THE ELEVENTH BOOK

I. The natural properties, and privileges of a reasonable soul are: That
she seeth herself; that she can order, and compose herself: that she makes
herself as she will herself: that she reaps her own fruits whatsoever,
whereas plants, trees, unreasonable creatures, what fruit soever (be it
either fruit properly, or analogically only) they bear, they bear them
unto others, and not to themselves. Again; whensoever, and wheresoever,
sooner or later, her life doth end, she hath her own end nevertheless. For
it is not with her, as with dancers and players, who if they be
interrupted in any part of their action, the whole action must needs be
imperfect: but she in what part of time or action soever she be surprised,
can make that which she hath in her hand whatsoever it be, complete and
full, so that she may depart with that comfort, ‘I have lived; neither
want I anything of that which properly did belong unto me.’ Again, she
compasseth the whole world, and penetrateth into the vanity, and mere
outside (wanting substance and solidity) of it, and stretcheth herself
unto the infiniteness of eternity; and the revolution or restoration of
all things after a certain period of time, to the same state and place as
before, she fetcheth about, and doth comprehend in herself; and considers
withal, and sees clearly this, that neither they that shall follow us,
shall see any new thing, that we have not seen, nor they that went before,
anything more than we: but that he that is once come to forty (if he have
any wit at all) can in a manner (for that they are all of one kind) see
all things, both past and future. As proper is it, and natural to the soul
of man to love her neighbour, to be true and modest; and to regard nothing
so much as herself: which is also the property of the law: whereby by the
way it appears, that sound reason and justice comes all to one, and
therefore that justice is the chief thing, that reasonable creatures ought
to propose unto themselves as their end.

II. A pleasant song or dance; the Pancratiast’s exercise, sports that
thou art wont to be much taken with, thou shalt easily contemn; if the
harmonious voice thou shalt divide into so many particular sounds whereof
it doth consist, and of every one in particular shall ask thyself; whether
this or that sound is it, that doth so conquer thee. For thou wilt be
ashamed of it. And so for shame, if accordingly thou shalt consider it,
every particular motion and posture by itself: and so for the wrestler’s
exercise too. Generally then, whatsoever it be, besides virtue, and those
things that proceed from virtue that thou art subject to be much affected
with, remember presently thus to divide it, and by this kind of division,
in each particular to attain unto the contempt of the whole. This thou
must transfer and apply to thy whole life also.

III. That soul which is ever ready, even now presently (if need be) from
the body, whether by way of extinction, or dispersion, or continuation in
another place and estate to be separated, how blessed and happy is it! But
this readiness of it, it must proceed, not from an obstinate and
peremptory resolution of the mind, violently and passionately set upon
Opposition, as Christians are wont; but from a peculiar judgment; with
discretion and gravity, so that others may be persuaded also and drawn to
the like example, but without any noise and passionate exclamations.

IV. Have I done anything charitably? then am I benefited by it. See
that this upon all occasions may present itself unto thy mind, and never
cease to think of it. What is thy profession? to be good. And how should
this be well brought to pass, but by certain theorems and doctrines; some
Concerning the nature of the universe, and some Concerning the proper and
particular constitution of man?

V. Tragedies were at first brought in and instituted, to put men in mind
of worldly chances and casualties: that these things in the ordinary
course of nature did so happen: that men that were much pleased and
delighted by such accidents upon this stage, would not by the same things
in a greater stage be grieved and afflicted: for here you see what is the
end of all such things; and that even they that cry out so mournfully to
Cithaeron, must bear them for all their cries and exclamations, as well as
others. And in very truth many good things are spoken by these poets; as
that (for example) is an excellent passage: ‘But if so be that I and my
two children be neglected by the Gods, they have some reason even for
that,’ &c. And again, ‘It will but little avail thee to storm and rage
against the things themselves,’ &c. Again, ‘To reap one’s life, as a
ripe ear of corn;’ and whatsoever else is to be found in them, that is of
the same kind. After the tragedy, the ancient comedy was brought in, which
had the liberty to inveigh against personal vices; being therefore through
this her freedom and liberty of speech of very good use and effect, to
restrain men from pride and arrogancy. To which end it was, that Diogenes
took also the same liberty. After these, what were either the Middle, or
New Comedy admitted for, but merely, (Or for the most part at least) for
the delight and pleasure of curious and excellent imitation? ‘It will
steal away; look to it,’ &c. Why, no man denies, but that these also
have some good things whereof that may be one: but the whole drift and
foundation of that kind of dramatical poetry, what is it else, but as we
have said?

VI. How clearly doth it appear unto thee, that no other course of thy
life could fit a true philosopher’s practice better, than this very
course, that thou art now already in?

VII. A branch cut off from the continuity of that which was next unto
it, must needs be cut off from the whole tree: so a man that is divided
from another man, is divided from the whole society. A branch is cut off
by another, but he that hates and is averse, cuts himself off from his
neighbour, and knows not that at the same time he divides himself from the
whole body, or corporation. But herein is the gift and mercy of God, the
Author of this society, in that, once cut off we may grow together and
become part of the whole again. But if this happen often the misery is
that the further a man is run in this division, the harder he is to be
reunited and restored again: and however the branch which, once cut of
afterwards was graffed in, gardeners can tell you is not like that which
sprouted together at first, and still continued in the unity of the body.

VIII. To grow together like fellow branches in matter of good
correspondence and affection; but not in matter of opinions. They that
shall oppose thee in thy right courses, as it is not in their power to
divert thee from thy good action, so neither let it be to divert thee from
thy good affection towards them. But be it thy care to keep thyself
constant in both; both in a right judgment and action, and in true
meekness towards them, that either shall do their endeavour to hinder
thee, or at least will be displeased with thee for what thou hast done.
For to fail in either (either in the one to give over for fear, or in the
other to forsake thy natural affection towards him, who by nature is both
thy friend and thy kinsman) is equally base, and much savouring of the
disposition of a cowardly fugitive soldier.

IX. It is not possible that any nature should be inferior unto art,
since that all arts imitate nature. If this be so; that the most perfect
and general nature of all natures should in her operation come short of
the skill of arts, is most improbable. Now common is it to all arts, to
make that which is worse for the better’s sake. Much more then doth the
common nature do the same. Hence is the first ground of justice. From
justice all other virtues have their existence. For justice cannot be
preserved, if either we settle our minds and affections upon worldly
things; or be apt to be deceived, or rash, and inconstant.

X. The things themselves (which either to get or to avoid thou art put
to so much trouble) come not unto thee themselves; but thou in a manner
goest unto them. Let then thine own judgment and opinion concerning those
things be at rest; and as for the things themselves, they stand still and
quiet, without any noise or stir at all; and so shall all pursuing and
flying cease.

XI. Then is the soul as Empedocles doth liken it, like unto a sphere or
globe, when she is all of one form and figure: when she neither greedily
stretcheth out herself unto anything, nor basely contracts herself, or
lies flat and dejected; but shineth all with light, whereby she does see
and behold the true nature, both that of the universe, and her own in
particular.

XII. Will any contemn me? let him look to that, upon what grounds he
does it: my care shall be that I may never be found either doing or
speaking anything that doth truly deserve contempt. Will any hate me? let
him look to that. I for my part will be kind and loving unto all, and even
unto him that hates me, whom-soever he be, will I be ready to show his
error, not by way of exprobation or ostentation of my patience, but
ingenuously and meekly: such as was that famous Phocion, if so be that he
did not dissemble. For it is inwardly that these things must be: that the
Gods who look inwardly, and not upon the outward appearance, may behold a
man truly free from all indignation and grief. For what hurt can it be
unto thee whatsoever any man else doth, as long as thou mayest do that
which is proper and suitable to thine own nature? Wilt not thou (a man
wholly appointed to be both what, and as the common good shall require)
accept of that which is now seasonable to the nature of the universe?

XIII. They contemn one another, and yet they seek to please one another:
and whilest they seek to surpass one another in worldly pomp and
greatness, they most debase and prostitute themselves in their better part
one to another.

XIV. How rotten and insincere is he, that saith, I am resolved to carry
myself hereafter towards you with all ingenuity and simplicity. O man,
what doest thou mean! what needs this profession of thine? the thing
itself will show it. It ought to be written upon thy forehead. No sooner
thy voice is heard, than thy countenance must be able to show what is in
thy mind: even as he that is loved knows presently by the looks of his
sweetheart what is in her mind. Such must he be for all the world, that is
truly simple and good, as he whose arm-holes are offensive, that whosoever
stands by, as soon as ever he comes near him, may as it were smell him
whether he will or no. But the affectation of simplicity is nowise
laudable. There is nothing more shameful than perfidious friendship. Above
all things, that must be avoided. However true goodness, simplicity, and
kindness cannot so be hidden, but that as we have already said in the very
eyes and countenance they will show themselves.

XV. To live happily is an inward power of the soul, when she is affected
with indifferency, towards those things that are by their nature
indifferent. To be thus affected she must consider all worldly objects
both divided and whole: remembering withal that no object can of itself
beget any opinion in us, neither can come to us, but stands without still
and quiet; but that we ourselves beget, and as it were print in ourselves
opinions concerning them. Now it is in our power, not to print them; and
if they creep in and lurk in some corner, it is in our power to wipe them
off. Remembering moreover, that this care and circumspection of thine, is
to continue but for a while, and then thy life will be at an end. And what
should hinder, but that thou mayest do well with all these things? For if
they be according to nature, rejoice in them, and let them be pleasing and
acceptable unto thee. But if they be against nature, seek thou that which
is according to thine own nature, and whether it be for thy credit or no,
use all possible speed for the attainment of it: for no man ought to be
blamed, for seeking his own good and happiness.

XVI. Of everything thou must consider from whence it came, of what
things it doth consist, and into what it will be changed: what will be the
nature of it, or what it will be like unto when it is changed; and that it
can suffer no hurt by this change. And as for other men’s either
foolishness or wickedness, that it may not trouble and grieve thee; first
generally thus; What reference have I unto these? and that we are all born
for one another’s good: then more particularly after another
consideration; as a ram is first in a flock of sheep, and a bull in a herd
of cattle, so am I born to rule over them. Begin yet higher, even from
this: if atoms be not the beginning of all things, than which to believe
nothing can be more absurd, then must we needs grant that there is a
nature, that doth govern the universe. If such a nature, then are all
worse things made for the better’s sake; and all better for one another’s
sake. Secondly, what manner of men they be, at board, and upon their beds,
and so forth. But above all things, how they are forced by their opinions
that they hold, to do what they do; and even those things that they do,
with what pride and self-conceit they do them. Thirdly, that if they do
these things rightly, thou hast no reason to be grieved. But if not
rightly, it must needs be that they do them against their wills, and
through mere ignorance. For as, according to Plato’s opinion, no soul doth
willingly err, so by consequent neither doth it anything otherwise than it
ought, but against her will. Therefore are they grieved, whensoever they
hear themselves charged, either of injustice, or unconscionableness, or
covetousness, or in general, of any injurious kind of dealing towards
their neighbours. Fourthly, that thou thyself doest transgress in many
things, and art even such another as they are. And though perchance thou
doest forbear the very act of some sins, yet hast thou in thyself an
habitual disposition to them, but that either through fear, or vainglory,
or some such other ambitious foolish respect, thou art restrained.
Fifthly, that whether they have sinned or no, thou doest not understand
perfectly. For many things are done by way of discreet policy; and
generally a man must know many things first, before he be able truly and
judiciously to judge of another man’s action. Sixthly, that whensoever
thou doest take on grievously, or makest great woe, little doest thou
remember then that a man’s life is but for a moment of time, and that
within a while we shall all be in our graves. Seventhly, that it is not
the sins and transgressions themselves that trouble us properly; for they
have their existence in their minds and understandings only, that commit
them; but our own opinions concerning those sins. Remove then, and be
content to part with that conceit of thine, that it is a grievous thing,
and thou hast removed thine anger. But how should I remove it? How?
reasoning with thyself that it is not shameful. For if that which is
shameful, be not the only true evil that is, thou also wilt be driven
whilest thou doest follow the common instinct of nature, to avoid that
which is evil, to commit many unjust things, and to become a thief, and
anything, that will make to the attainment of thy intended worldly ends.
Eighthly, how many things may and do oftentimes follow upon such fits of
anger and grief; far more grievous in themselves, than those very things
which we are so grieved or angry for. Ninthly, that meekness is a thing
unconquerable, if it be true and natural, and not affected or
hypocritical. For how shall even the most fierce and malicious that thou
shalt conceive, be able to hold on against thee, if thou shalt still
continue meek and loving unto him; and that even at that time, when he is
about to do thee wrong, thou shalt be well disposed, and in good temper,
with all meekness to teach him, and to instruct him better? As for
example; My son, we were not born for this, to hurt and annoy one another;
it will be thy hurt not mine, my son: and so to show him forcibly and
fully, that it is so in very deed: and that neither bees do it one to
another, nor any other creatures that are naturally sociable. But this
thou must do, not scoffingly, not by way of exprobation, but tenderly
without any harshness of words. Neither must thou do it by way of
exercise, or ostentation, that they that are by and hear thee, may admire
thee: but so always that nobody be privy to it, but himself alone: yea,
though there be more present at the same time. These nine particular
heads, as so many gifts from the Muses, see that thou remember well: and
begin one day, whilest thou art yet alive, to be a man indeed. But on the
other side thou must take heed, as much to flatter them, as to be angry
with them: for both are equally uncharitable, and equally hurtful. And in
thy passions, take it presently to thy consideration, that to be angry is
not the part of a man, but that to be meek and gentle, as it savours of
more humanity, so of more manhood. That in this, there is strength and
nerves, or vigour and fortitude: whereof anger and indignation is
altogether void. For the nearer everything is unto unpassionateness, the
nearer it is unto power. And as grief doth proceed from weakness, so doth
anger. For both, both he that is angry and that grieveth, have received a
wound, and cowardly have as it were yielded themselves unto their
affections. If thou wilt have a tenth also, receive this tenth gift from
Hercules the guide and leader of the Muses: that is a mad man’s part, to
look that there should be no wicked men in the world, because it is
impossible. Now for a man to brook well enough, that there should be
wicked men in the world, but not to endure that any should transgress
against himself, is against all equity, and indeed tyrannical.

XVII. Four several dispositions or inclinations there be of the mind and
understanding, which to be aware of, thou must carefully observe: and
whensoever thou doest discover them, thou must rectify them, saying to
thyself concerning every one of them, This imagination is not necessary;
this is uncharitable: this thou shalt speak as another man’s slave, or
instrument; than which nothing can be more senseless and absurd: for the
fourth, thou shalt sharply check and upbraid thyself; for that thou doest
suffer that more divine part in thee, to become subject and obnoxious to
that more ignoble part of thy body, and the gross lusts and concupiscences
thereof.

XVIII. What portion soever, either of air or fire there be in thee,
although by nature it tend upwards, submitting nevertheless to the
ordinance of the universe, it abides here below in this mixed body. So
whatsoever is in thee, either earthy, or humid, although by nature it tend
downwards, yet is it against its nature both raised upwards, and standing,
or consistent. So obedient are even the elements themselves to the
universe, abiding patiently wheresoever (though against their nature) they
are placed, until the sound as it were of their retreat, and separation.
Is it not a grievous thing then, that thy reasonable part only should be
disobedient, and should not endure to keep its place: yea though it be
nothing enjoined that is contrary unto it, but that only which is
according to its nature? For we cannot say of it when it is disobedient,
as we say of the fire, or air, that it tends upwards towards its proper
element, for then goes it the quite contrary way. For the motion of the
mind to any injustice, or incontinency, or to sorrow, or to fear, is
nothing else but a separation from nature. Also when the mind is grieved
for anything that is happened by the divine providence, then doth it
likewise forsake its own place. For it was ordained unto holiness and
godliness, which specially consist in an humble submission to God and His
providence in all things; as well as unto justice: these also being part
of those duties, which as naturally sociable, we are bound unto; and
without which we cannot happily converse one with another: yea and the
very ground and fountain indeed of all just actions.

XIX. He that hath not one and the self-same general end always as long
as he liveth, cannot possibly be one and the self-same man always. But
this will not suffice except thou add also what ought to be this general
end. For as the general conceit and apprehension of all those things which
upon no certain ground are by the greater part of men deemed good, cannot
be uniform and agreeable, but that only which is limited and restrained by
some certain proprieties and conditions, as of community: that nothing be
conceived good, which is not commonly and publicly good: so must the end
also that we propose unto ourselves, be common and sociable. For he that
doth direct all his own private motions and purposes to that end, all his
actions will be agreeable and uniform; and by that means will be still the
same man.

XX. Remember the fable of the country mouse and the city mouse, and the
great fright and terror that this was put into.

XXI. Socrates was wont to call the common conceits and opinions of men,
the common bugbears of the world: the proper terror of silly children.

XXII. The Lacedæmonians at their public spectacles were wont to appoint
seats and forms for their strangers in the shadow, they themselves were
content to sit anywhere.

XXIII. What Socrates answered unto Perdiccas, why he did not come unto
him, Lest of all deaths I should die the worst kind of death, said he:
that is, not able to requite the good that hath been done unto me.

XXIV. In the ancient mystical letters of the Ephesians, there was an
item, that a man should always have in his mind some one or other of the
ancient worthies.

XXV. The Pythagoreans were wont betimes in the morning the first thing
they did, to look up unto the heavens, to put themselves in mind of them
who constantly and invariably did perform their task: as also to put
themselves in mind of orderliness, or good order, and of purity, and of
naked simplicity. For no star or planet hath any cover before it.

XXVI. How Socrates looked, when he was fain to gird himself with a
skin, Xanthippe his wife having taken away his clothes, and carried them
abroad with her, and what he said to his fellows and friends, who were
ashamed; and out of respect to him, did retire themselves when they saw
him thus decked.

XXVII. In matter of writing or reading thou must needs be taught before
thou can do either: much more in matter of life. ‘For thou art born a mere
slave, to thy senses and brutish affections;’ destitute without teaching
of all true knowledge and sound reason.

XXVIII. ‘My heart smiled within me.’ ‘They will accuse even virtue
herself; with heinous and opprobrious words.’

XXIX. As they that long after figs in winter when they cannot be had; so
are they that long after children, before they be granted them.

XXX. ‘As often as a father kisseth his child, he should say secretly
with himself’ (said Epictetus,) ‘tomorrow perchance shall he die.’ But
these words be ominous. No words ominous (said he) that signify anything
that is natural: in very truth and deed not more ominous than this, ‘to
cut down grapes when they are ripe.’ Green grapes, ripe grapes, dried
grapes, or raisins: so many changes and mutations of one thing, not into
that which was not absolutely, but rather so many several changes and
mutations, not into that which hath no being at all, but into that which
is not yet in being.

XXXI. ‘Of the free will there is no thief or robber:’ out of Epictetus;
Whose is this also: that we should find a certain art and method of
assenting; and that we should always observe with great care and heed the
inclinations of our minds, that they may always be with their due
restraint and reservation, always charitable, and according to the true
worth of every present object. And as for earnest longing, that we should
altogether avoid it: and to use averseness in those things only, that
wholly depend of our own wills. It is not about ordinary petty matters,
believe it, that all our strife and contention is, but whether, with the
vulgar, we should be mad, or by the help of philosophy wise and sober,
said he. XXXII. Socrates said, ‘What will you have? the souls of
reasonable, or unreasonable creatures? Of reasonable. But what? Of those
whose reason is sound and perfect? or of those whose reason is vitiated
and corrupted? Of those whose reason is sound and perfect. Why then labour
ye not for such? Because we have them already. What then do ye so strive
and contend between you?’