There is not in the scale of nature a more inseparable connection of cause and effect, than in the case of happiness and virtue; nor anything that more naturally produces the one, or more necessarily presupposes the other. For what is it to be happy, but for a man to content himself with his lot, in a cheerful and quiet resignation to the appointments of God? All the actions of our lives ought to be governed with respect to good and evil: and it is only reason that distinguishes; by which reason we are in such manner influenced, as if a ray of the Divinity were dipt in a mortal body, and that is the perfection of mankind. It is true, we have not the eyes of eagles or the sagacity of hounds: nor if we had, could we pretend to value ourselves upon anything which we have in common with brutes. What are we the better for that which is foreign to us, and may be given and taken away? As the beams of the sun irradiate the earth, and yet remain where they were; so is it in some proportion with a holy mind that illustrates all our actions, and yet it adheres to its original. Why do we not as well commend a horse for his glorious trappings, as a man for his pompous additions? How much a braver creature is a lion, (which by nature ought to be fierce and terrible) how much braver (I say) in his natural horror than in his chains? so that everything in its pure nature pleases us best. It is not health, nobility, riches, that can justify a wicked man: nor is it the want of all these that can discredit a good one. That is the sovereign blessing, which makes the possessor of it valuable without anything else, and him that wants it contemptible, though he had all the world besides. It is not the painting, gilding, or carving, that makes a good ship; but if she be a nimble sailer, tight and strong to endure the seas; that is her excellency. It is the edge and temper of the blade that makes a good sword, not the richness of the scabbard: and so it is not money or possessions, that makes a man considerable, but his virtue.
In nature, nothing connects more clearly than happiness and virtue. One naturally creates the other, and one requires the other. What does it mean to be happy? It means being content with your life and accepting God's plan with a cheerful, peaceful heart. We should judge all our actions by whether they're good or evil. Only reason can tell the difference. When reason guides us, it's as if a spark of God lives in our mortal bodies. This is what makes humans perfect. True, we don't have the sharp eyes of eagles or the keen senses of hunting dogs. But even if we did, we couldn't take pride in traits we share with animals. What good are things that don't truly belong to us and can be taken away at any time? The sun's rays light up the earth but stay where they came from. In the same way, a holy mind brightens all our actions while staying true to its source. Why don't we praise a horse for its fancy decorations the same way we praise a person for their expensive accessories? A lion is much braver in its natural, fierce state than when it's chained up. Everything pleases us most in its pure, natural form. Health, noble birth, and riches can't justify a wicked person. Lacking these things can't discredit a good person either. The greatest blessing is the one that makes someone valuable without anything else. Without it, a person is worthless even if they owned the whole world. Paint, gold trim, and fancy carvings don't make a good ship. A ship is excellent when it sails fast, stays watertight, and can handle rough seas. A sword's value comes from its sharp, well-tempered blade, not from its expensive sheath. In the same way, virtue makes a person worthy, not money or possessions.
It is every man’s duty to make himself profitable to mankind—if he can, to many—if not, to fewer—if not so neither, to his neighbor—but, however, to himself. There are two republics: a great one, which is human nature; and a less, which is the place where we were born. Some serve both at a time, some only the greater, and some again only the less. The greater may be served in privacy, solitude, contemplation, and perchance that way better than any other; but it was the intent of Nature, however, that we should serve both. A good man may serve the public, his friend, and himself in any station: if he be not for the sword, let him take the gown; if the bar does not agree with him, let him try the pulpit; if he be silenced abroad, let him give counsel at home, and discharge the part of a faithful friend and a temperate companion. When he is no longer a citizen, he is yet a man; but the whole world is his country, and human nature never wants matter to work upon: but if nothing will serve a man in the civil government unless he be prime minister, or in the field but to command in chief, it is his own fault.
Every person has a duty to make themselves useful to humanity. If you can help many people, do that. If not, help fewer people. If that's not possible either, at least help your neighbors. But no matter what, help yourself. There are two communities we belong to. One is the great community of all human beings. The other is the smaller community where we were born. Some people serve both at the same time. Others serve only the greater one, and some serve only the smaller one. You can serve the greater community through privacy, solitude, and contemplation. That might even be better than any other way. But Nature intended for us to serve both communities. A good person can serve the public, their friends, and themselves in any role. If you're not cut out for military service, try law. If the legal profession doesn't suit you, try the ministry. If you're silenced in public life, give advice at home. Be a faithful friend and a calm companion. When you're no longer a citizen, you're still a human being. The whole world is your country, and human nature always gives you something to work on. But if a person refuses to serve in government unless they can be prime minister, or won't serve in the military unless they can be commander-in-chief, that's their own fault.
The common soldier where he cannot use his hands, fights with his looks, his example, his encouragement, his voice, and stands his ground even when he has lost his hands, and does service too with his very clamor, so that in any condition whatsoever, he still discharges the duty of a good patriot—nay, he that spends his time well even in a retirement, gives a great example.
The common soldier fights with more than just his hands. When he can't use them, he fights with his looks, his example, his encouragement, and his voice. He stands his ground even when he has lost his hands. He serves with his very shouts and cries. In any condition, he still does his duty as a good patriot. Even a soldier who spends his time well in retirement sets a great example.
We may enlarge, indeed, or contract, according to the circumstances of time, place, or abilities; but above all things we must be sure to keep ourselves in action, for he that is slothful is dead even while he lives. Was there ever any state so desperate as that of Athens under the thirty tyrants—where it was capital to be honest, and the senate-house was turned into a college of hangmen? Never was any government so wretched and so hopeless; and yet Socrates at the same time preached temperance to the tyrants, and courage to the rest, and afterwards died an eminent example of faith and resolution, and a sacrifice for the common good.
We can expand our efforts or scale them back based on our circumstances, time, location, or abilities. But above all, we must stay active. Anyone who becomes lazy is already dead, even while still breathing. Was there ever a situation as hopeless as Athens under the thirty tyrants? Being honest was a crime punishable by death. The senate-house became nothing more than a den of executioners. No government was ever more wretched or hopeless. Yet during this same time, Socrates preached moderation to the tyrants and courage to everyone else. He later died as a shining example of faith and determination, sacrificing himself for the common good.
It is not for a wise man to stand shifting and fencing with fortune, but to oppose her barefaced, for he is sufficiently convinced that she can do him no hurt; she may take away his servants, possessions, dignity, assault his body, put out his eyes, cut off his hands, and strip him of all the external comforts of life. But what does all this amount to more than the recalling of a trust which he has received, with condition to deliver it up again upon demand? He looks upon himself as precarious, and only lent to himself, and yet he does not value himself ever the less because he is not his own, but takes such care as an honest man should do of a thing that is committed to him in trust. Whensoever he that lent me myself and what I have, shall call for all back again, it is not a loss but a restitution, and I must willingly deliver up what most undeservedly was bestowed upon me, and it will become me to return my mind better than I received it.
A wise man shouldn't dodge and weave when fortune strikes. He should face her head-on, knowing she can't truly harm him. She might take away his servants, his possessions, his status. She might attack his body, blind his eyes, cut off his hands, and strip away all the comforts of life. But what does this really amount to? It's simply the return of something he was holding in trust, something he agreed to give back when asked. He sees himself as temporary, only on loan to himself. Yet he doesn't value himself any less because he doesn't truly own himself. Instead, he takes care of himself the way an honest person cares for something entrusted to them. When the one who lent me myself and everything I have calls it all back, it's not a loss but a return. I must willingly give up what I never deserved to receive in the first place. I should return my soul in better condition than when I received it.
Demetrius, upon the taking of Megara, asked Stilpo, the philosopher, what he had lost. “Nothing,” said he, “for I had all that I could call my own about me.” And yet the enemy had then made himself master of his patrimony, his children, and his country; but these he looked upon as only adventitious goods, and under the command of fortune. Now, he that neither lost any thing nor feared any thing in a public ruin, but was safe and at peace in the middle of the flames, and in the heat of a military intemperance and fury—what violence or provocation imaginable can put such a man as this out of the possession of himself? Walls and castles may be mined and battered, but there is no art or engine that can subvert a steady mind. “I have made my way,” says Stilpo, “through fire and blood—what has become of my children I know not; but these are transitory blessings, and servants that are bound to change their masters; what was my own before is my own still. Some have lost their estates, others their dear-bought mistresses, their commissions and offices: the usurers have lost their bonds and securities: but, Demetrius, for my part I have saved all, and do not imagine after all this, either that Demetrius is a conqueror, or that Stilpo is overcome—it is only thy fortune has been too hard for mine.”
When Demetrius conquered Megara, he asked the philosopher Stilpo what he had lost. "Nothing," Stilpo replied, "because everything I truly own, I carry with me." The enemy had seized his property, his children, and his country. But Stilpo saw these as temporary possessions controlled by fortune. Here was a man who lost nothing and feared nothing during a public disaster. He remained safe and peaceful in the middle of flames and military chaos. What violence or threat could possibly shake such a person's self-control? Walls and castles can be destroyed by siege engines, but no weapon exists that can break a steady mind. "I have made my way through fire and blood," Stilpo said. "I don't know what happened to my children, but these are temporary blessings. They are servants bound to change masters. What was truly mine before is still mine now. Some people lost their estates, others their expensive mistresses, their positions and offices. Moneylenders lost their contracts and securities. But Demetrius, I have saved everything. Don't think that you are a conqueror or that I am defeated. Your fortune simply proved stronger than mine."
Alexander took Babylon, Scipio took Carthage, the capitol was burnt; but there is no fire or violence that can discompose a generous mind; and let us not take this character either for a chimera, for all ages afford some, though not many, instances of this elevated virtue.
Alexander took Babylon, Scipio took Carthage, the capitol was burnt. But no fire or violence can disturb a generous mind. Let us not dismiss this character as mere fantasy. All ages provide some examples of this elevated virtue, though not many.
A good man does his duty, let it be never so painful, so hazardous, or never so great a loss to him; and it is not all the money, the power, and the pleasure in the world; not any force of necessity, that can make him wicked: he considers what he is to do, not what he is to suffer, and will keep on his course, though there should be nothing but gibbets and torments in the way. And in this instance of Stilpo, who, when he had lost his country, his wife, his children, the town on fire over his head, himself escaping very hardly and naked out of the flames; “I have saved all my goods,” says he, “my justice, my courage, my temperance, my prudence;” accounting nothing his own, or valuable, and showing how much easier it was to overcome a nation than one wise man. It is a certain mark of a brave mind not to be moved by any accidents: the upper region of the air admits neither clouds nor tempests; the thunder, storms, and meteors, are formed below; and this is the difference betwixt a mean and an exalted mind; the former is rude and tumultuary; the latter is modest, venerable, composed, and always quiet in its station. In brief, it is the conscience that pronounces upon the man whether he be happy or miserable. But, though sacrilege and adultery be generally condemned, how many are there still that do not so much as blush at the one, and in truth that take a glory in the other? For nothing is more common than for great thieves to ride in triumph when the little ones are punished. But let “wickedness escape as it may at the bar, it never fails of doing justice upon itself; for every guilty person is his own hangman.”
A good man does his duty, no matter how painful, dangerous, or costly it might be. All the money, power, and pleasure in the world cannot make him wicked. No force or necessity can corrupt him. He focuses on what he must do, not what he might suffer. He will stay his course even if nothing but gallows and torture await him. Consider the example of Stilpo. He lost his country, his wife, and his children. His town burned over his head. He barely escaped naked from the flames. Yet he said, "I have saved all my goods—my justice, my courage, my temperance, my prudence." He counted nothing else as his own or valuable. This shows how much easier it is to conquer a nation than to defeat one wise man. A brave mind refuses to be shaken by any misfortune. The upper atmosphere has no clouds or storms. Thunder, tempests, and meteors form below. This is the difference between a common mind and an elevated one. The former is crude and chaotic. The latter is modest, dignified, calm, and always peaceful in its place. Simply put, conscience determines whether a man is happy or miserable. Theft and adultery are widely condemned. Yet how many people don't even blush at one and actually take pride in the other? Nothing is more common than seeing great thieves ride in triumph while small ones get punished. But even when wickedness escapes the courtroom, it never escapes justice. Every guilty person becomes his own executioner.