On the Shortness of Life

mong these I reckon in the first place those who devote their
time to nothing but drinking and debauchery: for no men are
busied more shamefully: the others, although the glory which they
pursue is but a counterfeit, still deserve some credit for their
pursuit of it—though you may tell me of misers, of passionate men,
of men who hate and who even wage war without a cause—yet all such
men sin like men: but the sin of those who are given up to gluttony
and lust is a disgraceful one. Examine all the hours of their lives:
consider how much time they spend in calculation, how much in
plotting, how much in fear, how much in giving and deceiving flattery,
how much in entering into recognizances for themselves or for others,
how much in banquets, which indeed become a serious business, you
will see that they are not allowed any breathing time either by
their pleasures or their pains. Finally, all are agreed that nothing,
neither eloquence nor literature, can be done properly by one who
is occupied with something else; for nothing can take deep root in
a mind which is directed to some other subject, and which rejects
whatever you try to stuff into it. No man knows less about living
than a business man: there is nothing about which it is more difficult
to gain knowledge. Other arts have many folk everywhere who profess
to teach them: some of them can be so thoroughly learned by mere
boys, that they are able to teach them to others: but one’s whole
life must be spent in learning how to live, and, which may perhaps
surprise you more, one’s whole life must be spent in learning how
to die. Many excellent men have freed themselves from all hindrances,
have given up riches, business, and pleasure, and have made it their
duty to the very end of their lives to learn how to live: and yet
the larger portion of them leave this life confessing that they do
not yet know how to live, and still less know how to live as wise
men. Believe me, it requires a great man and one who is superior
to human frailties not to allow any of his time to be filched from
him: and therefore it follows that his life is a very long
one, because he devotes every possible part of it to himself: no
portion lies idle or uncultivated, or in another man’s power; for
he finds nothing worthy of being exchanged for his time, which he
husbands most grudgingly. He, therefore, had time enough: whereas
those who gave up a great part of their lives to the people of
necessity had not enough. Yet you need not suppose that the latter
were not sometimes conscious of their loss: indeed, you will hear
most of those who are troubled with great prosperity every now and
then cry out amid their hosts of clients, their pleadings in court,
and their other honourable troubles, “I am not allowed to live my
own life.” Why is he not allowed? because all those who call upon
you to defend them, take you away from yourself. How many of your
days have been spent by that defendant? by that candidate for office?
by that old woman who is weary with burying her heirs? by that man
who pretends to be ill, in order to excite the greed of those who
hope to inherit his property? by that powerful friend of yours, who
uses you to swell his train, not to be his friend? Balance your
account, and run over all the days of your life; you will see that
only a very few days, and only those which were useless for any
other purpose, have been left to you. He who has obtained the
fasces[6] for which he longed, is eager to get rid of them, and
is constantly saying, “When will this year be over?” another exhibits
public games, and once would have given a great deal for the chance
of doing so, but now “when,” says he, “shall I escape from this?”
another is an advocate who is fought for in all the courts, and who
draws immense audiences, who crowd all the forum to a far greater
distance than they can hear him; “When,” says he, “will vacation-time
come?” Every man hurries through his life, and suffers from
a yearning for the future, and a weariness of the present: but he
who disposes of all his time for his own purposes, who arranges all
his days as though he were arranging the plan of his life, neither
wishes for nor fears the morrow: for what new pleasure can any hour
now bestow upon him? he knows it all, and has indulged in it all
even to satiety. Fortune may deal with the rest as she will, his
life is already safe from her: such a man may gain something, but
cannot lose anything: and, indeed, he can only gain anything in the
same way as one who is already glutted and filled can get some extra
food which he takes although he does not want it. You have no
grounds, therefore, for supposing that any one has lived long,
because he has wrinkles or grey hairs: such a man has not lived
long, but has only been long alive. Why! would you think that a man
had voyaged much if a fierce gale had caught him as soon as he left
his port, and he had been driven round and round the same place
continually by a succession of winds blowing from opposite quarters?
such a man has not travelled much, he has only been much tossed
about.