Plutarch says somewhere that he finds no greater distance from best to best, as he finds from man to man. He speaks of the sufficiency of the soul and inner qualities. In truth, I find such a distance from Epaminundas, as I imagine him, to such a one as I know, I say capable of common sense, that I would gladly go further than Plutarch; and say that there is more distance from such a man to such a man than there is from such a man to such a beast:
Here is what a man does to a man. (Terence)
And that there are as many degrees of minds as there are fathoms from here to heaven, and as many more. But, with regard to the estimation of men, it is wonderful that, except ourselves, no thing is esteemed but by its own qualities. We praise a horse for its vigor and agility,
Thus we praise the horse, for which the palm is easily given. It is fervent and exults raucously the victory of the circus. (Juvenal)
not by its harness; a greyhound by its speed, not by its collar: a bird by its wing, not by its leashes and bells. Why then do we not judge a man by what is his? He has a grand carriage, a beautiful palace, so much credit, so much income: all this is around him, not in him. You don’t buy a pig in a poke. If you bargain for a horse, you take off its tack, you see it naked and uncovered; or, if it is covered, as they used to be presented to Princes to be sold, it is by the less necessary parts, so that you do not amuse yourself with the beauty of its coat or the width of its rump, and that you mainly focus on considering the legs, eyes and feet, which are the most useful parts,
This is the custom of kings: when they buy horses, they inspect them, lest, if the face, as is often the case, is adorned with soft feet, it should lead the buyer to gape, because the beautiful buttocks, short as the head, and tall as the neck. (Horace)
Why, when you esteem a man, do you esteem him all wrapped up and bundled up? He shows us only those parts that are not his at all, and hides from us those by which alone one can truly judge his worth. It is the price of the sword that you are looking for, not of the scabbard: you will not give a quatrain to chance, if you have stripped it. It must be judged by itself, not by its finery. And, as an old man says very pleasantly: Do you know why you think it is great? You are counting the height of his skates. The base is not of the statue. Measure him without his enchantments: let him put aside his riches and honors, let him present himself in a shirt. Does he have a body fit for his functions, healthy and cheerful? What kind of soul does he have? Is it beautiful, capable and happily equipped with all its parts? Is it rich in its own, or in other people’s? Does fortune have only to look at it? If, with open eyes, it awaits the drawn sword; if it does not care where life leaves it, through the mouth or through the throat; if it is calm, even-tempered and content: this is what must be seen, and used to judge the extreme differences that exist between us. Is he
wise, self-willed, imperious, Whom neither poverty, nor death, nor bonds frighten. Responding to desires, scorning honors. Strong, and in himself entirely smooth and rounded. May no outsider linger on the smooth. On whom does fortune always fall short? (Horace)
Such a man is five hundred fathoms above kingdoms and duchies: he is his own empire.
The wise man, by heaven, himself fashions his own fortune. (Plautus)
What else can he desire?
We do not see, Nature barking nothing else for itself, except that which. Disconnected from the body, pain may be far from him, the mind may enjoy, With pleasure, separated from the senses, care and fear? (Lucretius)
Compare him to the turf of our men, stupid, low, servile, unstable, and continually floating in the storm of diverse passions that push and repel him: during all of the other; there is more distance than from Heaven to earth: and yet the blindness of our custom is such that we take little or no notice of it, where, if we consider a peasant and a king, a nobleman and a villain, a magistrate and a private man, a rich man and a poor man, an extreme disparity suddenly presents itself to our eyes, who are only different in the way they speak, in their shoes. In Thrace, the King was distinguished from his people in a pleasant way, and much to his advantage. He had a religion of his own, a God all his own that it was not for his subjects to worship: it was Mercury; and he disdained theirs, Mars, Bacchus, Diana. Yet these are only images, which bear no essential resemblance. For, like the actors, you see them on the scaffold making a face of a Duke and an Emperor; but, soon after, you see them become miserable valets and pickpockets, which is their original condition: so the Emperor, whose pomp dazzles you in public,
Of course, the great green emeralds with their light are enclosed in gold, and Thalassima’s garment is worn. And she constantly drinks the sweat of Venus, having exercised. (Lucretius)
see him behind the curtain, he is nothing but an ordinary man, and, perhaps, more vile than the least of his subjects.
He is happy inwardly. His happiness is outward. Cowardice, irresolution, ambition, spite and envy agitate him like any other: For neither the consular nor the criminal, The lictor stirs up the wretched tumult, The minds and cares are hanging around, The roofs are flying. (Horace)
and care and fear hold him in their grip in the midst of his armies,
Truly, men’s fears and cares are their followers, Nor do they fear the sound of weapons, nor wild weapons; And boldly among kings, and powerful men. They engage, nor do they revere the brilliance of gold. (Lucretius)
Do they, like us, escape fever, migraine and gout? When old age is upon him, will the archers of his guard relieve him of it? When the fear of death passes over him, will he be reassured by the assistance of the gentlemen of his chamber? When he is jealous and capricious, will our bonnets put him back? This bed canopy all swollen with gold and pearls has no virtue to appease the throes of a green colic:
Nor do hot fevers die away more quickly from the body, if in textiles and paintings, and in the red of the east of the liver, than if one has to lie down in common clothes. (Lucretius)
The flatterers of the great Alexander made him believe that he was the son of Jupiter: one day, when he was wounded, watching the blood flow from his wound, he said, “Well, what do you think? Is it not a pure and red human blood?” It is not the blood of the one that Homer makes the wound of the gods flow. Hermodorus, the poet, had written verses in honor of Antigonus, in which he called him son of the Sun; and he, on the contrary: He who empties my pierced chamber, knows well that it is not so. He is a man for all seasons; and if, of himself, he is a man of ill birth, the empire of the universe could not make him fit to wear a garter:
Let the girls snatch him away; whatever he treads on here, let it become a rose, (Persius)
wherefore, if it be a gross and stupid soul? Even voluptuousness and happiness are not perceived without vigor and wit:
These things are just like the mind of him who possesses them, He who knows how to use them, has good things; to him who does not use them aright, evils. (Terence)
The goods of fortune, all as they are, still require feeling to be savored. It is enjoyment, not possession, that makes us happy:
Not a house and a farm, not a pile of copper and gold. He brought fevers to the sick master’s body, Not cares to the mind: the owner must be strong, Who well considers things to use. Whoever desires or fears, let him profit thus from his house or his possessions, As the lip of a painted table, foments gout. (Horace)
He is a fool, his taste is foamy and stupid; he enjoys neither the sweetness of Greek wine nor the richness of the harness with which a horse is adorned; just as Plato said, health, beauty, strength, wealth, and everything that is called good, is equally bad for the unjust as good for the just, and evil in reverse. And then, where the body and the mind are in a bad state, what use are these external conveniences? for the slightest chill, and passion of the soul is enough to take away from us the pleasure of the monarchy of the world. At the first twinge from the gout, he may be Sire and Majesty,
All cast in silver, all in gold, (Tibullus)
does he not lose the memory of his palaces and his grandeur? If he is angry, does his principality keep him from blushing, from turning pale, from gnashing his teeth like a madman? Now, if he is a clever and well-born man, royalty adds little to his happiness:
If your belly is well, if your side and feet are well, no royal riches can add greater. (Horace)
he sees that it is nothing but a game of cards. Yes, perhaps he will take the advice of King Seleucus, who said that he who knew the value of a scepter would not deign to pick it up when he found it on the ground; he said this with regard to the great and onerous responsibilities of a good king. Certainly, it is no small thing to have to rule over others, since there are so many difficulties in ruling over ourselves. As for commanding, which seems to be so easy, considering the imbecility of human judgment and the difficulty of choosing new and dubious things, I am strongly of the opinion that it is much easier and more pleasant to follow than to lead, and that it is a great relief to the mind to have only a set path to follow and to answer only to oneself:
So that it is much better to obey quietly, than to want to rule things by command. (Lucretius)
Cyrus added that it is not fitting to command a man who is not better than those he commands. But King Hieron, in Xenophon, said more: that in the enjoyment of the pleasures themselves, they are of a worse condition than the deprived, all the more so as ease and facility take away the bittersweet edge that we find in them,
Fat and overpowering love turns into boredom for us, and sweet food harms the stomach. (Ovid)
Do we think that children take great pleasure in music? Satiety makes it rather boring for them. Feasts, dances, masquerades and tournaments are enjoyed by those who do not see them often and who have desired to see them: but for those who do so regularly, the taste becomes bland and unpleasant; nor do the ladies titillate he who enjoys them to the point of inebriation. He who does not take the time to feel thirst cannot take pleasure in drinking. We enjoy the tricks of the magicians, but for the players they are a chore. And so be it, it is a delight for Princes, it is their festival, to be able to disguise themselves sometimes and to strip down to the low and popular way of life,
Often pleasant occasions for princes, And in the small, clean hearth of the poor; Suppers, without curtains and a rosary, They unfolded a solicitous brow. (Horace)
There is nothing so obstructive, so distasteful, as abundance. What appetite would not be put off at the sight of three hundred women at its mercy, as the great lord has in his seraglio? And what an appetite and hunting face had been reserved for him by his ancestors, who never went to the fields unless there were seven thousand falconers? And, besides that, I believe that this luster of grandeur brings not slight inconveniences to the enjoyment of sweeter pleasures: they are too bright and too exposed.
And, I don’t know how, they are required to hide and cover their fault. For what is indiscretion to us, the people judge to be tyranny, contempt and disdain of the laws; and, in addition to the inclination to vice, it seems that they still add to it the pleasure of lording it over and subjecting public observances to their feet. In his Gorgias, Plato defines a tyrant as one who has license in a city to do whatever he pleases. And often, for this reason, the display and publication of their vice is more hurtful than the vice itself. Everyone fears being spied on and monitored: they are spied on and controlled right down to their very expressions and thoughts, with all the people believing they have the right and the interest to judge them; in addition to the fact that the stains grow larger depending on the prominence and brightness of the place where they are seated, and that a birthmark and a wart on the forehead appear more than a gash would elsewhere.
That is why poets feign Jupiter’s love affairs conducted under a face other than his own; and, of all the amorous practices they attribute to him, there is only one, it seems to me, in which he is in his greatness and majesty. But let us return to Hyeron: he also recounts how much he feels inconvenienced in his kingship, not being able to go and travel freely, being like a prisoner within the confines of his country; and that in all his actions he finds himself enveloped in an unpleasant press. Indeed, seeing our people all alone at table, besieged by so many talkers and looking unknown, I have often felt more pity than envy for them. King Alfonso said that donkeys were better off in this respect than kings: their masters let them graze at their ease, where kings cannot get their servants to do the same.
And it never occurred to me that it was a notable convenience in the life of an intelligent man to have twenty comptrollers at his bedside; nor that the services of a man who has ten thousand pounds a year, or who has taken Casal, or defended Siene, are more convenient and acceptable to him than those of a good and experienced valet. The principled advantages are almost imaginary advantages. Each degree of fortune has some image of principality. Caesar calls all the Lords with jurisdiction in France in his time Roytelets. Truly, except for the name of Sire, we go much further with our Roys. And see in the Provinces far from the Court, let us take Brittany as an example, the train, the subjects, the officers, the occupations, the service and ceremony of a Lord withdrawn and homebound, nursed among his valets; and see also the flight of his imagination: there is nothing more Royal; he hears talk of his master once a year, as of the King of Persia, and recognizes him only by some old cousinage that his secretary keeps on record.
In truth, our laws are quite free, and the weight of sovereignty hardly touches a French gentleman twice in his life. Essential and effective subjection among us concerns only those who agree to it and who wish to honor and enrich themselves through such service: for he who wishes to remain at home and knows how to run his household without quarrels or lawsuits is as free as the Duke of Venice:
A few hold servitude, many hold servitude. (Seneca)
But above all Hieron makes a point of which he finds himself deprived of all friendship and mutual society, in which consists the most perfect and sweet fruit of human life. For what testimony of affection and good will can I draw from him who owes me, whether he wants to or not, all that he can? Can I take note of his humble speech and courteous reverence, given that it is not in him to refuse it to me? The honor that we receive from those who fear us is not honor; these respects are due to royalty, not to me:
This is the greatest good of the kingdom, That the deeds of the lord are forced upon his people. How much to bear and praise. (Seneca)
Don’t I see that the villain, the good King, the one we hate, the one we love, all have it in them in equal measure: my predecessor was served with the same appearances, the same ceremony as my successor will be. If my subjects do not offend me, it is no proof of any good affection: why should I take it on that account, since they could not if they wanted to? No one follows me for the friendship that may exist between him and me, for friendship could not be forged where there is so little relationship and correspondence. My high station has put me beyond the reach of human commerce: there is too much disparity and disproportion. They follow me through custom and out of politeness, or, more readily than I, through my fortune, to increase theirs.
All they say and do to me is mere make-believe. Their freedom being restricted on all sides by the great power I have over them, I see nothing around me but what is covered and masked. His courtiers once praised Julian the Emperor for dispensing good justice: I would gladly boast of this praise, he said, if it came from people who dared to accuse or praise my actions to the contrary, when they were there. All the real conveniences that Princes have are common to them with men of average fortune (it is up to the Gods to ride horses with hooves and feed on Ambrosia): they have no other sleep or appetite than ours; their steel is not of better temper than that with which we arm ourselves; their crown covers them neither from the sun nor the rain.
Diocletian, who wore such a revered and fortunate crown, resigned it to retire to the pleasures of private life; and some time later, when the necessities of public affairs required him to return to take up the charge, he replied to those who urged him: You would not try to persuade me otherwise, if you had seen the beautiful order of the trees that I myself have planted in my garden, and the beautiful melons that I have sown there. In the opinion of Anacharsis, the happiest state of a police force would be where, all other things being equal, precedence would be measured by virtue, and rejection by vice.
When King Pyrrhus undertook to pass into Italy, Cyneas, his wise counselor, wanting to make him feel the vanity of his ambition, asked him, “Well! “Sir,” he asked him, ‘to what end are you undertaking this great enterprise?’ ‘To make myself master of Italy,’ he replied suddenly. ‘And then,’ Cyneas continued, ‘what next?’ ‘I shall pass,’ said the other, ”to Gaul and Spain. “And after that?” ‘I will go and subjugate Africa; and finally, when I have brought the whole world under my rule, I will rest and live contentedly and at ease.’ ‘For God’s sake, Sire,’ Cyneas then urged, ”tell me why you are not already, if you wish, in that state? why do you not lodge, from this hour, where you say you aspire, and save yourself so much work and hazard that you throw in between?
No doubt because he does not know well what the end of having it would be, and indeed until true pleasure grows. (Lucretius)
I’m going to close this step with this ancient verse which I find particularly beautiful in this regard:
Each person’s character shapes their own fortune. (Cornelius Nepos)