Book 4
6
It vexes me, say you, to be pitied. Is this your affair, then, or theirs who pity you? And further, how is it in your power to prevent it? It is, if I show them that I do not need pity. But are you now in such a condition as not to need pity, or are you not? think I am. But these people do not pity me for what, if anything, would deserve pity, my faults; but for poverty, and want of power, and sicknesses, and deaths, and other things of that kind. Are you, then, prepared to convince the world that none of these things is in reality an evil; but that it is possible for a person to be happy, even when he is poor, and without honors and power? Or are you prepared to put on the appearance of being rich and powerful? The last of these is the part of an arrogant, silly, worthless fellow. Observe, too, by what means this fiction must be carried on. You must hire some poor slaves, and get possessed of a few little pieces of plate, and often show them in public; and though they are the same, endeavor to conceal that they are the same; you must have gay clothes and other finery, and make a show of being honored by your great people; and endeavor to sup with them, or be thought to sup with them; and use some vile arts with your person, to make it appear handsomer and genteeler than it really is. All this you must contrive, if you would take the second way not to be pitied. And the first is impracticable as well as tedious, to undertake the very thing that Zeus himself could not do,—to convince all mankind what things are really good and evil. Is this granted you? The only thing granted you is to convince yourself; and you have not yet done that; and yet do you undertake to convince others? Why, who has lived so long with you as you have with yourself? Who is so likely to have faith in you, in order to be convinced by you, as yourself? Who is more truly a well-wisher or a friend to you than yourself? How is it, then, that you have not yet convinced yourself? Should you not now revolve these things? What you were studying was this: to learn to be exempt from grief, perturbation, and meanness, and to be free. Have you not heard, then, that the only way that leads to this is to give up what is beyond the control of will; to withdraw from it, and confess that it belongs to others? To what order of things belongs another’s opinion about you? Things uncontrollable by will. Is it nothing then to you? Nothing. While you are still piqued and disturbed about it, then, do you consider that you are convinced concerning good and evil?
