Meditations
of circuit compasseth all things, searching (as he saith) even the very
depths of the earth; and by all signs and conjectures prying into the
very thoughts of other men's souls; and yet of this, is not sensible,
that it is sufficient for a man to apply himself wholly, and to confine
all his thoughts and cares to the tendance of that spirit which is
within him, and truly and really to serve him. His service doth consist
in this, that a man keep himself pure from all violent passion and
evil affection, from all rashness and vanity, and from all manner of
discontent, either in regard of the gods or men. For indeed whatsoever
proceeds from the gods, deserves respect for their worth and excellency;
and whatsoever proceeds from men, as they are our kinsmen, should by us
be entertained, with love, always; sometimes, as proceeding from their
ignorance, of that which is truly good and bad, (a blindness no less,
than that by which we are not able to discern between white and black:)
with a kind of pity and compassion also.
XII. If thou shouldst live three thousand, or as many as ten thousands
of years, yet remember this, that man can part with no life properly,
save with that little part of life, which he now lives: and that which
he lives, is no other, than that which at every instant he parts with.
That then which is longest of duration, and that which is shortest, come
both to one effect. For although in regard of that which is already past
there may be some inequality, yet that time which is now present and
in being, is equal unto all men. And that being it which we part with
whensoever we die, it doth manifestly appear, that it can be but a
moment of time, that we then part with. For as for that which is either
past or to come, a man cannot be said properly to part with it. For
how should a man part with that which he hath not? These two things
therefore thou must remember. First, that all things in the world from
all eternity, by a perpetual revolution of the same times and things
ever continued and renewed, are of one kind and nature; so that whether
for a hundred or two hundred years only, or for an infinite space of
time, a man see those things which are still the same, it can be no
matter of great moment. And secondly, that that life which any the
longest liver, or the shortest liver parts with, is for length and
duration the very same, for that only which is present, is that, which
either of them can lose, as being that only which they have; for that
which he hath not, no man can truly be said to lose.
XIII. Remember that all is but opinion and conceit, for those things
are plain and apparent, which were spoken unto Monimus the Cynic; and as
plain and apparent is the use that may be made of those things, if that
which is true and serious in them, be received as well as that which is
sweet and pleasing.
XIV. A man's soul doth wrong and disrespect itself first and especially,
when as much as in itself lies it becomes an aposteme, and as it were an
excrescency of the world, for to be grieved and displeased with anything
that happens in the world, is direct apostacy from the nature of the
universe; part of which, all particular natures of the world, are.
Secondly, when she either is averse from any man, or led by contrary
desires or affections, tending to his hurt and prejudice; such as are
the souls of them that are angry. Thirdly, when she is overcome by any
pleasure or pain. Fourthly, when she doth dissemble, and covertly and
falsely either doth or saith anything. Fifthly, when she doth either
affect or endeavour anything to no certain end, but rashly and without
due ratiocination and consideration, how consequent or inconsequent it
is to the common end. For even the least things ought not to be done,
without relation unto the end; and the end of the reasonable creatures
is, to follow and obey him, who is the reason as it were, and the law of
this great city, and ancient commonwealth.
XV. The time of a man's life is as a point; the substance of it ever
flowing, the sense obscure; and the whole composition of the body
tending to corruption. His soul is restless, fortune uncertain, and fame
doubtful; to be brief, as a stream so are all things belonging to the
body; as a dream, or as a smoke, so are all that belong unto the soul.
Our life is a warfare, and a mere pilgrimage. Fame after life is no
better than oblivion. What is it then that will adhere and follow? Only
one thing, philosophy. And philosophy doth consist in this, for a man to
preserve that spirit which is within him, from all manner of contumelies
and injuries, and above all pains or pleasures; never to do anything
either rashly, or feignedly, or hypocritically: wholly to depend from
himself and his own proper actions: all things that happen unto him to
embrace contentedly, as coming from Him from whom he himself also came;
and above all things, with all meekness and a calm cheerfulness, to
expect death, as being nothing else but the resolution of those
elements, of which every creature is composed. And if the elements
themselves suffer nothing by this their perpetual conversion of one into
another, that dissolution, and alteration, which is so common unto all,
why should it be feared by any? Is not this according to nature? But
nothing that is according to nature can be evil.
_Whilst I was at Carnuntum._
THE THIRD BOOK
I. A man must not only consider how daily his life wasteth and
decreaseth, but this also, that if he live long, he cannot be certain,
whether his understanding shall continue so able and sufficient,
for either discreet consideration, in matter of businesses; or for
contemplation: it being the thing, whereon true knowledge of things both
divine and human, doth depend. For if once he shall begin to dote,
his respiration, nutrition, his imaginative, and appetitive, and other
natural faculties, may still continue the same: he shall find no want of
them. But how to make that right use of himself that he should, how
to observe exactly in all things that which is right and just, how to
redress and rectify all wrong, or sudden apprehensions and imaginations,
and even of this particular, whether he should live any longer or no, to
consider duly; for all such things, wherein the best strength and vigour
of the mind is most requisite; his power and ability will be past and
gone. Thou must hasten therefore; not only because thou art every day
nearer unto death than other, but also because that intellective faculty
in thee, whereby thou art enabled to know the true nature of things, and
to order all thy actions by that knowledge, doth daily waste and decay:
or, may fail thee before thou die.
II. This also thou must observe, that whatsoever it is that naturally
doth happen to things natural, hath somewhat in itself that is pleasing
and delightful: as a great loaf when it is baked, some parts of it
cleave as it were, and part asunder, and make the crust of it rugged and
unequal, and yet those parts of it, though in some sort it be against
the art and intention of baking itself, that they are thus cleft and
parted, which should have been and were first made all even and uniform,
they become it well nevertheless, and have a certain peculiar property,
to stir the appetite. So figs are accounted fairest and ripest then,
when they begin to shrink, and wither as it were. So ripe olives, when
they are next to putrefaction, then are they in their proper beauty. The
hanging down of grapes--the brow of a lion, the froth of a foaming wild
boar, and many other like things, though by themselves considered, they
are far from any beauty, yet because they happen naturally, they both
are comely, and delightful; so that if a man shall with a profound mind
and apprehension, consider all things in the world, even among all those
things which are but mere accessories and natural appendices as it were,
there will scarce appear anything unto him, wherein he will not find
matter of pleasure and delight. So will he behold with as much pleasure
the true _rictus_ of wild beasts, as those which by skilful painters and
other artificers are imitated. So will he be able to perceive the proper
ripeness and beauty of old age, whether in man or woman: and whatsoever
else it is that is beautiful and alluring in whatsoever is, with chaste
and continent eyes he will soon find out and discern. Those and many
other things will he discern, not credible unto every one, but unto them
only who are truly and familiarly acquainted, both with nature itself,
and all natural things.
III. Hippocrates having cured many sicknesses, fell sick himself and
died. The Chaldeans and Astrologians having foretold the deaths of
divers, were afterwards themselves surprised by the fates. Alexander and
Pompeius, and Caius Cæsar, having destroyed so many towns, and cut
off in the field so many thousands both of horse and foot, yet they
themselves at last were fain to part with their own lives. Heraclitus
having written so many natural tracts concerning the last and general
conflagration of the world, died afterwards all filled with water
within, and all bedaubed with dirt and dung without. Lice killed
Democritus; and Socrates, another sort of vermin, wicked ungodly men.
How then stands the case? Thou hast taken ship, thou hast sailed, thou
art come to land, go out, if to another life, there also shalt thou find
gods, who are everywhere. If all life and sense shall cease, then shalt
thou cease also to be subject to either pains or pleasures; and to serve
and tend this vile cottage; so much the viler, by how much that which
ministers unto it doth excel; the one being a rational substance, and a
spirit, the other nothing but earth and blood.
IV. Spend not the remnant of thy days in thoughts and fancies concerning
other men, when it is not in relation to some common good, when by it
thou art hindered from some other better work. That is, spend not thy
time in thinking, what such a man doth, and to what end: what he saith,
and what he thinks, and what he is about, and such other things or
curiosities, which make a man to rove and wander from the care and
observation of that part of himself, which is rational, and overruling.
See therefore in the whole series and connection of thy thoughts, that
thou be careful to prevent whatsoever is idle and impertinent: but
especially, whatsoever is curious and malicious: and thou must use
thyself to think only of such things, of which if a man upon a sudden
should ask thee, what it is that thou art now thinking, thou mayest
answer This, and That, freely and boldly, that so by thy thoughts it may
presently appear that in all thee is sincere, and peaceable; as becometh
one that is made for society, and regards not pleasures, nor gives way
to any voluptuous imaginations at all: free from all contentiousness,
envy, and suspicion, and from whatsoever else thou wouldest blush to
confess thy thoughts were set upon. He that is such, is he surely that
doth not put off to lay hold on that which is best indeed, a very priest
and minister of the gods, well acquainted and in good correspondence
with him especially that is seated and placed within himself, as in
a temple and sacrary: to whom also he keeps and preserves himself
unspotted by pleasure, undaunted by pain; free from any manner of wrong,
or contumely, by himself offered unto himself: not capable of any evil
from others: a wrestler of the best sort, and for the highest prize,
that he may not be cast down by any passion or affection of his own;
deeply dyed and drenched in righteousness, embracing and accepting with
his whole heart whatsoever either happeneth or is allotted unto him. One
who not often, nor without some great necessity tending to some public