HARVARD LASSICS THE FIVE-FOOT iHELFOF BOOKS PLATO EPICTETUS MARCUS ' URELIUS m ^ ^J ^ ^J^^ COLLIER ^ ^ L^JfV ! m3 BQQI Duar on 130 r THE HARVARD CLASSICS The Five-Foot Shelf of Books THE HARVARD CLASSICS EDITED BY CHARLES W. ELIOT, LL.D. The Apology, Phaedo and Crito of Plato TRANSLATED BY BENJAMIN JOWETT The Golden Sayings of Epictetus TRANSLATED BY HASTINGS CROSSLEY The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius TRANSLATED BY GEORGE LONG W/M Introductions and Notes Wo/ume 2 P. F. Collier & Son Corooration NEW YORK Copyright, 1009 By p. F. Collier & Son MANUTACTURSD IN U. S. A. CONTENTS PAGE The Apology of Socrates 5 Crito 31 PhjEdo 45 Plato The Golden Sayings OF Epictetus 115 The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus 191 M. Aurelius Antoninus 302 The Philosophy of Antoninus 320 George Long, MA. INTRODUCTORY NOTE Socrates, the son of an Athenian sculptor, was born in 469 B.C. He was trained in his father's art, but gave it up early to devote his time to the search for truth and virtue. He took his part as a citizen both in war and in peace, and bore the hardships of pwverty and a shrewish wife with calm indifference. He did not give formal instruction after the fashion of other philosophers of his time, but went about engaging people in conversation, seeking, chiefly by questions, to induce his contempo- raries, and esjjecially the young men, to think clearly and to act reason- ably. He made profession of no knowledge except of his own ignorance, and the famous "Socratic irony" was shown in his attitude of apparent willingness to learn from anyone who professed to know. The inevitable result of such conversations, however, was the reduction of the would-be instructor to a state either of irritation at the unmasking of his pre- tensions, or of humility and eagerness to be instructed by his questioner. It was natural that such a habit should create enemies, and Socrates was finally accused of introducing new gods and of corrupting the youth. His defense, as will be seen from the "Apology," was conducted with his customary firm adherence to his convictions, and with entire fearlessness of consequences. He could, in all probability, have easily escaped the death sentence had he been willing to take a conciliatory tone, but he died (B.C. 399) a martyr to his unswerving devotion to truth. Socrates wrote nothing, and we learn what we know of his teachings chiefly from his disciples, Xenophon and Plato. Plato was also an Athenian, born in 428 B.C. of a distinguished family. He became a disciple of Socrates at the age of twenty, and after the death of his master he traveled in Egypt, Sicily, and elsewhere, returning to Athens about 388. Here he established his school of philosophy in a gaiden near a gymnasium, called the Academy, and here he spent the last forty years of his life, numbering among his pupils his great rival in philosophical renown, Aristode. Unlike Socrates, Plato took no part in the civic life of Athens, but he was much interested in political phi- losophy, and is said to have been consulted by statesmen both at home and abroad. All the works of Plato have been preserved, and they include, besides those here printed, the "Republic," "Symposium," "Phacdrus," "Pro- tagoras," "Thextctus," "Gorgias," and many others. They take the form of dialogues, in which Plato himself appears, if at all, only as a listener, 4 INTRODUCTORY NOTE and in which the chief speaker is Socrates. As Plato developed the philosophy of Socrates, especially on speculative lines, far beyond the point reached by Socrates himself, it is itn[x>ssible to judge with any exactness precisely how much of the teaching is the master's, how much the pupil's. The philosophy of these dialogues has remained for over two thousand years one of the great intellectual influences of the civilized world; and they are as admirable from the |x>int of view of literature as of philos- ophy. The style is not only beautiful in itself, but is adapted with great dramatic skill to the large variety of speakers; and the suggestion of situation and the drawing of character are the work of a great artist. The three dialogues here given are at once favorable examples of the literary skill of Plato and intimate pictures of the personality of his master. THE APOLOGY OF SOCRATES How you have felt, O men of Athens, at hearing the speeches of my accusers, I cannot tell; but I know that their per- suasive words almost made me forget who I was, such was the effect of them; and yet they have hardly spoken a word of truth. But many as their falsehoods were, there was one of them which quite amazed me: I mean when they told you to be upon your guard, and not to let yourself be deceived by the force of my eloquence. They ought to have been ashamed of saying this, because they were sure to be detected as soon as 1 opened my lips and dis- played my deficiency; they certainly did appear to be most shame- less in saying this, unless by the force of eloquence they mean the force of truth : for then I do indeed admit that I am eloquent. But in how different a way from theirs! Well, as I was saying, they have hardly uttered a word, or not more than a word, of truth; but you shall hear from me the whole truth: not, however, delivered after their manner, in a set oration duly ornamented with words and phrases. No, indeed! but I shall use the words and arguments which occur to me at the moment; for I am certain that this is right, and that at my time of life I ought not to be appearing before you, O men of Athens, in the character of a juvenile orator: let no one ex- pect this of me. And I must beg of you to grant me one favor, which is this — if you hear me using the same words in my defence which I have been in the habit of using, and which most of you may have heard in the agora, and at the tables of the moneyersuade you, and you will keep fancying that I am at all more troubled now than at any other time. Will you not allow that I have as much of the spirit of prophecy in me as the swans? For they, when they f)erceive that they must die, having sung all their life long, do then sing more than ever, rejoicing in the thought that they are about to go away to the god whose ministers they are. But men, because they are them- selves afraid of death, slanderously affirm of the swans that they sing a lament at the last, not considering that no bird sings when cold, or hungry, or in pain, not even the nightingale, nor the swallow, nor yet the hoopxje; which are said indeed to tune a lay of sorrow, although I do not believe this to be true of them any more than of the swans. But because they are sacred to Apollo and have the gift of prophecy and anticipate the good things of another world, there- fore they sing and rejoice in that day more than they ever did before. And I, too, believing myself to be the consecrated servant of the same God, and the fellow servant of the swans, and thinking that I have received from my master gifts of prophecy which are not in- ferior to theirs, would not go out of life less merrily than the swans. Cease to mind then about this, but speak and ask anything which you like, while the eleven magistrates of Athens allow. Well, Socrates, said Simmias, then I will tell you my difficulty, and Cebes will tell you his. For I dare say that you, Socrates, feel, 78 DIALOGUES OF PLATO as I do, how very hard or almost impossible is the attainment of any certainty about questions such as these in the present life. And yet I should deem him a coward who did not prove what is said about them to the uttermost, or whose heart failed him before he had examined them on every side. For he should jiersevere until he has attained one of two things: either he should discover or learn the truth about them; or, if this is impossible, I would have him take the best and most irrefragable of human notions, and let this be the raft upon which he sails through life — not without risk, as I admit, if he cannot find some word of God which will more surely and safely carry him. And now, as you bid me, I will venture to question you, as I should not like to reproach myself hereafter with not having said at the time what I think. For when I consider the matter either alone or with Cebes, the argument does certainly appear to me, Socrates, to be not sufficient. Socrates answered: I dare say, my friend, that you may be right, but I should like to know in what respect the argument is not suffi- cient. In this respect, replied Simmias: Might not a person use the same argument about harmony and the lyre — might he not say that har- mony is a thing invisible, incorporeal, fair, divine, abiding in the lyre which is harmonized, but that the lyre and the strings are matter and material, composite, earthy, and akin to mortality? And when someone breaks the lyre, or cuts and rends the strings, then he who takes this view would argue as you do, and on the same analogy, that the harmony survives and has not perished; for you cannot imagine, as we would say, that the lyre without the strings, and the broken strings themselves, remain, and yet that the harmony, which is of heavenly and immortal nature and kindred, has perished — ^and {jerished too before the mortal. The harmony, he would say, certainly exists somewhere, and the wood and strings will decay before that decays. For I susf)ect, Socrates, that the notion of the soul which we are all of us inclined to entertain, would also be yours, and that you too would conceive the body to be strung up, and held together, by the elements of hot and cold, wet and dry, and the like, and that the soul is the harmony or due proportionate admixture of them. And, if this is true, the inference clearly is that when the PH.£DO 79 Strings of the body are unduly loosened or overstrained through disorder or other injury, then the soul, though most divine, like other harmonies of music or of the works of art, of course parishes at once, although the material remains of the body may last for a con- siderable time, until they are either decayed or burnt. Now if any- one maintained that the soul, being the harmony of the elements of the body, first perishes in that which is called death, how shall we answer him? Socrates looked round at us as his manner was, and said, with a smile: Simmias has reason on his side; and why does not some one of you who is abler than myself answer him? for there is force in his attack upon me. But perhaps, before we answer him, we had better also hear what Cebes has to say against the argument — this will give us time for reflection, and when both of them have spoken, we may either assent to them if their words appear to be in con- sonance with the truth, or if not, we may take up the other side, and argue with them. Please to tell me then, Cebes, he said, what was the difficulty which troubled you? Cebes said: I will tell you. My feeling is that the argument is still in the same position, and open to the same objections which were urged before; for I am ready to admit that the existence of the soul before entering into the bodily form has been very ingeniously, and, as I may be allowed to say, quite sufficiently proven; but the existence of the soul after death is still, in my judgment, unproven. Now my objection is not the same as that of Simmias; for I am not dis- posed to deny that the soul is stronger and more lasting than the body, being of opinion that in all such respects the soul very far excels the body. Well, then, says the argument to me, why do you remain unconvinced? When you see that the weaker is still in ex- istence after the man is dead, will you not admit that the more lasting must also survive during the same p)eriod of time? Now I, like Simmias, must employ a figure; and I shall ask you to consider whether the figure is to the point. The parallel which I will supfxjse is that of an old weaver, who dies, and after his death somebody says: He is not dead, he must be alive; and he appeals to the coat which he himself wove and wore, and which is still whole and un- decayed. And then he proceeds to ask of someone who is incredu- 80 DIALOGUES OF PLATO lous, whether a man lasts longer, or the coat which is in use and wear; and when he is answered that a man lasts far longer, thinks that he has thus certainly demonstrated the survival of the man, who is the more lasting, because the less lasting remains. But that, Simmias, as I would beg you to observe, is not the truth; everyone sees that he who talks thus is talking nonsense. For the truth is that this weaver, having worn and woven many such coats, though he outlived several of them, was himself outUved by the last; but this is surely very far from proving that a man is slighter and weaker than a coat. Now the relation of the body to the soul may be expressed in a similar figure; for you may say with reason that the soul is last- ing, and the body weak and short-lived in comparison. And every soul may be said to wear out many bodies, especially in the course of a long life. For if while the man is alive the body deliquesces and decays, and yet the soul always weaves her garment anew and re- pairs the waste, then of course, when the soul perishes, she must have on her last garment, and this only will survive her; but then again when the soul is dead the body will at last show its native weakness, and soon pass into decay. And therefore this is an ar- gument on which I would rather not rely as proving that the soul exists after death. For suppose that we grant even more than you affirm as within the range of possibility, and besides acknowledging that the soul existed before birth admit also that after death the souls of some are existing still, and will exist, and will be born and die again and again, and that there is a natural strength in the soul which will hold out and be born many times — for all this, we may be still inclined to think that she will weary in the labors of succes- sive births, and may at last succumb in one of her deaths and utterly perish; and this death and dissolution of the body which brings de- struction to the soul may be unknown to any of us, for no one of us can have had any experience of it: and if this be true, then I say that he who is confident in death has but a foolish confidence, unless he is able to prove that the soul is altogether immortal and imperish- able. But if he is not able to prove this, he who is about to die will always have reason to fear that when the body is disunited, the soul also may utterly perish. All of us, as we afterwards remarked to one another, had an PHitDO 8 1 unpleasant feeling at hearing them say this. When we had been so firmly convinced before, now to have our faith shaken seemed to introduce a confusion and uncertainty, not only into the previous argument, but into any future one; either we were not good judges, or there were no real grounds of belief. Ech. There I feel with you — indeed I do, Phxdo, and when you were speaking, I was beginning to ask myself the same question: What argument can I ever trust again? For what could be more convincing than the argument of Socrates, which has now fallen into discredit? That the soul is a harmony is a doctrine which has always had a wonderful attraction for me, and, when mentioned, came back to me at once, as my own original conviction. And now I must begin again and find another argument which will assure me that when the man is dead the soul dies not with him. Tell me, I beg, how did Socrates proceed? Did he appear to share the un- pleasant feeling which you mention? or did he receive the interrup- tion calmly and give a sufficient answer? Tell us, as exactly as you can, what passed. Phced. Often, Echecrates, as I have admired Socrates, I never admired him more than at that moment. That he should be able to answer was nothing, but what astonished me was, first, the gentle and pleasant and approving manner in which he regarded the words of the young men, and then his quick sense of the wound which had been inflicted by the argument, and his ready application of the heal- ing art. He might be compared to a general rallying his defeated and broken army, urging them to follow him and return to the field of argument. Ech. How was that ? Phcrd. You shall hear, for I was close to him on his right hand, seated on a sort of stool, and he on a couch which was a good deal higher. Now he had a way of playing with my hair, and then he smoothed my head, and pressed the hair upon my neck, and said: To-morrow, Phscdo, I suppose that these fair locks of yours will be severed. Yes, Socrates, I suppose that they will, I replied. Not so if you will take my advice. What shall I do with them ? I said. 82 DIALOGUES OF PLATO To-day, he replied, and not to-morrow, if this argument dies and cannot be brought to Ufe again by us, you and I will both shave our locks; and if I were you, and could not maintain my ground against Simmias and Cebes, I would myself take an oath, Hke the Argives, not to wear hair any more until I had renewed the conflict and defeated them. Yes, I said, but Heracles himself is said not to be a match for two. Summon me then, he said, and I will be your lolaus until the sun goes down. I summon you rather, I said, not as Heracles summoning lolaus, but as lolaus might summon Heracles. That will be all the same, he said. But first let us take care that we avoid a danger. And what is that ? I said. The danger of becoming misologists, he replied, which is one of the very worst things that can happen to us. For as there are mis- anthropists or haters of men, there are also misologists or haters of ideas, and both spring from the same cause, which is ignorance of the world. Misanthropy arises from the too great confidence of in- experience; you trust a man and think him altogether true and good and faithful, and then in a little while he turns out to be false and knavish; and then another and another, and when this has happened several times to a man, especially within the circle of his most trusted friends, as he deems them, and he has often quarreled with them, he at last hates all men, and believes that no one has any good in him at all. I dare say that you must have observed this. Yes, I said. And is not this discreditable? The reason is that a man, having to deal with other men, has no knowledge of them; for if he had knowledge he would have known the true state of the case, that few are the good and few the evil, and that the great majority are in the interval between them. How do you mean? I said. I mean, he replied, as you might say of the very large and very small, that nothing is more uncommon than a very large or a very small man; and this applies generally to all extremes, whether of great and small, or swift and slow, or fair and foul, or black and white: and whether the instances you select be men or dogs or any- thing else, few are the extremes, but many are in the mean between them. Did you never observe this? Yes, I said, 1 have. And do you not imagine, he said, that if there were a competition of evil, the first in evil would be found to be very few? Yes, that is very hkely, I said. Yes, that is very likely, he replied; not that in this respect argu- ments are like men — there I was led on by you to say more than I had intended; but the point of comparison was that when a simple man who has no skill in dialectics believes an argument to be true which he afterwards imagines to be false, whether really false or not, and then another and another, he has no longer any faith left, and great disputers, as you know, come to think, at last that they have grown to be the wisest of mankind; for they alone perceive the utter unsoundness and instability of all arguments, or, indeed, of all things, which, like the currents in the Euripus, are going up and down in never-ceasing ebb and flow. That is quite true, I said. Yes, Phaedo, he replied, and very melancholy too, if there be such a thing as truth or certainty or power of knowing at all, that a man should have lighted upon some argument or other which at first seemed true and then turned out to be false, and instead of blaming himself and his own want of wit, because he is annoyed, should at last be too glad to transfer the blame from himself to arguments in general; and forever afterwards should hate and revile them, and lose the truth and knowledge of existence. Yes, indeed, I said; that is very melancholy. Let us, then, in the first place, he said, be careful of admitting into our souls the notion that there is no truth or health or sound- ness in any arguments at all; but let us rather say that there is as yet no health in us, and that we must quit ourselves like men and do our best to gain health — you and all other men with a view to the whole of your future life, and I myself with a view to death. For at this moment I am sensible that I have not the temper of a philos- opher; like the vulgar, I am only a partisan. For the partisan, when 84 DIALOGUES OF PLATO he is engaged in a dispute, cares nothing about the rights of the question, but is anxious only to convince his hearers of his own as- sertions. And the difference between him and me at the present moment is only this — that whereas he seeks to convince his hearers that what he says is true, I am rather seeking to convince myself; to convince my hearers is a secondary matter with me. And do but see how much I gain by this. For if what I say is true, then I do well to be persuaded of the truth, but if there be nothing after death, still, during the short time that remains, I shall save my friends from lam- entations, and my ignorance will not last, and therefore no harm will be done. This is the state of mind, Simmias and Cebes, in which I approach the argument. And I would ask you to be thinking of the truth and not of Socrates: agree with me, if I seem to you to be speaking the truth; or if not, withstand me might and main, that I may not deceive you as well as myself in my enthusiasm, and, like the bee, leave my sting in you before I die. And now let us proceed, he said. And first of all let me be sure that I have in my mind what you were saying. Simmias, if I re- member rightly, has fears and misgivings whether the soul, being in the form of harmony, although a fairer and diviner thing than the body, may not perish first. On the other hand, Cebes appeared to grant that the soul was more lasting than the body, but he said that no one could know whether the soul, after having worn out many bodies, might not perish herself and leave her last body behind her; and that this is death, which is the destruction not of the body but of the soul, for in the body the work of destruction is ever going on. Are not these, Simmias and Cebes, the points which we have to con- sider? They both agreed to this statement of them. He proceeded : And did you deny the force of the whole preceding argument, or of a part only? Of a part only, they replied. And what did you think, he said, of that part of the argument in which we said that knowledge was recollection only, and inferred from this that the soul must have previously existed somewhere else before she was enclosed in the body? Cebes said that he had been wonderfully impressed by that part of the argument, and that his PHiEDO 85 conviction remained unshaken. Simmias agreed, and added that he himself could hardly imagine the possibility of his ever thinking differently about that. But, rejoined Socrates, you will have to think differently, my Theban friend, if you still maintain that harmony is a compound, and that the soul is a harmony which is made out of strings set in the frame of the body; for you will surely never allow yourself to say that a harmony is prior to the elements which compose the harmony. No, Socrates, that is impossible. But do you not see that you are saying this when you say that the soul existed before she took the form and body of man, and was made up of elements which as yet had no existence? For harmony is not a sort of thing like the soul, as you suppose; but first the lyre, and the strings, and the sounds exist in a state of discord, and then harmony is made last of all, and perishes first. And how can such a notion of the soul as this agree with the other? Not at all, replied Simmias. And yet, he said, there surely ought to be harmony when harmony is the theme of discourse. There ought, replied Simmias. But there is no harmony, he said, in the two propositions that knowledge is recollection, and that the soul is a harmony. Which of them, then, will you retain ? 1 think, he replied, that I have a much stronger faith, Socrates, in the first of the two, which has been fully demonstrated to me, than in the latter, which has not been demonstrated at all, but rests only on probable and plausible grounds; and I know too well that these arguments from probabilities are impostors, and unless great caution is observed in the use of them they are apt to be deceptive — in geometry, and in other things too. But the doctrine of knowl- edge and recollection has been proven to me on trustworthy grounds; and the proof was that the soul must have existed before she came into the body, because to her belongs the essence of which the very name implies existence. Having, as I am convinced, rightly accepted this conclusion, and on sufficient grounds, I must, as I suppose, cease to argue or allow others to argue that the soul is a harmony. 86 DIALOGUES OF PLATO Let me put the matter, Simmias, he said, in another point of view: Do you imagine that a harmony or any other composition can be in a state other than that of the elements out of which it is com- pounded? Certainly not. Or do or suffer anything other than they do or suffer? He agreed. Then a harmony does not lead the parts or elements which make up the harmony, but only follows them. He assented. For harmony cannot possibly have any motion, or sound, or other quality which is opposed to the parts. That would be impossible, he replied. And does not every harmony depend upon the manner in which the elements are harmonized? I do not understand you, he said. I mean to say that a harmony admits of degrees, and is more of a harmony, and more completely a harmony, when more com- pletely harmonized, if that be possible; and less of a harmony, and less completely a harmony, when less harmonized. True. But does the soul admit of degrees? or is one soul in the very least degree more or less, or more or less completely, a soul than another ? Not in the least. Yet surely one soul is said to have intelligence and virtue, and to be good, and another soul is said to have folly and vice, and to be an evil soul: and this is said truly? Yes, truly. But what will those who maintain the soul to be a harmony say of this presence of virtue and vice in the soul? — will they say that there is another harmony, and another discord, and that the vir- tuous soul is harmonized, and herself being a harmony has another harmony within her, and that the vicious soul is inharmonical and has no harmony within her? I cannot say, replied Simmias; but I suppose that something of that kind would be asserted by those who take this view. PHiEDO 87 And the admission is already made that no soul is more a soul than another; and this is equivalent to admitting that harmony is not more or less harmony, or more or less completely a harmony ? Quite true. And that which is not more or less a harmony is not more or less harmonized? True. And that which is not more or less harmonized cannot have more or less of harmony, but only an equal harmony? Yes, an equal harmony. Then one soul not being more or less absolutely a soul than another, is not more or less harmonized? Exactly. And therefore has neither more nor less of harmony or of discord? She has not. And having neither more nor less of harmony or of discord, one soul has no more vice or virtue than another, if vice be discord and virtue harmony? Not at all more. Or speaking more correctly, Simmias, the soul, if she is a harmony, will never have any vice; because a harmony, being absolutely a harmony, has no part in the inharmonical ? No. And therefore a soul which is absolutely a soul has no vice? How can she have, consistently with the preceding argument? Then, according to this, if the souls of all animals are equally and absolutely souls, they will be equally good? I agree with you, Socrates, he said. And can all this be true, think you? he said; and are all these consequences admissible — which nevertheless seem to follow from the assumption that the soul is a harmony? Certainly not, he said. Once more, he said, what ruling principle is there of human things other than the soul, and especially the wise soul? Do you know of any? Indeed, I do not. And is the soul in agreement with the affections of the body? or 88 DIALOGUES OF PLATO is she at variance with them? For example, when the body is hot and thirsty, does not the soul incline us against drinking? and when the body is hungry, against eating? And this is only one instance out of ten thousand of the opposition of the soul to the things of the body. Very true. But we have already acknowledged that the soul, being a har- mony, can never utter a note at variance with the tensions and re- laxations and vibrations and other affections of the strings out of which she is composed; she can only follow, she cannot lead them? Yes, he said, we acknowledged that, certainly. And yet do we not now discover the soul to be doing the exact opposite — leading the elements of which she is believed to be com- posed; almost always opposing and coercing them in all sorts of ways throughout life, sometimes more violently with the pains of medicine and gymnastic; then again more gently; threatening and also reprimanding the desires, passions, fears, as if talking to a thing which is not herself, as Homer in the "Odyssey" represents Odys- seus doing in the words, "He beat his breast, and thus reproached his heart: Endure, my heart; far worse hast thou endured!" Do you think that Homer could have written this under the idea that the soul is a harmony capable of being led by the affections of the body, and not rather of a nature which leads and masters them; and herself a far diviner thing than any harmony ? Yes, Socrates, I quite agree to that. Then, my friend, we can never be right in saying that the soul is a harmony, for that would clearly contradict the divine Homer as well as ourselves. True, he said. Thus much, said Socrates, of Harmonia, your Theban goddess, Cebes, who has not been ungracious to us, I think; but what shall I say to the Theban Cadmus, and how shall I propitiate him? I think that you will discover a way of propitiating him, said Cebes; I am sure that you have answered the argument about har- mony in a manner that I could never have expected. For when PH.EDO 89 Simmias mentioned his objection, I quite imagined that no answer could be given to him, and therefore I was surprised at finding that his argument could not sustain the first onset of yours; and not impossibly the other, whom you call Cadmus, may share a similar fate. Nay, my good friend, said Socrates, let us not boast, lest some evil eye should put to flight the word which I am about to speak. That, however, may be left in the hands of those above, while I draw near in Homeric fashion, and try the mettle of your words. Briefly, the sum of your objection is as follows: You want to have proven to you that the soul is imperishable and immortal, and you think that the philosopher who is confident in death has but a vain and foolish confidence, if he thinks that he will fare better than one who has led another sort of life, in the world below, unless he can prove this; and you say that the demonstration of the strength and divinity of the soul, and of her existence prior to our becoming men, does not necessarily imply her immortality. Granting that the soul is long- lived, and has known and done much in a former state, still she is not on that account immortal; and her entrance into the human form may be a sort of disease which is the beginning of dissolution, and may at last, after the toils of life are over, end in that which is called death. And whether the soul enters into the body once only or many times, that, as you would say, makes no difference in the fears of individuals. For any man, who is not devoid of natural feeling, has reason to fear, if he has no knowledge or proof of the soul's immor- tality. That is what I suppose you to say, Cebes, which I designedly repeat, in order that nothing may escape us, and that you may, if you wish, add or subtract anything. But, said Cebes, as far as I can see at present, I have nothing to add or subtract; you have expressed my meaning. Socrates paused awhile, and seemed to be absorbed in reflection. At length he said: This is a very serious inquiry which you are raising, Cebes, involving the whole question of generation and cor- ruption, about which I will, if you like, give you my own experience; and you can apply this, if you think that anything which I say will avail towards the solution of your difficulty. I should very much like, said Cebes, to hear what you have to say 90 DIALOGUES OF PLATO Then I will teh you, said Socrates. When I was young, Cebes, I had a prodigious desire to know that department of philosophy which is called Natural Science; this appeared to me to have lofty aims, as being the science which has to do with the causes of things, and which teaches why a thing is, and is created and destroyed; and I was always agitating myself with the consideration of such questions as these: Is the growth of animals the result of some decay which the hot and cold principle contracts, as some have said? Is the blood the element with which we think, or the air, or the fire? or perhaps nothing of this sort — but the brain may be the originating power of the perceptions of hearing and sight and smell, and mem- ory and opinion may come from them, and science may be based on memory and opinion when no longer in motion, but at rest. And then I went on to examine the decay of them, and then to the things of heaven and earth, and at last I concluded that I was wholly in- capable of these inquiries, as I will satisfactorily prove to you. For I was fascinated by them to such a degree that my eyes grew blind to things that I had seemed to myself, and also to others, to know quite well; and I forgot what I had before thought to be self-evident, that the growth of man is the result of eating and drinking; for when by the digestion of food flesh is added to flesh and bone to bone, and whenever there is an aggregation of congenial elements, the lesser bulk becomes larger and the small man greater. Was not that a reasonable notion ? Yes, said Cebes, I think so. Well; but let me tell you something more. There was a time when I thought that I understood the meaning of greater and less pretty well; and when I saw a great man standing by a little one I fancied that one was taller than the other by a head; or one horse would appear to be greater than another horse: and still more clearly did I seem to perceive that ten is two more than eight, and that two cubits are more than one, because two is twice one. And what is now your notion of such matters? said Cebes. I should be far enough from imagining, he replied, that I knew the cause of any of them, indeed I should, for I cannot satisfy my- self that when one is added to one, the one to which the addition is made becomes two, or that the two units added together make PH^DO 91 two by reason of the addition. For I cannot understand how, when separated from the other, each of them was one and not two, and now, when they are brought together, the mere juxtaposition of them can be the cause of their becoming two: nor can I understand how the division of one is the way to make two; for then a different cause would produce the same effect — as in the former instance the addition and juxtaposition of one to one was the cause of two, in this the separation and subtraction of one from the other would be the cause. Nor am I any longer satisfied that I understand the reason why one or anything else either is generated or destroyed or is at all, but I have in my mind some confused notion of another method, and can never admit this. Then I heard someone who had a book of Anaxagoras, as he said, out of which he read that mind was the disposer and cause of all, and I was quite delighted at the notion of this, which appeared ad- mirable, and I said to myself: If mind is the disposer, mind will dispose all for the best, and put each particular in the best place; and I argued that if anyone desired to find out the cause of the generation or destruction or existence of anything, he must find out what state of being or suffering or doing was best for that thing, and therefore a man had only to consider the best for him- self and others, and then he would also know the worse, for that the same science comprised both. And I rejoiced to think that I had found in Anaxagoras a teacher of the causes of existence such as I desired, and I imagined that he would tell me first whether the earth is flat or round; and then he would further explain the cause and the necessity of this, and would teach me the nature of the best and show that this was best; and if he said that the earth was in the centre, he would explain that this position was the best, and I should be satisfied if this were shown to me, and not want any other sort of cause. And I thought that I would then go and ask him about the sun and moon and stars, and that he would explain to me their comparative swiftness, and their returnings and various states, and how their several affections, active and passive, were all for the best. For I could not imagine that when he spoke of mind as the disposer of them, he would give any other account of their being as they are, except that this was best; and I thought when he had ex- 92 DIALOGUES OF PLATO plained to me in detail the cause of each and the cause of all, he would go on to explain to me what was best for each and what was best for all. I had hof)es which I would not have sold for much, and I seized the books and read them as fast as I could in my eager- ness to know the better and the worse. What hopes I had formed, and how grievously was I disappointed! As I proceeded, I found my philosopher altogether forsaking mind or any other principle of order, but having recourse to air, and ether, and water, and other eccentricities. I might compare him to a per- son who began by maintaining generally that mind is the cause of the actions of Socrates, but who, when he endeavored to explain the causes of my several actions in detail, went on to show that I sit here because my body is made up of bones and muscles; and the bones, as he would say, are hard and have ligaments which divide them, and the muscles are elastic, and they cover the bones, which have also a covering or environment of flesh and skin which con- tains them; and as the bones are lifted at their joints by the con- traction or relaxation of the muscles, I am able to bend my Hmbs, and this is why I am sitting here in a curved posture: that is what he would say, and he would have a similar explanation of my talking to you, which he would attribute to sound, and air, and hearing, and he would assign ten thousand other causes of the same sort, for- getting to mention the true cause, which is that the Athenians have thought fit to condemn me, and accordingly I have thought it better and more right to remain here and undergo my sentence; for I am inclined to think that these muscles and bones of mine would have gone off to Megara or Boeotia — by the dog of Egypt they would, if they had been guided only by their own idea of what was best, and if I had not chosen as the better and nobler part, instead of play- ing truant and running away, to undergo any punishment which the State inflicts. There is surely a strange confusion of causes and conditions in all this. It may be said, indeed, that without bones and muscles and the other parts of the body I cannot execute my purposes. But to say that I do as I do because of them, and that this is the way in which mind acts, and not from the choice of the best, is a very careless and idle mode of speaking. 1 wonder that they cannot distinguish the cause from the condition, which the many, PH^DO 93 feeling about in the dark, are always mistaking and misnaming. And thus one man makes a vortex all round and steadies the earth by the heaven; another gives the air as a supjxirt to the earth, which is a sort of broad trough. Any power which in disposing them as they are disposes them for the best never enters into their minds, nor do they imagine that there is any superhuman strength in that; they rather expect to find another Atlas of the world who is stronger and more everlasting and more containing than the good is, and are clearly of opinion that the obligatory and containing ()ower of the good is as nothing; and yet this is the principle which I would fain learn if anyone would teach me. But as I have failed either to discover myself or to learn of anyone else, the nature of the best, I will exhibit to you, if you like, what I have found to be the second best mode of inquiring into the cause. I should very much like to hear that, he replied. Socrates proceeded: I thought that as I had failed in the con- templation of true existence, I ought to be careful that I did not lose the eye of my soul; as people may injure their bodily eye by observing and gazing on the sun during an eclipse, unless they take the precaution of only looking at the image reflected in the water, or in some similar medium. That occurred to me, and I was afraid that my soul might be blinded altogether if I looked at things with my eyes or tried by the help of the senses to apprehend them. And I thought that I had better have recourse to ideas, and seek in them the truth of existence. I dare say that the simile is not perfect — for I am very far from admitting that he who contemplates existence through the medium of ideas, sees them only "through a glass darkly," any more than he who sees them in their working and effects. However, this was the method which I adopted: I first assumed some principle which I judged to be the strongest, and then I affirmed as true whatever seemed to agree with this, whether re- lating to the cause or to anything else; and that which disagreed I regarded as untrue. But I should like to explain my meaning clearly, as I do not think that you understand me. No, indeed, replied Cebes, not very well. There is nothing new, he said, in what I am about to tell you; but only what I have been always and everywhere repeating in the 94 DIALOGUES OF PLATO previous discussion and on other occasions: I want to show you the nature of that cause which has occupied my thoughts, and I shall have to go back to those familiar words which are in the mouth of everyone, and first of all assume that there is an absolute beauty and goodness and greatness, and the like; grant me this, and I hope to be able to show you the nature of the cause, and to prove the immortality of the soul. Cebes said : You may proceed at once with the proof, as I readily grant you this. Well, he said, then I should like to know whether you agree with me in the next step; for I cannot help thinking that if there be any- thing beautiful other than absolute beauty, that can only be beauti- ful in as far as it partakes of absolute beauty — and this I should say of everything. Do you agree in this notion of the cause P Yes, he said, I agree. He proceeded: I know nothing and can understand nothing of any other of those wise causes which are alleged; and if a person says to me that the bloom of color, or form, or anything else of that sort is a source of beauty, I leave all that, which is only confusing to me, and simply and singly, and perhaps foolishly, hold and am as- sured in my own mind that nothing makes a thing beautiful but the presence and participation of beauty in whatever way or manner ob- tained; for as to the manner I am uncertain, but I stoutly contend that by beauty all beautiful things become beautiful. That appears to me to be the only safe answer that I can give, either to myself or to any other, and to that I cling, in the persuasion that I shall never be overthrown, and that I may safely answer to myself or any other that by beauty beautiful things become beautiful. Do you not agree to that? Yes, I agree. And that by greatness only great things become great and greater greater, and by smallness the less becomes less. True. Then if a person remarks that A is taller by a head than B, and B less by a head than A, you would refuse to admit this, and would stoutly contend that what you mean is only that the greater is greater by, and by reason of, greatness, and the less is less only by, PH^DO 95 or by reason of, smallness; and thus you would avoid the danger of saying that the greater is greater and the less less by the measure of the head, which is the same in both, and would also avoid the mon- strous absurdity of supposing that the greater man is greater by reason of the head, which is small. Would you not be afraid of that ? Indeed, I should, said Cebes, laughing. In like manner you would be afraid to say that ten exceeded eight by, and by reason of, two; but would say by, and by reason of, number; or that two cubits exceed one cubit not by a half, but by magnitude? — that is what you would say, for there is the same danger in both cases. Very true, he said. Again, would you not be cautious of affirming that the addition of one to one, or the division of one, is the cause of two? And you would loudly asseverate that you know of no way in which anything comes into existence except by participation in its own proper es- sence, and consequently, as far as you know, the only cause of two is the participation in duaUty; that is the way to make two, and the participation in one is the way to make one. You would say : I will let alone puzzles of division and addition — wiser heads than mine may answer them; inexperienced as I am, and ready to start, as the proverb says, at my own shadow, I cannot afford to give up the sure ground of a principle. And if anyone assails you there, you would not mind him, or answer him until you had seen whether the con- sequences which follow agree with one another or not, and when you are further required to give an explanation of this principle, you would go on to assume a higher principle, and the best of the higher ones, until you found a resting-place; but you would not re- fuse the principle and the consequences in your reasoning like the Eristics — at least if you wanted to discover real existence. Not that this confusion signifies to them who never care or think about the matter at all, for they have the wit to be well pleased with them- selves, however great may be the turmoil of their ideas. But you, if you are a philosopher, will, I believe, do as I say. What you say is most true, said Simmias and Cebes, both speaking at once. Ech. Yes, Phxdo; and I don't wonder at their assenting. Any- g6 DIALOGUES OF PLATO one who has the least sense will acknowledge the wonderful clear- ness of Socrates' reasoning. Pherd. Certainly, Echecrates; and that was the feeling of the whole company at the time. Ech. Yes, and equally of ourselves, who were not of the company, and are now listening to your recital. But what followed? Phced. After all this was admitted, and they had agreed about the existence of ideas and the participation in them of the other things which derive their names from them, Socrates, if I remember rightly, said: — This is your way of speaking; and yet when you say that Simmias is greater than Socrates and less than Phido, do you not predicate of Simmias both greatness and smallness.' Yes, I do. But still you allow that Simmias does not really exceed Socrates, as the words may seem to imply, because he is Simmias, but by rea- son of the size which he has; just as Simmias does not exceed Socrates because he is Simmias, any more than because Socrates is Socrates, but because he has smallness when compared with the greatness of Simmias? True. And if Phzdo exceeds him in size, that is not because Phaedo is Phxdo, but because Phsedo has greatness relatively to Simmias, who is comparatively smaller ? That is true. And therefore Simmias is said to be great, and is also said to be small, because he is in a mean between them, exceeding the small- ness of the one by his greatness, and allowing the greatness of the other to exceed his smallness. He added, laughing, I am speaking like a book, but I believe that what I am now saying is true. Simmias assented to this. The reason why I say this is that I want you to agree with me in thinking, not only that absolute greatness will never be great and also small, but that greatness in us or in the concrete will never admit the small or admit of being exceeded: instead of this, one of two things will happen — either the greater will fly or retire before the opposite, which is the less, or at the advance of the less will cease PHiEDO 97 to exist; but will not, if allowing or admitting smallness, be changed by that; even as I, having received and admitted smallness when compared with Simmias, remain just as I was, and am the same small person. And as the idea of greatness cannot condescend ever to be or become small, in Hke manner the smallness in us cannot be or become great; nor can any other opposite which remains the same ever be or become its own opposite, but either passes away or perishes in the change. That, replied Cebes, is quite my notion. One of the company, though I do not exactly remember which of them, on hearing this, said: By Heaven, is not this the direct con- trary of what was admitted before — that out of the greater came the less and out of the less the greater, and that opposites are simply generated from opposites; whereas now this seems to be utterly denied. Socrates inclined his head to the speaker and listened. I like your courage, he said, in reminding us of this. But you do not observe that there is a difference in the two cases. For then we were speaking of opposites in the concrete, and now of the essential opposite which, as is affirmed, neither in us nor in nature can ever be at variance with itself: then, my friend, we were sp)eaking of things in which opp)o- sites are inherent and which are called after them, but now about the opposites which are inherent in them and which give their name to them; these essential opposites will never, as we maintain, admit of generation into or out of one another. At the same time, turning to Cebes, he said: Were you at all disconcerted, Cebes, at our friend's objection ? That was not my feeling, said Cebes; and yet I cannot deny that I am apt to be disconcerted. Then we are agreed after all, said Socrates, that the opposite will never in any case be opposed to itself? To that we are quite agreed, he replied. Yet once more let me ask you to consider the question from another point of view, and see whether you agree with me: There is a thing which you term heat, and another thing which you term cold? Certainly. 98 DIALOGUES OF PLATO But are they the same as fire and snow? Most assuredly not. Heat is not the same as fire, nor is cold the same as snow? No. And yet you will surely admit that when snow, as before said, is under the influence of heat, they will not remain snow and heat; but at the advance of the heat the snow will either retire or perish? Very true, he replied. And the fire too at the advance of the cold will either retire or perish; and when the fire is under the influence of the cold, they will not remain, as before, fire and cold. That is true, he said. And in some cases the name of the idea is not confined to the idea; but anything else which, not being the idea, exists only in the form of the idea, may also lay claim to it. I will try to make this clearer by an example: The odd number is always called by the name of odd ? Very true. But is this the only thing which is called odd? Are there not other things which have their own name, and yet are called odd, because, although not the same as oddness, they are never without oddness? — that is what I mean to ask — whether numbers such as the number three are not of the class of odd. And there are many other examples: would you not say, for example, that three may be called by its proper name, and also be called odd, which is not the same with three? and this may be said not only of three but also of five, and every alternate number — each of them without being oddness is odd, and in the same way two and four, and the whole series of alternate numbers, has every number even, without being evenness. Do you admit that? Yes, he said, how can I deny that ? Then now mark the point at which I am aiming: not only do es- sential opposites exclude one another, but also concrete things, which, although not in themselves opposed, contain opposites; these, I say, also reject the idea which is opposed to that which is contained in them, and at the advance of that they either perish or withdraw. There is the number three for example; will not that endure anni- PHiEDO 99 hilation or anything sooner than be converted into an even number, remaining three? Very true, said Cebes. And yet, he said, the number two is certainly not opposed to the number three? It is not. Then not only do opposite ideas repel the advance of one another, but also there are other things which repel the approach of opposites. That is quite true, he said. Suppose, he said, that we endeavor, if possible, to determine what these are. By all means. Are they not, Cebes, such as compel the things of which they have possession, not only to take their own form, but also the form of some opposite ? What do you mean ? I mean, as I was just now saying, and have no need to repeat to you, that those things which are possessed by the number three must not only be three in number, but must also be odd. Quite true. And on this oddness, of which the number three has the impress, the opposite idea will never intrude? No. And this impress was given by the odd principle? Yes. And to the odd is opposed the even ? True. Then the idea of the even number will never arrive at three? No. Then three has no part in the even ? None. Then the triad or number three is uneven? Very true. To return then to my distinction of natures which are not oppo- sites, and yet do not admit opposites: as, in this instance, three, al- though not opposed to the even, does not any the more admit of the even, but always brings the opposite into play on the other side; 100 DIALOGUES OF PLATO or as two does not receive the odd, or fire the cold — ^from these examples (and there are many more of them) perhaps you may be able to arrive at the general conclusion that not only opposites will not receive opposites, but also that nothing which brings the opposite will admit the opposite of that which it brings in that to which it is brought. And here let me recapitulate — for there is no harm in repetition. The number five will not admit the nature of the even, any more than ten, which is the double of five, will ad- mit the nature of the odd — the double, though not strictly opposed to the odd, rejects the odd altogether. Nor again will parts in the ratio of 3: 2, nor any fraction in which there is a half, nor again in which there is a third, admit the notion of the whole, although they are not opposed to the whole. You will agree to that ? Yes, he said, I entirely agree and go along with you in that. And now, he said, I think that I may begin again; and to the question which I am about to ask I will beg you to give not the old safe answer, but another, of which I will offer you an example; and I hope that you will find in what has been just said another founda- tion which is as safe. I mean that if anyone asks you "what that is, the inherence of which makes the body hot," you will reply not heat (this is what I call the safe and stupid answer), but fire, a far better answer, which we are now in a condition to give. Or if any- one asks you "why a body is diseased," you will not say from disease, but from fever; and instead of saying that oddness is the cause of odd numbers, you will say that the monad is the cause of them: and so of things in general, as I dare say that you will understand sufl5ciently without my adducing any further examples. Yes, he said, I quite understand you. Tell me, then, what is that the inherence of which will render the body alive? The soul, he replied. And is this always the case? Yes, he said, of course. Then whatever the soul possesses, to that she comes bearing life? Yes, certainly. And is there any opposite to life? There is, he said. PHiEDO TO I And what is that? Death. Then the soul, as has been acknowledged, will never receive the opposite of what she brings. And now, he said, what did we call that principle which repels the even ? The odd. And that principle which repels the musical, or the just? The unmusical, he said, and the unjust. And what do we call the principle which does not admit of death? The immortal, he said. And does the soul admit of death? No. Then the soul is immortal? Yes, he said. And may we say that this is proven ? Yes, abundantly proven, Socrates, he replied. And supposing that the odd were imperishable, must not three be imp)erishable? Of course. And if that which is cold were imperishable, when the warm principle came attacking the snow, must not the snow have retired whole and unmelted — for it could never have perished, nor could it have remained and admitted the heat? True, he said. Again, if the uncooling or warm principle were impel ishable, the fire when assailed by cold would not have jDerished or have been extinguished, but would have gone away unaffected ? Certainly, he said. And the same may be said of the immortal: if the immortal is also imperishable, the soul when attacked by death cannot perish; for the preceding argument shows that the soul will not admit of death, or ever be dead, any more than three or the odd number will admit of the even, or fire or the heat in the fire, of the cold. Yet a person may say: "But although the odd will not become even at the approach of the even, why may not the odd perish and the even take the place of the odd?" Now to him who makes this ob- jection, we cannot answer that the odd principle is imperishable; for 102 DIALOGUES OF PLATO this has not been acknowledged, but if this had been acknowledged, there would have been no difficulty in contending that at the ap- proach of the even the odd principle and the number three took up their departure; and the same argument would have held good of fire and heat and any other thing. Very true. And the same may be said of the immortal: if the immortal is also imperishable, then the soul will be imperishable as well as im- mortal; but if not, some other proof of her imperishableness will have to be given. No other proof is needed, he said; for if the immortal, being eternal, is liable to perish, then nothing is imperishable. Yes, replied Socrates, all men will agree that God, and the essential form of life, and the immortal in general, will never perish. Yes, all men, he said — that is true; and what is more, gods, if I am not mistaken, as well as men. Seeing then that the immortal is indestructible, must not the soul, if she is immortal, be also imperishable? Most certainly. Then when death attacks a man, the mortal portion of him may be supposed to die, but the immortal goes out of the way of death and is preserved safe and sound ? True. Then, Cebes, beyond question the soul is immortal and imperish- able, and our souls will truly exist in another world! I am convinced, Socrates, said Cebes, and have nothing more to object; but if my friend Simmias, or anyone else, has any further objection, he had better speak out, and not keep silence, since I do not know how there can ever be a more fitting time to which he can defer the discussion, if there is anything which he wants to say or have said. But I have nothing more to say, replied Simmias; nor do I see any room for uncertainty, except that which arises necessarily out of the greatness of the subject and the feebleness of man, and which I cannot help feeling. Yes, Simmias, replied Socrates, that is well said: and more than that, first principles, even if they appear certain, should be carefully PHiEDO 103 considered; and when they are satisfactorily ascertained, then, with a sort of hesitating confidence in human reason, you may, I think, follow the course of the argument; and if this is clear, there will be no need for any further inquiry. That, he said, is true. But then, O my friends, he said, if the soul is really immortal, what care should be taken of her, not only in Respect of the portion of time which is called life, but of eternity! And the danger of neg- lecting her from this point of view does indeed appear to be awful. If death had only been the end of all, the wicked would have had a good bargain in dying, for they would have been happily quit not only of their body, but of their own evil together with their souls. But now, as the soul plainly appears to be immortal, there is no release or salvation from evil except the attainment of the highest virtue and wisdom. For the soul when on her progress to the world below takes nothing with her but nurture and education; which are indeed said greatly to benefit or greatly to injure the departed, at the very beginning of its pilgrimage in the other world. For after death, as they say, the genius of each individual, to whom he belonged in life, leads him to a certain place in which the dead are gathered together for judgment, whence they go into the world below, following the guide who is appointed to conduct them from this world to the other: and when they have there received their due and remained their time, another guide brings them back again after many revolutions of ages. Now this journey to the other world is not, as illschylus says in the "Telephus," a single and straight path — no guide would be wanted for that, and no one could miss a single path; but there are many partings of the road, and windings, as I must infer from the rites and sacrifices which are offered to the gods below in places where three ways meet on earth. The wise and orderly soul is conscious of her situation and follows in the path; but the soul which desires the body, and which, as I was relating before, has long been fluttering about the lifeless frame and the world of sight, is after many struggles and many sufferings hardly and with violence carried away by her attendant genius, and when she arrives at the place where the other souls are gathered, if she be impure and have done impure deeds, or been concerned 104 DIALOGUES OF PLATO in foul murders or other crimes which are the brothers of these, and the works of brothers in crime — from that soul everyone flees and turns away; no one will be her companion, no one her guide, but alone she wanders in extremity of evil until certain times are ful- filled, and when they are fulfilled, she is borne irresistibly to her own fitting habitation; as every pure and just soul which has passed through life in the company and under the guidance of the gods has also her own proper home. Now the earth has divers wonderful regions, and is indeed in nature and extent very unlike the notions of geographers, as I be- lieve on the authority of one who shall be nameless. What do you mean, Socrates? said Simmias. I have myself heard many descriptions of the earth, but I do not know in what you are putting your faith, and I should like to know. Well, Simmias, replied Socrates, the recital of a tale does not, I think, require the art of Glaucus; and I know not that the art of Glaucus could prove the truth of my tale, which I myself should never be able to prove, and even if I could, I fear, Simmias, that my life would come to an end before the argument was completed. I may describe to you, however, the form and regions of the earth according to my conception of them. That, said Simmias, will be enough. Well, then, he said, my conviction is that the earth is a round body in the center of the heavens, and therefore has no need of air or any similar force as a support, but is kept there and hindered from falling or inclining any way by the equability of the surround- ing heaven and by her own equipoise. For that which, being in equipoise, is in the center of that which is equably diffused, will not incline any way in any degree, but will always remain in the same state and not deviate. And this is my first notion. Which is surely a correct one, said Simmias. Also I believe that the earth is very vast, and that we who dwell in the region extending from the river Phasis to the Pillars of Heracles, along the borders of the sea, are just like ants or frogs about a marsh, and inhabit a small portion only, and that many others dwell in many like places. For I should say that in all parts of the earth there are hollows of various forms and sizes, into which the VHJEDO 105 water and the mist and the air collect; and that the true earth is pure and in the pure heaven, in which also are the stars — that is the heaven which is commonly spoken of as the ether, of which this is but the sediment collecting in the hollows of the earth. But we who live in these hollows are deceived into the notion that we are dwell- ing above on the surface of the earth; which is just as if a creature who was at the bottom of the sea were to fancy that he was on the surface of the water, and that the sea was the heaven through which he saw the sun and the other stars — he having never come to the surface by reason of his feebleness and sluggishness, and having never lifted up his head and seen, nor ever heard from one who had seen, this region which is so much purer and fairer than his own. Now this is exactly our case: for we are dwelling in a hollow of the earth, and fancy that we are on the surface; and the air we call the heaven, and in this we imagine that the stars move. But this is also owing to our feebleness and sluggishness, which prevent our reach- ing the surface of the air: for if any man could arrive at the exterior limit, or take the wings of a bird and fly upward, like a fish who puts his head out and sees this world, he would see a world beyond; and, if the nature of man could sustain the sight, he would acknowl- edge that this was the place of the true heaven and the true light and the true stars. For this earth, and the stones, and the entire region which surrounds us, are spoilt and corroded, like the things in the sea which are corroded by the brine; for in the sea too there is hardly any noble or perfect growth, but clefts only, and sand, and an end- less slough of mud: and even the shore is not to be compared to the fairer sights of this world. And greater far is the superiority of the other. Now of that upper earth which is under the heaven, I can tell you a charming tale, Simmias, which is well worth hearing. And we, Socrates, replied Simmias, shall be charmed to listen. The tale, my friend, he said, is as follows: In the first place, the earth, when looked at from above, is like one of those balls which have leather coverings in twelve pieces, and is of divers colors, of which the colors which painters use on earth are only a sample. But there the whole earth is made up of them, and they are brighter far and clearer than ours; there is a purple of wonderful luster, also the radiance of gold, and the white which is in the earth is whiter I06 DIALOGUES OF PLATO than any chalk or snow. Of these and other colors the earth is made up, and they are more in number and fairer than the eye of man has ever seen; and the very hollows (of which I was speaking) filled with air and water are seen like light flashing amid the other colors, and have a color of their own, which gives a sort of unity to the variety of earth. And in this fair region everything that grows — trees, and flowers, and fruits — is in a like degree fairer than any here; and there are hills, and stones in them in a like degree smoother, and more transparent, and fairer in color than our highly valued emeralds and sardonyxes and jaspers, and other gems, which are but minute fragments of them: for there all the stones are like our precious stones, and fairer still. The reason of this is that they are pure, and not, like our precious stones, infected or corroded by the corrupt briny elements which coagulate among us, and which breed foulness and disease both in earth and stones, as well as in animals and plants. They are the jewels of the upper earth, which also shines with gold and silver and the like, and they are visible to sight and large and abundant and found in every region of the earth, and blessed is he who sees them. And upon the earth are animals and men, some in a middle region, others dwelling about the air as we dwell about the sea; others in islands which the air flows round, near the continent: and in a word, the air is used by them as the water and the sea are by us, and the ether is to them what the air is to us. Moreover, the temperament of their seasons is such that they have no disease, and live much longer than we do, and have sight and hearing and smell, and all the other senses, in far greater f)er- fection, in the same degree that air is purer than water or the ether than air. Also they have temples and sacred places in which the gods really dwell, and they hear their voices and receive their an- swers, and are conscious of them and hold converse with them, and they see the sun, moon, and stars as they really are, and their other blessedness is of a piece with this. Such is the nature of the whole earth, and of the things which are around the earth; and there are divers regions in the hollows on the face of the globe everywhere, some of them deeper and also wider than that which we inhabit, others deeper and with a narrower opening than ours, and some are shallower and wider; all have PH.EDO 107 numerous perforations, and passages broad and narrow in the in- terior of the earth, connecting them with one another; and there flows into and out of them, as into basins, a vast tide of water, and huge subterranean streams of perennial rivers, and springs hot and cold, and a great fire, and great rivers of fire, and streams of liquid mud, thin or thick (like the rivers of mud in Sicily, and the lava- streams which follow them), and the regions about which they happen to flow are filled up with them. And there is a sort of swing in the interior of the earth which moves all this up and down. Now the swing is in this wise: There is a chasm which is the vastest of them all, and pierces right through the whole earth; this is that which Homer describes in the words, "Far off, where is the inmost depth beneath the earth"; and which he in other places, and many other poets, have called Tartarus. And the swing is caused by the streams flowing into and out of this chasm, and they each have the nature of the soil through which they flow. And the reason why the streams are always flowing in and out is that the watery element has no bed or bottom, and is surging and swinging up and down, and the surrounding wind and air do the same; they follow the water up and down, hither and thither, over the earth — just as in respiring the air is always in process of inhalation and exhalation; and the wind swinging with the water in and out produces fearful and irresistible blasts: when the waters retire with a rush into the lower parts of the earth, as they are called, they flow through the earth into those regions, and fill them up as with the alternate motion of a pump, and then when they leave those regions and rush back hither, they again fill the hol- lows here, and when these are filled, flow through subterranean channels and find their way to their several places, forming seas, and lakes, and rivers, and springs. Thence they again enter the earth, some of them making a long circuit into many lands, others going to few places and those not distant, and again fall into Tartarus, some at a point a good deal lower than that at which they rose, and others not much lower, but all in some degree lower than the point of issue. And some burst forth again on the opposite sid^ and some on the same side, and some wind round the earth with I08 DIALOGUES OF PLATO one or many folds, like the coils of a serpent, and descend as far as they can, but always return and fall into the lake. The rivers on either side can descend only to the center and no further, for to the rivers on both sides the opposite side is a precipice. Now these rivers are many, and mighty, and diverse, and there are four principal ones, of which the greatest and outermost is that called Oceanus, which flows round the earth in a circle; and in the opposite direction flows Acheron, which passes under the earth through desert places, into the Acherusian Lake: this is the lake to the shores of which the souls of the many go when they are dead, and after waiting an appointed time, which is to some a longer and to some a shorter time, they are sent back again to be born as animals. The third river rises between the two, and near the place of rising pours into a vast region of fire, and forms a lake larger than the Mediterranean Sea, boiling with water and mud; and proceeding muddy and turbid, and winding about the earth, comes, among other places, to the extremities of the Acherusian Lake, but mingles not with the waters of the lake, and after making many coils about the earth plunges into Tartarus at a deeper level. This is that Pyriphlegethon, as the stream is called, which throws up jets of fire in all sorts of places. The foiuth river goes out on the opposite side, and falls first of all into a wild and savage region, which is all of a dark-blue color, like lapis lazuli; and this is that river which is called the Stygian River, and falls into and forms the Lake Styx, and after falling into the lake and receiving strange powers in the waters, passes under the earth, winding round in the opposite direc- tion to Pyriphlegethon, and meeting in the Acherusian Lake from the opposite side. And the water of this river too mingles with no other, but flows round in a circle and falls into Tartarus over against Pyriphlegethon, and the name of this river, as the poet says, is Cocytus. Such is the name of the other world; and when the dead arrive at the place to which the genius of each severally conveys them, first of all they have sentence passed upon them, as they have lived well and piously or not. And those who appear to have lived neither well nor ill, go to the river Acheron, and mount such conveyances as they can get, and are carried in them to the lake, and there they PHiEDO 109 dwell and are purified of their evil deeds, and suffer the penalty of the wrongs which they have done to others, and are absolved, and receive the rewards of their good deeds according to their deserts. But those who appear to be incurable by reason of the greatness of their crimes — who have committed many and terrible deeds of sacrilege, murders foul and violent, or the like — such are hurled into Tartarus, which is their suitable destiny, and they never come out. Those again who have committed crimes, which, although great, are not unpardonable — who in a moment of anger, for ex- ample, have done violence to a father or mother, and have repented for the remainder of their lives, or who have taken the life of another under like extenuating circumstances — these are plunged into Tartarus, the pains of which they are compelled to undergo for a year, but at the end of the year the wave casts them forth — mere homicides by way of Cocytus, parricides and matricides by Pyriphlegethon — and they are borne to the Acherusian Lake, and there they lift up their voices and call upon the victims whom they have slain or wronged, to have pity on them, and to receive them, and to let them come out of the river into the lake. And if they prevail, then they come forth and cease from their troubles; but if not, they are carried back again into Tartarus and from thence into the rivers unceasingly, until they obtain mercy from those whom they have wronged: for that is the sentence inflicted upon them by their judges. Those also who are remarkable for having led holy lives are released from this earthly prison, and go to their pure home which is above, and dwell in the purer earth; and those who have duly purified themselves with philosophy live henceforth altogether without the body, in mansions fairer far than these, which may not be described, and of which the time would fail me to tell. Wherefore, Simmias, seeing all these things, what ought not we to do in order to obtain virtue and wisdom in this life.? Fair is the prize, and the hope great. I do not mean to affirm that the description which I have given of the soul and her mansions is exactly true — a man of sense ought hardly to say that. But I do say that, inasmuch as the soul is shown to be immortal, he may venture to think, not improperly or un- worthily, that something of the kind is true. The venture is a no DIALOGUES OF PLATO glorious one, and he ought to comfort himself with words like these, which is the reason why I lengthen out the tale. Wherefore, I say, let a man be of good cheer about his soul, who has cast away the pleasures and ornaments of the body as alien to him, and rather hurt- ful in their effects, and has followed after the pleasures of knowl- edge in this life; who has adorned the soul in her own proper jewels, which are temperance, and justice, and courage, and nobility, and truth — in these arrayed she is ready to go on her journey to the world below, when her time comes. You, Simmias and Cebes, and all other men, will depart at some time or other. Me already, as the tragic poet would say, the voice of fate calls. Soon I must drink the poison; and I think that 1 had better repair to the bath first, in order that the women may not have the trouble of washing my body after I am dead. When he had done speaking, Crito said: And have you any com- mands for us, Socrates — anything to say about your children, or any other matter in which we can serve you? Nothing particular, he said: only, as I have always told you, I would have you look to yourselves; that is a service which you may always be doing to me and mine as well as to yourselves. And you need not make professions; for if you take no thought for yourselves, and walk not according to the precepts which I have given you, not now for the first time, the warmth of your professions will be of no avail. We will do our best, said Crito. But in what way would you have us bury you? In any way that you like; only you must get hold of me, and take care that I do not walk away from you. Then he turned to us, and added with a smile: I cannot make Crito believe that I am the same Socrates who have been talking and conducting the argument; he fancies that I am the other Socrates whom he will soon see, a dead body — and he asks, How shall he bury me? And though I have spoken many words in the endeavor to show that when I have drunk the poison I shall leave you and go to the joys of the blessed — these words of mine, with which I comforted you and myself, have had, I perceive, no effect upon Crito. And therefore I want you to be surety for me now, as he was surety for me at the trial: but let the PH;£DO III promise be of another sort; for he was my surety to the judges that I would remain, but you must be my surety to him that I shall not remain, but go away and depart; and then he will suffer less at my death, and not be grieved when he sees my body being burned or buried. I would not have him sorrow at my hard lot, or say at the burial. Thus we lay out Socrates, or. Thus we follow him to the grave or bury him; for false words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. Be of good cheer, then, my dear Crito, and say that you are burying my body only, and do with that as is usual, and as you think best. When he had spoken these words, he arose and went into the bath chamber with Crito, who bade us wait; and we waited, talking and thinking of the subject of discourse, and also of the greatness of our sorrow; he was like a father of whom we were being bereaved, and we were about to pass the rest of our lives as orphans. When he had taken the bath his children were brought to him — (he had two young sons and an elder one); and the women of his family also came, and he talked to them and gave them a few directions in the presence of Crito; and he then dismissed them and returned to us. Now the hour of sunset was near, for a good deal of time had passed while he was within. When he came out, he sat down with us again after his bath, but not much was said. Soon the jailer, who was the servant of the Eleven, entered and stood by him, saying: To you, Socrates, whom I know to be the noblest and gentlest and best of all who ever came to this place, I will not impute the angry feelings of other men, who rage and swear at me when, in obedience to the authorities, I bid them drink the f)oison — indeed, I am sure that you will not be angry with me; for others, as you are aware, and not I, are the guilty cause. And so fare you well, and try to bear lightly what must needs be; you know my errand. Then bursting into tears he turned away and went out. Socrates looked at him and said: I return your good wishes, and will do as you bid. Then, turning to us, he said. How charming the man is: since I have been in prison he has always been coming to see me, and at times he would talk to me, and was as good as could be to me, and now see how generously he sorrows for me. But 112 DIALOGUES OF PLATO we must do as he says, Crito; let the cup be brought, if the poison is prepared: if not, let the attendant prepare some. Yet, said Crito, the sun is still upon the hilltops, and many a one has taken the draught late, and after the announcement has been made to him, he has eaten and drunk, and indulged in sensual delights; do not hasten then, there is still time. Socrates said: Yes, Crito, and they of whom you speak are right in doing thus, for they think that they will gain by the delay; but I am right in not doing thus, for I do not think that I should gain anything by drinking the poison a little later; I should be sparing and saving a life which is already gone: I could only laugh at myself for this. Please then to do as I say, and not to refuse me. Crito, when he heard this, made a sign to the servant, and the servant went in, and remained for some time, and then returned with the jailer carrying a cup of poison. Socrates said: You, my good friend, who are exf)erienced in these matters, shall give me directions how I am to proceed. The man answered: You have only to walk about until your legs are heavy, and then to lie down, and the poison will act. At the same time he handed the cup to Socrates, who in the easiest and gentlest manner, without the least fear or change of color or feature, looking at the man with all his eyes, Echecrates, as his manner was, took the cup and said: What do you say about making a libation out of this cup to any god? May I, or not? The man answered: We only prepare, Socrates, just so much as we deem enough. I understand, he said: yet I may and must pray to the gods to prosper my journey from this to that other world — may this, then, which is my prayer, be granted to me. Then holding the cup to his lips, quite readily and cheerfully he drank off the poison. And hitherto most of us had been able to control our sorrow; but now when we saw him drinking, and saw too that he had finished the draught, we could no longer forbear, and in spite of myself my own tears were flowing fast; so that I covered my face and wept over myself, for certainly I was not weeping over him, but at the thought of my own calamity in having lost such a companion. Nor was I the first, for Crito, when he found himself unable to restrain his tears, had got up and moved away, and I followed; and at that moment, Apollodorus, who had been weeping all the time, broke PH^DO 1 13 out in a loud cry which made cowards of us all. Socrates alone re- tained his calmness: What is this strange outcry? he said. I sent away the women mainly in order that they might not offend in this way, for I have heard that a man should die in peace. Be quiet, then, and have patience. When we heard that, we were ashamed, and refrained our tears; and he walked about until, as he said, his legs began to fail, and then he lay on his back, according to the directions, and the man who gave him the poison now and then looked at his feet and legs; and after a while he pressed his foot hard and asked him if he could feel; and he said, no; and then his leg, and so upwards and upwards, and showed us that he was cold and stiff. And he felt them himself, and said: When the poison reaches the heart, that will be the end. He was beginning to grow cold about the groin, when he uncovered his face, for he had covered himself up, and said (they were his last words) — he said: Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius; will you remember to pay the debt? The debt shall be paid, said Crito; is there anything else? There was no answer to this question; but in a minute or two a movement was heard, and the attendants un- covered him; his eyes were set, and Crito closed his eyes and mouth. Such was the end, Echecrates, of our friend, whom I may truly call the wisest, and justest, and best of all the men whom I have ever known. THE GOLDEN SAYINGS OF EPICTETUS TRANSLATED AND ARRANGED BY HASTINGS CROSSLEY.M^ INTRODUCTORY NOTE Epictetus was a Greek, born at Hierapolis in Phrygia, probably about the middle of the first century A.D. His early history is unknown till we find him in Rome, the slave of Epaphroditus, a freedman of Nero's. The lameness, which is the only physical characteristic of his recorded, was, according to one tradition, due to tortures inflicted by his master. He seems to have become acquainted with the principles of the Stoic philosophy through the lectures of C. Musonius Rufus; and after his emancipation he became a teacher of that system in Rome. When the Emperor Domitian banished all philosophers from Italy about 90 A.D., Epictetus went to Nicojxjlis in Epirus, where he continued his teaching. He left nothing in writing, and for a knowledge of his utterances we are indebted to his disciple, the Greek philosopher and historian Arrian, who compiled from his master's lectures and conversations the "Dis- courses and Encheiridion," from which the "Golden Sayings" are drawn. The date and circumstances of his death are unknown. Epictetus is a main authority on Stoic morals. The points on which he laid chief stress were the importance of cultivating complete inde- pendence of external circumstances, the realization that man must find happiness within himself, and the duty of reverencing the voice of Reason in the soul. Few teachers of morals in any age are so bracing and invigorating; and the tonic quality of his utterances has been recognized ever since his own day by Pagan and Christian alike. THE GOLDEN SAYINGS OF EPICTETUS ARE these the only works of Providence in us? What words ZJk suffice to praise or set them forth? Had we but under- X ^ standing, should we ever cease hymning and blessing the Divine Power, both openly and in secret, and telling of His gracious gifts? Whether digging or ploughing or eating, should we not sing the hymn to God: — Great is God, for that He hath given us such instruments to till the ground withal: Great is God, for that He hath given us hands, and the pwwer of swallow- ing and digesting; of unconsciously growing and breathing while we sleep! Thus should we ever have sung: yea and this, the grandest and divinest hymn of all: — Great is God, for that He hath given us a mind to apprehend these things, and duly to use them! What then! seeing that most of you are blinded, should there not be some one to fill this place, and sing the hymn to God on behalf of all men? What else can I that am old and lame do but sing to God? Were I a nightingale, I should do after the manner of a nightingale. Were I a swan, I should do after the manner of a swan. But now, since I am a reasonable being, I must sing to God: that is my work : I do it, nor will I desert this my post, as long as it is granted me to hold it; and upon you too I call to join in this self- same hymn, II How then do men act? As though one returning to his country who had sojourned for the night in a fair inn, shoidd be so captivated thereby as to take up his abode there. "7 Il8 THE GOLDEN SAYINGS OF EPICTETUS "Friend, thou hast forgotten thine intention! This was not thy destination, but only lay on the way thither." "Nay, but it is a proper place." "And how many more of the sort there be; only to pass through upon thy way! Thy purpose was to return to thy country; to relieve thy kinsmen's fears for thee; thyself to discharge the duties of a citizen; to marry a wife, to beget offspring, and to fill the appointed round of office. Thou didst not come to choose out what places are most pleasant; but rather to return to that wherein thou wast born and where thou wert appointed to be a citizen." m Try to enjoy the great festival of life with other men. IV But I have one whom I must please, to whom I must be subject, whom I must obey: — God, and those who come next to Him.' He hath entrusted me with myself: He hath made my will subject to myself alone and given me rules for the right use thereof. Rufus^ used to say, // you have leisure to praise me. what I say is naught. In truth he spoke in such wise, that each of us who sat there, thought that some one had accused him to Rufus: — so surely did he lay his finger on the very deeds we did: so surely display the faults of each before his very eyes. VI But what saith God? — "Had it been possible, Epictetus, I would have made both that body of thine and thy possessions free and un- impeded, but as it is, be not deceived: — it is not thine own; it is but finely tempered clay. Since then this I could not do, I have given thee a portion of Myself, in the power of desiring and declining and of pursuing and avoiding, and in a word the power of dealing with ' I.e., "good and just men." ' C. Musonius Rufus, a Stoic philosopher, whose lectures Epictetus had attended. THE GOLDEN SAYINGS OF EPICTETUS II9 the things of sense. And if thou neglect not this, but place all that thou hast therein, thou shalt never be let or hindered; thou shall never lament; thou shalt not blame or flatter any. What then? Seemeth this to thee a little thing?" — God forbid! — "Be content then therewith!" And so I pray the Gods. VII What saith Antisthenes?' Hast thou never heard? — // is a l{ingly thing, O Cyrus, to do well and to be evil spoken of. VIII "Aye, but to debase myself thus were unworthy of me." "That," said Epictetus, "is for you to consider, not for me. You know yourself what you are worth in your own eyes; and at what price you will sell yourself. For men sell themselves at various prices. This was why, when Florus was deliberating whether he should appear at Nero's shows, taking part in the performance himself, Agrippinus replied, 'Appear by all means.' And when Florus in- quired, 'But why do not you appear?' he answered, 'Because I do not even consider the question.' For the man who has once stooped to consider such questions, and to reckon up the value of external things, is not far from forgetting what manner of man he is. Why, what is it that you ask me? Is death preferable, or life? I reply. Life. Pain or pleasure? I reply. Pleasure." "Well, but if I do not act, I shall lose my head." "Then go and act! But for my part I will not act." "Why?" "Because you think yourself but one among the many threads which make up the texture of the doublet. You should aim at being like men in general — just as your thread has no ambition either to be anything distinguished compared with the other threads. But I desire to be the purple — that small and shining part which makes the rest seem fair and beautiful. Why then do you bid me become even as the multitude ? Then were I no longer the purple." ' The founder of the Cynic school of philosophy. 120 THE GOLDEN SAYINGS OF EPICTETUS DC If a man could be thoroughly penetrated, as he ought, with this thought, that we are all in an especial manner sprung from God, and that God is the Father of men as well as of Gods, full surely he would never conceive aught ignoble or base of himself. Whereas if Caesar were to adopt you, your haughty looks would be intolerable; will you not be elated at knowing that you are the son of God? Now however it is not so with us: but seeing that in our birth these two things are commingled — the body which we share with the animals, and the Reason and Thought which we share with the Gods, many decline towards this unhappy kinship with the dead, few rise to the blessed kinship with the Divine. Since then every one must deal with each thing according to the view which he forms about it, those few who hold that they are born for fidelity, modesty, and unerring sureness in dealing with the things of sense, never conceive aught base or ignoble of themselves: but the multitude the contrary. Why, what am I? — A wretched human creature; with this miserable flesh of mine. Miserable indeed! but you have something better than that paltry flesh of yours. Why then cling to the one, and neglect the other ? X Thou art but a poor soul laden with a lifeless body. XI The other day I had an iron lamp placed beside my household gods. I heard a noise at the door and on hastening down found my lamp carried off. I reflected that the culprit was in no very strange case. "To-morrow, my friend," I said, "you will find an earthenware lamp; for a man can only lose what he has." xn The reason why I lost my lamp was that the thief was superior to me in vigilance. He paid however this price for the lamp, that in exchange for it he consented to become a thief: in exchange for it, to become faithless. THE GOLDEN SAYINGS OF EPICTETUS 121 XIII But God hath introduced Man to be a spectator of Himself and of His works; and not a spectator only, but also an interpreter of them. Wherefore it is a shame for man to begin and to leave off where the brutes do. Rather he should begin there, and leave off where Nature leaves off in us: and that is at contemplation, and understanding, and a manner of life that is in harmony with herself. See then that ye die not without being spectators of these things. XIV You journey to Olympia to see the work of Phidias; and each of you holds it a misfortune not to have beheld these things before you die. Whereas when there is no need even to take a journey, but you are on the spot, with the works before you, have you no care to con- template and study these? Will you not then p)erceive either who you are or unto what end you were born: or for what purpose the power of contemplation has been bestowed upon you ? "Well, but in life there are some things disagreeable and hard to bear." And are there none at Olympia? Are you not scorched by the heat ? Are you not cramped for room ? Have you not to bathe with discomfort? Are you not drenched when it rains? Have you not to endure the clamour and shouting and such annoyances as these? Well, I suppose you set all this over against the splendour of the spec- tacle, and bear it patiently. What then ? have you not received powers wherewith to endure all that comes to pass? have you not received greatness of heart, received courage, received fortitude ? What care I, if I am great of heart, for aught that can come to pass? What shall cast me down or disturb me? What shall seem painful? Shall I not use the power to the end for which I received it, instead of moaning and wailing over what comes to pass? XV If what philosophers say of the kinship of God and Men be true, what remains for men to do but as Socrates did: — never, when asked 122 THE GOLDEN SAYINGS OF EPICTETUS one's country, to answer, "I am an Athenian or a Corinthian," but "I am a citizen of the world." XVI He that hath grasped the administration of the World, who hath learned that this Community, which consists of God and men, is the foremost and mightiest and most comprehensive of all: — that from God have descended the germs of life, not to my father only and father's father, but to all things that are born and grow upon the earth, and in an especial manner to those endowed with Reason (for those only are by their nature fitted to hold communion with God, being by means of Reason conjoined with Him) — why should not such an one call himself a citizen of the world ? Why not a son of God? Why should he fear aught that comes to pass among men? Shall kinship with Cxsar, or any other of the great at Rome, be enough to hedge men around with safety and consideration, with- out a thought of apprehension: while to have God for our Maker, and Father, and Kinsman, shall not this set us free from sorrows and fears? zvn I do not think that an old fellow like me need have been sitting here to try and prevent your entertaining abject notions of your- selves, and talking of yourselves in an abject and ignoble way: but to prevent there being by chance among you any such young men as, after recognising their kindred to the Gods, and their bondage in these chains of the body and its manifold necessities, should desire to cast them off as burdens too grievous to be borne, and depart to their true kindred. This is the struggle in which your Master and Teacher, were he worthy of the name, should be engaged. You would come to me and say: "Epictetus, we can no longer endure being chained to this wretched body, giving it food and drink and rest and puri- fication; aye, and for its sake forced to be subservient to this man and that. Are not these things indifferent and nothing to us? Is it not true that death is no evil? Are we not in a manner kinsmen of the Gods, and have we not come from them ? Let us depart thither, whence we came: let us be freed from these chains that confine and THE GOLDEN SAYINGS OF EPICTETUS 1 23 press us down. Here are thieves and robbers and tribunals: and they that are called tyrants, who deem that they have after a fashion power over us, because of the miserable body and what appertains to it. Let us show them that they have power over none." XVIII And to this I reply: — "Friends, wait for God. When He gives the signal, and releases you from this service, then depart to Him. But for the present, en- dure to dwell in the place wherein He hath assigned you your post. Short indeed is the time of your habitation therein, and easy to those that are thus minded. What tyrant, what robber, what tri- bunals have any terrors for those who thus esteem the body and all that belong to it as of no account.'' Stay; depart not rashly hence!" XIX Something like that is what should pass between a teacher and ingenuous youths. As it is, what does pass.' The teacher is a lifeless body, and you are Ufeless bodies yourselves. When you have had enough to eat to-day, you sit down and weep about to-morrow's food. Slave! if you have it, well and good; if not, you will depart: the door is open — why lament.? What further room is there for tears? What further occasion for flattery? Why should one envy another? Why should you stand in awe of them that have much or are placed in power, especially if they be also strong and passionate ? Why, what should they do to us? What they can do, we will not regard: what does concern us, that they cannot do. Who then shall still rule one that is thus minded ? Seeing this then, and noting well the faculties which you have, you should say, — "Send now, O God, any trial that Thou wilt; lo, I have means and powers given me by Thee to acquit myself with honour through whatever comes to pass!" — No; but there you sit, trembling for fear certain things should come to pass, and moaning 124 'r**^ GOLDEN SAYINGS OF EPICTETUS and groaning and lamenting over what does come to pass. And then you upbraid the Gods. Such meanness of spirit can have but one result — impiety. Yet God has not only given us these faculties by means of which we may bear everything that comes to pass without being crushed or depressed thereby; but like a good King and Father, He has given us this without let or hindrance, placed wholly at our own disposition, without reserving to Himself any power of impediment or restraint. Though possessing all these things free and all your own, you do not use themi you do not perceive what it is you have received nor whence it comes, but sit moaning and groaning; some of you blind to the Giver, making no acknowledgment to your Benefactor; others basely giving themselves to complaints and accu- sations against God. Yet what faculties and powers you possess for attaining courage and greatness of heart, I can easily show you; what you have for upbraiding and accusation, it is for you to show me! XXI How did Socrates bear himself in this regard? How else than as became one who was fully assured that he was the kinsman of the Gods.? xzn If God had made that part of His own nature which He severed from Himself and gave to us, liable to be hindered or constrained either by Himself or any other. He would not have been God, nor would He have been taking care of us as He ought. ... If you choose, you are free; if you choose, you need blame no man — accuse no man. All things will be at once according to your mind and according to the Mind of God. xxm Petrifaction is of two sorts. There is petrifaction of the under- standing; and also of the sense of shame. This happens when a man obstinately refuses to acknowledge plain truths, and persists in maintaining what is selfchweigh. Ixvii.; Schenkl, 5 LXXXIX. Arrian, Disc. iii. 3, 3-4 XC. ib. iii. 6, 8 XCI. ib. iii. 7, 30-36 (abbreviated) XCII. ib. iii. 8, 5-6 XCIII. ih. iii. 9, 1-14 (abbreviated) XCIV. ib. iii. 9, 16-18 XCV. ib. iii. 9, 21-22 XCVI. Fragment (Stobxus); Schwreigh. Ixviii. XCVII. Arrian, Disc. iii. 10, 19-20 XCVIII. ib. iii. 13, 6-8 XCIX. ib. iii. 16, 1-8 C.ih. iii. 12, 16-17 CI. lA. iii. 13, 21 ClI. ib. iii. 13, 23 cm. (*. iii. 14, 1-3 CIV. ib. iii. 15, 2-7 and 9-12 CV. ib. iii. 19, 6 CVI. ih. iii. 20, 9-12 (abbreviated) CVII. ih. iii. 16, 9-10 CVIII. ib. iii. 21, 17-20 CIX. ib. iii. 21, 23 ex. ih. iii. 22, 1-8 CXI. ib. iii. 22, 14-15 CXII. ib. iii. 22, 21 CXIII. ih. iii. 22, 23-25 CXIV. ih. iii. 22, 45-49 CXV. ib. iii. 22, 53 CXVI. ib. iii. 22, 67-69 CX\ni. ib. iii. 22, 83-85 C;XVIII. ib. iii. 22, 86-89 CXIX. ih. iii. 22, 94-96 CXX. ib. ui. 23, 27-28 CXXI. ib. iii. 23, 30-31 CXXII. ib. iii. 24, 2 CXXIII. /*. iii. 24, 9-1 1 CXXIV. .*. iii. 24, 15-16 CXXV. ih. iii. 24, 31-32 and 34-35 CXXVI. ib. iii. 24, 50-53 (abbreviated) CXXVII. ib. iii. 24, 63 CXXVIII. /*. iii. 24, 64 CXXIX. ib. iu. 24, 83 CXXX. ib. iii. 24, 86 and 89-94 (abbreviated) CXXXl. ib. iii. 24, 95-98 CXXXII. ih. iii. 24, 99-101 CXXXIII. /'*. iii. 24, 109-110 CXXXIV. ib. iii. 26, 28-30 CXXXV. ih. iii. 26, 38-39 CXXXVl. ib. iv. I, 1-3 CXXXVII. ib. iv. 1, 91-98 CXXXVIII. ib. iv. I, 99-100 CXXXIX. ib. iv. I, 103-106 CXL. ib. iv. I, 106-109 CXLI. ih. iv. I, 151-155 CXLII. ih. iv. 1, 170-173 CXLIII. Fragment (Antonius Monachus); Schweigh. cxxx. CXLIV. Arrian, Disc. iv. 3, 9-12 CXLV. ib. iv. 4, 1-5 CXLVI. ih. iv. 4, 46-47 CXLVII. ih. iv. 4, 47-48 CXLVIII. ih. iv. 5, 34-35 CXLIX. Fragment; Schweigh. xxxix.; Schenkl, Gn. Epict. Stob. 29 CL. Arri.in, Disc. iv. 6, 24 CU. ib. iv. 7, 6-1 1 CLII. ib. iv. 7, 19-20 CLIII. ib. iii. 5, 14 CUV. ih. iv. 8, 16-20 CLV. ib. iv. 8, 35-37 CLVI. ib. iv. 9, 14-16 CLVII. Arrian, Disc. i. 23, 1-2 CLVIII. Manual, xiii. CUX. ib. XV. CLX. /*. xvii. CLXI. ib. xxi. CLXII. ib. xxvii. CLXIII. ib. xxxi. CLXIV. ib. xxxiiL CLXV. ib. xxxiii. CLXVI. ib. xxxiii. CLXVII. ib xxxiu. CLXVIII. ib. xxxiii. CLXIX. ib. xxxiii. CLXX. ib. xxxiii. CLXXI. ib. xxxiii. CLXXII. ih. XXXV. CLXXIII. ib. xli. CLXXIV. ih. xliii. CUCXV. ib. xlvi. CLXXVI. ib. xlvii. CLXXVII. ih. xlix. CLXXVIII. Fragment; Schweigh. xxxi.; Schenkl, Gn. Epict. Slob. 20 CLXXIX. ih. xxxiii. and 23 CLXXX. ih. xxxiv. and 24 CLXXXI. ib. attributed to Epict. by Maximus; Schweigh. clxxiii. (v. Asmus, p. 20) CLXXXII. ib.; Schweigh. clxxii. 190 CLXXXin. ih. (Aulus Gellius); Schweigh. clxxix.; Schenld, lo CLXXXIV. Manual, lii. CLXXXV. Arrian, Disc. ii. 6, 26 INDEX FOR REFERENCE CLXXXVI. ib. ii. 5, 9-13 CLXXXVII. ib. i. 24, 3-9 CLXXXVIII. ib. ui. 13, 11-16 CLXXXIX. ib. iv. 10, ij-17 INDEX FOR REFERENCE TO APPENDIX A I. Schweigh. Fragment, i; Scbenkl, Gn. Epict. Stob. i. II. ib. 2—.*. 2 III. Schweigh. 12; Schenkl, 22 IV. ib. 103 V. ib. 141 VI. ib. 142 VII. ib. 60; Schenkl, 50 VIII. ib. 65; ib. 55 IX. ib. 96 X. ib. 9; ib. 32 XI. ib. 54; Schenkl, Fragment, xxxiiL XII. ib. ss; ib. xxxiv. XIII. Schweigh. 104 XIV. ib. 5; Schenkl, Gn. Epict. Slob. 5 XV. ib. 114; Schenkl, Fragment, xxxv. XVI. ib. 89; ib. XXX. XVII. ib. 138 XVIII. ih. 13; Schenkl, Gn. Epict. Stob. 46 XIX. ib. 119 XX. ib. 144 XXI. i*. 118 XXII. ib. 88; Schenkl, i*. 67 XXIII. i&. i;6 XXIV. »A. 120 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS TRANSLATED BY GEORGE LONG, MA. INTRODUCTORY NOTE Marcus Annius Verus was born in Rome, A.D. 121, and assumed the name of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, by which he is known to history, on his adoption by the Emperor T. Aurelius Antoninus. He succeeded to the imjjerial throne in 161, and ruled till his death in 180. His reign, though marked by justice and moderation at home, was troubled by constant warfare on the frontiers of the Empire, and Aurelius spent much of his later years in the uncongenial task of commanding armies that no longer proved irresistible against the barbarian hordes. M. Aurelius was educated by the orator Fronto, but turned aside from rhetoric to the study of the Stoic philosophy, of which he was the last dis- tinguished representative. The "Meditations," which he wrote in Greek, are among the most noteworthy expressions of this system, and exhibit it favorably on its practical side. His own precepts he carried out with singular consistency; and both in his public and his private life he was in the highest degree conscientious. He and his predecessor are noted as the only Roman emperors who can be said to have ruled with a single eye to the welfare of their subjects. During his reign Rome was visited by a severe pestilence, and this, with reverses suffered by his armies, threw the populace into a panic, and led them to demand the sacrifice of the Christians, whom they re- garded as having brought down the anger of the gods. Aurelius seems to have shared the panic; and his record is stained by his sanction of a cruel persecution. This incident in the career of the last, and one of the loftiest, of the pagan moralists may be regarded as symbolic of the dying effort of heathenism to check the advancing tide of Christianity. The "Meditations" picture with faithfulness the mind and character of this noblest of the Emjserors. Simple in style and sincere in tone, they record for all time the height reached by pagan aspiration in its effort to solve the problem of conduct; and the essential agreement of his practice with his teaching proved that "Even in a palace life may be led well." THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS ANTONINUS I FROM my grandfather Verus [I learned] good morals and the government of my temper. 2. From the reputation and remembrance of my father, mod- esty and a manly character. 3. From my mother, piety and beneficence, and abstinence, not only from evil deeds, but even from evil thoughts; and further sim- plicity in my way of living, far removed from the habits of the rich. 4. From my great-grandfather, not to have frequented public schools, and to have had good teachers at home, and to know that on such things a man should spend liberally. 5. From my governor, to be neither of the green nor of the blue party at the games in the Circus, nor a partizan either of the Parmu- larius or the Scutarius at the gladiators' fights; from him too I learned endurance of labour, and to want little, and to work with my own hands, and not to meddle with other people's affairs, and not to be ready to listen to slander. 6. From Diognetus, not to busy myself about trifling things, and not to give credit to what was said by miracle-workers and jugglers about incantations and the driving away of daemons and such things; and not to breed quails [for fighting], nor to give myself up pas- sionately to such things; and to endure freedom of speech; and to have become intimate with philosophy; and to have been a hearer, first of Bacchius, then of Tandasis and Marcianus; and to have writ- ten dialogues in my youth; and to have desired a plank bed and skin, and whatever else of the kind belongs to the Grecian discipline. 7. From Rusticus I received the impression that my character required improvement and discipline; and from him I learned not to be led astray to sophistic emulation, nor to writing on speculative 194 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS matters, nor to delivering little hortatory orations, nor to showing myself off as a man who practises much discipline, or does benevolent acts in order to make a display; and to abstain from rhetoric, and poetry, and fine writing; and not to walk about in the house in my outdoor dress, nor to do other things of the kind; and to write my letters with simplicity, like the letter which Rusticus wrote from Sinuessa to my mother; and with respect to those who have offended me by words, or done me wrong, to be easily disposed to be pacified and reconciled, as soon as they have shown a readiness to be recon- ciled; and to read carefully, and not to be satisfied with a superficial understanding of a book; nor hastily to give my assent to those who talk overmuch; and I am indebted to him for being acquainted with the discourses of Epictetus, which he communicated to me out of his own collection. 8. From ApoUonius I learned freedom of will and undeviating steadiness of purpose; and to look to nothing else, not even for a moment, except to reason; and to be always the same, in sharp pains, on the occasion of the loss of a child, and in long illness; and to see clearly in a living example that the same man can be both most reso- lute and yielding, and not peevish in giving his instruction; and to have had before my eyes a man who clearly considered his experience and his skill in expounding philosophical principles as the smallest of his merits; and from him I learned how to receive from friends what are esteemed favours, without being either humbled by them or letting them pass unnoticed. 9. From Sextus, a benevolent disposition, and the example of a family governed in a fatherly manner, and the idea of living conform- ably to nature; and gravity without affectation, and to look carefully after the interests of friends, and to tolerate ignorant persons, and those who form opinions without consideration: he had the power of readily accommodating himself to all, so that intercourse with him was more agreeable than any flattery; and at the same time he was most highly venerated by those who associated with him; and he had the faculty both of discovering and ordering, in an intelligent and methodical way, the principles necessary for life; and he never showed anger or any other passion, but was entirely free from pas- sion, and also most affectionate; and he could express approbation THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS I95 without noisy display, and he possessed much knowledge without ostentation. 10. From Alexander, the grammarian, to refrain from fault-find- ing, and not in a reproachful way to chide those who uttered any barbarous or solecistic or strange-sounding expression; but dexter- ously to introduce the very expression which ought to have been used, and in the way of answer or giving confirmation, or joining in an inquiry about the thing itself, not about the word, or by some other fit suggestion. 11. From Fronto I learned to observe what envy and duplicity and hypocrisy are in a tyrant, and that generally those among us who are called Patricians are rather deficient in paternal affection. 12. From Alexander the Platonic, not frequently nor without neces- sity to say to any one, or to write in a letter, that I have no leisure; nor continually to excuse the neglect of duties required by our rela- tion to those with whom we live, by alleging urgent occupations. 13. From Catulus, not to be indifferent when a friend finds fault, even if he should find fault without reason, but to try to restore him to his usual disposition ; and to be ready to speak well of teachers, as it is reported of Domitius and Athenodotus; and to love my children truly. 14. From my brother Severus, to love my kin, and to love truth, and to love justice; and through him I learned to know Thrasea, Hel- vidius, Cato, Dion, Brutus; and from him I received the idea of a pol- ity in which there is the same law for all, a polity administered with regard to equal rights and equal freedom of sf>eech, and the idea of a kingly government which res[)ects most of all the freedom of the governed; I learned from him also consistency and undeviating steadiness in my regard for philosophy, and a disfwsition to do good, and to give to others readily, and to cherish good hopes, and to be- Ueve that I am loved by my friends; and in him I observed no con- cealment of his opinions with respect to those whom he condemned, and that his friends had no need to conjecture what he wished or did not wish, but it was quite plain. 15. From Maximus I learned self-government, and not to be led aside by anything; and cheerfulness in all circumstances, as well as in illness; and a just admixture in the moral character of sweetness 196 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS and dignity, and to do what was set before me without complaining. I observed that everybody believed that he thought as he spoke, and that in all that he did he never had any bad intention; and he never showed amazement and surprise, and was never in a hurry, and never put off doing a thing, nor was perplexed nor dejected, nor did he ever laugh to disguise his vexation, nor, on the other hand, was he ever passionate or suspicious. He was accustomed to do acts of beneficence and was ready to forgive, and was free from all false- hood; and he presented the appearance of a man who could not be diverted from right rather than of a man who had been improved. I observed, too, that no man could ever think that he was despised by Maximus, or ever venture to think himself a better man. He had also the art of being humorous in an agreeable way. 16. In my father I observed mildness of temper, and unchange- able resolution in the things which he had determined after due deUb- eration; and no vainglory in those things which men call honours; and a love of labour and perseverance; and a readiness to listen to those who had anything to propose for the common weal; and un- deviating firmness in giving to every man according to his deserts; and a knowledge derived from experience of the occasions for vig- orous action and for remission. And I observed that he had over- come all passion for joys; and he considered himself no more than any other citizen, and he released his friends from all obligation to sup with him or to attend him of a necessity when he went abroad, and those who failed to accompany him by reason of any urgent cir- cumstances, always found him the same. I observed, too, his habit of careful inquiry in all matters of deliberation, and his persistency, and that he never stopped his investigation through being satisfied with appearances which first present themselves; and that his disposi- tion was to keep his friends, and not to be soon tired of them, nor yet to be extravagant in his affection; and to be satisfied on all occasions, and cheerful; and to foresee things a long way off, and to provide for the smallest without display; and to check immediately popular applause and flattery, and to be ever watchful over the things which were necessary for the administration of the empire, and to be a good manager of the expenditure, and patiently to endure the blame which he got for such conduct; and he was neither superstitious with THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 1 97 respect to the gods, nor did he court men by gifts or by trying to please them, or by flattering the populace; but he showed sobriety in all things and firmness, and never any mean thoughts or action, . nor love of novelty. And the things which conduce in any way to the commodity of life, and of which fortune gives an abundant sup- ply, he used without arrogance and without excusing himself; so that when he had them, he enjoyed them without affectation, and when he had them not he did not want them. No one could ever say of him that he was either a sophist or a [home-bred] flippant slave or a pedant; but every one acknowledged him to be a man ripe, perfect, above flattery, able to manage his own and other men's affairs. Besides this, he honoured those who were true philosophers, and he did not reproach those who pretended to be philosophers, nor yet was he easily led by them. He was also easy in conversation, and he made himself agreeable without any offensive affectation. He took a reasonable care of his body's health, not as one who was greatly attached to life, nor out of regard to personal appjearance, nor yet in a careless way, but so that, through his own attention, he very seldom stood in need of the physician's art or of medicine or external applications. He was most ready to give way without envy to those who possessed any particular faculty, such as that of elo- quence or knowledge of the law or of morals, or of anything else; and he gave them his help, that each might enjoy reputation accord- ing to his deserts; and he always acted conformably to the institutions of his country, without showing any affectation of doing so. Further, he was not fond of change, nor unsteady, but he loved to stay in the same places, and to employ himself about the same things; and after his paroxysms of headache he came immediately fresh and vigorous to his usual occupations. His secrets were not many, but very few and very rare, and these only about public matters; and he showed prudence and economy in the exhibition of the public spectacles and the construction of public buildings, his donations to the people, and in such things, for he was a man who looked to what ought to be done, not to the reputation which is got by a man's acts. He did not take the bath at unseasonable hours; he was not fond of build- ing houses, nor curious about what he eat, nor about the texture and colour of his clothes, nor about the beauty of his slaves. His dress 198 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS came from Lorium, his villa on the coast, and from Lanuvium gen- erally. We know how he behaved to the toll-collector at Tusculum who asked his pardon; and such was all his behaviour. There was in him nothing harsh, nor implacable, nor violent, nor, as one may say, anything carried to the sweating point; but he examined all things severally as if he had abundance of time, and without con- fusion, in an orderly way, vigorously and consistently. And that might be applied to him which is recorded of Socrates, that he was able both to abstain from, and to enjoy, those things which many are too weak to abstain from, and cannot enjoy without excess. But to be strong enough both to bear the one and to be sober in the other is the mark of a man who has a perfect and invincible soul, such as he showed in the illness of Maximus. 17. To the gods I am indebted for having good grandfathers, good parents, a good sister, good teachers, good associates, good kinsmen and friends, nearly everything good. Further, I owe it to the gods that I was not hurried into any offence against any of them, though I had a disposition which, if opportunity had offered, might have led me to do something of this kind; but, through their favour, there never was such a concurrence of circumstances as put me to the trial. Further, I am thankful to the gods that I was not longer brought up with my grandfather's concubine, and that I preserved the flower of my youth, and that I did not make proof of my virility before the proper season, but even deferred the time; that I was subjected to a ruler and a father who was able to take away all pride from me, and to bring me to the knowledge that it is possible for a man to live in a palace without wanting either guards or embroidered dresses, or torches and statues, and suchlike show; but it is in such a man's power to bring himself very near to the fashion of a private person, without being for this reason either meaner in thought, or more remiss in action, with respect to the things which must be done for the pubhc interest in a manner that befits a ruler. 1 thank the gods for giving me such a brother, who was able by his moral character to rouse me to vigilance over myself, and who, at the same time, pleased me by his respect and affection; that my children have not been stupid nor deformed in body; that I did not make more proficiency in rhetoric, poetry, and the other studies, in which I THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 1 99 should perhaps have been completely engaged, if I had seen that I was making progress in them; that I made haste to place those who brought me up in the station of honour which they seemed to desire without putting them off with hope of my doing it some time after, because they were then still young; that I knew ApoUon- ius, Rusticus, Maximus; that I received clear and frequent impres- sions about living according to nature, and what kind of a Ufe that is, so that, so far as def)ended on the gods, and their gifts and help, and inspirations, nothing hindered me from forthwith living accord- ing to nature, though I still fall short of it through my own fault, and though not observing the admonitions of the gods, and, I may almost say, their direct instructions; that my body has held out so long in such a kind of life; that I never touched either Benedicta or Theodotus, and that, after having fallen into amatory passions, I was cured; and, though I was often out of humour with Rusticus, I never did anything of which I had occasion to repent; that, though it was my mother's fate to die young, she spent the last years of her life with me; that, whenever I wished to help any man in his need, or on any other occasion, I was never told that I had not the means of doing it; and that to myself the same necessity never happened, to receive anything from another; that I have such a wife, so obedient, and so affectionate, and so simple; that I had abundance of good mas- ters for my children; and that remedies have been shown to me by dreams, both others, and against blood-spitting and giddiness; . . . and that, when I had an inclination to philosophy, I did not fall into the hands of any sophist, and that I did not waste my time on writers [of histories], or in the resolution of syllogisms, or occupy myself about the investigation of appearances in the heavens; for all these things require the help of the gods and fortune. Among the Quad! at the Granua. II KGIN the morning by saying to thyself, I shall meet with the busybody, the ungrateful, arrogant, deceitful, envious, unso- cial. All these things happen to them by reason of their ig- norance of what is good and evil. But I who have seen the nature of the good that it is beautiful and of the bad that it is ugly, and the na- 200 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS ture of him who does wrong, that it is akin to me, not [only] of the same blood or seed, but that it participates in [the same] intdligence and [the same] portion of the divinity, I can neither be injured by any of them, for no one can fix on me what is ugly, nor can I be angry with my kinsman, nor hate him. For we are made for co-operation, like feet, like hands, like eyelids, like the rows of the upper and lower teeth. To act against one another then is contrary to nature; and it is acting against one another to be vexed and to turn away. 2. Whatever this is that I am, it is a little flesh and breath, and the ruling part. Throw away thy books; no longer distract thyself: it is not allowed; but as if thou wast now dying, despise the flesh, it is blood and bones and a network, a contexture of nerves, veins and arteries. See the breath also, what kind of a thing it is; air, and not always the same, but every moment stnt out and again sucked in. The third then is the ruling part: consider thus: Thou art an old man; no longer let this be a slave, no longer be pulled by the strings like a puppet to unsocial movements, no longer be either dissatisfied with thy present lot, or shrink from the future. 3. All that is from the gods is full of providence. That which is from fortune is not separated from nature or without an interweav- ing and involution with the things which are ordered by Providence. From thence all things flow; and there is besides necessity, and that which is for the advantage of the whole universe, of which thou art a part. But that is good for every part of nature which the nature of the whole brings, and what serves to maintain this nature. Now the universe is preserved, as by the changes of the elements, so by the changes of things compounded of the elements. Let these prin- ciples be enough for thee; let them always be fixed opinions. But cast away the thirst after books, that thou mayest not die murmuring, but cheerfully, truly, and from thy heart thankful to the gods. 4. Remember how long thou hast been putting off these things, and how often thou hast received an opportunity from the gods, and yet dost not use it. Thou must now at last perceive of what universe thou art a part, and of what administrator of the universe thy exist- ence is an efflux, and that a limit of time is fixed for thee, which if thou dost not use for clearing away the clouds from thy mind, it will go and thou wilt go, and it will never return. THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AORELIUS 201 5. Every moment think steadily as a Roman and a man to do what thou hast in hand with perfect and simple dignity, and feeling of affection, and freedom, and justice; and to give thyself relief from all other thoughts. And thou wilt give thyself relief, if thou doest every act of thy life as if it were the last, laying aside all careless- ness and passionate aversion from the commands of reason, and all hypocrisy, and self-love, and discontent with the portion which has been given to thee. Thou seest how few the things are, the which if a man lays hold of, he is able to live a life which flows in quiet, and is like the existence of the gods; for the gods on their part will require nothing more from him who observes these things. 6. Do wrong to thyself, do wrong to thyself, my soul ; but thou wilt no longer have the opportunity of honouring thyself. Every man's life is sufficient. But thine is nearly finished, though thy soul rever- ences not itself, but places thy felicity in the souls of others. 7. Do the things external which fall upon thee distract thee? Give thyself time to learn something new and good, and cease to be whirled around. But then thou must also avoid being carried about the other way. For those too are triflers who have wearied them- selves in life by their activity, and yet have no object to which to direct every movement, and, in a word, all their thoughts. 8. Through not observing what is in the mind of another a man has seldom been seen to be unhappy; but those who do not observe the movements of their own minds must of necessity be unhappy. 9. This thou must always bear in mind, what is the nature of the whole, and what is my nature, and how this is related to that, and what kind of a part it is of what kind of a whole; and that there is no one who hinders thee from always doing and saying the things which are according to the nature of which thou art a part. 10. Theophrastus, in his comparison of bad acts — such a com- parison as one would make in accordance with the common notions of mankind — says, like a true philosopher, that the offences which are committed through desire are more blamable than those which are committed through anger. For he who is excited by anger seems to turn away from reason with a certain pain and unconscious contrac- tion; but he who offends through desire, being overpowered by pleas- ure, seems to be in a manner more intemperate and more womanish 202 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS in his offences. Rightly then, and in a way worthy of philosophy, he said that the offence which is committed with pleasure is more blam- able than that which is committed with pain; and on the whole the one is more like a person who has been first wronged and through pain is compelled to be angry; but the other is moved by his own impulse to do wrong, being carried toward doing something by desire. 11. Since it is possible that thou mayest depart from life this very moment, regulate every act and thought accordingly. But to go away from among men, if there are gods, is not a thing to be afraid of, for the gods will not involve thee in evil; but if indeed they do not exist, or if they have no concern about human affairs, what is it to me to live in a universe devoid of gods or devoid of providence.? But in truth they do exist, and they do care for human things, and they have put all the means in man's power to enable him not to fall into real evils. And as to the rest, if there was anything evil, they would have provided for this also, that it should be altogether in a man's power not to fall into it. Now, that which does not make a man worse, how can it make a man's life worse? But neither through ig- norance, nor having the knowledge, but not the power to guard against or correct these things, is it possible that the nature of the universe has overlooked them; nor is it possible that it has made so great a mistake, either through want of power or want of skill, that good and evil should happen indiscriminately to the good and the bad. But death certainly, and life, honour and dishonour, pain and pleasure, all these things equally happen to good men and bad, being things which make us neither better nor worse. Therefore they are neither good nor evil. 12. How quickly all these things disappear, in the universe the bodies themselves, but in time the remembrance of them; what is the nature of all sensible things, and particularly those which attract with the bait of pleasure or terrify by pain, or are noised about by vapoury fame; how worthless, and contemptible, and sordid, and per- ishable, and dead they are — all this it is the part of the intellectual faculty to observe. To observe, too, who these are whose opinions and voices give reputation; what death is, and the fact that, if a man looks at it in itself, and by the abstractive power of reflection resolves THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 203 into their parts all the things which present themselves to the imagi- nation in it, he will then consider it to be nothing else than an opera- tion of nature; and if any one is afraid of an of)eration of nature he is a child. This, however, is not only an operation of nature, but it is also a thing which conduces to the purposes of nature. To observe, too, how man comes near to the Deity, and by what part of him, and when this part of man is so disposed (vi. 28). 13. Nothing is more wretched than a man who traverses every- thing in a round, and pries into things beneath the earth, as the poet says, and seeks by conjecture what is in the minds of his neighbours, without perceiving that it is sufficient to attend to the daemon within him, and to reverence it sincerely. And reverence of the dxmon con- sists in keeping it pure from passion and thoughtlessness, and dissat- isfaction with what comes from gods and men. For the things from the gods merit veneration for their excellence; and the things from men should be dear to us by reason of kinship; and sometimes even, in a manner, they move our pity by reason of men's igno- rance of good and bad; this defect being not less than that which deprives us of the power of distinguishing things that are white and black. 14. Though thou shouldest be going to live three thousand years, and as many times ten thousand years, still remember that no man loses any other life than this which he now lives, nor lives any other than this which he now loses. The longest and shortest are thus brought to the same. For the present is the same to all, though that which perishes is not the same; and so that which is lost appears to be a mere moment. For a man cannot lose either the past or the future: for what a man has not, how can any one take this from him ? These two things then thou must bear in mind: the one, that all things from eternity are of like forms and come round in a circle, and that it makes no difference whether a man shall see the same things during a hundred years or two hundred, or an infinite time; and the second, that the longest liver and he who will die soonest lose just the same. For the present is the only thing of which a man can be deprived, if it is true that this is the only thing which he has, and that a man cannot lose a thing if he has it not. 15. Remember that all is opinion. For what was said by the Cynic 204 "^^^ MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS Monimus is manifest: and manifest too is the use of what was said, if a man receives what may be got out of it as far as it is true. i6. The soul of man does violence to itself, first of all when it becomes an abscess and, as it were, a tumour on the universe, so far as it can. For to be vexed at anything which happens is a separation of ourselves from nature, in some part of which the natures of all other things are contained. In the next place, the soul does violence to itself when it turns away from any man, or even moves towards him with the intention of injuring, such as are the souls of those who are angry. In the third place, the soul does violence to itself when it is overpowered by pleasure or by pain. Fourthly, when it plays a part, and does or says anything insincerely and untruly. Fifthly, when it allows any act of its own and any movement to be without an aim, and does anything thoughtlessly and without considering what it is, it being right that even the smallest things be done with refer- ence to an end; and the end of rational animals is to follow the rea- son and the law of the most ancient city and polity. 17. Of human life the time is a pnaint, and the substance is in a flux, and the perception dull, and the composition of the whole body sub- ject to putrefaction, and the soul of a whirl, and fortune hard to divine, and fame a thing devoid of judgment. And, to say all in a word, everything which belongs to the body is a stream, and what belongs to the soul is a dream and vapour, and life is a warfare and a stranger's sojourn, and after-fame is oblivion. What, then, is that which is able to conduct a man? One thing, and only one — philoso- phy. But this consists in keeping the dxmon within a man free from violence and unharmed, superior to pains and pleasures, doing noth- ing without a purpose, nor yet falsely and with hyjxxrisy, not feeling the need of another man's doing or not doing anything; and besides, accepting all that happens, and all that is allotted, as coming from thence, wherever it is, from whence he himself came; and, finally, waiting for death with a cheerful mind, as being nothing else than a dissolution of the elements of which every living being is com- pounded. But if there is no harm to the elements themselves in each continually changing into another, why should a man have any ap- prehension about the change and dissolution of all the elements ? For THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 205 it is according to nature, and nothing is evil which is according to nature. This in Carnuntum. Ill WE ought to consider not only that our life is daily wasting away and a smaller part of it is left, but another thing also must be taken into the account, that if a man should live longer it is quite uncertain whether the understanding will still con- tinue sufficient for the comprehension of things, and retain the power of contemplation which strives to acquire the knowledge of the divine and the human. For if he shall begin to fall into dotage, per- spiration and nutrition and imagination and appetite, and whatever else there is of the kind, will not fail; but the power of making use of ourselves, and filling up the measure of our duty, and clearly separ- ating all appearances, and considering whether a man should now depart from life, and whatever else of the kind absolutely requires a disciplined reason, all this is already extinguished. We must make haste then, not only because we are daily nearer to death, but also be- cause the conception of things and the understanding of them cease first. 2, We ought to observe also that even the things which follow after the things which are produced according to nature contain something pleasing and attractive. For instance, when bread is baked some parts are split at the surface, and these parts which thus open, and have a certain fashion contrary to the purpose of the baker's art, are beautiful in a manner, and in a peculiar way excite a desire for eating. And again, figs, when they are quite ripe, gape open, and in the ripe oUves the very circumstance of their being near to rottenness adds a peculiar beauty to the fruit. And the ears of corn bending down, and the lion's eyebrows, and the foam which flows from the mouth of wild boars, and many other things — though they are far from being beau- tiful, if a man should examine them severally — still, because they are consequent upon the things which are formed by nature, help to adorn them, and they please the mind; so that if a man should have a feeling and deeper insight with respect to the things which are 206 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS produced in the universe, there is hardly one of those which follow by way of consequence which will not seem to him to be in a manner disposed so as to give pleasure. And so he will see even the real gap- ing jaws of wild beasts with no less pleasure than those which painters and sculptors show by imitation; and in an old woman and an old man he will be able to see a certain maturity and comeliness; and the attractive loveliness of young persons he will be able to look on with chaste eyes; and many such things will present themselves, not pleasing to every man, but to him only who has become truly familiar with nature and her works. 3. Hippocrates after curing many diseases himself fell sick and died. The Chaldii foretold the deaths of many, and then fate caught them too. Alexander, and Pompeius, and Caius Cxsar, after so often completely destroying whole cities, and in battle cutting to pieces many ten thousands of cavalry and infantry, themselves too at last departed from life. Heraclitus, after so many speculations on the conflagration of the universe, was filled with water internally and died smeared all over with mud. And lice destroyed Democritus; and other lice killed Socrates. What means all this? Thou hast em- barked, thou hast made the voyage, thou art come to shore; get out. If indeed to another life, there is no want of gods, not even there. But if to a state without sensation, thou wilt cease to be held by pains and pleasures, and to be a slave to the vessel which is as much inferior as that which serves it is superior; for the one is intelligence and deity; the other is earth and corruption. 4. Do not waste the remainder of thy life in thoughts about others, when thou dost not refer thy thoughts to some object of common util- ity. For thou losest the opportunity of doing something else when thou hast such thoughts as these, What is such a person doing, and why, and what is he saying, and what is he thinking of, and what is he contriving, and whatever else of the kind makes us wander away from the observation of our own ruling power. We ought then to check in the series of our thoughts everything that is without a pur- pose and useless, but most of all the overcurious feeling and the malignant; and a man should use himself to think of those things only about which if one should suddenly ask. What hast thou now in thy thoughts? with perfect openness thou mightest immediately THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 207 answer, This or That; so that from thy words it should be plain that everything in thee is simple and benevolent, and such as befits a social animal, one that cares not for thoughts about pleasure or sen- sual enjoyments at all, nor has any rivalry or envy and suspicion, or anything else for which thou wouldst blush if thou shouldst say that thou hadst it in thy mind. For the man who is such and no longer delays being among the number of the best, is like a priest and min- ister of the gods, using too the [deity] which is planted within him, which makes the man uncontaminated by pleasure, unharmed by any pain, untouched by any insult, feeling no wrong, a fighter in the noblest fight, one who cannot be overpowered by any passion, dyed deep with justice, accepting with all his soul everything which ha{>- pens and is assigned to him as his portion; and not often, nor yet with- out great necessity and for the general interest, imagining what another says, or does, or thinks. For it is only what belongs to himself that he makes the matter for his activity; and he constantly thinks of that which is allotted to himself out of the sum total of things, and he makes his own acts fair, and he is persuaded that his own portion is good. For the lot which is assigned to each man is carried along with him and carries him along with it. And he remembers also that every rational animal is his kinsman, and that to care for all men is according to man's nature; and a man should hold on to the opinion not of all but of those only who confessedly live according to nature. But as to those who live not so, he always bears in mind what kind of men they are both at home and from home, both by night and by day, and what they are, and with what men they live an impure life. Accordingly, he does not value at all the praise which comes from such men, since they are not even satisfied with themselves. 5. Labour not unwillingly, nor without regard to the common interest, nor without due consideration, nor with distraction; nor let studied ornament set off thy thoughts, and be not either a man of many words, or busy about too many things. And further, let the deity which is in thee be the guardian of a living being, manly and of ripe age, and engaged in matter political, and a Roman, and a ruler, who has taken his post like a man waiting for the signal which summons him from life, and ready to go, having need neither of oath nor of any man's testimony. Be cheerful also, and seek not 208 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS external help nor the tranquillity which others give. A man then must stand erect, not be kept erect by others. 6. If thou findest in human life anything better than justice, truth, tempjerance, fortitude, and, in a word, anything better than thy own mind's self-satisfaction in the things which it enables thee to do ac- cording to right reason, and in the condition that is assigned to thee without thy own choice; if, I say, thou seest anything better than this, turn to it with all thy soul, and enjoy that which thou hast found to be the best. But if nothing appears to be better than the deity which is planted in thee, which has subjected to itself all thy appetites, and carefully examines all the impressions, and, as Socrates said, has detached itself from the persuasions of sense, and has submitted itself to the gods, and cares for mankind; if thou findest everything else smaller and of less value than this, give place to nothing else, for if thou dost once diverge and incline to it, thou wilt no longer without distraction be able to give the preference to that good thing which is thy proper possession and thy own; for it is not right that anything of any other kind, such as praise from the many, or power, or enjoy- ment of pleasure, should come into competition with that which is rationally and politically [or, practically] good. All these things, even though they may seem to adapt themselves [to the better things] in a small degree, obtain the superiority all at once, and carry us away. But do thou, I say, simply and freely choose the better, and hold to it. — But that which is useful is the better. — Well then, if it is only use- ful to thee as a rational being, keep to it; but if it is only useful to thee as an animal, say so, and maintain thy judgment without arrogance; only take care that thou makest the inquiry by a sure method. 7. Never value anything as profitable to thyself which shall compel thee to break thy promise, to lose thy self-respect, to hate any man, to susf)ect, to curse, to act the hypocrite, to desire anything which needs walls and curtains: for he who has preferred to everything else his own intelligence and dxmon and the worship of its excellence, acts no tragic part, does not groan, will not need either solitude or much company; and, what is chief of all, he will live without either pur- suing or flying from [death]; but whether for a longer or a shorter time he shall have the soul inclosed in the body, he cares not at all; for even if he must depart immediately, he will go as readily as if he THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 209 were going to do anything else which can be done with decency and order; taking care of this only all through life, that his thoughts turn not away from anything which belongs to an intelligent animal and a member of a civil community. 8. In the mind of one who is chastened and purified thou wilt find no corrupt matter, nor impurity, nor any sore skinned over. Nor is his life incomplete when fate overtakes him, as one may say of an actor who leaves the stage before ending and finishing the play. Besides, there is in him nothing servile, nor affected, nor too closely bound [to other things], nor yet detached [from other things], noth- ing worthy of blame, nothing which seeks a hiding-place. 9. Reverence the faculty which produces opinion. On this faculty it entirely depends whether there shall exist in thy ruling part any opinion inconsistent with nature and the constitution of the rational animal. And this faculty promises freedom from hasty judgment, and friendship towards men, and obedience to the gods. 10. Throwing away then all things, hold to these only which are few; and besides bear in mind that every man lives only this present time, which is an indivisible point, and that all the rest of his life is either past or it is uncertain. Short then is the time which every man lives, and small the nook of the earth where he lives; and short too the longest posthumous fame, and even this only concinued by a suc- cession of poor human beings, who will very soon die, and who know not even themselves, much less him who died long ago. 11. To the aids which have been mentioned let this one still be added: — Make for thyself a definition or description of the thing which is presented to thee, so as to see distinctly what kind of a thing it is in its substance, in its nudity, in its complete entirety, and tell thy- self its proper name, and the names of the things of which it has been compounded, and into which it will be resolved. For nothing is so productive of elevation of mind as to be able to examine method- ically and truly every object which is presented to thee in life, and always to look at things so as to see at the same time what kind of universe this is, and what kind of use everything performs in it, and what value everything has with reference to the whole, and what with reference to man, who is a citizen of the highest city, of which all other cities are like families; what each thing is, and of what it 210 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS is composed, and how long it is the nature of this thing to endure which now makes an impression on me, and what virtue I have need of with respect to it, such as gentleness, manliness, truth, fidel- ity, simplicity, contentment, and the rest. Wherefore, on every occa- sion a man should say: This comes from God; and this is according to the apportionment and spinning of the thread of destiny, and suchlike coincidence and chance; and this is from one of the same stock and a kinsman and partner, one who knows not however what is according to his nature. But I know; for this reason I behave towards him according to the natural law of fellowship with benev- olence and justice. At the same time however in things indifferent I attempt to ascertain the value of each. 12. If thou workest at that which is before thee, following right reason seriously, vigorously, calmly, without allowing anything else to distract thee, but keeping thy divine part pure, as if thou shouldst be bound to give it back immediately; if thou boldest to this, expect- ing nothing, fearing nothing, but satisfied with thy present activity according to nature, and with heroic truth in every word and sound which thou utterest, thou wilt live happy. And there is no man who IS able to prevent this. 13. As physicians have always their instruments and knives ready for cases which suddenly require their skill, so do thou have prin- ciples ready for the understanding of things divine and human, and doing everything, even the smallest, with a recollection of the bond which unites the divine and human to one another. For neither wilt thou do anything well which pertains to man without at the same time having a reference to things divine; nor the contrary. 14. No longer wander at hazard; for neither wilt thou read thy own memoirs, nor the acts of the ancient Romans and Hellenes, and the selections from books which thou wast reserving for thy old age. Hasten then to the end which thou hast before thee, and, throwing away idle hopes, come to thy own aid, if thou carest at all for thy- sdf, while it is in thy power. 15. They know not how many things are signified by the words stealing, sowing, buying, keeping quiet, seeing what ought to be done; for this is not effected by the eyes, but by another kind of vision. THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 211 16. Body, soul, intelligence: to the body belong sensations, to the soul appetites, to the intelligence principles. To receive the impres- sions of forms by means of appearances belongs even to animals; to be pulled by the strings of desire belongs both to wild beasts and to men who have made themselves into women, and to a Phalaris and a Nero: and to have the intelligence that guides to the things which appear suitable belongs also to those who do not believe in the gods, and who betray their country, and do their impure deeds when they have shut the doors. If then everything else is common to all that I have mentioned, there remains that which is peculiar to the good man, to be pleased and content with what happens, and with the thread which is spun for him; and not to defile the divinity which is planted in his breast, nor disturb it by a crowd of images, but to pre- serve it tranquil, following it obediendy as a god, neither saying any- thing contrary to the truth, nor doing anything contrary to justice. And if all men refuse to believe that he lives a simple, modest, and contented life, he is neither angry with any of them, nor does he devi- ate from the way which leads to the end of life, to which a man ought to come pure, tranquil, ready to depart, and without any compulsion perfecdy reconciled to his lot. IV THAT which rules within, when it is according to nature, is so affected with respect to the events which happen, that it always easily adapts itself to that which is possible and is presented to it. For it requires no definite material, but it moves towards its purpose, under certain conditions however; and it makes a material for itself out of that which opposes it, as fire lays hold of what falls into it, by which a small light would have been extin- guished: but when the fire is strong, it soon appropriates to itself the matter which is heaped on it, and consumes it, and rises higher by means of this very material. 2. Let no act be done without a purpose, nor otherwise than accord- ing to the perfect principles of art. 3. Men seek retreats for themselves, houses in the country, sea- shores, and mountains; and thou too art wont to desire such things 212 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS very much. But this is altogether a mark of the most common sort of men, for it is in thy power whenever thou shalt choose to retire into thyself. For nowhere, either with more quiet or more freedom from trouble, does a man retire than into his own soul, particularly when he has within him such thoughts that by looking into them he is immediately in perfect tranquillity; and I affirm that tranquillity is nothing else than the good ordering of the mind. Constantly then give to thyself this retreat, and renew thyself; and let thy principles be brief and fundamental, which, as soon as thou shalt recur to them, will be sufficient to cleanse the soul completely, and to send thee back free from all discontent with the things to which thou returnest. For with what art thou discontented? With the badness of men ? Recall to thy mind this conclusion, that rational animals exist for one another, and that to endure is a part of justice, and that men do wrong involuntarily; and consider how many already, after mutual enmity, suspicion, hatred, and fighting, have been stretched dead, reduced to ashes; and be quiet at last. — But perhaps thou art dissatis- fied with that which is assigned to thee out of the universe. — Recall to thy recollection this alternative; either there is providence or atoms [fortuitous concurrence of things]; or remember the arguments by which it has been proved that the world is a kind of political com- munity [and be quiet at last]. — But perhaps corporeal things will still fasten uf)on thee. — Consider then further that the mind mingles not with the breath, whether moving gently or violently, when it has once drawn itself apart and discovered its own power, and think also of all that thou hast heard and assented to about pain and pleasure [and be quiet at last]. — But perhaps the desire of the thing called fame will torment thee. — See how soon everything is forgotten, and look at the chaos of infinite time on each side of [the present], and the emptiness of applause, and the changeableness and want of judgment in those who pretend to give praise, and the narrowness of the space within which it is circumscribed [and be quiet at last]. For the whole earth is a point, and how small a nook in it is this thy dwelling, and how few are there in it, and what kind of people are they who will praise thee. This then remains: Remember to retire into this little territory of thy own, and, above all, do not distract or strain thyself, but be THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 2I3 free, and look at things as a man, as a human being, as a citizen, as a mortal. But among the things readiest to thy hand to which thou shalt turn, let there be these, which are two. One is that things do not touch the soul, for they are external and remain immovable; but our perturbations come only from the opinion which is within. The other is that all these things, which thou seest, change immediately and will no longer be; and constantly bear in mind how many of these changes thou hast already witnessed. The universe is trans- formation : life is opinion. 4. If our intellectual part is common, the reason also, in respect of which we are rational beings, is common : if this is so, common also is the reason which commands us what to do, and what not to do; if this is so, there is a common law also; if this is so, we are fellow- citizens; if this is so, we are members of some political community; if this is so, the world is in a manner a state. For of what other common political community will any one say that the whole human race are members? And from thence, from this common political community comes also our very intellectual faculty and reasoning faculty and our capacity for law; or whence do they come.? For as my earthly part is a portion given to me from certain earth, and that which is watery from another element, and that which is hot and fiery from some peculiar source (for nothing comes out of that which is nothing, as nothing also returns to non-existence), so also the intellectual part comes from some source. 5. Death is such as generation is, a mystery of nature; a composi- tion out of the same elements, and a decomposition into the same; and altogether not a thing of which any man should be ashamed, for it is not contrary to [the nature of] a reasonable animal, and not con- trary to the reason of our constitution. 6. It is natural that these things should be done by such persons, it is a matter of necessity; and if a man will not have it so, he will not allow the fig-tree to have juice. But by all means bear this in mind, that within a very short time both thou and he will be dead; and soon not even your names will be left behind. 7. Take away thy opinion, and then there is taken away the com- plaint, "I have been harmed." Take away the complaint, "I have been harmed," and the harm is taken away. 214 "T"^ MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 8. That which does not make a man worse than he was, also does not make his hfe worse, nor does it harm him either from without or from within. 9. The nature of that which is [universally] useful has been com- pelled to do this. JO. Consider that everything which happens, happens justly, and if thou observest carefully, thou wilt find it to be so. I do not say only with respect to the continuity of the series of things, but with respect to what is just, and as if it were done by one who assigns to each thing its value. Observe then as thou hast begun; and what- ever thou doest, do it in conjunaion with this, the being good, and in the sense in which a man is properly understood to be good. Keep to this in every action. 11. Do not have such an opinion of things as he has who does thee wrong, or such as he wishes thee to have, but look at them as they are in truth. 12. A man should always have these two rules in readiness; the one, to do only whatever the reason of the ruling and legislating faculty may suggest for the use of men; the other, to change thy opinion, if there is any one at hand who sets thee right and moves thee from any opinion. But this change of opinion must proceed only from a certain persuasion, as of what is just or of common advantage, and the like, not because it appears pleasant or brings reputation. 13. Hast thou reason? I have. — Why then dost not thou use it? For if this does its own work, what else dost thou wish ? 14. Thou hast existed as a part. Thou shalt disappear in that which produced thee; but rather thou shalt be received back into its seminal principle by transmutation. 15. Many grains of frankincense on the same altar: one falls before, another falls after; but it makes no difference. 16. Within ten days thou wilt seem a god to those to whom thou art now a beast and an ape, if thou wilt return to thy principles and the worship of reason. 17. Do not act as if thou wert going to live ten thousand years. Death hangs over thee. While thou livest, while it is in thy power, be good. 18. How much trouble he avoids who does not look to see what THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 215 his neighbour says or does or thinks, but only to what he does him- self, that it may be just and pure; or, as Agathon says, look not round at the depraved morals of others, but run straight along the line without deviating from it. 19. He who has a vehement desire for posthumous fame does not consider that every one of those who remember him will him- self also die very soon; then again also they who have succeeded them, until the whole remembrance shall have been extinguished as it is transmitted through men who foolishly admire and perish. But suppose that those who will remember are even immortal, and that the remembrance will be immortal, what then is this to thee? And I say not, what is it to the dead? but, what is it to the Uving? What is praise, except indeed so far as it has a certain utility? For thou now rejeaest unseasonably the gift of nature, clinging to something else. • . . 20. Everything which is in any way beautiful is beautiful in itself, and terminates in itself, not having praise as part of itself. Neither worse then nor better is a thing made by being praised. I affirm this also of the things which are called beautiful by the vulgar; for example, material things and works of art. That which is really beautiful has no need of anything; not more than law, not more than truth, not more than benevolence or modesty. Which of these things is beautiful because it is praised, or spoiled by being blamed? Is such a thing as an emerald made worse than it was, if it is not praised? or gold, ivory, purple, a lyre, a little knife, a flower, a shrub? 21. If souls continue to exist, how does the air contain them from eternity? — But how does the earth contain the bodies of those who have been buried from time so remote? For as here the mutation of these bodies after a certain continuance, whatever it may be, and their dissolution make room for other dead bodies; so the souls which are removed into the air after subsisting for some time are trans- muted and diffused, and assume a fiery nature by being received into the seminal intelhgence of the universe, and in this way make room for the fresh souls which come to dwell there. And this is the answer which a man might give on the hypothesis of souls con- tinuing to exist. But we must not only think of the number of 2l6 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS bodies which are thus buried, but also of the number o£ animals which are daily eaten by us and the other animals. For what a num- ber is consumed, and thus in a manner buried in the bodies of those who feed on them! And nevertheless this earth receives them by reason of the changes [of these bodies] into blood, and the trans- formations into the aerial or the fiery element. What is the investigation into the truth in this matter? The division into that which is material and that which is the cause of form [the formal] (vii. 29). 22. Do not be whirled about, but in every movement have respect to justice, and on the occasion of every impression maintain the faculty of comprehension [or understanding]. 23. Everything harmonizes with me which is harmonious to thee, O Universe. Nothing for me is too early nor too late, which is in due time for thee. Everything is fruit to me which thy seasons bring, O Nature: from thee are all things, in thee are all things, to thee all things return. The poet says, Dear city of Cecrops; and wilt not thou say, Dear city of Zeus? 24. Occupy thyself with few things, says the philosopher, if thou wouldst be tranquil. — But consider if it would not be better to say. Do what is necessary, and whatever the reason of the animal which is naturally social requires, and as it requires. For this brings not only the tranquillity which comes from doing well, but also that which comes from doing few things. For the greatest part of what we say and do being unnecessary, if a man takes this away, he will have more leisure and less uneasiness. Accordingly on every occa- sion a man should ask himself. Is this one of the unnecessary things? Now a man should take away not only unnecessary acts but also unnecessary thoughts, for thus superfluous acts will not follow after. 25. Try how the life of the good man suits thee, the life of him who is satisfied with his portion out of the whole, and satisfied with his own just acts and benevolent disposition. 26. Hast thou seen those things? Look also at these. Do not disturb thyself. Make thyself all simplicity. Does any one do wrong? It is to himself that he does the wrong. Has anything hapjjened to thee? Well, out of the universe from the beginning everything THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 217 which happens has been apportioned and spun out to thee. In a word, thy life is short. Thou must turn to profit the present by the aid of reason and justice. Be sober in thy relaxation. 27. Either it is a well arranged universe or a chaos huddled together, but still a universe. But can a certain order subsist in thee, and disorder in the All? And this, too, when all things are so separated and diffused and sympathetic. 28. A black character, a womanish character, a stubborn character, bestial, childish, animal, stupid, counterfeit, scurrilous, fraudulent, tyrannical. 29. If he is a stranger to the universe who does not know what is in it, no less is he a stranger who does not know what is going on in it. He is a runaway, who flies from social reason; he is blind, who shuts the eyes of the understanding; he is poor, who has need of another, and has not from himself all things which are useful for life. He is an abscess on the universe, who withdraws and separates himself from the reason of our common nature through being displeased with the things which happen, for the same nature pro- duces this, and has produced thee too; he is a piece rent asunder from the state, who tears his own soul from that of reasonable animals, which is one. 30. The one is a philosopher without a tunic, and the other with- out a book: here is another half naked: Bread I have not, he says, and I abide by reason. And I do not get the means of living out of my learning, and I abide [by my reason]. 31. Love the art, poor as it may be, which thou hast learned, and be content with it; and pass through the rest of life like one who has intrusted to the gods with his whole soul all that he has, making thyself neither the tyrant nor the slave of any man. 32. Consider, for example, the times of Vespasian. Thou wilt see all these things, people marrying, bringing up children, sick, dying, warring, feasting, trafficking, cultivating the ground, flattering, obstinately arrogant, suspecting, plotting, wishing for some to die, grumbling about the present, loving, heaping up treasure, desiring consulship, kingly power. Well, then, that life of these people no longer exists at all. Again, remove to the times of Trajan. Again, all is the same. Their life, too, is gone. In like manner view also 2l8 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS the other epochs of time and of whole nations, and see how many after great efforts soon fell and were resolved into the elements. But chiefly thou shouldst think of those whom thou hast thyself known distracting themselves about idle things, neglecting to do what was in accordance with their proper constitution, and to hold firmly to this and to be content with it. And herein it is necessary to remember that the attention given to everything has its proper value and proportion. For thus thou wilt not be dissatisfied, if thou appliest thyself to smaller matters no fiuther than is fit. 33. The words which were formerly familiar are now antiquated; so also the names of those who were famed of old, are now in a man- ner antiquated: Camillus, Cacso, Volesus, Leonnatus, and a Uttle after also Scipio and Cato, then Augustus, then also Hadrianus and Antoninus. For all things soon pass away and become a mere tale, and complete oblivion soon buries them. And I say this of those who have shone in a wondrous way. For the rest, as soon as they have breathed out their breath, they are gone, and no man speaks of them. And, to conclude the matter, what is even an eternal remembrance.' A mere nothing. What, then, is that about which we ought to employ our serious pains? This one thing, thoughts just, and acts social, and words which never Ue, and a disposition which gladly accepts all that happens, as necessary, as usual, as flowing from a principle and source of the same kind. 34. Willingly give thyself up to Clotho [one of the fates], allow- ing her to spin thy thread into whatever things she pleases. 35. Everything is only for a day, both that which remembers and that which is remembered. 36. Observe constantly that all things take place by change, and accustom thyself to consider that the nature of the Universe loves nothing so much as to change the things which are and to make new things like them. For everything that exists is in a manner the seed of that which will be. But thou art thinking only of seeds which are cast into the earth or into a womb: but this is a very vulgar notion. 37. Thou wilt soon die, and thou art not yet simple, nor free from perturbations, nor without suspicion of being hurt by external things, nor kindly disposed towards all; nor dost thou yet place wisdom only in acting justly. THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 219 38. Examine men's ruling principles, even those of the wise, what kind of things they avoid, and what kind they pursue. 39. What is evil to thee does not subsist in the ruling principle of another; nor yet in any turning and mutation of thy corporeal cover- ing. Where is it then? It is in that part of thee in which subsists the power of forming opinions about evils. Let this power then not form [such J opinions, and all is well. And if that which is nearest to it, the poor body, is cut, burnt, filled with matter and rottenness, nevertheless let the part which forms opinions about these things be quiet, that is, let it judge that nothing is either bad or good which can happen equally to the bad man and the good. For that which happens equally to him who lives contrary to nature and to him who lives according to nature, is neither according to nature nor con- trary to nature. 40. Constantly regard the universe as one living being, having one substance and one soul; and observe how all things have reference to one perception, the perception of this one living being; and how all things act with one movement; and how all things are the co- operating causes of all things which exist; observe too the continuous spinning of the thread and the contexture of the web. 41. Thou art a little soul bearing about a corpse, as Epictetus used to say (i. c. 19). 42. It is no evil for things to undergo change, and no good for things to subsist in consequence of change. 43. Time is like a river made up of the events which happen, and a violent stream; for as soon as a thing has been seen, it is carried away, and another comes in its place, and this will be carried away too. 44. Everything which happens is as familiar and well known as the rose in spring and the fruit in summer; for such is disease, and death, and calumny, and treachery, and whatever else delights fools or vexes them. 45. In the series of things those which follow are always aptly fitted to those which have gone before; for this series is not like a mere enumeration of disjointed things, which has only a necessary sequence, but it is a rational connection: and as all existing things are arranged together harmoniously, so the things which come into 220 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS existence exhibit no mere succession, but a certain wonderful relation- ship (vi. 38; vii. 9; vii. 75, note). 46. Always remember the saying of Heraclitus, that the death of earth is to become water, and the death of water is to become air, and the death of air is to become fire, and reversely. And think too of him who forgets whither the way leads, and that men quarrel with that with which they are most constantly in communion, the reason which governs the universe; and the things which they daily meet with seem to them strange: and consider that we ought not to act and speak as if we were asleep, for even in sleep we seem to act and speak; and that we ought not, like children who learn from their parents, simply to act and speak as we have been taught. 47. If any god told thee that thou shalt die to-morrow, or certainly on the day after to-morrow, thou wouldst not care much whether it was on the third day or on the morrow, unless thou wast in the highest degree mean-spirited — for how small is the difference? — so think it no great thing to die after as many years as thou canst name rather than to-morrow. 48. Think continually how many physicians are dead after often contracting their eyebrows over the sick; and how many astrologers after predicting with great pretensions the deaths of others; and how many philosophers after endless discourses on death or immortality; how many heroes after killing thousands; and how many tyrants who have used their power over men's lives with terrible insolence as if they were immortal; and how many cities are entirely dead, so to speak, Helice and Pompeii and Herculaneum, and others innumer- able. Add to the reckoning all whom thou hast known, one after another. One man after burying another has been laid out dead, and another buries him; and all this in a short time. To conclude, always observe how ephemeral and worthless human things are, and what was yesterday a little mucus, to-morrow will be a mummy or ashes. Pass then through this little space of time conformably to nature, and end thy journey in content, just as an olive falls off when it is ripe, blessing nature who produced it, and thanking the tree on which it grew. 49. Be like the promontory against which the waves continually break, but it stands firm and tames the fury of the water around it. THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 221 Unhappy am I, because this has happened to me. — Not so, but Happy am I, though this has happened to me, because I continue free from pain, neither crushed by the present nor fearing the future. For such a thing as this might have happened to every man; but every man would not have continued free from pain on such an occasion. Why, then, is that rather a misfortune than this a good fortune? And dost thou in all cases call that a man's misfortune, which is not a deviation from man's nature? And does a thing seem to thee to be a deviation from man's nature, when it is not contrary to the will of man's nature? Well, thou knowest the will of nature. Will then this which has hapjjened prevent thee from being just, magnanimous, temperate, prudent, secure against inconsiderate opinions and falsehood; will it prevent thee from having modesty, freedom, and everything else, by the presence of which man's nature obtains all that is its own? Remember, too, on every occasion which leads thee to vexation to apply this principle: not that this is a mis- fortune, but that to bear it nobly is good fortune. 50. It is a vulgar but still a useful help towards contempt of death, to pass in review those who have tenaciously stuck to life. What more then have they gained than those who have died early? Cer- tainly they lie in their tombs somewhere at last, Cadicianus, Fabius, Julianus, Lepidus, or any one else like them, who have carried out many to be buried, and then were carried out themselves. Alto- gether the interval is small [between birth and death]; and con- sider with how much trouble, and in company with what sort of people, and in what a feeble body this interval is laboriously passed. Do not then consider life a thing of any value. For look to the immensity of time behind thee, and to the time which is before thee, another boundless space. In this infinity then what is the difference between him who lives three days and him who lives three generations? 51. Always run to the short way; and the short way is the natural: accordingly say and do everything in conformity with the soundest reason. For such a purpose frees a man from trouble, and warfare, and all artifice and ostentatious display. 222 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS IN THE morning when thou risest unwillingly, let this thought be present — I am rising to the work of a human being. Why then am I dissatisfied if I am going to do the things for which I exist and for which I was brought into the world ? Or have I been made for this, to lie in the bedclothes and keep myself warm? — But this is more pleasant. — Dost thou exist then to take thy pleasure, and not at all for action or exertion ? Dost thou not see the little plants, the little birds, the ants, the spiders, the bees working together to put in order their several parts of the universe ? And art thou unwilling to do the work of a human being, and dost thou not make haste to do that which is according to thy nature? — But it is necessary to take rest also. — It is necessary: however nature has fixed bounds to this too: she has fixed bounds both to eating and drinking, and yet thou goest beyond these bounds, beyond what is sufficient; yet in thy acts it is not so, but thou stoppest short of what thou canst do. So thou lovest not thyself, for if thou didst, thou wouldst love thy nature and her will. But those who love their several arts exhaust themselves in working at them unwashed and without food; but thou valuest thy own nature less than the turner values the turning art, or the dancer the dancing art, or the lover of money values his money, or the vainglorious man his little glory. And such men, when they have a violent affection to a thing, choose neither to eat nor to sleep rather than to perfect the things which they care for. But are the acts which concern society more vile in thy eyes and less worthy of thy labour? 2. How easy it is to repel and to wipe away every impression which is troublesome or unsuitable, and immediately to be in all tranquiUity. 3. Judge every word and deed which are according to nature to be fit for thee; and be not diverted by the blame which follows from any people, nor by their words, but if a thing is good to be done or said, do not consider it unworthy of thee. For those persons have their peculiar leading principle and follow their peculiar movement; which things do not thou regard, but go straight on, following thy own nature and the common nature; and the way of both is one. THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 223 4. I go through the things which happen according to nature until I shall fall and rest, breathing out my breath into that element out of which I daily draw it in, and falling upon that earth out of which my father collected the seed, and my mother the blood, and my nurse the milk; out of which during so many years I have been sup- plied with food and drink; which bears me when I tread on it and abuse it for so many purposes. 5. Thou sayest, men cannot admire the sharpness of thy wits. — Be it so; but there are many other things of which thou canst not say, I am not formed for them by nature. Show those qualities then which are altogether in thy power: sincerity, gravity, endurance of labour, aversion to pleasure, contentment with thy (xirtion and with few things, benevolence, frankness, no love of superfluity, freedom from trifling magnanimity. Dost thou not see how many quaUties thou art immediately able to exhibit, in which there is no excuse of natural incapacity and unfitness, and yet thou still remainest volun- tarily below the mark? or art thou compelled through being defec- tively furnished by nature to murmur, and to be stingy, and to flatter, and to find fault with thy poor body, and to try to please men, and to make great display, and to be restless in thy mind ? No, by the gods: but thou mightest have been delivered from these things long ago. Only if in truth thou canst be charged with being rather slow and dull of comprehension, thou must exert thyself about this also, not neglecting it nor yet taking pleasure in thy dullness. 6. One man, when he has done a service to another, is ready to set it down to his account as a favour conferred. Another is not ready to do this, but still in his own mind he thinks of the man as his debtor, and he knows what he has done. A third in a manner does not even know what he has done, but he is like a vine which has produced grapes, and seeks for nothing more after it has once pro- duced its proper fruit. As a horse when he has run, a dog when he has tracked the game, a bee when it has made the honey, so a man when he has done a good act, does not call out for others to come and see, but he goes on to another act, as a vine goes on to produce again the grapes in season. — Must a man then be one of these, who in a manner act thus without observing it? — Yes. — But this very thing is necessary, the observation of what a man is doing; for it may be 224 '"'^ MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS said, it is characteristic of the social animal to perceive that he is working in a social manner, and indeed to wish that his social partner also should perceive it. — It is true what thou sayest, but thou dost not rightly understand what is now said; and for this reason thou wilt become one of those of whom I spoke before, for even they are misled by a certain show of reason. But if thou wilt choose to understand the meaning of what is said, do not fear that for this reason thou wilt omit any social act. 7, A prayer of the Athenians: Rain, rain, O dear Zeus, down on the plowed fields of the Athenians and on the plains. — In truth we ought not to pray at all, or we ought to pray in this simple and noble fashion. 8. Just as we must understand when it is said. That yEsculapius prescribed to this man horse-exercise, or bathing in cold water, or going without shoes, so we must understand it when it is said, That the nature of the universe prescribed to this man disease or mutilation or loss or anything else of the kind. For in the first case prescribed means something like this: he prescribed this for this man as a thing adapted to procure health; and in the second case it means. That which happens to [or suits] every man is fixed in a manner for him suitably to his destiny. For this is what we mean when we say that things are suitable to us, as the workmen say of squared stones in walls or the pyramids, that they are suitable, when they fit them to one another in some kind of connection. For there is altogether one fitness [harmony]. And as the universe is made up out of all bodies to be such a body as it is, so out of all existing causes necessity [destiny] is made up to be such a cause as it is. And even those who are completely ignorant understand what I mean, for they say. It [necessity, destiny] brought this to such a person. — This then was brought and this was prescribed to him. Let us then receive these things, as well as those which ^sculapius prescribes. Many, as a matter of course, even among his prescrip- tions, are disagreeable, but we accept them in the hope of health. Let the perfecting and accomplishment of the things, which the common nature judges to be good, be judged by thee to be of the same kind as thy health. And so accept everything which happens. THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 225 even if it seem disagreeable, because it leads to this, to the health of the universe and to the prosperity and felicity of Zeus [the universe]. For he would not have brought on any man what he has brought, if it were not useful for the whole. Neither does the nature of any- thing, whatever it may be, cause anything which is not suitable to that which is directed by it. For two reasons, then, it is right to be content with that which happens to thee; the one, because it was done for thee and prescribed for thee, and in a manner had reference to thee, originally from the most ancient causes spun with thy destiny; and the other, because even that which comes severally to every man is to the power which administers the universe a cause of felicity and perfection, nay even of its very continuance. For the integrity of the whole is mutilated, if thou cuttest off anything what- ever from the conjunction and the continuity either of the parts or of the causes. And thou dost cut off, as far as it is in thy power, when thou art dissatisfied, and in a manner triest to put anything out of the way. 9. Be not disgusted, nor discouraged, nor dissatisfied, if thou dost not succeed in doing everything according to right principles; but when thou hast failed, return back again, and be content if the greater part of what thou doest is consistent with man's nature, and love this to which thou returnest; and do not return to philosophy as if she were a master, but act like those who have sore eyes and apply a bit of sponge and egg, or as another applies a plaster, or drenching with water. For thus thou wilt not fail to obey reason and thou wilt refX)se in it. And remember that philosophy requires only the things which thy nature requires; but thou wouldst have some- thing else which is not according to nature. It may be objected, Why, what is more agreeable than this [which I am doing] ? But is not this the very reason why pleasure deceives us? And consider if magnanimity, freedom, simplicity, equanimity, piety are not more agreeable. For what is more agreeable than wisdom itself, when thou thinkest of the security and the happy course of all things which depend on the faculty of understanding and knowledge? 10. Things are in such a kind of envelopment that they have seemed to philosophers, not a few nor those common philosophers, 226 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS altogether unintelligible; nay even to the Stoics themselves they seem difficult to understand. And all our assent is changeable; for where is the man who never changes? Carry thy thoughts then to the objects themselves, and consider how short-lived they are and worth- less, and that they may be in the possession of a filthy wretch or a whore or a robber. Then turn to the morals of those who live with thee, and it is hardly possible to endure even the most agreeable of them, to say nothing of a man being hardly able to endure himself. In such darkness, then, and dirt, and in so constant a flux, both of substance and of time, and of motion, and of things moved, what there is worth being highly prized, or even an object of serious pur- suit, I cannot imagine. But on the contrary it is a man's duty to comfort himself, and to wait for the natural dissolution and not to be vexed at the delay, but to rest in these principles only: the one^, that nothing will happen to me which is not conformable to the natiu'e of the universe; and the other, that it is in my power never to act contrary to my god and dxmoa: for there is no man who will compel me to this. 11. About what am I now employing my own soul? On every occasion I must ask myself this question, and inquire, what have I now in this part of me which they call the ruling principle? and whose soul have I now ? that of a child, or of a young man, or of a feeble woman, or of a tyrant, or of a domestic animal, or of a wild beast? 12. What kind of things those are which appear good to the many, we may learn even from this. For if any man should conceive certain things as being really good, such as prudence, temperance, justice, fortitude, he would not after having first conceived these endure to listen to anything which should not be in harmony with what is really good. But if a man has first conceived as good the things which app)ear to the many to be good, he will listen and readily receive as very applicable that which was said by the comic writer. Thus even the many perceive the difference. For were it not so, this saying would not offend and would not be rejected fin the first case], while we receive it when it is said of wealth, and of the means which further luxury and fame, as said fitly and wittily. Go on then and ask if we should value and think those things to be good, to which THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 227 after their first conception in the mind the words of the comic writer might be aptly applied — that he who has them, through pure abun- dance has not a place to ease himself in. 13. I am composed of the formal and the material; and neither of them will perish into non-existence, as neither of them came into existence out of non-existence. Every part of me then will be reduced by change into some part of the universe, and that again will change into another part of the universe, and so on forever. And by con- sequence of such a change I too exist, and those who begot me, and so on forever in the other direction. For nothing hinders us from saying so, even if the universe is administered according to definite periods [of revolution]. 14. Reason and the reasoning art [philosophy] are powers which are sufficient for themselves and for their own works. They move then from a first principle which is their own, and they make their way to the end which is proposed to them; and this is the reason why such aas are named Catorthoseis or right acts, which word signifies that they proceed by the right road. 15. None of these things ought to be called a man's which do not belong to a man, as man. They are not required of a man, nor does man's nature promise them, nor are they the means of man's nature attaining its end. Neither then does the end of man lie in these things, nor yet that which aids to the accomplishment of this end, and that which aids toward this end is that which is good. Besides, if any of these things did belong to man, it would not be right for a man to despise them and to set himself against them; nor would a man be worthy of praise who showed that he did not want these things, nor would he who stinted himself in any of them be good, if indeed these things were good. But now the more of these things a man deprives himself of, or of other things like them, or even when he is deprived of any of them, the more patiently he endures the loss, just in the same degree he is a better man. 16. Such as are thy habitual thoughts, such also will be the char- acter of thy mind; for the soul is dyed by the thoughts. Dye it then with a continuous series of such thoughts as these: for instance, that where a man can live, there he can also live well. But he must live in a palace — well then, he can also live well in a palace. And again, 228 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS consider that for whatever purpose each thing has been constituted, for this it has been constituted, and toward this it is carried; and its end is in that toward which it is carried; and where the end is, there also is the advantage and the good of each thing. Now the good for the reasonable animal is society; for that we are made for society has been shown above. Is it not plain that the inferior exist for the sake of the superior? but the things which have life are superior to those which have not life, and of those which have life the superior are those which have reason. 17. To seek what is impossible is madness: and it is impossible that the bad should not do something of this kind. 18. Nothing happens to any man which he is not formed by nature to bear. The same things happen to another, and either because he does not see that they have happened or because he would show a great spirit he is firm and remains unharmed. It is a shame then that ignorance and conceit should be stronger than wisdom. 19. Things themselves touch not the soul, not in the least degree; nor have they admission to the soul, nor can they turn or move the soul: but the soul turns and moves itself alone, and whatever judg- ments it may think proper to make, such it makes for itself the things which present themselves to it. 20. In one respect man is the nearest thing to me, so far as I must do good to men and endure them. But so far as some men make themselves obstacles to my proper acts, man becomes to me one of the things which are indifferent, no less than the sun or wind or a wild beast. Now it is true that these may impede my action, but they are no impediments to my affects and disposition, which have the power of acting conditionally and changing: for the mind con- verts and changes every hindrance to its activity into an aid; and so that which is a hindrance is made a furtherance to an act; and that which is an obstacle on the road helps us on this road. 21. Reverence that which is best in the universe; and this is that which makes use of all things and directs all things. And in like manner also reverence that which is best in thyself; and this is of the same kind as that. For in thyself also, that which makes use of everything else, is this, and thy life is directed by this. 22. That which does no harm to the state, does no harm to the THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 229 citizen. In the case of every appearance of harm apply this rule: if the state is not harmed by this, neither am I harmed. But if the state is harmed, thou must not be angry with him who does harm to the state. Show him where his error is. 23. Often think of the rapidity with which things pass by and dis- appear, both the things which are and the things which are produced. For substance is like a river in a continual flow, and the activities of things are in constant change, and the causes work in infinite varieties; and there is hardly anything which stands still. And con- sider this which is near to thee, this boundless abyss of the past and of the future in which all things disappear. How then is he not a fool who is pufled up with such things or plagued about them or makes himself miserable? for they vex him only for a time, and a short time. 24. Think of the universal substance, of which thou hast a very small portion; and of universal time, of which a short and indivisi- ble interval has been assigned to thee; and of that which is fixed by destiny, and how small a part of it thou art. 25. Does another do me wrong .'' Let him look to it. He has his own disposition, his own activity. I now have what the universal nature wills me to have; and I do what my nature now wills me to do. 26. Let the part of thy soul which leads and governs be undis- turbed by the movements in the flesh, whether of pleasure or of pain; and let it not unite with them, but let it circumscribe itself and Hmit those affects to their parts. But when these affects rise up to the mind by virtue of that other sympathy that naturally exists in a body which is all one, then thou must not strive to resist the sensation, for it is natural : but let not the ruling part of itself add to the sensa- tion the opinion that it is either good or bad. 27. Live with the gods. And he does live with the gods who constantly shows to them that his own soul is satisfied with that which is assigned to him, and that it does all that the daemon wishes, which Zeus hath given to every man for his guardian and guide, a portion of himself. And this is every man's understanding and reason. 28. Art thou angry with him whose arm-pits stink? art thou angry with him whose mouth smells foul? What good will this 230 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS anger do thee? He has such a mouth, he has such arm-pits: it is necessary that such an emanation must come from such things — but the man has reason, it will be said, and he is able, if he takes pains, to discover wherein he offends — I wish thee well of thy dis- covery. Well then, and thou hast reason: by thy rational faculty stir up his rational faculty; show him his error, admonish him. For if he listens, thou wilt cure him, and there is no need of anger. [Neither tragic actor nor whore.'] 29. As thou intendest to live when thou are gone out, ... so it is in thy power to live here. But if men do not permit thee, then get away out of life, yet so as if thou wert suffering no harm. The house is smoky, and I quit it. Why dost thou think that this is any trouble? But so long as nothing of the kind drives me out, I remain, am free, and no man shall hinder me from doing what I choose; and I choose to do what is according to the nature of the rational and social animal. 30. The intelligence of the universe is social. Accordingly it has made the inferior things for the sake of the superior, and it has fitted the superior to one another. Thou seest how it has subordinated, co-ordinated and assigned to everything its proper portion, and has brought together into concord with one another the things which are the best. 31. How hast thou behaved hitherto to the gods, thy parents, brethren, children, teachers, to those who looked after thy infancy, to thy friends, kinsfolk, to thy slaves? Consider if thou hast hitherto behaved to all in such a way that this may be said of thee: Never has wronged a man in deed or word. And call to recollection both how many things thou hast passed through, and how many things thou hast been able to endure: and that the history of thy life is now complete, and thy service is ended: and how many beautiful things thou hast seen: and how many pleasures and pains thou hast despised; and how many things called honourable thou hast spurned; and to how many ill-minded folks thou hast shown a kind disposition. 32. Why do unskilled and ignorant souls disturb him who has skill and knowledge? What soul then has skill and knowledge? 'This sentence is imperfect or corrupt, or both. THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS 23 1 That which knows beginning and end, and knows the reason which pervades all substance and through all time by fixed periods [revolu- tions] administers the universe. 33. Soon, very soon, thou wilt be ashes, or a skeleton, and either a name or not even a name; but name is sound and echo, and the things which are much valued in life are empty and rotten and trifling, and [like] little dogs biting one another, and little children quarrelling, laughing, and then straightway weeping. But fidelity and modesty and justice and truth are fled Up to Olympus from the wide-spread earth. Hesiod. Worlds, etc., v. 197. What then is there which still detains thee here? if the objects of sense are easily changed and never stand still, and the organs of perception are dull and easily receive false impressions; and the poor soul itself is an exhalation from blood. But to have good repute amid such a world as this is an empty thing. Why then dost thou not wait in tranquillity for thy end, whether it is extinction or removal to another state? And until that time comes, what is sufficient? Why, what else than to venerate the gods and bless them, and to do good to men, and to practise tolerance and self-restraint; but as to every- thing which is beyond the limits of the poor flesh and breath, to remember that this is neither thine nor in thy power. 34. Thou canst pass thy life in an equable flow of happiness, if thou canst go by the right way, and think and act in the right way. These two things are common both to the soul of God and to the soul of man, and to the soul of every rational being, not to be hin- dered by another; and to hold good to consist in the disposition to justice and the practice of it, and in this to let thy desire find its termination. 35. If this is neither my own badness, nor an effect of my own badness, and the common weal is not injured, why am I troubled about it? and what is the harm to the common weal? 36. Do not be carried along inconsiderately by the appearance of things, but give help [to all] according to thy ability and their fit- ness; and if they should have sustained loss in matters which are indifferent, do tK)t imagine this to be a damage. For it is a bad 232 THE MEDITATIONS OF MARCUS AURELIUS habit. But as the old man, when he went away, asked back his foster