Louis Sheehan 887

XV.

All men are the same by virtue of reason and the divine spark

In the country of the Quadi at Granua, these. Betimes in the morning say to thyself, This day I shalt have to do with an idle curious man, with an unthankful man, a railer, a crafty, false, or an envious man; an unsociable uncharitable man. All these ill qualities have happened unto them, through ignorance of that which is truly good and truly bad. http://louishjhsheehan.blogspot.com/

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But I that understand the nature of that which is good, that it only is to be desired, and of that which is bad, that it only is truly odious and shameful: who know moreover, that this transgressor, whosoever he be, is my kinsman, not by the same blood and seed, but by participation of the same reason, and of the same divine particle; How can I either be hurt by any of those, since it is not in their power to make me incur anything that is truly reproachful? or angry, and ill affected towards him, who by nature is so near unto me? for we are all born to be fellow-workers, as the feet, the hands, and the eyelids; as the rows of the upper and under teeth: for such therefore to be in opposition, is against nature; and what is it to chafe at, and to be averse from, but to be in opposition?

XVI.

Don't be distracted by books

Whatsoever I am, is either flesh, or life, or that which we commonly call the mistress and overruling part of man; reason. Away with thy books, suffer not thy mind any more to be distracted, and carried to and fro; for it will not be; but as even now ready to die, think little of thy flesh: blood, bones, and a skin; a pretty piece of knit and twisted work, consisting of nerves, veins and arteries; think no more of it, than so. And as for thy life, consider what it is; a wind; not one constant wind neither, but every moment of an hour let out, and sucked in again. The third, is thy ruling part; and here consider; Thou art an old man; suffer not that excellent part to be brought in subjection, and to become slavish: suffer it not to be drawn up and down with unreasonable and unsociable lusts and motions, as it were with wires and nerves; suffer it not any more, either to repine at anything now present, or to fear and fly anything to come, which the destiny hath appointed thee.

XVII.

What comes from god is full of providence

Whatsoever proceeds from the gods immediately, that any man will grant totally depends from their divine providence. As for those things that are commonly said to happen by fortune, even those must be conceived to have dependence from nature, or from that first and general connection, and concatenation of all those things, which more apparently by the divine providence are administered and brought to pass. All things flow from thence: and whatsoever it is that is, is both necessary, and conducing to the whole (part of which thou art), and whatsoever it is that is requisite and necessary for the preservation of the general, must of necessity for every particular nature, be good and behoveful. And as for the whole, it is preserved, as by the perpetual mutation and conversion of the simple elements one into another, so also by the mutation, and alteration of things mixed and compounded. Let these things suffice thee; let them be always unto thee, as thy general rules and precepts. As for thy thirst after books, away with it with all speed, that thou die not murmuring and complaining, but truly meek and well satisfied, and from thy heart thankful unto the gods.

Sophocles

    Born at Colonos probably 495 B.C. Died 406 B.C.

PHILOCTETES

   THE PERSONS

ODYSSEUS.

NEOPTOLEMUS.

CHORUS of Mariners.

PHILOCTETES.

Messenger, disguised as a Merchantman.

HERACLES, appearing from the sky.

SCENE. A desert shore of the Island of Lemnos.

PHILOCTETES

ODYSSEUS. NEOPTOLEMUS.

ODYSSEUS. This coast of sea-girt Lemnos, where we stand,

Is uninhabited, untrodden of men.

And here, O noble son of noblest sire,

Achilles-born Neoptolemus, I erewhile, --

Ordered by those who had command, -- cast forth

Trachinian Philoctetes, Poeas' son,

His foot dark-dripping with a rankling wound;

When with wild cries, that frighted holy rest,

Filling the camp, he troubled every rite,

That none might handle sacrifice, or pour

Wine-offering, but his noise disturbed our peace.

  But why these words? http://louiskjksheehan.blogspot.com/

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No moment this for talk,

Lest he discern my coming, and I lose

The scheme, wherewith I think to catch him soon.

Now most behoves thy service, to explore

This headland for a cave with double mouth,

Whose twofold aperture, on wintry days,

Gives choice of sunshine, and in summer noons

The breeze wafts slumber through the airy cell.

Then, something lower down, upon the left,

Unless 'tis dried, thine eye may note a spring.

Go near now silently, and make me know

If still he persevere, and hold this spot,

Or have roamed elsewhere, that informed of this

I may proceed with what remains to say,

And we may act in concert.

NEOPTOLEMUS. Lord Odysseus,

Thy foremost errand will not task me far.

Methinks I see the cave whereof thou speakest.

OD. Where? let me see it. Above there, or below?

NEO. Yonder, above. And yet I hear no tread.

   [Neoptolemus climbs up to the cave]

OD. Look if he be not lodged in slumber there.

NEO. I find no inmate, but an empty room.

OD. What? no provision for a dwelling-place?

NEO. A bed of leaves for some one harbouring here.

OD. Nought else beneath the roof? Is all forlorn?

NEO. A cup of wood, some untaught craftsman's skill,

And, close at hand, these embers of a fire.

OD. That store is his. I read the token clear.

NEO. Oh! and these festering rags give evidence,

Steeped as with dressing some malignant sore.

OD. The man inhabits here: I know it now.

And sure he's not far off. How can he range,

Whose limb drags heavy with an ancient harm?

But he's gone, either to bring forage home,

Or where he hath found some plant of healing power.

Send therefore thine attendant to look forth,

Lest unawares he find me. All our host

Were not so fair a prize for him as I.

NEO. My man is going, and shall watch the path.

What more dost thou require of me? Speak on.

OD. Son of Achilles, know that thou art come

To serve us nobly, not with strength alone,

But, faithful to thy mission, if so be,

To do things strange, unwonted to thine ear.

NEO. What dost thou bid me?

OD. 'Tis thy duty now

To entrap the mind of Poeas' son with words.

When he shall ask thee, who and whence thou art,

Declare thy name and father. 'Tis not that

I charge thee to conceal. But for thy voyage,

'Tis homeward, leaving the Achaean host,

With perfect hatred hating them, because

They who had drawn thee with strong prayers from home,

Their hope for taking Troy, allowed thee not

Thy just demand to have thy father's arms,

But, e'er thy coming, wrongly gave them o'er

Unto Odysseus: and thereon launch forth

With boundless execration against me.

That will not pain me, but if thou reject

This counsel, thou wilt trouble all our host,

Since, if his bow shall not be ta'en, thy life

Will ne'er be crowned through Troy's discomfiture.

  Now let me show, why thine approach to him

Is safe and trustful as mine cannot be

Thou didst sail forth, not to redeem thine oath,

Nor by constraint, nor with the foremost band.

All which reproaches I must bear: and he,

But seeing me, while master of his bow,

Will slay me, and my ruin will be thine.

This point then craves our cunning, to acquire

By subtle means the irresistible bow --

Thy nature was not framed, I know it well,

For speaking falsehood, or contriving harm.

Yet, since the prize of victory is so dear,

Endure it -- We'll be just another day

But now, for one brief hour, devote thyself

To serve me without shame, and then for aye

Hereafter be the pearl of righteousness. http://louis2j2sheehan2esquire.blogspot.com/

NEO. The thing that, being named, revolts mine ear,

Son of Laërtes, I abhor to do

'Tis not my nature, no, nor, as they tell,

My father's, to work aught by craft and guile.

I'll undertake to bring him in by force,

Not by deceit. For, sure, with his one foot,

He cannot be a match for all our crew

Being sent, my lord, to serve thee, I am loth

To seem rebellious. But I rather choose

To offend with honour, than to win by wrong.

OD. Son of a valiant sire, I, too, in youth,

Had once a slow tongue and an active hand.

But since I have proved the world, I clearly see

Words and not deeds give mastery over men.

NEO. What then is thy command? To lie? No more?

OD. To entangle Philoctetes with deceit.

NEO. Why through deceit? May not persuasion fetch him?

OD. Never. And force as certainly will fail.

NEO. What lends him such assurance of defence?

OD. Arrows, the unerring harbingers of Death.

NEO. Then to go near him is a perilous thing.

OD. Unless with subtlety, as I have said.

NEO. And is not lying shameful to thy soul?

OD. Not if by lying I can save my soul.

NEO. How must one look in speaking such a word?

OD. Where gain invites, this shrinking is not good.

NEO. What gain I through his coming back to Troy?

OD. His arms alone have power to take Troy-town.

NEO. Then am not I the spoiler, as ye said?

OD. Thou without them, they without thee, are powerless.

NEO. If it be so, they must be sought and won.

OD. Yea, for in this two prizes will be thine.

NEO. What? When I learn them, I will not refuse.

OD. Wisdom and valour joined in one good name.

NEO. Shame, to the winds! Come, I will do this thing.

OD. Say, dost thou bear my bidding full in mind?

NEO. Doubt not, since once for all I have embraced it.

OD. Thou, then, await him here. I will retire,

For fear my hated presence should be known,

And take back our attendant to the ship.

And then once more, should ye appear to waste

The time unduly, I will send again

This same man hither in disguise, transformed

To the strange semblance of a merchantman;

From dark suggestion of whose crafty tongue,

Thou, O my son, shalt gather timely counsel.

  Now to my ship. This charge I leave to thee.

May secret Hermes guide us to our end,

And civic Pallas, named of victory,

The sure protectress of my devious way.

CHORUS (entering).

   Strange in the stranger land,

   What shall I speak? What hide

   From a heart suspicious of ill?

   Tell me, O master mine!

   Wise above all is the man,

   Peerless in searching thought,

   Who with the Zeus-given wand

   Wieldeth a Heaven-sent power.

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   This unto thee, dear son,

   Fraught with ancestral might,

   This to thy life hath come.

   Wherefore I bid thee declare,

   What must I do for thy need?

NEO. Even now methinks thou longest to espy

Near ocean's marge the place where he doth lie.

Gaze without fear. But when the traveller stern,

Who from this roof is parted, shall return,

Advancing still as I the signal give,

To serve each moment's mission thou shalt strive.

CH. That, O my son, from of old

   Hath been my care, to take note

   What by thy beck'ning is told;

   Still thy success to promote.

   But for our errand to-day

   Behoves thee, master, to say

   Where is the hearth of his home;

   Or where even now doth he roam?

   O tell me, lest all unaware

   He spring like a wolf from his lair

   And I by surprise should be ta'en,

   Where doth he move or remain,

   Here lodging, or wandering away?

NEO. Thou seëst yon double doorway of his cell,

Poor habitation of the rock.

CH. 2. But tell

Where is the pain-worn wight himself abroad?

NEO. To me 'tis clear, that, in his quest for food,

Here, not far off, he trails yon furrowed path.

For, so 'tis told, this mode the sufferer hath

Of sustenance, oh hardness! bringing low

Wild creatures with wing'd arrows from his bow;

Nor findeth healer for his troublous woe.

CH. I feel his misery.

   With no companion eye,

   Far from all human care,

   He pines with fell disease;

   Each want he hourly sees

   Awakening new despair.

   How can he bear it still?

   O cruel Heavens! O pain

   Of that afflicted mortal train

   Whose life sharp sorrows fill!

   Born in a princely hall,

   Highest, perchance, of all,

   Now lies he comfortless

   Alone in deep distress,

   'Mongst rough and dappled brutes,

   With pangs and hunger worn;

   While from far distance shoots,

   On airy pinion borne,

   The unbridled Echo, still replying

   To his most bitter crying.

NEO. At nought of this I marvel -- for if I

Judge rightly, there assailed him from on high

That former plague through Chrysa's cruel sting[1]:

And if to-day he suffer anything

With none to soothe, it must be from the will

Of some great God, so caring to fulfil

The word of prophecy, lest he should bend

On Troy the shaft no mortal may forfend,

Before the arrival of Troy's destined hour,

When she must fall, o'er-mastered by their power.

CH. 1. Hush, my son!

NEO. Why so?

CH. 1. A sound

Gendered of some mortal woe,

Started from the neighbouring ground.

Here, or there? Ah! now I know.

Hark! 'tis the voice of one in pain,

Travelling hardly, the deep strain

Of human anguish, all too clear,

That smites my heart, that wounds mine ear.

CH. 2. From far it peals. But thou, my son!

NEO. What?

CH. 2. Think again. http://louis3j3sheehan3esquire.blogspot.com/

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He moveth nigh:

He holds the region: not with tone

Of piping shepherd's rural minstrelsy,

But belloweth his far cry,

Stumbling perchance with mortal pain,

  Or else in wild amaze,

  As he our ship surveys

Unwonted on the inhospitable main.

Enter Philoctetes.

PHILOCTETES. Ho!

What men are ye that to this desert shore,

Harbourless, uninhabited, are come

On shipboard? Of what country or what race

Shall I pronounce ye? For your outward garb

Is Grecian, ever dearest to this heart

That hungers now to hear your voices' tune.

Ah! do not fear me, do not shrink away

From my wild looks: but, pitying one so poor,

Forlorn and desolate in nameless woe,

Speak, if with friendly purpose ye are come.

Oh answer! 'Tis not meet that I should lose

This kindness from your lips, or ye from mine.

NEO. Then know this first, O stranger, as thou wouldest,

That we are Greeks.

PHI. O dear, dear name! Ah me!

In all these years, once, only once, I hear it!

My son, what fairest gale hath wafted thee?

What need hath brought thee to the shore? What mission?

Declare all this, that I may know thee well.

NEO. The sea-girt Scyros is my native home.

Thitherward I make voyage: -- Achilles' son,

Named Neoptolemus. -- I have told thee all.

PHI. Dear is that shore to me, dear is thy father

O ancient Lycomedes' foster-child,

Whence cam'st thou hither? How didst thou set forth?

NEO. From Troy we made our course in sailing hither.

PHI. How? Sure thou wast not with us, when at first

We launched our vessels on the Troyward way?

NEO. Hadst thou a share in that adventurous toil?

PHI. And know'st thou not whom thou behold'st in me,

Young boy?

NEO. How should I know him whom I ne'er

Set eye on?

PHI. Hast not even heard my name,

Nor echoing rumour of my ruinous woe?

NEO. Nay, I know nought of all thy questioning.

PHI. How full of griefs am I, how Heaven-abhorred,

When of my piteous state no faintest sound

Hath reached my home, or any Grecian land!

But they, who pitilessly cast me forth,

Keep silence and are glad, while this my plague

Blooms ever, and is strengthened more and more.

Boy, great Achilles' offspring, in this form

Thou seest the man, of whom, methinks, erewhile

Thou hast been told, to whom the Hercúlean bow

Descended, Philoctetes, Poeas' son;

Whom the two generals and the Ithacan king

Cast out thus shamefully forlorn, afflicted

With the fierce malady and desperate wound

Made by the cruel basilisk's murderous tooth.

With this for company they left me, child!

Exposed upon this shore, deserted, lone.

  From seaward Chrysa came they with their fleet

And touched at Lemnos. I had fallen to rest

From the long tossing, in a shadowy cave

On yonder cliff by the shore. Gladly they saw,

And left me, having set forth for my need,

Poor man, some scanty rags, and a thin store

Of provender. Such food be theirs, I pray!

Imagine, O my son, when they were gone,

What wakening, what arising, then was mine;

What weeping, what lamenting of my woe!

When I beheld the ships, wherewith I sailed,

Gone, one and all! and no man in the place,

None to bestead me, none to comfort me

In my sore sickness. http://louis4j4sheehan4esquire.blogspot.com/

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And where'er I looked,

Nought but distress was present with me still.

No lack of that, for one thing! -- Ah! my son,

Time passed, and there I found myself alone

Within my narrow lodging, forced to serve

Each pressing need. For body's sustenance

This bow supplied me with sufficient store,

Wounding the feathered doves, and when the shaft,

From the tight string, had struck, myself, ay me!

Dragging this foot, would crawl to my swift prey.

Then water must be fetched, and in sharp frost

Wood must be found and broken, -- all by me.

Nor would fire come unbidden, but with flint

From flints striking dim sparks, I hammered forth

The struggling flame that keeps the life in me.

For houseroom with the single help of fire

Gives all I need, save healing for my sore.

  Now learn, my son, the nature of this isle.

No mariner puts in here willingly.

For it hath neither moorage, nor sea-port,

For traffic or kind shelter or good cheer.

Not hitherward do prudent men make voyage.

Perchance one may have touched against his will.

Many strange things may happen in long time.

These, when they come, in words have pitied me,

And given me food, or raiment, in compassion.

But none is willing, when I speak thereof,

To take me safely home. Wherefore I pine

Now this tenth year, in famine and distress,

Feeding the hunger of my ravenous plague.

  Such deeds, my son, the Atridae, and the might

Of sage Odysseus, have performed on me.

Wherefore may all the Olympian gods, one day,

Plague them with stern requital for my wrong!

CH. Methinks my feeling for thee, Poeas' child,

Is like that of thy former visitants.

NEO. I, too, a witness to confirm his words,

Know them for verities, since I have found

The Atridae and Odysseus evil men.

PHI. Art thou, too, wroth with the all-pestilent sons

Of Atreus? Have they given thee cause to grieve?

NEO. Would that my hand might ease the wrath I feel!

Then Sparta and Mycenae should be ware

That Scyros too breeds valiant sons for war.

PHI. Brave youth! I love thee. Tell me the great cause

Why thou inveighest against them with such heat?

NEO. O son of Poeas, hardly shall I tell

What outrage I endured when I had come;

Yet I will speak it. When the fate of death

O'ertook Achilles --

PHI. Out, alas! no more!

Hold, till thou first hast made me clearly know,

Is Peleus' offspring dead?

NEO. Alas! he is,

Slain by no mortal, felled by Phoebus' shaft:

So men reported --

PHI. Well, right princely was he!

And princely is he who slew him. Shall I mourn

Him first, or wait till I have heard thy tale?

NEO. Methinks thou hast thyself enough to mourn,

Without the burden of another's woe.

PHI. Well spoken. Then renew thine own complaint,

And tell once more wherein they insulted thee.

NEO. There came to fetch me, in a gallant ship,

Odysseus and the fosterer of my sire[2],

Saying, whether soothly, or in idle show,

That, since my father perished, it was known

None else but I should take Troy's citadel. http://louis6j6sheehan6esquire.blogspot.com/

Such words from them, my friend, thou may'st believe,

Held me not long from making voyage with speed,

Chiefly through longing for my father's corse,

To see him yet unburied, -- for I ne'er

Had seen him[3]. Then, besides, 'twas a fair cause,

If, by my going, I should vanquish Troy.

One day I had sailed, and on the second came

To sad Sigeum with wind-favoured speed,

When straightway all the host, surrounding me

As I set foot on shore, saluted me,

And swore the dead Achilles was in life,

Their eyes being witness, when they looked on me.

He lay there in his shroud: but I, unhappy,

Soon ending lamentation for the dead,

Went near to those Atridae, as to friends,

To obtain my father's armour and all else

That had been his. And then, -- alas the while,

That men should be so hard! -- they spake this word:

'Seed of Achilles, thou may'st freely take

All else thy father owned, but for those arms,

Another wields them now, Laërtes' son.'

Tears rushed into mine eyes, and in hot wrath

I straightway rose, and bitterly outspake:

'O miscreant! What? And have ye dared to give

Mine arms to some man else, unknown to me?'

Then said Odysseus, for he chanced to be near,

'Yea, child, and justly have they given me these.

I saved them and their master in the field.'

Then in fierce anger all at once I launched

All terms of execration at his head,

Bating no word, being maddened by the thought

That I should lose this heirloom, -- and to him!

He, at this pass, though not of wrathful mood,

Stung by such utterance, made rejoinder thus:

'Thou wast not with us here, but wrongfully

Didst bide afar. And, since thou mak'st so bold,

I tell thee, never shalt thou, as thou sayest,

Sail with these arms to Scyros.' -- Thus reviled,

With such an evil echo in mine ear,

I voyage homeward, robbed of mine own right

By that vile offset of an evil tree[4].

Yet less I blame him than the men in power.

For every multitude, be it army or state,

Takes tone from those who rule it, and all taint

Of disobedience from bad counsel springs.

I have spoken. May the Atridae's enemy

Be dear to Heaven, as he is loved by me!

CH. Mother of mightiest Zeus,

   Feeder of all that live,

   Who from thy mountainous breast

   Rivers of gold dost give!

   To thee, O Earth, I cried that shameful day,

   When insolence from Atreus' sons went forth

   Full on our lord: when they bestowed away

   His father's arms to crown Odysseus' worth;

   Thou, whom bull-slaughtering lions yoked bear,

   O mighty mother, hear!

PHI. Your coming is commended by a grief

That makes you kindly welcome. http://louis7j7sheehan7esquire.blogspot.com/

For I feel

A chord that vibrates to your voice, and tells,

Thus have Odysseus and the Atridae wrought.

Full well I know, Odysseus' poisoned tongue

Shrinks from no mischief nor no guileful word

That leads to bad achievement in the end.

This moves not my main marvel, but if one

Saw this and bore it, -- Aias of the shield.

NEO. Ah, friend, he was no more. Had he but lived,

This robbery had ne'er been wrought on me.

PHI. What? Is he too departed?

NEO. He is dead.

The light no more beholds him.

PHI. Oh! alas!

But Tydeus' offspring, and the rascal birth

Laërtes bought of Sisyphus, they live:

I know it. For their death were to be wished.

NEO. Yea, be assured, they live and flourish high

Exalted in the host of Argive men.

PHI. And Nestor, my old friend, good aged man,

Is he yet living? Oft he would prevent

Their evils, by the wisdom of his thought.

NEO. He too is now in trouble, having lost

Antilochus, the comfort of his age.

PHI. There, there! In one brief word thou hast revealed

The mournful case of twain, whom I would last

Have chosen to hear of as undone. Ah me!

Where must one look? when these are dead, and he,

Odysseus, lives, -- and in a time like this,

That craves their presence, and his death for theirs.

NEO. He wrestles cleverly; but, O my friend,

Even ablest wits are ofttimes snared at last.

PHI. Tell me, I pray, what was become of him,

Patroclus, whom thy father loved so well?

NEO. He, too, was gone. I'll teach thee in a word

One truth for all. War doth not willingly

Snatch off the wicked, but still takes the good.

PHI. True! and to prove thy saying, I will inquire

The fate of a poor dastard, of mean worth,

But ever shrewd and nimble with his tongue.

NEO. Whom but Odysseus canst thou mean by this?

PHI. I meant not him. But there was one Thersites,

Who ne'er made conscience to stint speech, where all

Cried 'Silence!' Is he living, dost thou know?

NEO. I saw him not, but knew he was alive.

PHI. He must be: for no evil yet was crushed.

The Heavens will ever shield it. 'Tis their sport

To turn back all things rancorous and malign

From going down to the grave, and send instead

The good and true. Oh, how shall we commend

Such dealings, how defend them? When I praise

Things god-like, I find evil in the Gods.

870 Louis Sheehan

He who raised Marcus Aurelius

Avoid addiction to team sports

Work willingly

Limit wants and needs

Self-sufficiency

Truth

II. Of him that brought me up, not to be fondly addicted to either of the two great factions of the coursers in the circus, called Prasini, and Veneti: nor in the amphitheatre partially to favour any of the gladiators, or fencers, as either the Parmularii, or the Secutores. Moreover, to endure labour; nor to need many things; when I have anything to do, to do it myself rather than by others; not to meddle with many businesses; and not easily to admit of any slander.

III. Of Diognetus,

Diognetus

Avoid gullibility, keeping birds for sport, taking offense

Pursue philosophy

not to busy myself about vain things, and not easily to believe those things, which are commonly spoken, by such as take upon them to work wonders, and by sorcerers, or prestidigitators, and impostors; concerning the power of charms, and their driving out of demons, or evil spirits; and the like. Not to keep quails for the game; nor to be mad after such things. http://louisbjbsheehan.blogspot.com/

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Not to be offended with other men's liberty of speech, and to apply myself unto philosophy. Him also I must thank, that ever I heard first Bacchius, then Tandasis and Marcianus, and that I did write dialogues in my youth; and that I took liking to the philosophers' little couch and skins, and such other things, which by the Grecian discipline are proper to those who profess philosophy.

IV.

Rusticus

Showed him that his life should be improved and that his pursuit of philosophy should be without ostentation

Forgiveness

Avoid reading superficially, especially of Epictetus

To Rusticus I am beholding, that I first entered into the conceit that my life wanted some redress and cure. And then, that I did not fall into the ambition of ordinary sophists, either to write tracts concerning the common theorems, or to exhort men unto virtue and the study of philosophy by public orations; as also that I never by way of ostentation did affect to show myself an active able man, for any kind of bodily exercises. And that I gave over the study of rhetoric and poetry, and of elegant neat language. That I did not use to walk about the house in my long robe, nor to do any such things. Moreover I learned of him to write letters without any affectation, or curiosity; such as that was, which by him was written to my mother from Sinuessa: and to be easy and ready to be reconciled, and well pleased again with them that had offended me, as soon as any of them would be content to seek unto me again. To read with diligence; not to rest satisfied with a light and superficial knowledge, nor quickly to assent to things commonly spoken of: whom also I must thank that ever I lighted upon Epictetus his Hypomnemata, or moral commentaries and common-factions: which also he gave me of his own.

V.

Apollonius

Liberty

Take losses in stride and favors graciously

From Apollonius, true liberty, and unvariable steadfastness, and not to regard anything at all, though never so little, but right and reason: and always, whether in the sharpest pains, or after the loss of a child, or in long diseases, to be still the same man; who also was a present and visible example unto me, that it was possible for the same man to be both vehement and remiss: a man not subject to be vexed, and offended with the incapacity of his scholars and auditors in his lectures and expositions; and a true pattern of a man who of all his good gifts and faculties, least esteemed in himself, that his excellent skill and ability to teach and persuade others the common theorems and maxims of the Stoic philosophy. Of him also I learned how to receive favours and kindnesses (as commonly they are accounted:) from friends, so that I might not become obnoxious unto them, for them, nor more yielding upon occasion, than in right I ought; and yet so that I should not pass them neither, as an unsensible and unthankful man.

VI.

Sextus

Living according to nature, without affectation, accomodating to all sorts of people

Apathia without anger

Of Sextus, mildness and the pattern of a family governed with paternal affection; and a purpose to live according to nature: to be grave without affectation: to observe carefully the several dispositions of my friends, not to be offended with idiots, nor unseasonably to set upon those that are carried with the vulgar opinions, with the theorems, and tenets of philosophers: his conversation being an example how a man might accommodate himself to all men and companies; so that though his company were sweeter and more pleasing than any flatterer's cogging and fawning; yet was it at the same time most respected and reverenced: who also had a proper happiness and faculty, rationally and methodically to find out, and set in order all necessary determinations and instructions for a man's life. A man without ever the least appearance of anger, or any other passion; able at the same time most exactly to observe the Stoic Apathia, or unpassionateness, and yet to be most tender-hearted: ever of good credit; and yet almost without any noise, or rumour: very learned, and yet making little show.

VII.

Alexander the Grammarian

Be gentle in correcting others

From Alexander the Grammarian, to be un-reprovable myself, and not reproachfully to reprehend any man for a barbarism, or a solecism, or any false pronunciation, but dextrously by way of answer, or testimony, or confirmation of the same matter (taking no notice of the word) to utter it as it should have been spoken; or by some other such close and indirect admonition, handsomely and civilly to tell him of it.

VIII.

Fronto

tyrants filled with envy and hypocrisy, the nobly born lack affection

Of Fronto, to how much envy and fraud and hypocrisy the state of a tyrannous king is subject unto, and how they who are commonly called [Eupatridas Gk.], i.e. nobly born, are in some sort incapable, or void of natural affection.

IX.

Alexander the Platonic

Not to put off friends with the pretense of other important business

Of Alexander the Platonic, not often nor without great necessity to say, or to write to any man in a letter, 'I am not at leisure'; nor in this manner still to put off those duties, which we owe to our friends and acquaintances (to every one in his kind) under pretence of urgent affairs.

X.

Catulus

Listen to a friend's criticism, speak well of teachers, love one's children

Of Catulus, not to contemn any friend's expostulation, though unjust, but to strive to reduce him to his former disposition: freely and heartily to speak well of all my masters upon any occasion, as it is reported of Domitius, and Athenodotus: and to love my children with true affection.

XI.

Brother Severus

Loving to all in the household

Seek justice and equality in government

Be generous

Be open with friends

From my brother Severus, to be kind and loving to all them of my house and family; by whom also I came to the knowledge of Thrasea and Helvidius, and Cato, and Dio, and Brutus. He it was also that did put me in the first conceit and desire of an equal commonwealth, administered by justice and equality; and of a kingdom wherein should be regarded nothing more than the good and welfare of the subjects. Of him also, to observe a constant tenor, (not interrupted, with any other cares and distractions,) in the study and esteem of philosophy: to be bountiful and liberal in the largest measure; always to hope the best; and to be confident that my friends love me. In whom I moreover observed open dealing towards those whom he reproved at any time, and that his friends might without all doubt or much observation know what he would, or would not, so open and plain was he.

XII.

Claudius Maximus

Cheerfulness in adversity

Work diligently, without complaint

Be good, forgiving, honest, and pleasant

From Claudius Maximus, in all things to endeavour to have power of myself, and in nothing to be carried about; to be cheerful and courageous in all sudden chances and accidents, as in sicknesses: to love mildness, and moderation, and gravity: and to do my business, whatsoever it be, thoroughly, and without querulousness. http://louiscjcsheehan.blogspot.com/

Whatsoever he said, all men believed him that as he spake, so he thought, and whatsoever he did, that he did it with a good intent. His manner was, never to wonder at anything; never to be in haste, and yet never slow: nor to be perplexed, or dejected, or at any time unseemly, or excessively to laugh: nor to be angry, or suspicious, but ever ready to do good, and to forgive, and to speak truth; and all this, as one that seemed rather of himself to have been straight and right, than ever to have been rectified or redressed; neither was there any man that ever thought himself undervalued by him, or that could find in his heart, to think himself a better man than he. He would also be very pleasant and gracious.

XIII.

Father

Meekness

diligence, impartiality, chastity regarding youth

Take time to deliberate

Cheerfulness

Repressed flattery

Careful financial accounts

Sociable

Philosophical

Care of his body

Consultation with experts

Not concerned with glory

Baths at appropriate times

Not concerned with external beauty

Moderation in all things

In my father, I observed his meekness; his constancy without wavering in those things, which after a due examination and deliberation, he had determined. How free from all vanity he carried himself in matter of honour and dignity, (as they are esteemed:) his laboriousness and assiduity, his readiness to hear any man, that had aught to say tending to any common good: how generally and impartially he would give every man his due; his skill and knowledge, when rigour or extremity, or when remissness or moderation was in season; how he did abstain from all unchaste love of youths; his moderate condescending to other men's occasions as an ordinary man, neither absolutely requiring of his friends, that they should wait upon him at his ordinary meals, nor that they should of necessity accompany him in his journeys; and that whensoever any business upon some necessary occasions was to be put off and omitted before it could be ended, he was ever found when he went about it again, the same man that he was before. His accurate examination of things in consultations, and patient hearing of others. He would not hastily give over the search of the matter, as one easy to be satisfied with sudden notions and apprehensions. His care to preserve his friends; how neither at any time he would carry himself towards them with disdainful neglect, and grow weary of them; nor yet at any time be madly fond of them. His contented mind in all things, his cheerful countenance, his care to foresee things afar off, and to take order for the least, without any noise or clamour. Moreover how all acclamations and flattery were repressed by him: how carefully he observed all things necessary to the government, and kept an account of the common expenses, and how patiently he did abide that he was reprehended by some for this his strict and rigid kind of dealing. How he was neither a superstitious worshipper of the gods, nor an ambitious pleaser of men, or studious of popular applause; but sober in all things, and everywhere observant of that which was fitting; no affecter of novelties: in those things which conduced to his ease and convenience, (plenty whereof his fortune did afford him,) without pride and bragging, yet with all freedom and liberty: so that as he did freely enjoy them without any anxiety or affectation when they were present; so when absent, he found no want of them. Moreover, that he was never commended by any man, as either a learned acute man, or an obsequious officious man, or a fine orator; but as a ripe mature man, a perfect sound man; one that could not endure to be flattered; able to govern both himself and others. Moreover, how much he did honour all true philosophers, without upbraiding those that were not so; his sociableness, his gracious and delightful conversation, but never unto satiety; his care of his body within bounds and measure, not as one that desired to live long, or over-studious of neatness, and elegancy; and yet not as one that did not regard it: so that through his own care and providence, he seldom needed any inward physic, or outward applications: but especially how ingeniously he would yield to any that had obtained any peculiar faculty, as either eloquence, or the knowledge of the laws, or of ancient customs, or the like; and how he concurred with them, in his best care and endeavour that every one of them might in his kind, for that wherein he excelled, be regarded and esteemed: and although he did all things carefully after the ancient customs of his forefathers, yet even of this was he not desirous that men should take notice, that he did imitate ancient customs. http://louisgjgsheehan.blogspot.com/

http://louisijisheehan.blogspot.com/

Again, how he was not easily moved and tossed up and down, but loved to be constant, both in the same places and businesses; and how after his great fits of headache he would return fresh and vigorous to his wonted affairs. Again, that secrets he neither had many, nor often, and such only as concerned public matters: his discretion and moderation, in exhibiting of the public sights and shows for the pleasure and pastime of the people: in public buildings. congiaries, and the like. In all these things, having a respect unto men only as men, and to the equity of the things themselves, and not unto the glory that might follow. Never wont to use the baths at unseasonable hours; no builder; never curious, or solicitous, either about his meat, or about the workmanship, or colour of his clothes, or about anything that belonged to external beauty. In all his conversation, far from all inhumanity, all boldness, and incivility, all greediness and impetuosity; never doing anything with such earnestness, and intention, that a man could say of him, that he did sweat about it: but contrariwise, all things distinctly, as at leisure; without trouble; orderly, soundly, and agreeably. A man might have applied that to him, which is recorded of Socrates, that he knew how to want, and to enjoy those things, in the want whereof, most men show themselves weak; and in the fruition, intemperate: but to hold out firm and constant, and to keep within the compass of true moderation and sobriety in either estate, is proper to a man, who hath a perfect and invincible soul; such as he showed himself in the sickness of Maximus.

XIV.

The Gods

Good relatives, wife, and family

Ability to avoid offending the gods

Maintenance of chastity until a reasonable time

Ability to enjoy living simply

Healthy children

Only modest talent in areas that might have led him astray

Ability to help others

Avoidance of sophists

From the gods I received that I had good grandfathers, and parents, a good sister, good masters, good domestics, loving kinsmen, almost all that I have; and that I never through haste and rashness transgressed against any of them, notwithstanding that my disposition was such, as that such a thing (if occasion had been) might very well have been committed by me, but that It was the mercy of the gods, to prevent such a concurring of matters and occasions, as might make me to incur this blame. That I was not long brought up by the concubine of my father; that I preserved the flower of my youth. That I took not upon me to be a man before my time, but rather put it off longer than I needed. That I lived under the government of my lord and father, who would take away from me all pride and vainglory, and reduce me to that conceit and opinion that it was not impossible for a prince to live in the court without a troop of guards and followers, extraordinary apparel, such and such torches and statues, and other like particulars of state and magnificence; but that a man may reduce and contract himself almost to the state of a private man, and yet for all that not to become the more base and remiss in those public matters and affairs, wherein power and authority is requisite. That I have had such a brother, who by his own example might stir me up to think of myself; and by his respect and love, delight and please me. That I have got ingenuous children, and that they were not born distorted, nor with any other natural deformity. That I was no great proficient in the study of rhetoric and poetry, and of other faculties, which perchance I might have dwelt upon, if I had found myself to go on in them with success. That I did by times prefer those, by whom I was brought up, to such places and dignities, which they seemed unto me most to desire; and that I did not put them off with hope and expectation, that (since that they were yet but young) I would do the same hereafter. That I ever knew Apollonius and Rusticus, and Maximus. That I have had occasion often and effectually to consider and meditate with myself, concerning that life which is according to nature, what the nature and manner of it is: so that as for the gods and such suggestions, helps and inspirations, as might be expected from them, nothing did hinder, but that I might have begun long before to live according to nature; or that even now that I was not yet partaker and in present possession of that life, that I myself (in that I did not observe those inward motions, and suggestions, yea and almost plain and apparent instructions and admonitions of the gods,) was the only cause of it. That my body in such a life, hath been able to hold out so long. That I never had to do with Benedicta and Theodotus, yea and afterwards when I fell into some fits of love, I was soon cured. That having been often displeased with Rusticus, I never did him anything for which afterwards I had occasion to repent. That it being so that my mother was to die young, yet she lived with me all her latter years. That as often as I had a purpose to help and succour any that either were poor, or fallen into some present necessity, I never was answered by my officers that there was not ready money enough to do it; and that I myself never had occasion to require the like succour from any other. That I have such a wife, so obedient, so loving, so ingenuous. That I had choice of fit and able men, to whom I might commit the bringing up of my children. That by dreams I have received help, as for other things, so in particular, how I might stay my casting of blood, and cure my dizziness, as that also that happened to thee in Cajeta, as unto Chryses when he prayed by the seashore. And when I did first apply myself to philosophy, that I did not fall into the hands of some sophists, or spent my time either in reading the manifold volumes of ordinary philosophers, nor in practising myself in the solution of arguments and fallacies, nor dwelt upon the studies of the meteors, and other natural curiosities. All these things without the assistance of the gods, and fortune, could not have been.