THE FOURTH BOOK

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 hath
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
οἰκονομίαν, 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 κόσμος, 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 be 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
merchandising, 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,
Cæso, 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 καθότι
παρειλήφαμεν; or,
as by 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 theatrically 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, O 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.