And how wise doth a man grow on a sudden when Cæesar has made him Clerk of the Close-stool! How immediately we say, "Felicio talked very sensibly to me!" I wish he were turned out of the bed-chamber, that he might once more appear to you the fool he is.

§ 3. Epaphroditus had [a slave, that was] a shoemaker; whom, because he was good for nothing, he sold. This very fellow being, by some strange luck, bought by a courtier, became shoemaker to Cæsar. Then you might have seen how Epaphroditus honoured him. "How doth good Felicio do, pray?" And if any of us asked what the great man himself was about, it was answered: "He is consulting about affairs with Felicio." Did not he sell him as good for nothing? Who, then, hath all on a sudden made a wise man of him? This it is to honour anything besides what depends on choice.

§ 4. Is any one exalted to the office of tribune? All that meet him congratulate him. One kisses his eyes, another his neck, and the slaves his hands. He goes to his house; finds it illuminated. He ascends the Capitol. Offers a sacrifice. Now, who ever offered a sacrifice for having good desires? For exerting pursuits conformable to nature? For we thank the gods for that wherein we place our good.

§ 5. A person was talking with me to-day about the priesthood1 of Augustus. I say to him, Let the thing alone, friend: you will be at great expense for nothing. "But my name," says he, "will be written in the annals." Will you stand by, then, and tell those who read them, "I am the person whose name is written there"? But, if you could tell every one so now, what will you do when you are dead?—"My name will remain."—Write it upon a stone and it will remain just as well. But, pray, what remembrance will there be of you out of Nicopolis?—"But I shall wear a crown2 of gold."—If your heart is quite set upon a crown, take and put on one of roses, for it will make the prettier appearance.

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Chapter XX

In What Manner Reason Contemplates Itself

EVERY art and every faculty contemplates some things as its principal objects. Whenever, therefore, it is of the same nature with the objects of its contemplations, it necessarily contemplates itself too. But where it is of a different nature, it cannot contemplate itself. The art of shoemaking, for instance, is exercised upon leather, but is itself entirely distinct from the materials it works upon; therefore it doth not contemplate itself. Again, grammar is exercised on articulate speech. Is the art of grammar itself, then, articulate speech?

By no means.

Therefore it cannot contemplate itself. To what purpose, then, is reason appointed by nature?

To a proper use of the appearances of things.

And what is reason?

A composition of certain appearances to the mind: and, thus, by its nature, it becomes contemplative of itself too. Again, what subjects of contemplation belong to prudence?

Good, and evil, and indifferent.

What, then, is prudence itself?

Good.

What, imprudence?

Evil.

You see, then, that it necessarily contemplates both itself and its contrary. Therefore the first and greatest work of a philosopher is to try and distinguish the appearances, and to admit none untried. Even in money, where our interest seems to be concerned, you see what an art we have invented, and how many ways an assayer uses to try its value. By the sight, the touch, the smell, and lastly, the hearing. He throws the piece down, and attends to the jingle; and is not contented with its jingling only once; but, by frequent attention to it, becomes quite musical. In the same manner, whenever we think it of consequence whether we are deceived or not, we use the utmost attention to distinguish those things which may possibly deceive us. But, yawning and slumbering over the poor miserable ruling faculty, we admit every appearance that offers. For here the mischief doth not strike us. When you would know, then, how very languidly you are affected by good and evil, and how vehemently by things indifferent; consider how you are affected with regard to being blinded, and how with regard to being deceived, and you will find that you are far from being moved, as you ought, in relation to good and evil.

But much previous qualification, and much labour and learning, are wanted.

What then? Do you expect the greatest of arts is to be acquired by slight endeavours? And yet the principal doctrine of the philosophers, of itself, is short.