From the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius
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I. That inward mistress part of man if it be in its own true
natural temper, is towards all worldly chances and events ever
so disposed and affected, that it will easily turn and apply
itself to that which may be, and is within its own power
to compass, when that cannot be which at first it intended.
For it never doth absolutely addict and apply itself to any one object,
but whatsoever it is that it doth now intend and prosecute,
it doth prosecute it with exception and reservation; so that
whatsoever it is that falls out contrary to its first intentions,
even that afterwards it makes its proper object. Even as
the fire when it prevails upon those things that are in his way;
by which things indeed a little fire would have been quenched,
but a great fire doth soon turn to its own nature, and so consume
whatsoever comes in his way: yea by those very things it is made
greater and greater. II. Let nothing be done rashly, and at random,
but all things according to the most exact and perfect rules
of art. III. They seek for themselves private retiring places,
as country villages, the sea-shore, mountains; yea thou thyself
art wont to long much after such places. But all this thou
must know proceeds from simplicity in the highest degree.
At what time soever thou wilt, it is in thy power to retire
into thyself, and to be at rest, and free from all businesses.
A man cannot any whither retire better than to his own soul;
he especially who is beforehand provided of such things within,
which whensoever he doth withdraw himself to look in,
may presently afford unto him perfect ease and tranquillity.
By tranquillity I understand a decent orderly disposition
and carriage, free from all confusion and tumultuousness.
Afford then thyself this retiring continually, and thereby refresh
and renew thyself. Let these precepts be brief and fundamental,
which as soon as thou dost call them to mind, may suffice thee
to purge thy soul throughly, and to send thee away well pleased
with those things whatsoever they be, which now again after this
short withdrawing of thy soul into herself thou dost return unto.
For what is it that thou art offended at? Can it be at the
wickedness of men, when thou dost call to mind this conclusion,
that all reasonable creatures are made one for another?
and that it is part of justice to bear with them? and that it
is against their wills that they offend? and how many already,
who once likewise prosecuted their enmities, suspected, hated,
and fiercely contended, are now long ago stretched out,
and reduced unto ashes? It is time for thee to make an end.
As for those things which among the common chances of the world
happen unto thee as thy particular lot and portion, canst thou be
displeased with any of them, when thou dost call that our ordinary
dilemma to mind, either a providence, or Democritus his atoms;
and with it, whatsoever we brought to prove that the whole
world is as it were one city? And as for thy body, what canst
thou fear, if thou dost consider that thy mind and understanding,
when once it hath recollected itself, and knows its own power,
hath in this life and breath (whether it run smoothly and gently,
or whether harshly and rudely), no interest at all, but is
altogether indifferent: and whatsoever else thou hast heard
and assented unto concerning either pain or pleasure? But the care
of thine honour and reputation will perchance distract thee?
How can that be, if thou dost look back, and consider both how
quickly all things that are, are forgotten, and what an immense
chaos of eternity was before, and will follow after all things:
and the vanity of praise, and the inconstancy and variableness
of human judgments and opinions, and the narrowness of the place,
wherein it is limited and circumscribed? For the whole earth
is but as one point; and of it, this inhabited part of it,
is but a very little part; and of this part, how many in number,
and what manner of men are they, that will commend thee?
What remains then, but that thou often put in practice this
kind of retiring of thyself, to this little part of thyself;
and above all things, keep thyself from distraction, and intend
not anything vehemently, but be free and consider all things,
as a man whose proper object is Virtue, as a man whose true nature
is to be kind and sociable, as a citizen, as a mortal creature.
Among other things, which to consider, and look into thou must
use to withdraw thyself, let those two be among the most obvious
and at hand. One, that the things or objects themselves
reach not unto the soul, but stand without still and quiet,
and that it is from the opinion only which is within,
that all the tumult and all the trouble doth proceed.
The next, that all these things, which now thou seest,
shall within a very little while be changed, and be no more:
and ever call to mind, how many changes and alterations in the world
thou thyself hast already been an eyewitness of in thy time.
This world is mere change, and this life, opinion. IV. If to
understand and to be reasonable be common unto all men,
then is that reason, for which we are termed reasonable,
common unto all. If reason is general, then is that reason also,
which prescribeth what is to be done and what not, common unto all.
If that, then law. If law, then are we fellow-citizens.
If so, then are we partners in some one commonweal.
If so, then the world is as it were a city. For which other
commonweal is it, that all men can be said to be members of?
From this common city it is, that understanding, reason, and law
is derived unto us, for from whence else? For as that which in me
is earthly I have from some common earth; and that which is moist
from some other element is imparted; as my breath and life hath its
proper fountain; and that likewise which is dry and fiery in me:
(for there is nothing which doth not proceed from something;
as also there is nothing that can be reduced unto mere nothing:)
so also is there some common beginning from whence my
understanding bath proceeded.
V. As generation is, so also death, a secret of nature's wisdom:
a mixture of elements, resolved into the same elements again,
a thing surely which no man ought to be ashamed of:
in a series of other fatal events and consequences, which a
rational creature is subject unto, not improper or incongruous,
nor contrary to the natural and proper constitution of man himself.
VI. Such and such things, from such and such causes, must of
necessity proceed. He that would not have such things to happen,
is as he that would have the fig-tree grow without any sap or moisture.
In sum, remember this, that within a very little while,
both thou and he shall both be dead, and after a little while more,
not so much as your names and memories shall be remaining.
VII. Let opinion be taken away, and no man will think himself wronged.
If no man shall think himself wronged, then is there no more any
such thing as wrong. That which makes not man himself the worse,
cannot make his life the worse, neither can it hurt him either inwardly
or outwardly. It was expedient in nature that it should be so,
and therefore necessary. VIII. Whatsoever doth happen in the world, doth
happen justly, and so if thou dost well take heed, thou shalt find it.
I say not only in right order by a series of inevitable consequences,
but according to justice and as it were by way of equal distribution,
according to the true worth of everything. Continue then to take
notice of it, as thou hast begun, and whatsoever thou dost,
do it not without this proviso, that it be a thing of that nature
that a good man (as the word good is properly taken) may do it.
This observe carefully in every action. IX. Conceit no such things,
as he that wrongeth thee conceiveth, or would have thee to conceive,
but look into the matter itself, and see what it is in very truth.
X. These two rules, thou must have always in a readiness.
First, do nothing at all, but what reason proceeding from that regal and
supreme part, shall for the good and benefit of men, suggest unto thee.
And secondly, if any man that is present shall be able to rectify
thee or to turn thee from some erroneous persuasion, that thou
be always ready to change thy mind, and this change to proceed,
not from any respect of any pleasure or credit thereon depending,
but always from some probable apparent ground of justice, or of some
public good thereby to be furthered; or from some other such inducement.
XI. Hast thou reason? I have. Why then makest thou not use of it?
For if thy reason do her part, what more canst thou require?
XII. As a part hitherto thou hast had a particular subsistence:
and now shalt thou vanish away into the common substance of Him,
who first begot thee, or rather thou shalt be resumed again into
that original rational substance, out of which all others have issued,
and are propagated. Many small pieces of frankincense are set upon
the same altar, one drops first and is consumed, another after;
and it comes all to one. XIII. Within ten days, if so happen,
thou shalt be esteemed a god of them, who now if thou shalt return
to the dogmata and to the honouring of reason, will esteem of thee
no better than of a mere brute, and of an ape. XIV. Not as though
thou hadst thousands of years to live. Death hangs over thee:
whilst yet thou livest, whilst thou mayest, be good.
XV. Now much time and leisure doth he gain, who is not curious to know
what his neighbour hath said, or hath done, or hath attempted,
but only what he doth himself, that it may be just and holy?
or to express it in Agathos' words, Not to look about upon
the evil conditions of others, but to run on straight in the line,
without any loose and extravagant agitation.
XVI. He who is greedy of credit and reputation after
his death, doth not consider, that they themselves by whom
he is remembered, shall soon after every one of them be dead;
and they likewise that succeed those; until at last all memory,
which hitherto by the succession of men admiring and soon
after dying hath had its course, be quite extinct.
But suppose that both they that shall remember thee, and thy
memory with them should be immortal, what is that to thee?
I will not say to thee after thou art dead; but even to thee living,
what is thy praise? But only for a secret and politic consideration,
which we call oikonomian or dispensation. For as for that,
that it is the gift of nature, whatsoever is commended in thee,
what might be objected from thence, let that now that we
are upon another consideration be omitted as unseasonable.
That which is fair and goodly, whatsoever it be, and in what respect
soever it be, that it is fair and goodly, it is so of itself,
and terminates in itself, not admitting praise as a part or member:
that therefore which is praised, is not thereby made either
better or worse. This I understand even of those things,
that are commonly called fair and good, as those which are commended
either for the matter itself, or for curious workmanship.
As for that which is truly good, what can it stand in need
of more than either justice or truth ; or more than either
kindness and modesty? Which of all those, either becomes good
or fair, because commended; or dispraised suffers any damage?
Doth the emerald become worse in itself, or more vile
if it be not commended? Doth gold, or ivory, or purple?
Is there anything that doth though never so common, as a knife,
a flower, or a tree?
XVII. If so be that the souls remain after death (say they that will not
believe it); how is the air from all eternity able to contain them?
How is the earth (say I) ever from that time able to Contain the bodies
of them that are buried? For as here the change and resolution
of dead bodies into another kind of subsistence (whatsoever it be;)
makes place for other dead bodies: so the souls after death transferred
into the air, after they have conversed there a while, are either by way
of transmutation, or transfusion, or conflagration, received again into
that original rational substance, from which all others do proceed:
and so give way to those souls, who before coupled and associated
unto bodies, now begin to subsist single. This, upon a supposition that
the souls after death do for a while subsist single, may be answered.
And here, (besides the number of bodies, so buried and contained
by the earth), we may further consider the number of several beasts,
eaten by us men, and by other creatures. For notwithstanding that
such a multitude of them is daily consumed, and as it were buried
in the bodies of the eaters, yet is the same place and body able
to contain them, by reason of their conversion, partly into blood,
partly into air and fire. What in these things is the speculation
of truth? to divide things into that which is passive and material;
and that which is active and formal.
XVIII. Not to wander out of the way, but upon every motion and desire,
to perform that which is just: and ever to be careful to attain
to the true natural apprehension of every fancy, that presents itself.
XIX. Whatsoever is expedient unto thee, O World, is expedient unto me;
nothing can either be 'unseasonable unto me, or out of date,
which unto thee is seasonable. Whatsoever thy seasons bear,
shall ever by me be esteemed as happy fruit, and increase.
O Nature! from thee are all things, in thee all things subsist,
and to thee all tend. Could he say of Athens, Thou lovely city
of Cecrops; and shalt not thou say of the world, Thou lovely
city of God?
XX. They will say commonly, Meddle not with many things,
if thou wilt live cheerfully. Certainly there is nothing better,
than for a man to confine himself to necessary actions;
to such and so many only, as reason in a creature that knows itself
born for society, will command and enjoin. This will not only
procure that cheerfulness, which from the goodness, but that also,
which from the paucity of actions doth usually proceed.
For since it is so, that most of those things, which we either
speak or do, are unnecessary; if a man shall cut them off,
it must needs follow that he shall thereby gain much leisure,
and save much trouble, and therefore at every action a man must
privately by way of admonition suggest unto himself, What? may not
this that now I go about, be of the number of unnecessary actions?
Neither must he use himself to cut off actions only, but thoughts
and imaginations also, that are unnecessary for so will unnecessary
consequent actions the better be prevented and cut off.
XXI. Try also how a good man's life; (of one, who is well pleased
with those things whatsoever, which among the common changes and
chances of this world fall to his own lot and share; and can live
well contented and fully satisfied in the justice of his own proper
present action, and in the goodness of his disposition for the future:)
will agree with thee. Thou hast had experience of that other
kind of life : make now trial of this also. Trouble not thyself
any more henceforth, reduce thyself unto perfect simplicity.
Doth any man offend? It is against himself that he doth offend:
why should it trouble thee? Hath anything happened unto thee ?
It is well, whatsoever it be, it is that which of all the common chances
of the world from the very beginning in the series of all other things
that have, or shall happen, was destinated and appointed unto thee.
To comprehend all in a few words, our life is short; we must
endeavour to gain the present time with best discretion and justice.
Use recreation with sobriety. XXII. Either this world is a kosmoz
or comely piece, because all disposed and governed by certain order:
or if it be a mixture, though confused, yet still it is a comely piece.
For is it possible that in thee there should be any beauty at all,
and that in the whole world there should be nothing but disorder
and confusion? and all things in it too, by natural different
properties one from another differenced and distinguished; and yet
all through diffused, and by natural sympathy, one to another united,
as they are?
XXIII. A black or malign disposition, an effeminate disposition;
an hard inexorable disposition, a wild inhuman disposition,
a sheepish disposition, a childish disposition; a blockish,
a false, a scurril, a fraudulent, a tyrannical: what then?
If he be a stranger in the world, that knows not the things
that are in it; why not he a stranger as well, that wonders
at the things that are done in it?
XXIV. He is a true fugitive, that flies from reason, by which
men are sociable. He blind, who cannot see with the eyes
of his understanding. He poor, that stands in need of another,
and hath not in himself all things needful for this life.
He an aposteme of the world, who by being discontented with those
things that happen unto him in the world, doth as it were apostatise,
and separate himself from common nature's rational administration.
For the same nature it is that brings this unto thee,
whatsoever it be, that first brought thee into the world.
He raises sedition in the city, who by irrational actions
withdraws his own soul from that one and common soul of
all rational creatures.
XXV. There is, who without so much as a coat; and there is, who without
so much as a book, doth put philosophy in practice. I am half naked,
neither have I bread to eat, and yet I depart not from reason, saith one.
But I say; I want the food of good teaching, and instructions,
and yet I depart not from reason. XXVI. What art and profession soever
thou hast learned, endeavour to affect it, and comfort thyself in it;
and pass the remainder of thy life as one who from his whole heart
commits himself and whatsoever belongs unto him, unto the gods:
and as for men, carry not thyself either tyrannically or servilely
towards any. XXVII. Consider in my mind, for example's sake,
the times of Vespasian: thou shalt see but the same things:
some marrying, some bringing up children, some sick, some dying,
some fighting, some feasting, some merchan-dising, some tilling,
some flattering, some boasting, some suspecting, some undermining,
some wishing to die, some fretting and murmuring at their present estate,
some wooing, some hoarding, some seeking after magistracies, and some
after kingdoms. And is not that their age quite over, and ended?
Again, consider now the times of Trajan. There likewise thou seest
the very self-same things, and that age also is now over and ended.
In the like manner consider other periods, both of times and of
whole nations, and see how many men, after they had with all their
might and main intended and prosecuted some one worldly thing or other
did soon after drop away, and were resolved into the elements.
But especially thou must call to mind them, whom thou thyself
in thy lifetime hast known much distracted about vain things,
and in the meantime neglecting to do that, and closely and unseparably
(as fully satisfied with it) to adhere unto it, which their own proper
constitution did require. And here thou must remember, that thy
carriage in every business must be according to the worth and due
proportion of it, for so shalt thou not easily be tired out and vexed,
if thou shalt not dwell upon small matters longer than is fitting.
XXVIII. Those words which once were common and ordinary,
are now become obscure and obsolete; and so the names of men once
commonly known and famous, are now become in a manner obscure
and obsolete names. Camillus, Cieso, Volesius, Leonnatus;
not long after, Scipio, Cato, then Augustus, then Adrianus,
then Antoninus Pius: all these in a short time will be out of date,
and, as things of another world as it were, become fabulous.
And this I say of them, who once shined as the wonders of
their ages, for as for the rest, no sooner are they expired,
than with them all their fame and memory. And what is it then
that shall always be remembered? all is vanity. What is it that we
must bestow our care and diligence upon? even upon this only:
that our minds and wills be just; that our actions be charitable;
that our speech be never deceitful, or that our understanding
be not subject to error; that our inclination be always set
to embrace whatsoever shall happen unto us, as necessary,
as usual, as ordinary, as flowing from such a beginning, and such
a fountain, from which both thou thyself and all things are.
Willingly therefore, and wholly surrender up thyself unto
that fatal concatenation, yielding up thyself unto the fates,
to be disposed of at their pleasure.
XXIX. Whatsoever is now present, and from day to day hath its existence;
all objects of memories, and the minds and memories themselves,
incessantly consider, all things that are, have their being by change
and alteration. Use thyself therefore often to meditate upon this,
that the nature of the universe delights in nothing more, than in
altering those things that are, and in making others like unto them.
So that we may say, that whatsoever is, is but as it were the seed
of that which shall be. For if thou think that that only is seed,
which either the earth or the womb receiveth, thou art very simple.
XXX. Thou art now ready to die, and yet hast thou not
attained to that perfect simplicity: thou art yet subject
to many troubles and perturbations; not yet free from all
fear and suspicion of external accidents; nor yet either
so meekly disposed towards all men, as thou shouldest;
or so affected as one, whose only study and only wisdom is,
to be just in all his actions. XXXI. Behold and observe,
what is the state of their rational part; and those that the world
doth account wise, see what things they fly and are afraid of;
and what things they hunt after.
XXXII. In another man's mind and understanding thy evil cannot subsist,
nor in any proper temper or distemper of the natural constitution
of thy body, which is but as it were the coat or cottage of thy soul.
Wherein then, but in that part of thee, wherein the conceit,
and apprehension of any misery can subsist? Let not that part
therefore admit any such conceit, and then all is well.
Though thy body which is so near it should either be cut or burnt,
or suffer any corruption or putrefaction, yet let that part
to which it belongs to judge of these, be still at rest; that is,
let her judge this, that whatsoever it is, that equally may happen
to a wicked man, and to a good man, is neither good nor evil.
For that which happens equally to him that lives according to nature,
and to him that doth not, is neither according to nature, nor against it;
and by consequent, neither good nor bad.
XXXIII. Ever consider and think upon the world as being but one
living substance, and having but one soul, and how all things
in the world, are terminated into one sensitive power; and are done
by one general motion as it were, and deliberation of that one soul;
and how all things that are, concur in the cause of one another's being,
and by what manner of connection and concatenation all things happen.
XXXIV. What art thou, that better and divine part excepted,
but as Epictetus said well, a wretched soul, appointed to carry
a carcass up and down?
XXXV. To suffer change can be no hurt; as no benefit
it is, by change to attain to being. The age and time
of the world is as it were a flood and swift current,
consisting of the things that are brought to pass in the world.
For as soon as anything hath appeared, and is passed away,
another succeeds, and that also will presently out of sight.
XXXVI. Whatsoever doth happen in the world, is, in the course of nature,
as usual and ordinary as a rose in the spring, and fruit in summer.
Of the same nature is sickness and death; slander, and lying in wait,
and whatsoever else ordinarily doth unto fools use to be occasion
either of joy or sorrow. That, whatsoever it is, that comes after,
doth always very naturally, and as it were familiarly, follow upon
that which was before. For thou must consider the things of the world,
not as a loose independent number, consisting merely of necessary events;
but as a discreet connection of things orderly and harmoniously disposed.
There is then to be seen in the things of the world, not a bare
succession, but an admirable correspondence and affinity.
XXXVII. Let that of Heraclitus never be out of thy mind,
that the death of earth, is water, and the death of water, is air;
and the death of air, is fire; and so on the contrary. Remember him
also who was ignorant whither the way did lead, and how that reason
being the thing by which all things in the world are administered,
and which men are continually and most inwardly conversant with:
yet is the thing, which ordinarily they are most in opposition with,
and how those things which daily happen among them, cease not daily
to be strange unto them, and that we should not either speak,
or do anything as men in their sleep, by opinion and bare imagination:
for then we think we speak and do, and that we must not be as children,
who follow their father's example; for best reason alleging their bare
successive tradition from our forefathers we have received it.
XXXVIII. Even as if any of the gods should tell thee,
Thou shalt certainly die to-morrow, or next day, thou wouldst not,
except thou wert extremely base and pusillanimous, take it for a
great benefit, rather to die the next day after, than to-morrow;
(for alas, what is the difference!) so, for the same reason,
think it no great matter to die rather many years after,
than the very next day.
XXXIX. Let it be thy perpetual meditation, how many physicians who once
looked so grim, and so tetrically shrunk their brows upon their patients,
are dead and gone themselves. How many astrologers, after that
in great ostentation they had foretold the death of some others,
how many philosophers after so many elaborate tracts and volumes
concerning either mortality or immortality; how many brave captains
and commanders, after the death and slaughter of so many; how many kings
and tyrants, after they had with such horror and insolency abused
their power upon men's lives, as though themselves had been immortal;
how many, that I may so speak, whole cities both men and towns:
Helice, Pompeii, Herculaneum, and others innumerable are dead and gone.
Run them over also, whom thou thyself, one after another,
hast known in thy time to drop away. Such and such a one took care
of such and such a one's burial, and soon after was buried himself.
So one, so another: and all things in a short time. For herein
lieth all indeed, ever to look upon all worldly things, as things
for their continuance, that are but for a day: and for their worth,
most vile, and contemptible, as for example, What is man?
That which but the other day when he was conceived was vile snivel;
and within few days shall be either an embalmed carcass, or mere ashes.
Thus must thou according to truth and nature, throughly consider how man's
life is but for a very moment of time, and so depart meek and contented:
even as if a ripe olive falling should praise the ground that bare her,
and give thanks to the tree that begat her.
XL. Thou must be like a promontory of the sea, against which
though the waves beat continually, yet it both itself stands,
and about it are those swelling waves stilled and quieted.
XLI. Oh, wretched I, to whom this mischance is happened! nay, happy I,
to whom this thing being happened, I can continue without grief; neither
wounded by that which is present, nor in fear of that which is to come.
For as for this, it might have happened unto any man, but any man having
such a thing befallen him, could not have continued without grief.
Why then should that rather be an unhappiness, than this a happiness?
But however, canst thou, 0 man! term that unhappiness, which is no
mischance to the nature of man I Canst thou think that a mischance
to the nature of man, which is not contrary to the end and will of
his nature? What then hast thou learned is the will of man's nature?
Doth that then which hath happened unto thee, hinder thee from being
just? or magnanimous? or temperate? or wise? or circumspect? or true?
or modest? or free? or from anything else of all those things
in the present enjoying and possession whereof the nature of man,
(as then enjoying all that is proper unto her,) is fully satisfied?
Now to conclude; upon all occasion of sorrow remember henceforth
to make use of this dogma, that whatsoever it is that hath happened
unto thee, is in very deed no such thing of itself, as a misfortune;
but that to bear it generously, is certainly great happiness.
XLII. It is but an ordinary coarse one, yet it is a good effectual
remedy against the fear of death, for a man to consider in his mind
the examples of such, who greedily and covetously (as it were)
did for a long time enjoy their lives. What have they got more,
than they whose deaths have been untimely? Are not they themselves dead
at the last? as Cadiciant's, Fabius, Julianus Lepidus, or any other who in
their lifetime having buried many, were at the last buried themselves.
The whole space of any man's life, is but little; and as little
as it is, with what troubles, with what manner of dispositions,
and in the society of how wretched a body must it be passed!
Let it be therefore unto thee altogether as a matter of indifferency.
For if thou shalt look backward; behold, what an infinite chaos
of time doth present itself unto thee; and as infinite a chaos,
if thou shalt look forward. In that which is so infinite,
what difference can there be between that which liveth but three days,
and that which liveth three ages?
XLIII. Let thy course ever be the most compendious way.
The most compendious, is that which is according to nature:
that is, in all both words and deeds, ever to follow that which
is most sound and perfect. For such a resolution will free
a man from all trouble, strife, dissembling, and ostentation
Meditations of Marcus Aurelius: Book 5