Ch. 4
Concerning those who earnestly desire a life of repose.
Remember that it is not only the desire of riches
and power that debases us and subjects us to
others, but even that of quiet, leisure, learning, or
travelling. For, in general, reverence for any external
thing whatever makes us subject to others. Where is
the difference, then, whether you desire to be a senator or not to be a senator? Where is the difference,
whether you desire power or to be out of power?
Where is the difference, whether you say, " I am in a
wretched way, I have nothing to do; but am tied
down to books, as inactive as if I were dead;" or
" I am in a wretched way, I have no leisure to read "?
For as levees and power are among things external
and uncontrollable by will, so likewise is a book.
For what purpose would you read? Tell me. For if
you rest merely in being amused and learning something, you are insignificant and miserable. But if
you refer it to the proper end, what is that end but
a life truly prosperous? And if reading does not procure you a prosperous life, of what use is it? " But it
does procure a prosperous life (say you) ; and therefore I am .uneasy at being deprived of it." And
what sort of prosperity is that which everything can
hinder, - I do not say Caesar alone, or Caesar's friend,
but a crow, a man practising the flute, a fever, or ten
thousand other things? Nothing is so essential to
prosperity as that it should be permanent and unhindered. Suppose I am now called to do something. I
go, therefore, and will be attentive to the bounds and
measures which ought to be observed; that I may act
modestly, steadily, and without desire or aversion as
to externals. In the next place, I am attentive to
other men, what they say, and how they are moved;
and that not from ill-nature, nor that I may have an
opportunity for censure or ridicule; but I turn to myself. " Am I also guilty of the same faults; and how
then shall I leave them off? " or, " I once thus erred,
but, God be thanked, not now." Well, when you have
done thus, and been employed on such things, have
you not done as good a work as if you had read a
thousand lines or written as many? For are you uneasy at not reading while you are eating? When you
eat, or bathe, or exercise, are you not satisfied with
doing it in a manner corresponding to what you have
read? Why, then, do you not reason in like manner
about everything? When you approach Caesar or any
other person, if you preserve yourself dispassionate,
fearless, sedate; if you are rather an observer of what
is done than the subject of observation; if you do not
envy those who are preferred to you; if you are not
overcome by the occasion, what need you more?
Books? How, or to what end? For these are not
the real preparation for living, but living is made up
of things very different. Just as if a champion, when
he enters the lists, should begin crying because he is
not still exercising in advance. It was for this that
you were exercised. For this were the dumb-bells,
the dust, and your young antagonists. And do you
now seek for these when it is the time for actual business? This is just as if, in forming our opinions, when
perplexed between true and false semblances, we
should, instead of practically distinguishing between
them, merely peruse dissertations on evidence.
What, then, is the trouble? That we have neither
learned by reading, nor by writing, how to deal practically with the semblances of things according to the
laws of nature. But we stop at learning what is said,
and, being able to explain it to others, at solving syllogisms and arranging hypothetical arguments. Hence
where the study is, there, too, is the hindrance. Do
you desire absolutely what is out of your power? Be
restrained then, be hindered, be disappointed. But if
we were to read dissertations about the exertion of our
efforts, not merely to see what might be said about our
efforts, but to exert them well; on desire and aversion, that we might not be disappointed of our desires,
nor incur our aversions; on the duties of life, that
mindful of our relations, we might do nothing irrational nor inconsistent with them; then we should not
be provoked at being hindered in our reading; but
should be contented with the performance of actions
suitable to us, and should learn a new standard of
computation. Not, "To-day I have perused so many
lines; I have written so many; " but, "To-day I have
used my efforts as the philosophers direct. I have
restrained my desire. absolutely; I have applied my
aversion only to things controllable by will. I have
not been terrified by such a one, nor put out of countenance by such another. I have exercised my patience, my abstinence, my beneficence." And thus
we should thank God for what we ought to thank him.
But now we resemble the crowd in another way
also, and do not know it. One is afraid that he shall
not be in power; you, that you shall. By no means
be afraid of it, man; but as you laugh at him, laugh
at yourself. For there is no difference, whether you
thirst like one in a fever, or dread water like him who
is bit by a mad dog. Else how can you say, like
Socrates, "If it so pleases God, so let it be"? Do
you think that Socrates, if he had fixed his desires on
the leisure of the lyceum or the academy, or the conversation of the youth there, day after day, would
have made so many campaigns as he did, so readily?
Would not he have lamented and groaned: "How
wretched am I ! now must I be miserable here, when
I might be sunning myself in the lyceum "? Was
that your business in life, then, to sun yourself? Was
it not to be truly successful; to be unrestrained and
free? And how could he have been Socrates, if he
had lamented thus? How could he after that have
written Paeans in a prison?
In short, then, remember this, that so far as you
prize anything external to your own will, you impair
that will. And not only power is external to it, but
the being out of power too; not only business, but
leisure too. "Then must I live in this tumult now? "
What do you call a tumult? "A multitude of people." And where is the hardship? Suppose it to be
the Olympic Games. Think it a public assembly.
There, too, some bawl out one thing, some another;
some push the rest. The baths are crowded. Yet
who of us is not pleased with these assemblies, and
does not grieve to leave them? Do not be hard to
please, and squeamish at what happens. "Vinegar is
disagreeable, for it is sour. Honey is disagreeable,
for it disorders my constitution. I do not like vegetables." "So I do not like retirement, it is a desert;
I do not like a crowd, it is a tumult." Why, if things
are so disposed that you are to live atone or with
few, call this condition repose, and make use of it as
you ought. Talk with yourself, judge of the appearances presented to your mind; train your mental
habits to accuracy. But if you happen on a crowd,
call it one of the public games, a grand assembly, a
festival. Endeavor to share in the festival with the
rest of the world. For what sight is more pleasant to
a lover of mankind than a great number of men?
We see companies of oxen or horses with pleasure.
We are highly delighted to see a great many ships.
Who is sorry to see a great many men? "But they
stun me with their noise." Then your hearing is
hindered; and what is that to you? Is your faculty of
making a right use of the appearances of things
hindered too? Or who can restrain you from using
your desire and aversion, your powers of pursuit and
avoidance, conformably to nature? What tumult is
sufficient for this?
Do but remember the general rules. What is
mine; what not mine? What is allotted me?
What is it the will of God that I should do now?
What is not his will? A little while ago it was his
will that you should be at leisure, should talk with
yourself, write about these things, read, hear, prepare
yourself. You have had sufficient time for this. At
present he says to you, "Come now to the combat.
Show us what you have learned; how you have
wrestled." How long would you exercise by yourself?
It is now the time to show whether you are of the
Lumber of those champions who merit victory, or of
those who go about the world conquered in all the
circle of games. Why, then, are you out of humor?
There is no combat without a tumult. There must
be many preparatory exercises, many acclamations,
many masters, many spectators. "But I would live
in quiet." Why, then, lament and groan as you
deserve. For what greater punishment is there to
those who are uninstructed and disobedient to the
orders of God, than to grieve, to mourn, to envy; in
short, to be disappointed and unhappy? Are you not
willing to deliver yourself from all this? "And how
shall I deliver myself?" Have you not heard that
you must absolutely control desire, and apply aversion to such things only as are controllable by will;
that you must consent to resign all, - body, possessions, fame, books, tumults, power, exemption from
power? For to whichsoever your disposition is,
you are a slave; you are under subjection; you are
made liable to restraint, to compulsion; you are altogether the property of others. But have that maxim
of Cleanthes always ready,-
Conduct me, Zeus; and thou, O Destiny.
Is it your will that I should go to Rome? Conduct
me to Rome. To Gyaros? To Gyaros. To Athens? To Athens. To prison? To prison. If you
once say, "When may I go to Athens?" you are
undone. This desire, if it be unaccomplished, must
necessarily render you disappointed; and if fulfilled,
vain respecting what ought not to elate you; if, on
the contrary, you are hindered, then you are wretched
through incurring what you do not like. Therefore
give up all these things.
"Athens is a fine place." But it is a much finer
thing to be happy, serene, tranquil, not to have your
affairs dependent on others. " Rome is full of tumults
and visits." .But prosperity is worth all difficulties.
If, then, it be a proper time for these, why do not you
withdraw your aversion from them? What necessity
is there for you to be made to carry your burden, by
being cudgelled like an ass? Otherwise, consider
that you must always be a slave to him who has the
power to procure your discharge, - to every one who
has the power of hindering you, -and must worship
him like your evil genius.
The only way to real prosperity (let this rule be at
hand morning, noon, and night) is a resignation of
things uncontrollable by will; to esteem nothing as
property; to deliver up all things to our tutelar genius
and to fortune; to leave the control of them to those
whom Zeus hath made such; to be ourselves devoted
to that only which is really ours, - to that which is
incapable of restraint, - and whatever we read or
write or hear, to refer all to this.
Therefore I cannot call any one industrious, if I
hear only that he reads or writes; nor do I call him
so even if he adds the whole night to the day, unless
I know to what he applies it. For not even you
would call him industrious who sits up for the sake of
a girl; nor, therefore, in the other case do I. But
if he does it for fame, I call him ambitious; if for
money, avaricious; if from the desire of learning,
bookish; but not industrious. But if he applies his
labor to his ruling faculty, in order to treat and regulate it conformably to nature, then only I call him
industrious. Never praise or blame any person on
account of outward actions that are common to all;
but only on account of principles. These are the
peculiar property of each individual, and the things
which make actions good or bad.
Mindful of this, enjoy the present and accept all
things in their season. If you meet in action any of
those things which you have made a subject of study,
rejoice in them. If you have laid aside ill-nature and
reviling; if you have lessened your harshness, indecent language, inconsiderateness, effeminacy; if you
are not moved by the same things as formerly, or in
the same manner as formerly, - you may keep a perpetual festival, to-day for success in one affair, tomorrow for another. How much better a reason for
sacrifice is this than obtaining a consulship or a
government! These things you have from yourself
and from the gods. Remember this, - who it is that
gave them, and to whom and for what purpose.
Habituated once to these reasonings, can you still
think that it makes any difference what place God
allots you? Are not the gods everywhere at the
same distance? Do not they everywhere see equally
what is doing?