom this thing being happened, I can continue without grief; neither
wounded by that which is present, nor in fear of that which is to come.
For as for this, it might have happened unto any man, but any man having
such a thing befallen him, could not have continued without grief. Why
then should that rather be an unhappiness, than this a happiness? But
however, canst thou, O man! term that unhappiness, which is no mischance
to the nature of man I Canst thou think that a mischance to the nature
of man, which is not contrary to the end and will of his nature? What
then hast thou learned is the will of man's nature? Doth that then which
hath happened unto thee, hinder thee from being just? or magnanimous? or
temperate? or wise? or circumspect? or true? or modest? or free? or from
anything else of all those things in the present enjoying and possession
whereof the nature of man, (as then enjoying all that is proper unto
her,) is fully satisfied? Now to conclude; upon all occasion of sorrow
remember henceforth to make use of this dogma, that whatsoever it is
that hath happened unto thee, is in very deed no such thing of itself,
as a misfortune; but that to bear it generously, is certainly great
happiness.
XLII. It is but an ordinary coarse one, yet it is a good effectual
remedy against the fear of death, for a man to consider in his mind the
examples of such, who greedily and covetously (as it were) did for a
long time enjoy their lives. What have they got more, than they whose
deaths have been untimely? Are not they themselves dead at the last?
as Cadiciant's, Fabius, Julianus Lepidus, or any other who in their
lifetime having buried many, were at the last buried themselves. The
whole space of any man's life, is but little; and as little as it is,
with what troubles, with what manner of dispositions, and in the society
of how wretched a body must it be passed! Let it be therefore unto thee
altogether as a matter of indifferency. For if thou shalt look backward;
behold, what an infinite chaos of time doth present itself unto thee;
and as infinite a chaos, if thou shalt look forward. In that which is
so infinite, what difference can there be between that which liveth but
three days, and that which liveth three ages?
XLIII. Let thy course ever be the most compendious way. The most
compendious, is that which is according to nature: that is, in all both
words and deeds, ever to follow that which is most sound and perfect.
For such a resolution will free a man from all trouble, strife,
dissembling, and ostentation.
THE FIFTH BOOK
I. In the morning when thou findest thyself unwilling to rise, consider
with thyself presently, it is to go about a man's work that I am stirred
up. Am I then yet unwilling to go about that, for which I myself was
born and brought forth into this world? Or was I made for this, to
lay me down, and make much of myself in a warm bed? 'O but this is
pleasing.' And was it then for this that thou wert born, that thou
mightest enjoy pleasure? Was it not in very truth for this, that thou
mightest always be busy and in action? Seest thou not how all things
in the world besides, how every tree md plant, how sparrows and ants,
spiders and bees: how all in their kind are intent as it were orderly to
perform whatsoever (towards the preservation of this orderly universe)
naturally doth become and belong unto thin? And wilt not thou do that,
which belongs unto a man to do? Wilt not thou run to do that, which thy
nature doth require? 'But thou must have some rest.' Yes, thou must.
Nature hath of that also, as well as of eating and drinking, allowed
thee a certain stint. But thou guest beyond thy stint, and beyond that
which would suffice, and in matter of action, there thou comest short of
that which thou mayest. It must needs be therefore, that thou dost not
love thyself, for if thou didst, thou wouldst also love thy nature, and
that which thy nature doth propose unto herself as her end. Others,
as many as take pleasure in their trade and profession, can even pine
themselves at their works, and neglect their bodies and their food for
it; and doest thou less honour thy nature, than an ordinary mechanic
his trade; or a good dancer his art? than a covetous man his silver, and
vainglorious man applause? These to whatsoever they take an affection,
can be content to want their meat and sleep, to further that every one
which he affects: and shall actions tending to the common good of
human society, seem more vile unto thee, or worthy of less respect and
intention?
II. How easy a thing is it for a man to put off from him all turbulent
adventitious imaginations, and presently to be in perfect rest and
tranquillity!
III. Think thyself fit and worthy to speak, or to do anything that is
according to nature, and let not the reproach, or report of some that
may ensue upon it, ever deter thee. If it be right and honest to be
spoken or done, undervalue not thyself so much, as to be discouraged
from it. As for them, they have their own rational over-ruling part, and
their own proper inclination: which thou must not stand and look
about to take notice of, but go on straight, whither both thine own
particular, and the common nature do lead thee; and the way of both
these, is but one.
IV. I continue my course by actions according to nature, until I
fall and cease, breathing out my last breath into that air, by which
continually breathed in I did live; and falling upon that earth, out of
whose gifts and fruits my father gathered his seed, my mother her
blood, and my nurse her milk, out of which for so many years I have
been provided, both of meat and drink. And lastly, which beareth me that
tread upon it, and beareth with me that so many ways do abuse it, or
so freely make use of it, so many ways to so many ends.
V. No man can admire thee for thy sharp acute language, such is thy
natural disability that way. Be it so: yet there be many other good
things, for the want of which thou canst not plead the want or natural
ability. Let them be seen in thee, which depend wholly from thee;
sincerity, gravity, laboriousness, contempt of pleasures; be not
querulous, be Content with little, be kind, be free; avoid all
superfluity, all vain prattling; be magnanimous. Doest not thou
perceive, how many things there be, which notwithstanding any pretence
of natural indisposition and unfitness, thou mightest have performed and
exhibited, and yet still thou doest voluntarily continue drooping
downwards? Or wilt thou say that it is through defect of thy natural
constitution, that thou art constrained to murmur, to be base and
wretched to flatter; now to accuse, and now to please, and pacify thy
body: to be vainglorious, to be so giddy-headed., and unsettled in thy
thoughts? nay (witnesses be the Gods) of all these thou mightest have
been rid long ago: only, this thou must have been contented with, to
have borne the blame of one that is somewhat slow and dull, wherein thou
must so exercise thyself, as one who neither doth much take to heart
this his natural defect, nor yet pleaseth himself in it.
VI. Such there be, who when they have done a good turn to any, are ready
to set them on the score for it, and to require retaliation. Others
there be, who though they stand not upon retaliation, to require any,
yet they think with themselves nevertheless, that such a one is their
debtor, and they know as their word is what they have done. Others again
there be, who when they have done any such thing, do not so much as