Meditations

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?'