Meditations
XXXIII. As almost all her other faculties and properties the nature of
the universe hath imparted unto every reasonable creature, so this in
particular we have received from her, that as whatsoever doth oppose
itself unto her, and doth withstand her in her purposes and intentions,
she doth, though against its will and intention, bring it about to
herself, to serve herself of it in the execution of her own destinated
ends; and so by this though not intended co-operation of it with herself
makes it part of herself whether it will or no. So may every reasonable
creature, what crosses and impediments soever it meets with in the
course of this mortal life, it may use them as fit and proper objects,
to the furtherance of whatsoever it intended and absolutely proposed
unto itself as its natural end and happiness.
XXXIV. Let not the general representation unto thyself of the
wretchedness of this our mortal life, trouble thee. Let not thy mind
wander up and down, and heap together in her thoughts the many troubles
and grievous calamities which thou art as subject unto as any other. But
as everything in particular doth happen, put this question unto thyself,
and say: What is it that in this present matter, seems unto thee so
intolerable? For thou wilt be ashamed to confess it. Then upon this
presently call to mind, that neither that which is future, nor that
which is past can hurt thee; but that only which is present. (And that
also is much lessened, if thou dost lightly circumscribe it:) and then
check thy mind if for so little a while, (a mere instant), it cannot
hold out with patience.
XXXV. What? are either Panthea or Pergamus abiding to this day by their
masters' tombs? or either Chabrias or Diotimus by that of Adrianus? O
foolery! For what if they did, would their masters be sensible of It? or
if sensible, would they be glad of it? or if glad, were these immortal?
Was not it appointed unto them also (both men and women,) to become
old in time, and then to die? And these once dead, what would become of
these former? And when all is done, what is all this for, but for a mere
bag of blood and corruption?
XXXVI. If thou beest quick-sighted, be so in matter of judgment, and
best discretion, saith he.
XXXVII. In the whole constitution of man, I see not any virtue contrary
to justice, whereby it may be resisted and opposed. But one whereby
pleasure and voluptuousness may be resisted and opposed, I see:
continence.
XXXVIII. If thou canst but withdraw conceit and opinion concerning that
which may seem hurtful and offensive, thou thyself art as safe, as safe
may be. Thou thyself? and who is that? Thy reason. 'Yea, but I am not
reason.' Well, be it so. However, let not thy reason or understanding
admit of grief, and if there be anything in thee that is grieved, let
that, (whatsoever it be,) conceive its own grief, if it can.
XXXIX. That which is a hindrance of the senses, is an evil to the
sensitive nature. That which is a hindrance of the appetitive and
prosecutive faculty, is an evil to the sensitive nature. As of the
sensitive, so of the vegetative constitution, whatsoever is a hindrance
unto it, is also in that respect an evil unto the same. And so likewise,
whatsoever is a hindrance unto the mind and understanding, must needs
be the proper evil of the reasonable nature. Now apply all those things
unto thyself. Do either pain or pleasure seize on thee? Let the senses
look to that. Hast thou met with Some obstacle or other in thy purpose
and intention? If thou didst propose without due reservation and
exception now hath thy reasonable part received a blow indeed But if in
general thou didst propose unto thyself what soever might be, thou art
not thereby either hurt, nor properly hindered. For in those things that
properly belong unto the mind, she cannot be hindered by any man. It
is not fire, nor iron; nor the power of a tyrant nor the power of a
slandering tongue; nor anything else that can penetrate into her.
XL. If once round and solid, there is no fear that ever it will change.
XLI. Why should I grieve myself; who never did willingly grieve any
other! One thing rejoices one and another thing another. As for me, this
is my joy, if my understanding be right and sound, as neither averse
from any man, nor refusing any of those things which as a man I am
subject unto; if I can look upon all things in the world meekly and
kindly; accept all things and carry myself towards everything according
to to true worth of the thing itself.
XLII. This time that is now present, bestow thou upon thyself. They that
rather hunt for fame after death, do not consider, that those men that
shall be hereafter, will be even such, as these whom now they can so
hardly bear with. And besides they also will be mortal men. But to
consider the thing in itself, if so many with so many voices, shall make
such and such a sound, or shall have such and such an opinion concerning
thee, what is it to thee?
XLIII. Take me and throw me where thou wilt: I am indifferent. For there
also I shall have that spirit which is within me propitious; that is
well pleased and fully contented both in that constant disposition, and
with those particular actions, which to its own proper constitution are
suitable and agreeable.
XLIV. Is this then a thing of that worth, that for it my soul should
suffer, and become worse than it was? as either basely dejected, or
disordinately affected, or confounded within itself, or terrified? What
can there be, that thou shouldest so much esteem?
XLV. Nothing can happen unto thee, which is not incidental unto thee, as
thou art a man. As nothing can happen either to an ox, a vine, or to
a stone, which is not incidental unto them; unto every one in his own
kind. If therefore nothing can happen unto anything, which is not both
usual and natural; why art thou displeased? Sure the common nature
of all would not bring anything upon any, that were intolerable. If
therefore it be a thing external that causes thy grief, know, that it is
not that properly that doth cause it, but thine own conceit and opinion
concerning the thing: which thou mayest rid thyself of, when thou wilt.
But if it be somewhat that is amiss in thine own disposition, that doth
grieve thee, mayest thou not rectify thy moral tenets and opinions. But
if it grieve thee, that thou doest not perform that which seemeth unto
thee right and just, why doest not thou choose rather to perform it than
to grieve? But somewhat that is stronger than thyself doth hinder thee.
Let it not grieve thee then, if it be not thy fault that the thing is
not performed. 'Yea but it is a thing of that nature, as that thy life
is not worth the while, except it may be performed.' If it be so, upon
condition that thou be kindly and lovingly disposed towards all men,
thou mayest be gone. For even then, as much as at any time, art thou in
a very good estate of performance, when thou doest die in charity with
those, that are an obstacle unto thy performance.
XLVI. Remember that thy mind is of that nature as that it becometh
altogether unconquerable, when once recollected in herself, she seeks no
other content than this, that she cannot be forced: yea though it so
fall out, that it be even against reason itself, that it cloth bandy.
How much less when by the help of reason she is able to judge of things
with discretion? And therefore let thy chief fort and place of defence
be, a mind free from passions. A stronger place, (whereunto to make his
refuge, and so to become impregnable) and better fortified than this,
hath no man. He that seeth not this is unlearned. He that seeth it, and
betaketh not himself to this place of refuge, is unhappy.
XLVII. Keep thyself to the first bare and naked apprehensions of things,
as they present themselves unto thee, and add not unto them. It is
reported unto thee, that such a one speaketh ill of thee. Well; that he
speaketh ill of thee, so much is reported. But that thou art hurt
thereby, is not reported: that is the addition of opinion, which thou
must exclude. I see that my child is sick. That he is sick, I see, but
that he is in danger of his life also, I see it not. Thus thou must use
to keep thyself to the first motions and apprehensions of things, as
they present themselves outwardly; and add not unto them from within
thyself through mere conceit and opinion. Or rather add unto them: hut
as one that understandeth the true nature of all things that happen in
the world.
XLVIII. Is the cucumber bitter? set it away. Brambles are in the way?
avoid them. Let this suffice. Add not presently speaking unto thyself,
What serve these things for in the world? For, this, one that is
acquainted with the mysteries of nature, will laugh at thee for it; as a
carpenter would or a shoemaker, if meeting in either of their shops with
some shavings, or small remnants of their work, thou shouldest blame
them for it. And yet those men, it is not for want of a place where to
throw them that they keep them in their shops for a while: but the
nature of the universe hath no such out-place; but herein doth consist
the wonder of her art and skill, that she having once circumscribed
herself within some certain bounds and limits, whatsoever is within her
that seems either corrupted, or old, or unprofitable, she can change it
into herself, and of these very things can make new things; so that she
needeth not to seek elsewhere out of herself either for a new supply of
matter and substance, or for a place where to throw out whatsoever is
irrecoverably putrid and corrupt. Thus she, as for place, so for matter
and art, is herself sufficient unto herself.
XLIX. Not to be slack and negligent; or loose, and wanton in thy
actions; nor contentious, and troublesome in thy conversation; nor to
rove and wander in thy fancies and imaginations. Not basely to contract
thy soul; nor boisterously to sally out with it, or furiously to launch
out as it were, nor ever to want employment.
L. 'They kill me, they cut my flesh; they persecute my person with
curses.' What then? May not thy mind for all this continue pure,
prudent, temperate, just? As a fountain of sweet and clear water, though
she be cursed by some stander by, yet do her springs nevertheless still
run as sweet and clear as before; yea though either dirt or dung be
thrown in, yet is it no sooner thrown, than dispersed, and she cleared.
She cannot be dyed or infected by it. What then must I do, that I
may have within myself an overflowing fountain, and not a well? Beget
thyself by continual pains and endeavours to true liberty with charity,
and true simplicity and modesty.
LI. He that knoweth not what the world is, knoweth not where he himself
is. And he that knoweth not what the world was made for, cannot possibly
know either what are the qualities, or what is the nature of the world.
Now he that in either of these is to seek, for what he himself was made
is ignorant also. What then dost thou think of that man, who proposeth
unto himself, as a matter of great moment, the noise and applause
of men, who both where they are, and what they are themselves, are
altogether ignorant? Dost thou desire to be commended of that man, who
thrice in one hour perchance, doth himself curse himself? Dost thou
desire to please him, who pleaseth not himself? or dost thou think that
he pleaseth himself, who doth use to repent himself almost of everything
that he doth?
LII. Not only now henceforth to have a common breath, or to hold
correspondency of breath, with that air, that compasseth us about; but
to have a common mind, or to hold correspondency of mind also with that
rational substance, which compasseth all things. For, that also is of
itself, and of its own nature (if a man can but draw it in as he should)