Minor Dialogues, Together With the Dialogue on Clemency
flies into a rage with people, with undertakings, with places, with
fortune, or with himself. In order, therefore, that the mind may
be at peace, it ought not to be hurried hither and thither, nor,
as I said before, wearied by labour at great matters, or matters
whose attainment is beyond its strength. It is easy to fit one’s
shoulder to a light burden, and to shift it from one side to the
other without dropping it: but we have difficulty in bearing the
burdens which others’ hands lay upon us, and when overweighted by
them we fling them off upon our neighbours. Even when we do stand
upright under our load, we nevertheless reel beneath a weight which
is beyond our strength.
VII. Be assured that the same rule applies both to public and private
life: simple and manageable undertakings proceed according to the
pleasure of the person in charge of them, but enormous ones, beyond
his capacity to manage, are not easily undertaken. When he has got
them to administer, they hinder him, and press hard upon him, and
just as he thinks that success is within his grasp, they collapse,
and carry him with them: thus it comes about that a man’s wishes
are often disappointed if he does not apply himself to easy tasks,
yet wishes that the tasks which he undertakes may be easy. Whenever
you would attempt anything, first {124} form an estimate both of
your own powers, of the extent of the matter which you are undertaking,
and of the means by which you are to accomplish it: for if you have
to abandon your work when it is half done, the disappointment will
sour your temper. In such cases, it makes a difference whether one
is of an ardent or of a cold and unenterprising temperament: for
failure will rouse a generous spirit to anger, and will move a
sluggish and dull one to sorrow. Let our undertakings, therefore,
be neither petty nor yet presumptuous and reckless: let our hopes
not range far from home: let us attempt nothing which if we succeed
will make us astonished at our success.
VIII. Since we know not how to endure an injury, let us take care
not to receive one: we should live with the quietest and easiest-tempered
persons, not with anxious or with sullen ones: for our own habits
are copied from those with whom we associate, and just as some
bodily diseases are communicated by touch, so also the mind transfers
its vices to its neighbours. A drunkard leads even those who reproach
him to grow fond of wine: profligate society will, if permitted,
impair the morals even of robust-minded men: avarice infects those
nearest it with its poison. Virtues do the same thing in the opposite
direction, and improve all those with whom they are brought in
contact: it is as good for one of unsettled principles to associate
with better men than himself as for an invalid to live in a warm
country with a healthy climate. You will understand how much may
be effected this way, if you observe how even wild beasts grow tame
by dwelling among us, and how no animal, however ferocious, continues
to be wild, if it has long been accustomed to human companionship:
all its savageness becomes softened, and amid peaceful scenes is
gradually forgotten. We must add to this, that the man who lives
with quiet people is not only improved by their example, but also
by the fact that he finds no reason for anger and does not practise
his {125} vice: it will, therefore, be his duty to avoid all those
who he knows will excite his anger. You ask, who these are: many
will bring about the same thing by various means; a proud man will
offend you by his disdain, a talkative man by his abuse, an impudent
man by his insults, a spiteful man by his malice, a quarrelsome man
by his wrangling, a braggart and liar by his vain-gloriousness: you
will not endure to be feared by a suspicious man, conquered by an
obstinate one, or scorned by an ultra-refined one: Choose
straightforward, good-natured, steady people, who will not provoke
your wrath, and will bear with it. Those whose dispositions are
yielding, polite and suave, will be of even greater service, provided
they do not flatter, for excessive obsequiousness irritates
bad-tempered men. One of my own friends was a good man indeed, but
too prone to anger, and it was as dangerous to flatter him as to
curse him. Caelius the orator, it is well known, was the worst-tempered
man possible. It is said that once he was dining in his own chamber
with an especially long-suffering client, but had great difficulty
when thrown thus into a man’s society to avoid quarrelling with
him. The other thought it best to agree to whatever he said, and
to play second fiddle, but Caelius could not bear his obsequious
agreement, and exclaimed, “Do contradict me in something, that there
may be two of us!” Yet even he, who was angry at not being angry,
soon recovered his temper, because he had no one to fight with. If,
then, we are conscious of an irascible disposition, let us especially
choose for our friends those who will look and speak as we do: they
will pamper us and lead us into a bad habit of listening to nothing
that does not please us, but it will be good to give our anger
respite and repose. Even those who are naturally crabbed and wild
will yield to caresses: no creature continues either angry or
frightened if you pat him. Whenever a controversy seems likely to
be longer or more keenly disputed than usual, let us check its first
beginnings, before it gathers strength. {126} A dispute nourishes
itself as it proceeds, and takes hold of those who plunge too deeply
into it: it is easier to stand aloof than to extricate oneself from
a struggle.
IX. Irascible men ought not to meddle with the more serious class
of occupations, or, at any rate, ought to stop short of weariness
in the pursuit of them; their mind ought not to be engaged upon
hard subjects, but handed over to pleasing arts: let it be softened
by reading poetry, and interested by legendary history: let it be
treated with luxury and refinement. Pythagoras used to calm his
troubled spirit by playing upon the lyre: and who does not know
that trumpets and clarions are irritants, just as some airs are
lullabies and soothe the mind? Green is good for wearied eyes, and
some colours are grateful to weak sight, while the brightness of
others is painful to it. In the same way cheerful pursuits soothe
unhealthy minds. We must avoid law courts, pleadings, verdicts, and
everything else that aggravates our fault, and we ought no less to
avoid bodily weariness; for it exhausts all that is quiet and gentle
in us, and rouses bitterness. For this reason those who cannot trust
their digestion, when they are about to transact business of
importance always allay their bile with food, for it is peculiarly
irritated by fatigue, either because it draws the vital heat into
the middle of the body, and injures the blood and stops its circulation
by the clogging of the veins, or else because the worn-out and
weakened body reacts upon the mind: this is certainly the reason
why those who are broken by ill-health or age are more irascible
than other men. Hunger also and thirst should be avoided for the
same reason; they exasperate and irritate men’s minds: it is an old
saying that “a weary man is quarrelsome “: and so also is a hungry
or a thirsty man, or one who is suffering from any cause whatever:
for just as sores pain one at the slightest touch, and afterwards
even at the fear of being touched, so an unsound mind takes offence
at the slightest things, so that even a {127} greeting, a letter,
a speech, or a question, provokes some men to anger.
X. That which is diseased can never bear to be handled without
complaining: it is best, therefore, to apply remedies to oneself
as soon as we feel that anything is wrong, to allow oneself as
little licence as possible in speech, and to restrain one’s
impetuosity: now it is easy to detect the first growth of our
passions: the symptoms precede the disorder. Just as the signs of
storms and rain come before the storms themselves, so there are
certain forerunners of anger, love, and all the storms which torment
our minds. Those who suffer from epilepsy know that the fit is
coming on if their extremities become cold, their sight fails, their
sinews tremble, their memory deserts them, and their head swims:
they accordingly check the growing disorder by applying the usual
remedies: they try to prevent the loss of their senses by smelling
or tasting some drug; they battle against cold and stiffness of
limbs by hot fomentations; or, if all remedies fail, they retire
apart, and faint where no one sees them fall. It is useful for a
man to understand his disease, and to break its strength before it
becomes developed. Let us see what it is that especially irritates
us. Some men take offence at insulting words, others at deeds: one
wishes his pedigree, another his person, to be treated with respect.
This man wishes to be considered especially fashionable, that man
to be thought especially learned: one cannot bear pride, another
cannot bear obstinacy. One thinks it beneath him to be angry with
his slaves, another is cruel at home, but gentle abroad. One imagines
that he is proposed for office because he is unpopular, another
thinks himself insulted because he is not proposed. People do not
all take offence in the same way; you ought then to know what your
own weak point is, that you may guard it with especial care.
XI. It is better not to see or to hear everything: many causes of
offence may pass by us, most of which are disregarded {128} by the
man who ignores them. Would you not be irascible? then be not
inquisitive. He who seeks to know what is said about him, who digs
up spiteful tales even if they were told in secret, is himself the
destroyer of his own peace of mind. Some stories may be so construed
as to appear to be insults: wherefore it is best to put some aside,
to laugh at others, and to pardon others. There are many ways in
which anger may be checked; most things may be turned into jest.
It is said that Socrates when he was given a box on the ear, merely
said that it was a pity a man could not tell when he ought to wear
his helmet out walking. It does not so much matter how an injury
is done, as how it is borne; and I do not see how moderation can
be hard to practise, when I know that even despots, though success
and impunity combine to swell their pride, have sometimes restrained
their natural ferocity. At any rate, tradition informs us that once,
when a guest in his cups bitterly reproached Pisistratus, the despot
of Athens, for his cruelty, many of those present offered to lay
hands on the traitor, and one said one thing and one another to
kindle his wrath, he bore it coolly, and replied to those who were
egging him on, that he was no more angry with the man than he should
be with one who ran against him blindfold.
XII. A large part of mankind manufacture their own grievances either
by entertaining unfounded suspicions or by exaggerating trifles.
Anger often comes to us, but we often go to it. It ought never to
be sent for: even when it falls in our way it ought to be flung
aside. No one says to himself, “I myself have done or might have
done this very thing which I am angry with another for doing.” No
one considers the intention of the doer, but merely the thing done:
yet we ought to think about him, and whether he did it intentionally
or accidentally, under compulsion or under a mistake, whether he
did it out of hatred for us, or to gain something for himself,
whether he did it to please himself {129} or to serve a friend. In
some cases the age, in others the worldly fortunes of the culprit
may render it humane or advantageous to bear with him and put up
with what he has done. Let us put ourselves in the place of him