Therefore we ought not so to vilify and depress our nature as if it
could not get the ascendant over Fortune, and had nothing of firmness
and stability in it. But we ought rather to consider that, if any part
of us is obnoxious to this, it is only that which is the smallest, and
the most impure and sickly too; whilst the better and more generous
we have the most absolute dominion of, and our chiefest goods are
placed in it, such as true discipline, a right notion of things, and
reasonings which in their last results bring us unto virtue; which are
so far from being abolished, that they cannot be corrupted. We ought
likewise, with an invincible spirit and a bold security as regards
futurity, to answer Fortune in those words which Socrates retorted upon
his judges: Anytus and Meletus may kill, but they cannot hurt me. So
she can afflict me with a disease, can spoil me of my riches, disgrace
me with my prince, and bring me under a popular odium; but she cannot
make a good man wicked, or the brave man a mean and degenerate coward;
she cannot cast envy upon a generous temper, or destroy any of those
habits of the mind which are more useful to us in the conduct of our
lives, when they are within the command of our wills, than the skill of
a pilot in a storm. For the pilot cannot mitigate the billows or calm
the winds; he cannot sail into the haven as often as he has occasion,
or without fear and trembling abide any danger that may befall him;
but after having used all his efforts, he at last recommits himself to
the fury of the storm, pulls down all his sails by the board, whilst
the lower mast is within an inch of the abyss, and sits trembling at
the approaching ruin. But the affections of the mind in a wise man
procure tranquillity even to the body. For he prevents the beginnings
of disease by temperance, a spare diet, and moderate exercise; but if
an evil begin more visibly to show itself, as we sometimes steer our
ship by rocks which lie in the water, he must then furl in his sails
and pass by it, as Asclepiades expresseth it; but if the waves grow
turbulent and the sea rougher, the port is at hand, and he may leave
this body, as he would a leaky vessel, and swim ashore.
18. For it is not so much the desire of life as the fear of death,
which makes the fool have such a dependence upon the body, and stick so
fast to its embraces. So Ulysses held fast by the fig-tree, dreading
Charybdis that lay under him,—
Where the wind would not suffer him to stay.
Nor would it serve to carry him away,[90]
so that on this side was but a slender support, and there was
inevitable danger on the other. But he who considers the nature of the
soul, and that death will transport it to a condition either far better
or not much worse than what he now enjoys, hath contempt of death to
sustain him as he travelleth on in this pilgrimage of his life, no
small _viaticum_ towards tranquillity of mind. For as to one that can
live pleasantly so long as virtue and the better part of mankind are
predominant, and can depart fearlessly so soon as hostile and unnatural
principles prevail, saying to himself,—