Nor hath this gentleness produced in thee any laziness or irresolution;
but, like cultivation in the earth, it hath caused an evenness and a
profundity very effectual unto fruitful action, instead of thy former
vehemency and over-eagerness. And therefore it is evident that thy
former proneness to anger hath not been withered in thee by any decay
of vigor which age might have effected, or spontaneously; but that it
hath been cured by making use of some mollifying precepts.
And indeed, to tell you the truth, when I heard our friend Eros say
the same thing, I had a suspicion that he did not report the thing as
it was, but that out of mere good-will he testified those things of
you which ought to be found in every good and virtuous man. And yet
you know he cannot be easily induced to depart from what he judges to
be true, in order to favor any man. But now, truly, as I acquit him of
having therein made any false report of thee, so I desire thee, being
now at leisure from thy journey, to declare unto us the means and (as
it were) the medicine, by use whereof thou hast brought thy mind to be
thus manageable and natural, thus gentle and obedient unto reason.
FUNDANUS. But in the mean while, O most kind Sylla, you had best
beware, lest you also through affection and friendship may be somewhat
careless in making an estimate of my affairs. For Eros, having himself
also a mind oft-times unable to keep its ground and to contain
itself within that obedience which Homer mentions, but subject to be
exasperated through an hatred of men’s wickedness, may perhaps think
I am grown more mild; just as in music, when the key is changed, that
note which before was the base becomes a higher note with respect to
others which are now below it.
SYLLA. Neither of these is so, Fundanus; but, I pray you, gratify us
all by granting the request I made.
2. FUNDANUS. This then, O Sylla, is one of those excellent rules given
by Musonius which I bear in memory,—that those who would be in sound
health must physic themselves all their lives. Now I do not think that
reason cures, like hellebore, by purging out itself together with
the disease it cures, but by keeping possession of the soul, and so
governing and guarding its judgments. For the power of reason is not
like drugs, but like wholesome food; and, with the assistance of a good
natural disposition, it produceth a healthful constitution in all with
whom it hath become familiar.
And as for those good exhortations and admonitions which are applied
to passions while they swell and are at their height, they work but
slowly and with small success; and they differ in nothing from those
strong-smelling things, which indeed do serve to put those that have
the falling sickness upon their legs again after they are fallen, but
are not able to remove the disease. For whereas other passions, even
when they are in their ruff and acme, do in some sort yield and admit
reason into the soul, which comes to help it from without; anger does
not, as Melanthius says,—
Displace the mind, and then act dismal things;
but it absolutely turns the mind out of doors, and bolts the door
against it; and, like those who burn their houses and themselves within
them, it makes all things within full of confusion, smoke, and noise,
so that the soul can neither see nor hear any thing that might relieve
it. Wherefore sooner will an empty ship in a storm at sea admit of a
pilot from without, than a man tossed with anger and rage listen to
the advice of another, unless he have his own reason first prepared to
entertain it.
But as those who expect to be besieged are wont to gather together and
lay in provisions of such things as they are like to need, not trusting
to hopes of relief from without, so ought it to be our special concern
to fetch in from philosophy such foreign helps as it affords against
anger, and to store them up in the soul beforehand, seeing that it
will not be so easy a matter to provide ourselves when the time is
come for using them. For either the soul cannot hear what is spoken
without, by reason of the tumult, unless it have its own reason (like
the director of the rowers in a ship) ready to entertain and understand
whatsoever precept shall be given; or, if it do chance to hear, yet
will it be ready to despise what is patiently and mildly offered, and
to be exasperated by what shall be pressed upon it with more vehemency.
For, since wrath is proud and self-conceited, and utterly averse from
compliance with others, like a fortified and guarded tyranny, that
which is to overthrow it must be bred within it and be of its own
household.
3. Now the continuance of anger and frequent fits of it produce an evil
habit in the soul called wrathfulness, or a propensity to be angry,
which oft-times ends in choleric temper, bitterness, and moroseness.
Then the mind becomes ulcerated, peevish, and querulous, and like a
thin, weak plate of iron, receives impression and is wounded by even
the least occurrence; but when the judgment presently seizes upon
wrathful ebullitions and suppresses them, it not only works a cure
for the present, but renders the soul firm and not so liable to such
impressions for the future. And truly, when I myself had twice or
thrice made a resolute resistance unto anger, the like befell me that
did the Thebans; who, having once foiled the Lacedaemonians, that
before that time had held themselves invincible, never after lost so
much as one battle which they fought against them. For I became fully
assured in my mind, that anger might be overcome by the use of reason.
And I perceived that it might not only be quieted by the sprinkling of
cold water, as Aristotle relates, but also be extinguished by putting
one into a fright. Yea, according to Homer, many men have had their
anger melted and dissipated by sudden surprise of joy. So that I came
to this firm resolution, that this passion is not altogether incurable
to such as are but willing to be cured; since the beginnings and
occasions of it are not always great or forcible; but a scoff, or a
jest, or the laughing at one, or a nod only, or some other matter of
no great importance, will put many men into a passion. Thus Helen, by
addressing her niece in the words beginning,—
O my Electra, now a virgin stale,
provoked her to make this nipping return:—