Minor Dialogues, Together With the Dialogue on Clemency
at being magistrates, and imitate the purple-edged robe of state,
the lictors’ axes, and the judgment-seat, while the former play
with the same things in earnest in the Campus Martius and the courts
of justice; because the latter pile up the sand on the seashore
into the likeness of houses, and the former, with an air of being
engaged in important business, employ themselves in piling up stones
and walls and roofs until they have turned what was intended for
the protection of the body into a danger to it? Children and those
more advanced in age both make the same mistake, but the latter
deal with different and more important things; the wise man,
therefore, is quite justified in treating the affronts which he
receives from such men as jokes: and sometimes he corrects them,
as he would children, by pain and punishment, not because he has
received an injury, but because they have done one and in order
that they may do so no more. Thus we break in animals with stripes,
yet we are not angry with them when they refuse to carry their
rider, but curb them in order that pain may overcome {38} their
obstinacy. Now, therefore, you know the answer to the question which
was put to us, “Why, if the wise man receives neither injury nor
insult, he punishes those who do these things?” He does not revenge
himself, but corrects them.
XIII. What, then, is there to prevent your believing this strength
of mind to belong to the wise man, when you can see the same thing
existing in others, though not from the same cause?—for what physician
is angry with a crazy patient? who takes to heart the curses of a
fever-stricken one who is denied cold water? The wise man retains
in his dealings with all men this same habit of mind which the
physician adopts in dealing with his patients, whose parts of shame
he does not scorn to handle should they need treatment, nor yet to
look at their solid and liquid evacuations, nor to endure their
reproaches when frenzied by disease. The wise man knows that all
those who strut about in purple-edged togas,[4] healthy and embrowned,
are brain-sick people, whom he regards as sick and full of follies.
He is not, therefore, angry, should they in their sickness presume
to bear themselves somewhat impertinently towards their physician,
and in the same spirit as that in which he sets no value upon their
titles of honour, he will set but little value upon their acts of
disrespect to himself. He will not rise in his own esteem if a
beggar pays his court to him, and he will not think it an affront
if one of the dregs of the people does not return his greeting. So
also he will not admire himself even if many rich men admire him;
for he knows that they differ in no respect from beggars—nay, are
even more wretched than they; for {39} beggars want but a little,
whereas rich men want a great deal. Again, he will not be moved if
the King of the Medes, or Attalus, King of Asia, passes by him in
silence with a scornful air when he offers his greeting; for he
knows that such a man’s position has nothing to render it more
enviable than that of the man whose duty it is in some great household
to keep the sick and mad servants in order. Shall I be put out if
one of those who do business at the temple of Castor, buying and
selling worthless slaves, does not return my salute, a man whose
shops are crowded with throngs of the worst of bondmen? I trow not;
for what good can there be in a man who owns none but bad men? As
the wise man is indifferent to the courtesy or incivility of such
a man, so is he to that of a king. “You own,” says he, “the Parthians
and Bactrians, but they are men whom you keep in order by fear,
they are people whose possession forbids you to unstring the bow,
they are fierce enemies, on sale, and eagerly looking out for a new
master.” He will not, then, be moved by an insult from any man for
though all men differ one from another, yet the wise man regards
them all as alike on account of their equal folly; for should he
once lower himself to the point of being affected by either injury
or insult, he could never feel safe afterwards, and safety is the
especial advantage of the wise man, and he will not be guilty of
showing respect to the man who has done him an injury by admitting
that he has received one, because it necessarily follows that he
who is disquieted at any one’s scorn would value that person’s
admiration.
XIV. Such madness possesses some men that they imagine it possible
for an affront to be put upon them by a woman. What matters it who
she may be, how many slaves bear her litter, how heavily her ears
are laden, how soft her seat? she is always the same thoughtless
creature, and unless she possesses acquired knowledge and {40} much
learning, she is fierce and passionate in her desires. Some are
annoyed at being jostled by a heater of curling-tongs, and call the
reluctance of a great man’s porter to open the door, the pride of
his nomenclator,[5] or the disdainfulness of his chamberlain,
insults. O! what laughter is to be got out of such things, with
what amusement the mind may be filled when it contrasts the frantic
follies of others with its own peace! “How then? will the wise man
not approach doors which are kept by a surly porter?” Nay, if any
need calls him thither, he will make trial of him, however fierce
he may be, will tame him as one tames a dog by offering it food,
and will not be enraged at having to expend entrance-money, reflecting
that on certain bridges also one has to pay toll; in like fashion
he will pay his fee to whoever farms this revenue of letting in
visitors, for he knows that men are wont to buy whatever is offered
for sale.[6] A man shows a poor spirit if he is pleased with himself
for having answered the porter cavalierly, broken his staff, forced
his way into his master’s presence, and demanded a whipping for
him. He who strives with a man makes himself that man’s rival, and
must be on equal terms with him before he can overcome him. But
what will the wise man do when he receives a cuff? He will do as
Cato did when he was struck in the face; he did not flare up and
revenge the outrage, he did not even pardon it, but ignored it,
showing more magnanimity in not acknowledging it than if he had
forgiven it. We will not dwell long upon this point; for who is
there who knows not that none of those things which are thought to
be good or evil are looked upon by the wise man and by mankind in
general in the same manner? He does not regard what all men think
low or wretched; he does not follow the people’s track, but as the
{41} stars move in a path opposite to that of the earth, so he
proceeds contrary to the prejudices of all.
XV. Cease then to say, “Will not the wise man, then, receive an
injury if he be beaten, if his eye be knocked out? will he not
receive an insult if he be hooted through the Forum by the foul
voices of ruffians? if at a court banquet he be bidden to leave the
table and eat with slaves appointed to degrading duties? if he be
forced to endure anything else that can be thought of that would
gall a high spirit?” However many or however severe these crosses
may be, they will all be of the same kind; and if small ones do not
affect him, neither will greater ones; if a few do not affect him,
neither will more. It is from your own weakness that you form your
idea of his colossal mind, and when you have thought how much you
yourselves could endure to suffer, you place the limit of the wise
man’s endurance a little way beyond that. But his virtue has placed
him in another region of the universe which has nothing in common
with you. Seek out sufferings and all things hard to be borne,
repulsive to be heard or seen; he will not be overwhelmed by their
combination, and will bear all just as he bears each one of them.
He who says that the wise man can bear this and cannot bear that,
and restrains his magnanimity within certain limits, does wrong;
for Fortune overcomes us unless she is entirely overcome. Think not
that this is mere Stoic austerity. Epicurus, whom you adopt as the
patron of your laziness, and who, you imagine, always taught what
was soft and slothful and conducive to pleasure, said, “Fortune
seldom stands in a wise man’s way.” How near he came to a manly
sentiment! Do thou dare to speak more boldly, and clear her out of
the way altogether! This is the house of the wise man—narrow,
unadorned, without bustle and splendour, the threshold guarded by
no porters who marshal the crowd of visitors with a haughtiness
proportionate to their bribes—but For {42} tune cannot cross this
open and unguarded threshold. She knows that there is no room for
her where there is nothing of hers.
XVI. Now if even Epicurus, who made more concessions to the body
than any one, takes a spirited tone with regard to injuries, what
can appear beyond belief or beyond the scope of human nature amongst
us Stoics? He says that injuries may be endured by the wise man,
we say that they do not exist for him. Nor is there any reason why
you should declare this to be repugnant to nature. We do not deny
that it is an unpleasant thing to be beaten or struck, or to lose
one of our limbs, but we say that none of these things are injuries.
We do not take away from them the feeling of pain, but the name of
“injury,” which cannot be received while our virtue is unimpaired.
We shall see which of the two is nearest the truth; each of them
agree in despising injury. You ask what difference there is between
them? All that there is between two very brave gladiators, one of
whom conceals his wound and holds his ground, while the other turns
round to the shouting populace, gives them to understand that his
wound is nothing, and does not permit them to interfere on his
behalf. You need not think that it is any great thing about which
we differ; the whole gist of the matter, that which alone concerns
you, is what both schools of philosophy urge you to do, namely, to
despise injuries and insults, which I may call the shadows and
outlines of injuries, to despise which does not need a wise man,
but merely a sensible one, who can say to himself, “Do these things
befall me deservedly or undeservedly? If deservedly, it is not an
insult, but a judicial sentence; if undeservedly, then he who does
injustice ought to blush, not I. And what is this which is called
an insult? Some one has made a joke about the baldness of my head,
the weakness of my eyes, the thinness of my legs, the shortness of
my stature; what insult is there in {43} telling me that which every
one sees? We laugh when _tête-à-tête_ at the same thing at which
we are indignant when it is said before a crowd, and we do not allow
others the privilege of saying what we ourselves are wont to say
about ourselves; we are amused at decorous jests, but are angry if
they are carried too far.”
XVII. Chrysippus says that a man was enraged because some one called
him a sea-sheep; we have seen Fidus Cornelius, the son-in-law of
Ovidius Naso, weeping in the Senate-house because Corbulo called
him a plucked ostrich; his command of his countenance did not fail
him at other abusive charges, which damaged his character and way
of life; at this ridiculous saying he burst into tears. So deplorable
is the weakness of men’s minds when reason no longer guides them.
What of our taking offence if any one imitates our talk, our walk,
or apes any defect of our person or our pronunciation? as if they
would become more notorious by another’s imitation than by our doing
them ourselves. Some are unwilling to hear about their age and grey
hairs, and all the rest of what men pray to arrive at. The reproach
of poverty agonizes some men, and whoever conceals it makes it a
reproach to himself; and therefore if you of your own accord are