Chapter 14

Quid igitur o mortales extra petitis intra uos positam felicitatem? Error uos inscitiaque confundit. Ostendam breuiter tibi summae cardinem felicitatis. Estne aliquid tibi te ipso pretiosius? Nihil inquies. Igitur si tui compos fueris, possidebis quod nec tu amittere umquam uelis nec fortuna possit auferre. Atque ut agnoscas in his fortuitis rebus beatitudinem constare non posse, sic collige. Si beatitudo est summum naturae bonum ratione degentis nec est summum bonum quod eripi ullo modo potest, quoniam praecellit id quod nequeat auferri, manifestum est quoniam[107] ad beatitudinem percipiendam fortunae instabilitas adspirare non possit. Ad haec quem caduca ista felicitas uehit uel scit eam uel nescit esse mutabilem. Si nescit, quaenam beata sors esse potest ignorantiae caecitate? Si scit, metuat necesse est, ne amittat quod amitti posse non dubitat; quare continuus timor non sinit esse felicem. An uel si amiserit, neglegendum putat? Sic quoque perexile bonum est quod aequo animo feratur amissum. Et quoniam tu idem es cui persuasum atque insitum permultis demonstrationibus scio mentes hominum nullo modo esse mortales cumque clarum sit fortuitam felicitatem corporis morte finiri, dubitari nequit, si haec afferre beatitudinem potest, quin omne mortalium genus in miseriam mortis fine labatur. Quod si multos scimus beatitudinis fructum non morte solum uerum etiam doloribus suppliciisque quaesisse, quonam modo praesens facere beatos potest quae miseros transacta non efficit?

[107] quin _codices_.

IV.

To which I answered: "The things which thou reportest are true, O nurse of all virtues, and I cannot deny the most speedy course of my prosperity. But this is that which vexeth me most, when I remember it. For in all adversity of fortune it is the most unhappy kind of misfortune to have been happy." "But," quoth she, "thou canst not justly impute to the things themselves that thou art punished for thy false opinion. For if this vain name of casual felicity moveth thee, let us make accompt with how many and how great things thou aboundest. Wherefore, if that which in all thy revenues of fortune thou esteemest most precious doth still by God's providence remain safe and untouched, canst thou, retaining the best, justly complain of misfortune?

But thy father-in-law, Symmachus (that most excellent ornament of mankind) liveth in safety, and for the obtaining of which thou wouldst willingly spend thy life, that man wholly framed to wisdom and virtues, being secure of his own, mourneth for thy injuries. Thy wife liveth, modest in disposition, eminent in chastity, and, to rehearse briefly all her excellent gifts, like her father. She liveth, I say, and weary of her life reserveth her breath only for thee. In which alone even I must grant that thy felicity is diminished, she consumeth herself with tears and grief for thy sake.

What should I speak of thy children, which have been Consuls, in whom already, as in children of that age, their father's or grandfather's good disposition appeareth? Wherefore, since the greatest care that mortal men have is to save their lives, O happy man that thou art, if thou knowest thine own wealth, who still hast remaining those things which no man doubteth to be dearer than life itself? And therefore cease weeping. Fortune hath not hitherto showed her hatred against you all, neither art thou assailed with too boisterous a storm, since those anchors hold fast which permit neither the comfort of the time present nor the hope of the time to come to be wanting."

"And I pray God," quoth I, "that they may hold fast, for so long as they remain, howsoever the world goeth we shall escape drowning. But thou seest how great a part of our ornaments is lost." "We have gotten a little ground," quoth she, "if thy whole estate be not irksome unto thee. But I cannot suffer thy daintiness, who with such lamentation and anxiety complaineth that something is wanting to thy happiness. For who hath so entire happiness that he is not in some part offended with the condition of his estate? The nature of human felicity is doubtful and uncertain, and is neither ever wholly obtained, or never lasteth always. One man hath great revenues, but is contemned for his base lineage. Another's nobility maketh him known, but, oppressed with penury, had rather be unknown. Some, abounding with both, bewail their life without marriage. Some other, well married but wanting children, provideth riches for strangers to inherit. Others, finally, having children, mournfully bewail the vices which their sons or daughters are given to. So that scarce any man is pleased with the condition of his fortune. For there is something in every estate, which without experience is not known, and being experienced doth molest and trouble. Besides that, those which are most happy are most sensible,[108] and unless all things fall out to their liking, impatient of all adversity, every little cross overthrows them, so small are the occasions which take from the most fortunate the height of their happiness. How many are there, thinkest thou, which would think themselves almost in Heaven if they had but the least part of the remains of thy fortune? This very place, which thou callest banishment, is to the inhabitants thereof their native land. So true it is that nothing is miserable but what is thought so, and contrariwise, every estate is happy if he that bears it be content. Who is so happy that if he yieldeth to discontent, desireth not to change his estate? How much bitterness is mingled with the sweetness of man's felicity, which, though it seemeth so pleasant while it is enjoyed, yet can it not be retained from going away when it will. And by this it appeareth how miserable is the blessedness of mortal things, which neither endureth alway with the contented, nor wholly delighteth the pensive.

Wherefore, O mortal men, why seek you for your felicity abroad, which is placed within yourselves? Error and ignorance do confound you. I will briefly show thee the centre of thy chiefest happiness. Is there anything more precious to thee than thyself? I am sure thou wilt say, nothing. Wherefore, if thou enjoyest thyself, thou shalt possess that which neither thou wilt ever wish to lose nor fortune can take away. And that thou mayst acknowledge that blessedness cannot consist in these casual things, gather it thus. If blessedness be the chiefest good of nature endued with reason, and that is not the chiefest good which may by any means be taken away, because that which cannot be taken away is better, it is manifest that the instability of fortune cannot aspire to the obtaining of blessedness. Moreover, he that now enjoyeth this brittle felicity, either knoweth it to be mutable or no. If not, what estate can be blessed by ignorant blindness? And if he knoweth it, he must needs fear lest he lose that which he doubteth not may be lost, wherefore continual fear permitteth him not to be happy. Or though he should lose it, doth he think that a thing of no moment? But so it were a very small good which he would be content to lose. And because thou art one whom I know to be fully persuaded and convinced by innumerable demonstrations that the souls of men are in no wise mortal, and since it is clear that casual felicity is ended by the body's death, there is no doubt, if this can cause blessedness, but that all mankind falleth into misery by death. But if we know many who have sought to reap the fruit of blessedness, not only by death, but also by affliction and torments, how can present happiness make men happy, the loss of which causeth not misery?

[108] _i.e._ sensitive.

IV.

Quisquis uolet perennem Cautus ponere sedem Stabilisque nec sonori Sterni flatibus Euri Et fluctibus minantem 5 Curat spernere pontum, Montis cacumen alti, Bibulas uitet harenas. Illud proteruus Auster Totis uiribus urget, 10 Hae pendulum solutae Pondus ferre recusant. Fugiens periculosam Sortem sedis amoenae Humili domum memento 15 Certus figere saxo. Quamuis tonet ruinis Miscens aequora uentus, Tu conditus quieti Felix robore ualli 20 Duces serenus aeuum Ridens aetheris iras.

IV.

Who with an heedful care Will an eternal seat prepare, Which cannot be down cast By force of windy blast, And will the floods despise, When threatening billows do arise, He not on hills must stand, Nor on the dangerous sinking sand. For there the winds will threat, And him with furious tempests beat, And here the ground too weak Will with the heavy burden break.[109] Fly then the dangerous case Of an untried delightful place, And thy poor house bestow In stony places firm and low. For though the winds do sound, And waves of troubled seas confound: Yet thou to rest disposed In thy safe lowly vale inclosed, Mayst live a quiet age, Scorning the air's distempered rage.

[109] Literally, "These shifting sands refuse to bear the weight laid upon them."

V.

Sed quoniam rationum iam in te mearum fomenta descendunt, paulo ualidioribus utendum puto. Age enim si iam caduca et momentaria fortunae dona non essent, quid in eis est quod aut uestrum umquam fieri queat aut non perspectum consideratumque uilescat? Diuitiaene uel uestra uel sui natura pretiosae sunt? Quid earum potius, aurumne an uis congesta pecuniae? Atqui haec effundendo magis quam coaceruando melius nitent, si quidem auaritia semper odiosos, claros largitas facit. Quod si manere apud quemque non potest quod transfertur in alterum, tunc est pretiosa pecunia cum translata in alios largiendi usu desinit possideri. At eadem si apud unum quanta est ubique gentium congeratur, ceteros sui inopes fecerit. Et uox quidem tota pariter multorum replet auditum; uestrae uero diuitiae nisi comminutae in plures transire non possunt. Quod cum factum est, pauperes necesse est faciant quos relinquunt. O igitur angustas inopesque diuitias quas nec habere totas pluribus licet et ad quemlibet sine ceterorum paupertate non ueniunt! An gemmarum fulgor oculos trahit? Sed si quid est in hoc splendore praecipui, gemmarum est lux illa non hominum, quas quidem mirari homines uehementer admiror. Quid est enim carens animae motu atque compage quod animatae rationabilique naturae pulchrum esse iure uideatur? Quae tametsi conditoris opera suique distinctione postremae aliquid pulchritudinis trahunt, infra uestram tamen excellentiam conlocatae admirationem uestram nullo modo merebantur. An uos agrorum pulchritudo delectat? Quidni? Est enim pulcherrimi operis pulchra portio. Sic quondam sereni maris facie gaudemus; sic caelum sidera lunam solemque miramur. Num te horum aliquid attingit? Num audes alicuius talium splendore gloriari? An uernis floribus ipse distingueris aut tua in aestiuos fructus intumescit ubertas? Quid inanibus gaudiis raperis? Quid externa bona pro tuis amplexaris? Numquam tua faciet esse fortuna quae a te natura rerum fecit aliena. Terrarum quidem fructus animantium procul dubio debentur alimentis. Sed si, quod naturae satis est, replere indigentiam uelis, nihil est quod fortunae affluentiam petas. Paucis enim minimisque natura contenta est, cuius satietatem si superfluis urgere uelis, aut iniucundum quod infuderis fiet aut noxium. Iam uero pulchrum uariis fulgere uestibus putas, quarum si grata intuitu species est, aut materiae naturam aut ingenium mirabor artificis. An uero te longus ordo famulorum facit esse felicem? Qui si uitiosi moribus sint, perniciosa domus sarcina et ipsi domino uehementer inimica; sin uero probi, quonam modo in tuis opibus aliena probitas numerabitur? Ex quibus omnibus nihil horum quae tu in tuis conputas bonis tuum esse bonum liquido monstratur. Quibus si nihil inest appetendae pulchritudinis, quid est quod uel amissis doleas uel laeteris retentis? Quod si natura pulchra sunt, quid id tua refert? Nam haec per se a tuis quoque opibus sequestrata placuissent. Neque enim idcirco sunt pretiosa quod in tuas uenere diuitias, sed quoniam pretiosa uidebantur, tuis ea diuitiis adnumerare maluisti. Quid autem tanto fortunae strepitu desideratis? Fugare credo indigentiam copia quaeritis. Atqui hoc uobis in contrarium cedit. Pluribus quippe adminiculis opus est ad tuendam pretiosae supellectilis uarietatem, uerumque illud est permultis eos indigere qui permulta possideant contraque minimum qui abundantiam suam naturae necessitate non ambitus superfluitate metiantur. Itane autem nullum est proprium uobis atque insitum bonum ut in externis ac sepositis rebus bona uestra quaeratis? Sic rerum uersa condicio est ut diuinum merito rationis animal non aliter sibi splendere nisi inanimatae supellectilis possessione uideatur? Et alia quidem suis contenta sunt; uos autem deo mente consimiles ab rebus infimis excellentis naturae ornamenta captatis nec intellegitis quantam conditori uestro faciatis iniuriam. Ille genus humanum terrenis omnibus praestare uoluit; uos dignitatem uestram infra infima quaeque detruditis. Nam si omne cuiusque bonum eo cuius est constat esse pretiosius, cum uilissima rerum uestra bona esse iudicatis, eisdem uosmet ipsos uestra existimatione submittitis; quod quidem haud inmerito cadit. Humanae quippe naturae ista condicio est ut tum tantum ceteris rebus cum se cognoscit excellat, eadem tamen infra bestias redigatur, si se nosse desierit. Nam ceteris animantibus sese ignorare naturae est; hominibus uitio uenit. Quam uero late patet uester hic error qui ornari posse aliquid ornamentis existimatis alienis? At id fieri nequit. Nam si quid ex appositis luceat, ipsa quidem quae sunt apposita laudantur; illud uero his tectum atque uelatum in sua nihilo minus foeditate perdurat. Ego uero nego ullum esse bonum quod noceat habenti. Num id mentior? 'Minime,' inquis. Atqui diuitiae possidentibus persaepe nocuerunt, cum pessimus quisque eoque alieni magis auidus quidquid usquam auri gemmarumque est se solum qui habeat dignissimum putat. Tu igitur qui nunc contum gladiumque sollicitus pertimescis, si uitae huius callem uacuus uiator intrasses, coram latrone cantares. O praeclara opum mortalium beatitudo quam cum adeptus fueris securus esse desistis!

V.

But since the soothing of my reasons begins to sink into thee, I will use those which are somewhat more forcible. Go to the*n, if the gifts of fortune were not brittle and momentary, what is there in them which can either ever be made your own, or, well weighed and considered, seemeth not vile and of no accompt? Are riches precious in virtue either of their own nature or of yours? What part of them can be so esteemed of? The gold or the heaps of money? But these make a fairer show when they are spent than when they are kept. For covetousness alway maketh men odious, as liberality famous. And if a man cannot have that which is given to another, then money is precious when, bestowed upon others, by the use of liberality it is not possessed any longer. But if all the money in the whole world were gathered into one man's custody, all other men should be poor. The voice at the same time wholly filleth the ears of many, but your riches cannot pass to many, except they be diminished, which being done, they must needs make them poor whom they leave. O scant and poor riches, which neither can be wholly possessed of many, and come to none without the impoverishment of others! Doth the glittering of jewels draw thy eyes after them? But if there be any great matter in this show, not men but the jewels shine, which I exceedingly marvel that men admire. For what is there wanting life and members that may justly seem beautiful to a nature not only endued with life but also with reason? Which, though by their maker's workmanship and their own variety they have some part of basest beauty, yet it is so far inferior to your excellency that it did in no sort deserve your admiration. Doth the pleasant prospect of the fields delight you? Why not? For it is a fair portion of a most fair work. So we are delighted with a calm sea, so we admire the sky, the stars, the sun, and the moon. Do any of these belong to thee? Darest thou boast of the beauty which any of them have? Art thou thyself adorned with May flowers? Or doth thy fertility teem with the fruits of summer? Why rejoicest thou vainly? Why embracest thou outward goods as if they were thine own? Fortune will never make those things thine which by the appointment of Nature belong not to thee. The fruits of the earth are doubtless appointed for the sustenance of living creatures. But if thou wilt only satisfy want, which sufficeth Nature, there is no cause to require the superfluities of fortune. For Nature is contented with little and with the smallest things, and, if, being satisfied, thou wilt overlay it with more than needs, that which thou addest will either become unpleasant or hurtful. But perhaps thou thinkest it a fine thing to go decked in gay apparel, which, if they make a fair show, I will admire either the goodness of the stuff or the invention of the workman. Or doth the multitude of servants make thee happy? Who, if they be vicious, they are a pernicious burden to thy house, and exceedingly troublesome to their master; and if they be honest, how shall other men's honesty be counted amongst thy treasures? By all which is manifestly proved that none of these goods which thou accountest thine, are thine indeed. And if there is nothing in these worthy to be desired, why art thou either glad when thou hast them or sorry when thou losest them? Or what is it to thee, if they be precious by nature? For in this respect they would have pleased thee, though they had belonged to others. For they are not precious because they are come to be thine, but because they seemed precious thou wert desirous to have them. Now, what desire you with such loud praise of fortune? Perhaps you seek to drive away penury with plenty. But this falleth out quite contrary, for you stand in need of many supplies, to protect all this variety of precious ornaments. And it is true that they which have much, need much; and contrariwise, that they need little which measure not their wealth by the superfluity of ambition, but by the necessity of nature. Have you no proper and inward good, that you seek your goods in those things which are outward and separated from you? Is the condition of things so changed that a living creature, deservedly accounted divine for the gift of reason, seemeth to have no other excellency than the possession of a little household stuff without life? All other creatures are content with that they have of their own; and you, who in your mind carry the likeness of God, are content to take the ornaments of your excellent nature from the most base and vile things, neither understand you what injury you do your Creator. He would have mankind to excel all earthly things; you debase your dignity under every meanest creature. For if it be manifest that the good of everything is more precious than that whose good it is, since you judge the vilest things that can be to be your goods, you deject yourselves under them in your own estimation, which questionless cometh not undeservedly to pass; for this is the condition of man's nature, that then only it surpasseth other things when it knoweth itself, and it is worse than beasts when it is without that knowledge. For in other living creatures the ignorance of themselves is nature, but in men it is vice. And how far doth this error of yours extend, who think that any can be adorned with the ornaments of another? Which can in no wise be. For if any adjoined thing seem precious, it is that which is praised, but that which is covered and enwrapped in it remaineth, notwithstanding, with the foul baseness which it hath of itself. Moreover, I deny that to be good which hurteth the possessor. Am I deceived in this? I am sure thou wilt say no. But riches have often hurt their possessors, since every lewdest companion, who are consequently most desirous of that which is not their own, think themselves most worthy to possess alone all the gold and jewels in the world. Wherefore thou, who with much perturbation fearest now to be assailed and slain, if thou hadst entered the path of this life like a poor passenger, needest not be afraid, but mightest rejoice and sing even in the sight of most ravenous thieves.[110] O excellent happiness of mortal riches, which, when thou hast gotten, thou hast lost thy safety!

[110] Cf. Juvenal, _Sat._ x. 19-22.

V.

Felix nimium prior aetas Contenta fidelibus aruis Nec inerti perdita luxu, Facili quae sera solebat Ieiunia soluere glande. 5 Non Bacchica munera norant Liquido confundere melle Nec lucida uellera Serum Tyrio miscere ueneno. Somnos dabat herba salubres, 10 Potum quoque lubricus amnis, Vmbras altissima pinus. Nondum maris alta secabat Nec mercibus undique lectis Noua litora uiderat hospes. 15 Tunc classica saeua tacebant, Odiis neque fusus acerbis Cruor horrida tinxerat arua. Quid enim furor hosticus ulla Vellet prior arma mouere, 20 Cum uulnera saeua uiderent Nec praemia sanguinis ulla? Vtinam modo nostra redirent In mores tempora priscos! Sed saeuior ignibus Aetnae 25 Feruens amor ardet habendi. Heu primus quis fuit ille Auri qui pondera tecti Gemmasque latere uolentes Pretiosa pericula fodit? 30

V.

Too much the former age was blest, When fields their pleaséd owners failéd not, Who, with no slothful lust opprest, Broke their long fasts with acorns eas'ly got. No wine with honey mixéd was, Nor did they silk in purple colours steep; They slept upon the wholesome grass, And their cool drink did fetch from rivers deep. The pines did hide them with their shade, No merchants through the dangerous billows went, Nor with desire of gainful trade Their traffic into foreign countries sent. Then no shrill trumpets did amate The minds of soldiers with their daunting sounds, Nor weapons were with deadly hate Dyed with the dreadful blood of gaping wounds. For how could any fury draw The mind of man to stir up war in vain, When nothing but fierce wounds he saw, And for his blood no recompense should gain? O that the ancient manners would In these our latter hapless times return! Now the desire of having gold Doth like the flaming fires of Aetna burn. Ah, who was he that first did show The heaps of treasure which the earth did hide, And jewels which lay close below, By which he costly dangers did provide?

VI.