Letter 42

[1] So that fellow has already convinced you that he is a good man? And yet a good man can neither be made nor be recognized as such in so short a time. Do you know what kind of man I am now calling a good man? One of the second rank; for that other man perhaps is born, like the phoenix, only once every five hundred years. Nor is it any wonder that great things are produced only at long intervals: Fortune often brings forth ordinary natures, born for the crowd, but she recommends the extraordinary by its very rarity. [2] But this man of yours still falls far short of what he claims to be; and if he knew what a good man is, he would not yet believe himself to be one, and perhaps he would even despair of ever becoming one. "But he thinks ill of bad men." That is something even bad men do, and there is no greater penalty for wickedness than that it is displeased with itself and its own kind. [3] "But he hates those who use sudden and great power without self-control." He will do the very same once he has the same power. In many men the vices lie hidden because they are weak, but they will dare no less, once their strength has pleased them, than those vices that prosperity has already laid bare. They lack the instruments for unfolding their wickedness. [4] In the same way a snake, even a deadly one, is handled safely while it is stiff with cold: it is not that it then lacks venom, but that the venom is dormant. The cruelty, ambition, and self-indulgence of many men, before they can dare deeds to match the worst, is held back for want of Fortune's favor. That they desire the same things you will discover [understand: if]: grant them the power equal to what they want. [5] Do you remember, when you were insisting that a certain man was in your power, that I said he was flighty and fickle, and that you were holding not his foot but his feather? I was lying: it was a downy plume you held, which he let slip, and so escaped. You know what games he played with you afterward, how many things he attempted that were bound to fall back upon his own head. He did not see that, through the dangers of others, he was rushing into his own; he did not consider how burdensome were the things he sought, even granting they were not superfluous. [6] This, then, is what we ought to examine in the things we strive for, toward which we struggle with great labor: that either there is nothing of advantage in them, or more of disadvantage. Some are superfluous; some are not worth the price. But we do not see this clearly, and the things that cost us most dearly seem to us free of charge. [7] Our folly is plain from this, that we suppose only those things to be bought for which we pay out money, and we call those things free for which we spend our very selves. Things we would refuse to buy if we had to give up our own house for them, or some pleasant or profitable estate, we are altogether ready to attain at the cost of anxiety, of danger, of the loss of honor and freedom and time; so true is it that nothing is cheaper to a man than himself. [8] Let us therefore do in all our plans and affairs what we are accustomed to do whenever we approach a peddler of some merchandise: let us see at what price this thing we desire is being offered. Often the greatest price is paid for that for which no price is given. I can show you many things that, once acquired and accepted, have wrung our freedom from us; we would belong to ourselves, if these things were not ours. [9] So turn these things over within yourself, not only when there is a question of gain, but also when there is a question of loss. "This will perish." Indeed, it came from outside; you will live just as easily without it as you have lived. If you have had it long, you lose it after you have had your fill; if not long, you lose it before you grow accustomed to it. "You will have less money." Yes, and less trouble. [10] "Less favor." Yes, and less envy. Look around at these things that drive us to madness, that we lose with floods of tears: you will know that it is not the loss in them that distresses us, but the notion of loss. No one feels that they have perished, but only thinks it. He who possesses himself has lost nothing: but to how few has it fallen to possess themselves? Farewell.

Has that friend of yours already made you believe that he is a good man? And yet it is impossible in so short a time for one either to become good or be known as such. Do you know what kind of man I now mean when I speak of “a good man”? I mean one of the second grade, like your friend. For one of the first class perhaps springs into existence, like the phoenix, only once in five hundred years. And it is not surprising, either, that greatness develops only at long intervals; Fortune often brings into being commonplace powers, which are born to please the mob; but she holds up for our approval that which is extraordinary by the very fact that she makes it rare. This man, however, of whom you spoke, is still far from the state which he professes to have reached. And if he knew what it meant to be “a good man,” he would not yet believe himself such; perhaps he would even despair of his ability to become good. “But,” you say, “he thinks ill of evil men.” Well, so do evil men themselves; and there is no worse penalty for vice than the fact that it is dissatisfied with itself and all its fellows. “But he hates those who make an ungoverned use of great power suddenly acquired.” I retort that he will do the same thing as soon as he acquires the same powers. In the case of many men, their vices, being powerless, escape notice; although, as soon as the persons in question have become satisfied with their own strength, the vices will be no less daring than those which prosperity has already disclosed. These men simply lack the means whereby they may unfold their wickedness. Similarly, one can handle even a poisonous snake while it is stiff with cold; the poison is not lacking; it is merely numbed into inaction. In the case of many men, their cruelty, ambition, and indulgence only lack the favour of Fortune to make them dare crimes that would match the worst. That their wishes are the same you will in a moment discover, in this way: give them the power equal to their wishes. Do you remember how, when you declared that a certain person was under your influence, I pronounced him fickle and a bird of passage, and said that you held him not by the foot but merely by a wing? Was I mistaken? You grasped him only by a feather; he left it in your hands and escaped. You know what an exhibition he afterwards made of himself before you, how many of the things he attempted were to recoil upon his own head. He did not see that in endangering others he was tottering to his own downfall. He did not reflect how burdensome were the objects which he was bent upon attaining, even if they were not superfluous. Therefore, with regard to the objects which we pursue, and for which we strive with great effort, we should note this truth; either there is nothing desirable in them, or the undesirable is preponderant. Some objects are superfluous; others are not worth the price we pay for them. But we do not see this clearly, and we regard things as free gifts when they really cost us very dear. Our stupidity may be clearly proved by the fact that we hold that “buying” refers only to the objects for which we pay cash, and we regard as free gifts the things for which we spend our very selves. These we should refuse to buy, if we were compelled to give in payment for them our houses or some attractive and profitable estate; but we are eager to attain them at the cost of anxiety, of danger, and of lost honour, personal freedom, and time; so true it is that each man regards nothing as cheaper than himself. Let us therefore act, in all our plans and conduct, just as we are accustomed to act whenever we approach a huckster who has certain wares for sale; let us see how much we must pay for that which we crave. Very often the things that cost nothing cost us the most heavily; I can show you many objects the quest and acquisition of which have wrested freedom from our hands. We should belong to ourselves, if only these things did not belong to us. I would therefore have you reflect thus, not only when it is a question of gain, but also when it is a question of loss. “This object is bound to perish.” Yes, it was a mere extra; you will live without it just as easily as you have lived before. If you have possessed it for a long time, you lose it after you have had your fill of it; if you have not possessed it long, then you lose it before you have become wedded to it. “You will have less money.” Yes, and less trouble. “Less influence.” Yes, and less envy. Look about you and note the things that drive us mad, which we lose with a flood of tears; you will perceive that it is not the loss that troubles us with reference to these things, but a notion of loss. No one feels that they have been lost, but his mind tells him that it has been so. He that owns himself has lost nothing. But how few men are blessed with ownership of self! Farewell.

[1] Iam tibi iste persuasit virum se bonum esse? Atqui vir bonus tam cito nec fieri potest nec intellegi. Scis quem nunc virum bonum dicam? hunc secundae notae; nam ille alter fortasse tamquam phoenix semel anno quingentesimo nascitur. Nec est mirum ex intervallo magna generari: mediocria et in turbam nascentia saepe fortuna producit, eximia vero ipsa raritate commendat. [2] Sed iste multum adhuc abest ab eo quod profitetur; et si sciret quid esset vir bonus, nondum esse se crederet, fortasse etiam fieri posse desperaret. 'At male existimat de malis.' Hoc etiam mali faciunt, nec ulla maior poena nequitiaest quam quod sibi ac suis displicet. [3] 'At odit eos qui subita et magna potentia impotenter utuntur.' Idem faciet cum idem potuerit. Multorum quia imbecilla sunt latent vitia, non minus ausura cum illis vires suae placuerint quam illa quae iam felicitas aperuit. Instrumenta illis explicandae nequitiae desunt. [4] Sic tuto serpens etiam pestifera tractatur dum riget frigore: non desunt tunc illi venena sed torpent. Multorum crudelitas et ambitio et luxuria, ut paria pessimis audeat, fortunae favore deficitur. Eadem velle [subaudi si] cognosces: da posse quantum volunt. [5] Meministi, cum quendam affirmares esse in tua potestate, dixisse me volaticum esse ac levem et te non pedem eius tenere sed pinnam? Mentitus sum: pluma tenebatur, quam remisit et fugit. Scis quos postea tibi exhibuerit ludos, quam multa in caput suum casura temptaverit. Non videbat se per aliorum pericula in suum ruere non cogitabat quam onerosa essent quae petebat, etiam si supervacua non essent. [6] Hoc itaque in his quae affectamus, ad quae labore magno contendimus, inspicere debemus, aut nihil in illis commodi esse aut plus incommodi: quaedam supervacua sunt, quaedam tanti non sunt. Sed hoc non pervidemus et gratuita nobis videntur quae carissime constant. [7] Ex eo licet stupor noster appareat, quod ea sola putamus emi pro quibus pecuniam solvimus, ea gratuita vocamus pro quibus nos ipsos impendimus. Quae emere nollemus si domus nobis nostra pro illis esset danda, si amoenum aliquod fructuosumve praedium, ad ea paratissimi sumus pervenire cum sollicitudine, cum periculo, cum iactura pudoris et libertatis et temporis; adeo nihil est cuique se vilius. [8] Idem itaque in omnibus consiliis rebusque faciamus quod solemus facere quotiens ad institorem alicuius mercis accessimus: videamus hoc quod concupiscimus quanti deferatur. Saepe maximum pretium est pro quo nullum datur. Multa possum tibi ostendere quae acquisita acceptaque libertatem nobis extorserint; nostri essemus, si ista nostra non essent. [9] Haec ergo tecum ipse versa, non solum ubi de incremento agetur, sed etiam ubi de iactura. 'Hoc periturum est.' Nempe adventicium fuit; tam facile sine isto vives quam vixisti. Si diu illud habuisti, perdis postquam satiatus es; si non diu, perdis antequam assuescas. 'Pecuniam minorem habebis.' Nempe et molestiam. [10] 'Gratiam minorem.' Nempe et invidiam. Circumspice ista quae nos agunt in insaniam, quae cum plurimis lacrimis amittimus: scies non damnum in iis molestum esse, sed opinionem damni. Nemo illa perisse sentit sed cogitat. Qui se habet nihil perdidit: sed quoto cuique habere se contigit? Vale.