Meditations
be found all this while, that could rectify the things of the world? Or
is the world, to incessant woes and miseries, for ever condemned?
XXXIV. How base and putrid, every common matter is! Water, dust, and
from the mixture of these bones, and all that loathsome stuff that our
bodies do consist of: so subject to be infected, and corrupted. And
again those other things that are so much prized and admired, as marble
stones, what are they, but as it were the kernels of the earth? gold and
silver, what are they, but as the more gross faeces of the earth? Thy
most royal apparel, for matter, it is but as it were the hair of a silly
sheep, and for colour, the very blood of a shell-fish; of this nature
are all other things. Thy life itself, is some such thing too; a mere
exhalation of blood: and it also, apt to be changed into some other
common thing.
XXXV. Will this querulousness, this murmuring, this complaining and
dissembling never be at an end? What then is it, that troubleth thee?
Doth any new thing happen unto thee? What doest thou so wonder at? At
the cause, or the matter? Behold either by itself, is either of that
weight and moment indeed? And besides these, there is not anything. But
thy duty towards the Gods also, it is time thou shouldst acquit thyself
of it with more goodness and simplicity.
XXXVI. It is all one to see these things for a hundred of years together
or but for three years.
XXXVII. If he have sinned, his is the harm, not mine. But perchance he
hath not.
XXXVIII. Either all things by the providence of reason happen unto every
particular, as a part of one general body; and then it is against reason
that a part should complain of anything that happens for the good of the
whole; or if, according to Epicurus, atoms be the cause of all things
and that life be nothing else but an accidentary confusion of things,
and death nothing else, but a mere dispersion and so of all other
things: what doest thou trouble thyself for?
XXXIX. Sayest thou unto that rational part, Thou art dead; corruption
hath taken hold on thee? Doth it then also void excrements? Doth it like
either oxen, or sheep, graze or feed; that it also should be mortal, as
well as the body?
XL. Either the Gods can do nothing for us at all, or they can still and
allay all the distractions and distempers of thy mind. If they can do
nothing, why doest thou pray? If they can, why wouldst not thou rather
pray, that they will grant unto thee, that thou mayst neither fear, nor
lust after any of those worldly things which cause these distractions
and distempers of it? Why not rather, that thou mayst not at either
their absence or presence, be grieved and discontented: than either that
thou mayst obtain them, or that thou mayst avoid them? For certainly
it must needs be, that if the Gods can help us in anything, they may in
this kind also. But thou wilt say perchance, 'In those things the Gods
have given me my liberty: and it is in mine own power to do what I
will.' But if thou mayst use this liberty, rather to set thy mind at
true liberty, than wilfully with baseness and servility of mind to
affect those things, which either to compass or to avoid is not in thy
power, wert not thou better? And as for the Gods, who hath told thee,
that they may not help us up even in those things that they have put in
our own power? whether it be so or no, thou shalt soon perceive, if
thou wilt but try thyself and pray. One prayeth that he may compass his
desire, to lie with such or such a one, pray thou that thou mayst not
lust to lie with her. Another how he may be rid of such a one; pray thou
that thou mayst so patiently bear with him, as that thou have no such
need to be rid of him. Another, that he may not lose his child. Pray
thou that thou mayst not fear to lose him. To this end and purpose, let
all thy prayer be, and see what will be the event.
XLI. 'In my sickness' (saith Epicurus of himself:) 'my discourses were
not concerning the nature of my disease, neither was that, to them that
came to visit me, the subject of my talk; but in the consideration and
contemplation of that, which was of especial weight and moment, was all
my time bestowed and spent, and among others in this very thing, how my
mind, by a natural and unavoidable sympathy partaking in some sort with
the present indisposition of my body, might nevertheless keep herself
free from trouble, and in present possession of her own proper
happiness. Neither did I leave the ordering of my body to the physicians
altogether to do with me what they would, as though I expected any
great matter from them, or as though I thought it a matter of such great
consequence, by their means to recover my health: for my present estate,
methought, liked me very well, and gave me good content.' Whether
therefore in sickness (if thou chance to sicken) or in what other kind
of extremity soever, endeavour thou also to be in thy mind so affected,
as he doth report of himself: not to depart from thy philosophy for
anything that can befall thee, nor to give ear to the discourses of
silly people, and mere naturalists.
XLII. It is common to all trades and professions to mind and intend that
only, which now they are about, and the instrument whereby they work.
XLIII. When at any time thou art offended with any one's impudency, put
presently this question to thyself: 'What? Is it then possible, that
there should not be any impudent men in the world! Certainly it is not
possible.' Desire not then that which is impossible. For this one, (thou
must think) whosoever he be, is one of those impudent ones, that
the world cannot be without. So of the subtile and crafty, so of the
perfidious, so of every one that offendeth, must thou ever be ready to
reason with thyself. For whilst in general thou dost thus reason with
thyself, that the kind of them must needs be in the world, thou wilt be
the better able to use meekness towards every particular. This also
thou shalt find of very good use, upon every such occasion, presently
to consider with thyself, what proper virtue nature hath furnished man
with, against such a vice, or to encounter with a disposition vicious
in this kind. As for example, against the unthankful, it hath given
goodness and meekness, as an antidote, and so against another vicious
in another kind some other peculiar faculty. And generally, is it not
in thy power to instruct him better, that is in an error? For whosoever
sinneth, doth in that decline from his purposed end, and is certainly
deceived, And again, what art thou the worse for his sin? For thou shalt
not find that any one of these, against whom thou art incensed, hath in
very deed done anything whereby thy mind (the only true subject of
thy hurt and evil) can be made worse than it was. And what a matter of
either grief or wonder is this, if he that is unlearned, do the deeds of
one that is unlearned? Should not thou rather blame thyself, who, when
upon very good grounds of reason, thou mightst have thought it very
probable, that such a thing would by such a one be committed, didst not
only not foresee it, but moreover dost wonder at it, that such a thing
should be. But then especially, when thou dost find fault with either an
unthankful, or a false man, must thou reflect upon thyself. For without
all question, thou thyself art much in fault, if either of one that were
of such a disposition, thou didst expect that he should be true unto
thee: or when unto any thou didst a good turn, thou didst not there
bound thy thoughts, as one that had obtained his end; nor didst not
think that from the action itself thou hadst received a full reward of
the good that thou hadst done. For what wouldst thou have more? Unto him
that is a man, thou hast done a good turn: doth not that suffice thee?
What thy nature required, that hast thou done. Must thou be rewarded for
it? As if either the eye for that it seeth, or the feet that they go,
should require satisfaction. For as these being by nature appointed for
such an use, can challenge no more, than that they may work according
to their natural constitution: so man being born to do good unto others
whensoever he doth a real good unto any by helping them out of error; or
though but in middle things, as in matter of wealth, life, preferment,
and the like, doth help to further their desires he doth that for which
he was made, and therefore can require no more.
THE TENTH BOOK
I. O my soul, the time I trust will be, when thou shalt be good, simple,
single, more open and visible, than that body by which it is enclosed.
Thou wilt one day be sensible of their happiness, whose end is love, and
their affections dead to all worldly things. Thou shalt one day be full,
and in want of no external thing: not seeking pleasure from anything,
either living or insensible, that this world can afford; neither wanting
time for the continuation of thy pleasure, nor place and opportunity,
nor the favour either of the weather or of men. When thou shalt have
content in thy present estate, and all things present shall add to thy
content: when thou shalt persuade thyself, that thou hast all things;
all for thy good, and all by the providence of the Gods: and of things
future also shalt be as confident, that all will do well, as tending to
the maintenance and preservation in some sort, of his perfect welfare
and happiness, who is perfection of life, of goodness, and beauty; who
begets all things, and containeth all things in himself, and in himself
doth recollect all things from all places that are dissolved, that of
them he may beget others again like unto them. Such one day shall be thy
disposition, that thou shalt be able, both in regard of the Gods, and
in regard of men, so to fit and order thy conversation, as neither
to complain of them at any time, for anything that they do; nor to do
anything thyself, for which thou mayest justly be condemned.
II. As one who is altogether governed by nature, let it be thy care to
observe what it is that thy nature in general doth require. That
done, if thou find not that thy nature, as thou art a living sensible
creature, will be the worse for it, thou mayest proceed. Next then thou
must examine, what thy nature as thou art a living sensible creature,
doth require. And that, whatsoever it be, thou mayest admit of and do
it, if thy nature as thou art a reasonable living creature, will not be
the worse for it. Now whatsoever is reasonable, is also sociable, Keep
thyself to these rules, and trouble not thyself about idle things.
III. Whatsoever doth happen unto thee, thou art naturally by thy natural
constitution either able, or not able to bear. If thou beest able, be
not offended, but bear it according to thy natural constitution, or as
nature hath enabled thee. If thou beest not able, be not offended. For
it will soon make an end of thee, and itself, (whatsoever it be) at the
same time end with thee. But remember, that whatsoever by the strength
of opinion, grounded upon a certain apprehension of both true profit and
duty, thou canst conceive tolerable; that thou art able to bear that by
thy natural constitution.
IV. Him that offends, to teach with love and meek ness, and to show him
his error. But if thou canst not, then to blame thyself; or rather not
thyself neither, if thy will and endeavours have not been wanting.
V. Whatsoever it be that happens unto thee, it is that which from all
time was appointed unto thee. For by the same coherence of causes, by
which thy substance from all eternity was appointed to be, was also
whatsoever should happen unto it, destinated and appointed.
VI. Either with Epicurus, we must fondly imagine the atoms to be the
cause of all things, or we must needs grant a nature. Let this then be