Public-domain original
XXVI. “What difference, then, is there between me, who am a fool,
and you, who are a wise man?” “All the difference in the world: for
riches are slaves in the house of a wise man, but masters in that
of a fool. You accustom yourself to them and cling to them as if
somebody had promised that they should be yours for ever, but a
wise man never thinks so much about poverty as when he is surrounded
by riches. No general ever trusts so implicitly in the
maintenance of peace as not to make himself ready for a war, which,
though it may not actually be waged, has nevertheless been declared;
you are rendered over-proud by a fine house, as though it could
never be burned or fall down, and your heads are turned by riches
as though they were beyond the reach of all dangers and were so
great that Fortune has not sufficient strength to swallow them up.
You sit idly playing with your wealth and do not foresee the perils
in store for it, as savages generally do when besieged, for, not
understanding the use of siege artillery, they look on idly at the
labours of the besiegers and do not understand the object of the
machines which they are putting together at a distance: and this
is exactly what happens to you: you go to sleep over your property,
and never reflect how many misfortunes loom menacingly around you
on all sides, and soon will plunder you of costly spoils, but if
one takes away riches from the wise man, one leaves him still in
possession of all that is his: for he lives happy in the present,
and without fear for the future. The great Socrates, or any one
else who had the same superiority to and power to withstand the
things of this life, would say, ‘I have no more fixed principle
than that of not altering the course of my life to suit your
prejudices: you may pour your accustomed talk upon me from all
sides: I shall not think that you are abusing me, but that you are
merely wailing like poor little babies.’” This is what the man will
say who possesses wisdom, whose mind, being free from vices, bids
him reproach others, not because he hates them, but in order to
improve them: and to this he will add, “Your opinion of me affects
me with pain, not for my own sake but for yours, because to hate
perfection and to assail virtue is in itself a resignation of all
hope of doing well. You do me no harm; neither do men harm the gods
when they overthrow their altars: but it is clear that your intention
is an evil one and that you will wish to do harm even where
you are not able. I bear with your prating in the same spirit in
which Jupiter, best and greatest, bears with the idle tales of the
poets, one of whom represents him with wings, another with horns,
another as an adulterer staying out all night, another is dealing
harshly with the gods, another as unjust to men, another as the
seducer of noble youths whom he carries off by force, and those,
too, his own relatives, another as a parricide and the conqueror
of another’s kingdom, and that his father’s. The only result of
such tales is that men feel less shame at committing sin if they
believe the gods to be guilty of such actions. But although this
conduct of yours does not hurt me, yet, for your own sakes, I advise
you, respect virtue: believe those who having long followed her cry
aloud that what they follow is a thing of might, and daily appears
mightier. Reverence her as you would the gods, and reverence her
followers as you would the priests of the gods: and whenever any
mention of sacred writings is made, favete linguis, favour us
with silence: this word is not derived, as most people imagine,
from favour, but commands silence, that divine service may be
performed without being interrupted by any words of evil omen. It
is much more necessary that you should be ordered to do this, in
order that whenever utterance is made by that oracle, you may listen
to it with attention and in silence. Whenever any one beats a
sistrum, pretending to do so by divine command, any proficient
in grazing his own skin covers his arms and shoulders with blood
from light cuts, any one crawls on his knees howling along the
street, or any old man clad in linen comes forth in daylight with
a lamp and laurel branch and cries out that one of the gods is
angry, you crowd round him and listen to his words, and each increases
the other’s wonderment by declaring him to be divinely inspired.