Meditations
so many gifts from the Muses, see that thou remember well: and begin one
day, whilest thou art yet alive, to be a man indeed. But on the other
side thou must take heed, as much to flatter them, as to be angry with
them: for both are equally uncharitable, and equally hurtful. And in thy
passions, take it presently to thy consideration, that to be angry is
not the part of a man, but that to be meek and gentle, as it savours of
more humanity, so of more manhood. That in this, there is strength
and nerves, or vigour and fortitude: whereof anger and indignation is
altogether void. For the nearer everything is unto unpassionateness,
the nearer it is unto power. And as grief doth proceed from weakness,
so doth anger. For both, both he that is angry and that grieveth, have
received a wound, and cowardly have as it were yielded themselves unto
their affections. If thou wilt have a tenth also, receive this tenth
gift from Hercules the guide and leader of the Muses: that is a mad
man's part, to look that there should be no wicked men in the world,
because it is impossible. Now for a man to brook well enough, that there
should be wicked men in the world, but not to endure that any
should transgress against himself, is against all equity, and indeed
tyrannical.
XVII. Four several dispositions or inclinations there be of the mind and
understanding, which to be aware of, thou must carefully observe: and
whensoever thou doest discover them, thou must rectify them, saying to
thyself concerning every one of them, This imagination is not necessary;
this is uncharitable: this thou shalt speak as another man's slave, or
instrument; than which nothing can be more senseless and absurd: for
the fourth, thou shalt sharply check and upbraid thyself; for that
thou doest suffer that more divine part in thee, to become subject and
obnoxious to that more ignoble part of thy body, and the gross lusts
and concupiscences thereof.
XVIII. What portion soever, either of air or fire there be in thee,
although by nature it tend upwards, submitting nevertheless to the
ordinance of the universe, it abides here below in this mixed body. So
whatsoever is in thee, either earthy, or humid, although by nature it
tend downwards, yet is it against its nature both raised upwards, and
standing, or consistent. So obedient are even the elements themselves to
the universe, abiding patiently wheresoever (though against their
nature) they are placed, until the sound as it were of their retreat,
and separation. Is it not a grievous thing then, that thy reasonable
part only should be disobedient, and should not endure to keep its
place: yea though it be nothing enjoined that is contrary unto it, but
that only which is according to its nature? For we cannot say of it when
it is disobedient, as we say of the fire, or air, that it tends upwards
towards its proper element, for then goes it the quite contrary way. For
the motion of the mind to any injustice, or incontinency, or to sorrow,
or to fear, is nothing else but a separation from nature. Also when the
mind is grieved for anything that is happened by the divine providence,
then doth it likewise forsake its own place. For it was ordained unto
holiness and godliness, which specially consist in an humble submission
to God and His providence in all things; as well as unto justice: these
also being part of those duties, which as naturally sociable, we are
bound unto; and without which we cannot happily converse one with
another: yea and the very ground and fountain indeed of all just
actions.
XIX. He that hath not one and the self-same general end always as long
as he liveth, cannot possibly be one and the self-same man always. But
this will not suffice except thou add also what ought to be this general
end. For as the general conceit and apprehension of all those things
which upon no certain ground are by the greater part of men deemed good,
cannot be uniform and agreeable, but that only which is limited and
restrained by some certain proprieties and conditions, as of community:
that nothing be conceived good, which is not commonly and publicly
good: so must the end also that we propose unto ourselves, be common
and sociable. For he that doth direct all his own private motions and
purposes to that end, all his actions will be agreeable and uniform; and
by that means will be still the same man.
XX. Remember the fable of the country mouse and the city mouse, and the
great fright and terror that this was put into.
XXI. Socrates was wont to call the common conceits and opinions of men,
the common bugbears of the world: the proper terror of silly children.
XXII. The Lacedæmonians at their public spectacles were wont to appoint
seats and forms for their strangers in the shadow, they themselves were
content to sit anywhere.
XXIII. What Socrates answered unto Perdiccas, why he did not come unto
him, Lest of all deaths I should die the worst kind of death, said he:
that is, not able to requite the good that hath been done unto me.
XXIV. In the ancient mystical letters of the Ephesians, there was an
item, that a man should always have in his mind some one or other of the
ancient worthies.
XXV. The Pythagoreans were wont betimes in the morning the first thing
they did, to look up unto the heavens, to put themselves in mind of them
who constantly and invariably did perform their task: as also to put
themselves in mind of orderliness, or good order, and of purity, and of
naked simplicity. For no star or planet hath any cover before it.
XXVI. How Socrates looked, when he was fain to gird himself with a
skin, Xanthippe his wife having taken away his clothes, and carried them
abroad with her, and what he said to his fellows and friends, who were
ashamed; and out of respect to him, did retire themselves when they saw
him thus decked.
XXVII. In matter of writing or reading thou must needs be taught before
thou can do either: much more in matter of life. 'For thou art born a
mere slave, to thy senses and brutish affections;' destitute without
teaching of all true knowledge and sound reason.
XXVIII. 'My heart smiled within me.' 'They will accuse even virtue
herself; with heinous and opprobrious words.'
XXIX. As they that long after figs in winter when they cannot be had; so
are they that long after children, before they be granted them.
XXX. 'As often as a father kisseth his child, he should say secretly
with himself' (said Epictetus,) 'tomorrow perchance shall he die.' But
these words be ominous. No words ominous (said he) that signify anything
that is natural: in very truth and deed not more ominous than this, 'to
cut down grapes when they are ripe.' Green grapes, ripe grapes, dried
grapes, or raisins: so many changes and mutations of one thing, not into
that which was not absolutely, but rather so many several changes and
mutations, not into that which hath no being at all, but into that which
is not yet in being.
XXXI. 'Of the free will there is no thief or robber:' out of Epictetus;
Whose is this also: that we should find a certain art and method of
assenting; and that we should always observe with great care and heed
the inclinations of our minds, that they may always be with their due
restraint and reservation, always charitable, and according to the
true worth of every present object. And as for earnest longing, that we
should altogether avoid it: and to use averseness in those things only,
that wholly depend of our own wills. It is not about ordinary petty
matters, believe it, that all our strife and contention is, but whether,
with the vulgar, we should be mad, or by the help of philosophy wise and
sober, said he. XXXII. Socrates said, 'What will you have? the souls of
reasonable, or unreasonable creatures? Of reasonable. But what? Of those
whose reason is sound and perfect? or of those whose reason is vitiated
and corrupted? Of those whose reason is sound and perfect. Why then
labour ye not for such? Because we have them already. What then do ye so
strive and contend between you?'
THE TWELFTH BOOK
I. Whatsoever thou doest hereafter aspire unto, thou mayest even now
enjoy and possess, if thou doest not envy thyself thine own happiness.
And that will be, if thou shalt forget all that is past, and for the
future, refer thyself wholly to the Divine Providence, and shalt bend
and apply all thy present thoughts and intentions to holiness and
righteousness. To holiness, in accepting willingly whatsoever is sent
by the Divine Providence, as being that which the nature of the universe
hath appointed unto thee, which also hath appointed thee for that,
whatsoever it be. To righteousness, in speaking the truth freely, and
without ambiguity; and in doing all things justly and discreetly. Now in
this good course, let not other men's either wickedness, or opinion, or
voice hinder thee: no, nor the sense of this thy pampered mass of flesh:
for let that which suffers, look to itself. If therefore whensoever the
time of thy departing shall come, thou shalt readily leave all things,
and shalt respect thy mind only, and that divine part of thine, and this
shall be thine only fear, not that some time or other thou shalt cease
to live, but thou shalt never begin to live according to nature: then
shalt thou be a man indeed, worthy of that world, from which thou hadst
thy beginning; then shalt thou cease to be a stranger in thy country,
and to wonder at those things that happen daily, as things strange and
unexpected, and anxiously to depend of divers things that are not in thy
power.
II. God beholds our minds and understandings, bare and naked from these
material vessels, and outsides, and all earthly dross. For with His
simple and pure understanding, He pierceth into our inmost and purest
parts, which from His, as it were by a water pipe and channel, first
flowed and issued. This if thou also shalt use to do, thou shalt
rid thyself of that manifold luggage, wherewith thou art round about
encumbered. For he that does regard neither his body, nor his clothing,
nor his dwelling, nor any such external furniture, must needs gain unto
himself great rest and ease. Three things there be in all, which thou
doest consist of; thy body, thy life, and thy mind. Of these the two
former, are so far forth thine, as that thou art bound to take care for
them. But the third alone is that which is properly thine. If then thou
shalt separate from thyself, that is from thy mind, whatsoever other men
either do or say, or whatsoever thou thyself hast heretofore either
done or said; and all troublesome thoughts concerning the future, and
whatsoever, (as either belonging to thy body or life:) is without the
jurisdiction of thine own will, and whatsoever in the ordinary course
of human chances and accidents doth happen unto thee; so that thy
mind (keeping herself loose and free from all outward coincidental
entanglements; always in a readiness to depart:) shall live by herself,
and to herself, doing that which is just, accepting whatsoever doth
happen, and speaking the truth always; if, I say, thou shalt separate
from thy mind, whatsoever by sympathy might adhere unto it, and all time
both past and future, and shalt make thyself in all points and respects,
like unto Empedocles his allegorical sphere, 'all round and circular,'
&c., and shalt think of no longer life than that which is now present:
then shalt thou be truly able to pass the remainder of thy days without
troubles and distractions; nobly and generously disposed, and in good
favour and correspondency, with that spirit which is within thee.
III. I have often wondered how it should come to pass, that every man
loving himself best, should more regard other men's opinions concerning
himself than his own. For if any God or grave master standing by,