<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0117" id="link2H_4_0117"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXVII </h2>
<p>Ask me if you choose if a Cynic shall engage in the administration of the
State. O fool, seek you a nobler administration that that in which he is
engaged? Ask you if a man shall come forward in the Athenian assembly and
talk about revenue and supplies, when his business is to converse with all
men, Athenians, Corinthians, and Romans alike, not about supplies, not
about revenue, nor yet peace and war, but about Happiness and Misery,
Prosperity and Adversity, Slavery and Freedom?</p>
<p>Ask you whether a man shall engage in the administration of the State who
has engaged in such an Administration as this? Ask me too if he shall
govern; and again I will answer, Fool, what greater government shall he
hold than he holds already?</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0118" id="link2H_4_0118"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXVIII </h2>
<p>Such a man needs also to have a certain habit of body. If he appears
consumptive, thin and pale, his testimony has no longer the same
authority. He must not only prove to the unlearned by showing them what
his Soul is that it is possible to be a good man apart from all that they
admire; but he must also show them, by his body, that a plain and simple
manner of life under the open sky does no harm to the body either. "See, I
am proof of this! and my body also." As Diogenes used to do, who went
about fresh of look and by the very appearance of his body drew men's
eyes. But if a Cynic is an object of pity, he seems a mere beggar; all
turn away, all are offended at him. Nor should he be slovenly of look, so
as not to scare men from him in this way either; on the contrary, his very
roughness should be clean and attractive.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0119" id="link2H_4_0119"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXIX </h2>
<p>Kings and tyrants have armed guards wherewith to chastise certain persons,
though they themselves be evil. But to the Cynic conscience gives this
power—not arms and guards. When he knows that he has watched and
laboured on behalf of mankind: that sleep hath found him pure, and left
him purer still: that his thoughts have been the thought of a Friend of
the Gods—of a servant, yet one that hath a part in the government of
the Supreme God: that the words are ever on his lips:—</p>
<p>Lead me, O God, and thou, O Destiny!</p>
<p>as well as these:—</p>
<p>If this be God's will, so let it be!</p>
<p>Why should he not speak boldly unto his own brethren, unto his children—in
a word, unto all that are akin to him!</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0120" id="link2H_4_0120"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXX </h2>
<p>Does a Philosopher apply to people to come and hear him? does he not
rather, of his own nature, attract those that will be benefited by him—like
the sun that warms, the food that sustains them? What Physician applies to
men to come and be healed? (Though indeed I hear that the Physicians at
Rome do nowadays apply for patients—in my time they were applied
to.) I apply to you to come and hear that you are in evil case; that what
deserves your attention most in the last thing to gain it; that you know
not good from evil, and are in short a hapless wretch; a fine way to
apply! though unless the words of the Philosopher affect you thus, speaker
and speech are alike dead.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0121" id="link2H_4_0121"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXI </h2>
<p>A Philosopher's school is a Surgery: pain, not pleasure, you should have
felt therein. For on entering none of you is whole. One has a shoulder out
of joint, another an abscess: a third suffers from an issue, a fourth from
pains in the head. And am I then to sit down and treat you to pretty
sentiments and empty flourishes, so that you may applaud me and depart,
with neither shoulder, nor head, nor issue, nor abscess a whit the better
for your visit? Is it then for this that young men are to quit their
homes, and leave parents, friends, kinsmen and substance to mouth out
Bravo to your empty phrases!</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0122" id="link2H_4_0122"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXII </h2>
<p>If any be unhappy, let him remember that he is unhappy by reason of
himself alone. For God hath made all men to enjoy felicity and constancy
of good.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0123" id="link2H_4_0123"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXIII </h2>
<p>Shall we never wean ourselves—shall we never heed the teachings of
Philosophy (unless perchance they have been sounding in our ears like and
enchanter's drone):—</p>
<p>This World is one great City, and one if the substance whereof it is
fashioned: a certain period indeed there needs must be, while these give
place to those; some must perish for others to succeed; some move and some
abide: yet all is full of friends—first God, then Men, whom Nature
hath bound by ties of kindred each to each.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0124" id="link2H_4_0124"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXIV </h2>
<p>Nor did the hero weep and lament at leaving his children orphans. For he
knew that no man is an orphan, but it is the Father that careth for all
continually and for evermore. Not by mere report had he heard that the
Supreme God is the Father of men: seeing that he called Him Father
believing Him so to be, and in all that he did had ever his eyes fixed
upon Him. Wherefore in whatsoever place he was, there is was given him to
live happily.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0125" id="link2H_4_0125"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXV </h2>
<p>Know you not that the thing is a warfare? one man's duty is to mount
guard, another must go out to reconnoitre, a third to battle; all cannot
be in one place, nor would it even be expedient. But you, instead of
executing you Commander's orders, complain if aught harsher than usual is
enjoined; not understanding to what condition you are bringing the army,
so far as in you lies. If all were to follow your example, none would dig
a trench, none would cast a rampart around the camp, none would keep
watch, or expose himself to danger; but all turn out useless for the
service of war. . . . Thus it is here also. Every life is a warfare, and
that long and various. You must fulfil a soldier's duty, and obey each
order at your commander's nod: aye, if it be possible, divine what he
would have done; for between that Command and this, there is no
comparison, either in might or in excellence.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link126" id="link126"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXVI </h2>
<p>Have you again forgotten? Know you not that a good man does nothing for
appearance' sake, but for the sake of having done right? . . .</p>
<p>"Is there no reward then?"</p>
<p>Reward! do you seek any greater reward for a good man than doing what is
right and just? Yet at the Great Games you look for nothing else; there
the victor's crown you deem enough. Seems it to you so small a thing and
worthless, to be a good man, and happy therein?</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0126" id="link2H_4_0126"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXVII </h2>
<p>It befits thee not to be unhappy by reason of any, but rather to be happy
by reason of all men, and especially by reason of God, who formed us to
this end.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0127" id="link2H_4_0127"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXVIII </h2>
<p>What, did Diogenes love no man, he that was so gentle, so true a friend to
men as cheerfully to endure such bodily hardships for the common weal of
all mankind? But how loved he them? As behoved a minister of the Supreme
God, alike caring for men and subject unto God.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0128" id="link2H_4_0128"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXIX </h2>
<h3> I am by Nature made for my own good; not for my own evil. </h3>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0129" id="link2H_4_0129"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXX </h2>
<p>Remind thyself that he whom thou lovest is mortal—that what thou
lovest is not thine own; it is given thee for the present, not irrevocably
nor for ever, but even as a fig or a bunch of grapes at the appointed
season of the year. . . .</p>
<p>"But these are words of evil omen.". . .</p>
<p>What, callest thou aught of evil omen save that which signifies some evil
thing? Cowardice is a word of evil omen, if thou wilt, and meanness of
spirit, and lamentation and mourning, and shamelessness. . . .</p>
<p>But do not, I pray thee, call of evil omen a word that is significant of
any natural thing:—as well call of evil omen the reaping of the
corn; for that means the destruction of the ears, though not of the World!—as
well say that the fall of the leaf is of evil omen; that the dried fig
should take the place of the green; that raisins should be made from
grapes. All these are changes from a former state into another; not
destruction, but an ordered economy, a fixed administration. Such is
leaving home, a change of small account; such is Death, a greater change,
from what now is, not to what is not, but to what is not now.</p>
<p>"Shall I then no longer be?"</p>
<p>Not so; thou wilt be; but something different, of which the World now hath
need. For thou too wert born not when thou chosest, but when the World had
need of thee.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0130" id="link2H_4_0130"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXXI </h2>
<p>Wherefore a good man and true, bearing in mind who he is and whence he
came and from whom he sprang, cares only how he may fill his post with due
discipline and obedience to God.</p>
<p>Wilt thou that I continue to live? Then will I live, as one that is free
and noble, as Thou wouldst have me. For Thou hast made me free from
hindrance in what appertaineth unto me. But hast Thou no further need of
me? I thank Thee! Up to this hour have I stayed for Thy sake and none
other's: and now in obedience to Thee I depart.</p>
<p>"How dost thou depart?"</p>
<p>Again I say, as Thou wouldst have me; as one that is free, as Thy servant,
as one whose ear is open unto what Thou dost enjoin, what Thou dost
forbid.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0131" id="link2H_4_0131"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXXII </h2>
<p>Whatsoever place or post Thou assignest me, sooner will I die a thousand
deaths, as Socrates said, than desert it. And where wilt Thou have me to
be? At Rome or Athens? At Thebes or on a desert island? Only remember me
there! Shouldst Thou send me where man cannot live as Nature would have
him, I will depart, not in disobedience to Thee, but as though Thou wert
sounding the signal for my retreat: I am not deserting Thee—far be
that from me! I only perceive that thou needest me no longer.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0132" id="link2H_4_0132"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXXIII </h2>
<p>If you are in Gyaros, do not let your mind dwell upon life at Rome, and
all the pleasures it offered to you when living there, and all that would
attend your return. Rather be intent on this—how he that lives in
Gyaros may live in Gyaros like a man of spirit. And if you are at Rome, do
not let your mind dwell upon the life at Athens, but study only how to
live at Rome.</p>
<p>Finally, in the room of all other pleasures put this—the pleasure
which springs from conscious obedience to God.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0133" id="link2H_4_0133"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXXIV </h2>
<p>To a good man there is no evil, either in life or death. And if God supply
not food, has He not, as a wise Commander, sounded the signal for retreat
and nothing more? I obey, I follow—speaking good of my Commander,
and praising His acts. For at His good pleasure I came; and I depart when
it pleases Him; and while I was yet alive that was my work, to sing
praises unto God!</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0134" id="link2H_4_0134"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXXV </h2>
<p>Reflect that the chief source of all evils to Man, and of baseness and
cowardice, is not death, but the fear of death.</p>
<p>Against this fear then, I pray you, harden yourself; to this let all your
reasonings, your exercises, your reading tend. Then shall you know that
thus alone are men set free.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0135" id="link2H_4_0135"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXXVI </h2>
<p>He is free who lives as he wishes to live; to whom none can do violence,
none hinder or compel; whose impulses are unimpeded, whose desires are
attain their purpose, who falls not into what he would avoid. Who then
would live in error?—None. Who would live deceived and prone to
fall, unjust, intemperate, in abject whining at his lot?—None. Then
doth no wicked man live as he would, and therefore neither is he free.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0136" id="link2H_4_0136"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXXVII </h2>
<p>Thus do the more cautious of travellers act. The road is said to be beset
by robbers. The traveller will not venture alone, but awaits the
companionship on the road of an ambassador, a quaestor or a proconsul. To
him he attaches himself and thus passes by in safety. So doth the wise man
in the world. Many are the companies of robbers and tyrants, many the
storms, the straits, the losses of all a man holds dearest. Whither shall
he fall for refuge—how shall he pass by unassailed? What companion
on the road shall he await for protection? Such and such a wealthy man, of
consular rank? And how shall I be profited, if he is stripped and falls to
lamentation and weeping? And how if my fellow-traveller himself turns upon
me and robs me? What am I to do? I will become a friend of C�sar's! in his
train none will do me wrong! In the first place—O the indignities I
must endure to win distinction! O the multitude of hands there will be to
rob me! And if I succeed, C�sar too is but a mortal. While should it come
to pass that I offend him, whither shall I flee from his presence? To the
wilderness? And may not fever await me there? What then is to be done?
Cannot a fellow-traveller be found that is honest and loyal, strong and
secure against surprise? Thus doth the wise man reason, considering that
if he would pass through in safety, he must attach himself unto God.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0137" id="link2H_4_0137"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXXVIII </h2>
<p>"How understandest thou attach himself to God?"</p>
<p>That what God wills, he should will also; that what God wills not, neither
should he will.</p>
<p>"How then may this come to pass?"</p>
<p>By considering the movements of God, and His administration.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0138" id="link2H_4_0138"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXXXIX </h2>
<p>And dost thou that hast received all from another's hands, repine and
blame the Giver, if He takes anything from thee? Why, who art thou, and to
what end comest thou here? was it not He that made the Light manifest unto
thee, that gave thee fellow-workers, and senses, and the power to reason?
And how brought He thee into the world? Was it not as one born to die; as
one bound to live out his earthly life in some small tabernacle of flesh;
to behold His administration, and for a little while share with Him in the
mighty march of this great Festival Procession? Now therefore that thou
hast beheld, while it was permitted thee, the Solemn Feast and Assembly,
wilt thou not cheerfully depart, when He summons thee forth, with
adoration and thanksgiving for what thou hast seen and heard?—"Nay,
but I would fain have stayed longer at the Festival."—Ah, so would
the mystics fain have the rites prolonged; so perchance would the crowd at
the Great Games fain behold more wrestlers still. But the Solemn Assembly
is over! Come forth, depart with thanksgiving and modesty—give place
to others that must come into being even as thyself.</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0139" id="link2H_4_0139"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXL </h2>
<p>Why art thou thus insatiable? why thus unreasonable? why encumber the
world?—"Aye, but I fain would have my wife and children with me
too."—What, are they then thine, and not His that gave them—His
that made thee? Give up then that which is not thine own: yield it to One
who is better than thou. "Nay, but why did He bring one into the world on
these conditions?"—If it suits thee not, depart! He hath no need of
a spectator who finds fault with his lot! Them that will take part in the
Feast he needeth—that will lift their voices with the rest that men
may applaud the more, and exalt the Great Assembly in hymns and songs of
praise. But the wretched and the fearful He will not be displeased to see
absent from it: for when they were present, they did not behave as at a
Feast, nor fulfil their proper office; but moaned as though in pain, and
found fault with their fate, their fortune and their companions;
insensible to what had fallen to their lot, insensible to the powers they
had received for a very different purpose—the powers of Magnanimity,
Nobility of Heart, of Fortitude, or Freedom!</p>
<p><SPAN name="link2H_4_0140" id="link2H_4_0140"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CXLI </h2>
<p>Art thou then free? a man may say. So help me heaven, I long and pray for
freedom! But I cannot look my masters boldly in the face; I still value
the poor body; I still set much store on its preservation whole and sound.</p>
<p>But I can point thee out a free man, that thou mayest be no more in search
of an example. Diogenes was free. How so? Not because he was of free
parentage (for that, indeed, was not the case), but because he was himself
free. He had cast away every handle whereby slavery might lay hold of him
to enslave him, nor was it possible for any to approach and take hold of
him to enslave him. All things sat loose upon him—all things were to
him attached by but slender ties. Hadst thou seized upon his possessions,
he would rather have let them go than have followed thee for them—aye,
had it been even a limb, or mayhap his whole body; and in like manner,
relatives, friends, and country. For he knew whence they came—from
whose hands and on what terms he had received them. His true forefathers,
the Gods, his true Country, he never would have abandoned; nor would he
have yielded to any man in obedience and submission to the one nor in
cheerfully dying for the other. For he was ever mindful that everything
that comes to pass has its source and origin there; being indeed brought
about for the weal of that his true Country, and directed by Him in whose
governance it is.</p>
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