in the mean while being monstrously ignorant what a noble expedient
this is to disperse our sorrows, to contemplate upon and to be able
to look Fortune steadily in the face; and not to cherish delicate and
effeminate apprehensions of things, like those bred up in the shade,
under false and extravagant hopes which have not strength to resist
the first adversity. But to the saying of Menander we may make this
just and serious reply: It is true that a man while he lives can never
say, This will never befall me; but he can say this, I will not do this
or that; I will scorn to lie; I will not be treacherous or do a thing
ungenerously; I will not defraud or circumvent any one. And to do this
lies within the sphere of our performance, and conduceth extremely
to the tranquillity of the mind. Whereas, on the contrary, the being
conscious of having done a wicked action[92] leaves stings of remorse
behind it, which, like an ulcer in the flesh, makes the mind smart
with perpetual wounds; for reason, which chaseth away all other pains,
creates repentance, shames the soul with confusion, and punisheth it
with torment. But as those who are chilled with an ague or that burn
with a fever feel acuter griefs than those who are scorched with the
sun or frozen up with the severity of the weather, so those things
which are casual and fortuitous give us the least disturbance, because
they are external accidents. But the man whom the truth of this makes
uneasy,—
Another did not run me on this shelf;
I was the cause of all the ills myself,[93]
who laments not only his misfortunes but his crimes, finds his agonies
sharpened by the turpitude of the fact. Hence it comes to pass, that
neither rich furniture nor abundance of gold, not a descent from an
illustrious family or greatness of authority, not eloquence and all
the charms of speaking can procure so great a serenity of life as a
mind free from guilt, kept untainted not only from actions but purposes
that are wicked. By this means the soul will be not only unpolluted
but undisturbed; the fountain will run clear and unsullied; and the
streams that flow from it will be just and honest deeds, ecstasies of
satisfaction, a brisk energy of spirit which makes a man an enthusiast
in his joy, and a tenacious memory sweeter than hope, which (as Pindar
saith) with a virgin warmth cherisheth old age.[94] For as censers,
even after they are empty, do for a long time after retain their
fragrancy, as Carneades expresseth it, so the good actions of a wise
man perfume his mind, and leave a rich scent behind them; so that joy
is, as it were, watered with these essences, and owes its flourishing
to them. This makes him pity those who not only bewail but accuse
human life, as if it were only a region of calamities and a place of
banishment appointed for their souls.
20. That saying of Diogenes extremely pleaseth me, who, seeing one
sprucing himself up very neatly to go to a great entertainment, asked
him whether every day was not a festival to a good man. And certainly,
that which makes it the more splendid festival is sobriety. For the
world is a spacious and beautiful temple; this a man is brought into as
soon as he is born, where he is not to be a dull spectator of immovable
and lifeless images made by human hands, but is to contemplate sublime
things, which (as Plato tells us) the divine mind has exhibited to
our senses as likenesses of things in the ideal world, having the
principles of life and motion in themselves; such as are the sun,
moon, and stars; rivers which are still supplied with fresh accessions
of water; and the earth, which with a motherly indulgence suckles
the plants and feeds her sensitive creatures. Now since life is the
introduction and the most perfect initiation into these mysteries, it
is but just that it should be full of cheerfulness and tranquillity.
For we are not to imitate the little vulgar, who wait impatiently for
the jolly days which are consecrated to Saturn, Bacchus, and Minerva,
that they may be merry with hired laughter, and pay such a price to
the mimic and stage-dancer for their diversions. At all these games
and ceremonies we sit silent and composed; for no man laments when he
is initiated in the rites, when he beholds the games of Apollo, or
drinks in the Saturnalia. But when the Gods order the scenes at their
own festivals, or initiate us into their own mysteries, the enjoyment
becomes sordid to us; and we wear out our wretched lives in care,
heaviness of spirit, and bitter complaints.
Men are delighted with the harmonious touches of an instrument; they
are pleased likewise with the melody of the birds; and it is not
without some recreation that they behold the beasts frolicsome and
sporting; but when the frisk is over and they begin to bellow and curl
their brows, the ungrateful noise and their angry looks offend them.
But as for their own lives, they suffer them to pass away without a
smile, to boil with passions, be involved in business, and eaten out
with endless cares. And to ease them of their solicitudes, they will
not seek out for remedies themselves, nor will they even hearken to the
reasons or admit the consolations of their friends. But if they would
only give ear to these, they might bear their present condition without
fault-finding, remember the past with joy and gratitude, and live
without fear or distrust, looking forward to the future with a joyful
and lightsome hope.