The comfort of life depends upon conversation. Good offices, and concord, and human society, is like the working of an arch of stone; all would fall to the ground if one piece did not support another. Above all things let us have a tenderness for blood; and it is yet too little not to hurt, unless we profit one another. We are to relieve the distressed; to put the wanderer into his way; and to divide our bread with the hungry: which is but the doing of good to ourselves; for we are only several members of one great body. Nay, we are all of a consanguinity; formed of the same materials, and designed to the same end; this obliges us to a mutual tenderness and converse; and the other, to live with a regard to equity and justice. The love of society is natural; but the choice of our company is matter of virtue and prudence. Noble examples stir us up to noble actions; and the very history of large and public souls, inspires a man with generous thoughts. It makes a man long to be in action, and doing something that the world may be the better for; as protecting the weak, delivering the oppressed, punishing the insolent. It is a great blessing the very conscience of giving a good example; beside, that it is the greatest obligation any man can lay upon the age he lives in.
The comfort of life depends on our living in company with one another. Kind services, harmony, and human fellowship work like an arch of stone. Everything would fall to the ground if one piece did not support another. Above all things, let us be tender of human blood. And yet it is too little merely not to hurt, unless we also do one another good. We are to relieve the distressed, to set the wanderer on his way, and to share our bread with the hungry. This is only doing good to ourselves, for we are just so many members of one great body. Indeed, we are all of one blood, formed of the same materials and made for the same end. The one binds us to mutual tenderness and fellowship, and the other to live with regard to equity and justice. The love of society is natural, but the choice of our company is a matter of virtue and prudence. Noble examples stir us to noble actions, and the very history of great and public-spirited souls fills a man with generous thoughts. It makes a man long to be active, doing something the world may be the better for, such as protecting the weak, rescuing the oppressed, and punishing the insolent. The very awareness of giving a good example is a great blessing. Besides, nothing a man can do puts the age he lives in more in his debt.
He that converses with the proud shall be puffed up; a lustful acquaintance makes a man lascivious; and the way to secure a man from wickedness is to withdraw from the examples of it. It is too much to have them near us, but more to have them within us—ill examples, pleasure and ease, are, no doubt of it, great corrupters of manners.
Someone who spends time with proud people will become proud themselves. A lustful friend makes a person lustful. The way to protect yourself from wickedness is to stay away from bad examples. It's bad enough to have these influences around us, but it's worse to let them into our hearts. Bad examples, pleasure, and comfort are without doubt great destroyers of good character.
A rocky ground hardens the horse’s hoof; the mountaineer makes the best soldier; the miner makes the best pioneer, and severity of discipline fortifies the mind. In all excesses and extremities of good and of ill fortune, let us have recourse to great examples that have contemned both. “These are the best instructors that teach in their lives, and prove their words by their actions.”
Rocky ground hardens a horse's hoof. The mountaineer makes the best soldier. The miner makes the best pioneer. Strict discipline strengthens the mind. When we face extreme good fortune or terrible misfortune, we should look to great examples of people who scorned both. "These are the best teachers—they teach through their lives and prove their words through their actions."
As an ill air may endanger a good constitution, so may a place of ill example endanger a good man, nay, there are some places that have a kind of privilege to be licentious, and where luxury and dissolution of manners seem to be lawful; for great examples give both authority and excuse to wickedness. Those places are to be avoided as dangerous to our manners. Hannibal himself was unmanned by the looseness of Campania, and though a conqueror by his arms, he was overcome by his pleasures. I would as soon live among butchers as among cooks—not but a man may be temperate in any place—but to see drunken men staggering up and down everywhere, and only the spectacle of lust, luxury and excess before our eyes, it is not safe to expose ourselves to the temptation. If the victorious Hannibal himself could not resist it, what shall become of us then that are subdued, and give ground to our lusts already? He that has to do with an enemy in his breast, has a harder task upon him than he that is to encounter one in the field; his hazard is greater if he loses ground, and his duty is perpetual, for he has no place or time for rest. If I give way to pleasure, I must also yield to grief, to poverty, to labor, ambition, anger, until I am torn to pieces by my misfortunes and lusts. But against all this philosophy propounds a liberty, that is to say, a liberty from the service of accidents and fortune. There is not anything that does more mischief to mankind than mercenary masters and philosophy, that do not live as they teach—they give a scandal to virtue. How can any man expect that a ship should steer a fortunate course, when the pilot lies wallowing in his own vomit? It is a usual thing first to learn to do ill ourselves, and then to instruct others to do so: but that man must needs be very wicked that has gathered into himself the wickedness of other people.
As bad air may endanger a sound constitution, so a place of bad example may endanger a good man. Indeed, some places have a kind of license to be dissolute, where luxury and loose manners seem to be lawful. For great examples give wickedness both authority and excuse. Such places should be avoided as dangerous to our manners. Hannibal himself was unmanned by the looseness of Campania. Though he was a conqueror by his arms, he was overcome by his pleasures. I would as soon live among butchers as among cooks. Not that a man cannot be temperate anywhere. But it is not safe to expose ourselves to the temptation of seeing drunken men staggering up and down everywhere, with nothing but the spectacle of lust, luxury, and excess before our eyes. If the victorious Hannibal himself could not resist it, what will become of us, who are already beaten and giving ground to our lusts? He who fights an enemy in his own breast has a harder task than he who meets one in the field. His danger is greater if he loses ground, and his duty never ends, for he has no place or time to rest. If I give way to pleasure, I must also yield to grief, to poverty, to labor, ambition, and anger, until I am torn to pieces by my misfortunes and my lusts. But against all this, philosophy offers a liberty, that is, a freedom from serving accidents and fortune. Nothing does more harm to mankind than mercenary teachers and philosophers who do not live as they teach. They bring scandal on virtue. How can anyone expect a ship to steer a lucky course when the pilot lies wallowing in his own vomit? It is usual first to learn to do evil ourselves, and then to teach others to do it. But that man must be very wicked indeed who has gathered into himself the wickedness of other people.
The best conversation is with the philosophers—that is to say, with such of them as teach us matter, not words—that preach to us things necessary and keep us to the practice of them. There can be no peace in human life without the contempt of all events. There is nothing that either puts better thoughts into a man, or sooner sets him right that is out of the way, than a good companion, for the example has the force of a precept, and touches the heart with an affection to goodness; and not only the frequent hearing and seeing of a wise man delights us, but the very encounter of him suggests profitable contemplation such as a man finds himself moved with when he goes into a holy place. I will take more care with whom I eat and drink than what, for without a friend the table is a manger.
The best conversations are with philosophers who teach us substance, not just words. They preach what we need to know and keep us focused on putting it into practice. Human life cannot find peace without learning to dismiss all events as unimportant. Nothing puts better thoughts into a person or corrects someone who has gone astray faster than good company. Example has the power of instruction and touches the heart with love for goodness. Not only does frequently hearing and seeing a wise person delight us, but simply meeting them sparks profitable thinking. It's like the feeling you get when entering a sacred place. I will be more careful about who I eat and drink with than what I consume. Without a friend, the dinner table is just a feeding trough.
Writing does well, but personal discourse and conversation does better; for men give great credit to their ears, and take stronger impressions from example than precept. Cleanthes had never hit Zeno so to the life if he had not been in with him at all his privacies, if he had not watched and observed him whether or not he practised as he taught. Plato got more from Socrates’ manners than from his words, and it was not the school, but the company and familiarity of Epicurus that made Metrodorus, Hermachus and Polyænus so famous.
Writing does good, but personal talk and conversation do better. People put great trust in their ears, and they take stronger impressions from example than from rules. Cleanthes would never have copied Zeno so true to life if he had not shared all his private hours. He had to watch and observe him, to see whether Zeno practiced what he taught. Plato got more from Socrates’ conduct than from his words. It was not the school of Epicurus but his company and close friendship that made Metrodorus, Hermachus and Polyænus so famous.
Now, though it be by instinct that we covet society, and avoid solitude, we should yet take this along with us, that the more acquaintance the more danger: nay, there is not one man of a hundred that is to be trusted with himself. If company cannot alter us, it may interrupt us, and he that so much as stops upon the way loses a great deal of a short life, which we yet make shorter by our inconstancy. If an enemy were at our heels, what haste should we make!—but death is so, and yet we never mind it. There is no venturing of tender and easy natures among the people, for it is odds that they will go over to the major party. It would, perhaps, shake the constancy of Socrates, Cato, Lælius, or any of us all, even when our resolutions are at the height, to stand the shock of vice that presses upon us with a kind of public authority.
We naturally want company and avoid being alone. But we should remember that the more people we know, the more danger we face. In fact, not even one person in a hundred can be trusted with himself. Even if company can't change us, it can distract us. Anyone who stops along the way loses a great deal of a short life, which we make even shorter by being inconsistent. If an enemy were chasing us, how fast we would run! But death is chasing us too, and we never think about it. Gentle and easygoing people can't survive among crowds, because they'll likely join whatever side has the most people. It might even shake the resolve of Socrates, Cato, Lælius, or any of us, even when our determination is strongest, to face the assault of vice that attacks us with a kind of official approval.
It is a world of mischief that may be done by one single example of avarice or luxury. One voluptuous palate makes a great many. A wealthy neighbor stirs up envy, and a fleering companion moves ill-nature wherever he comes. What will become of those people then that expose themselves to a popular violence? which is ill both ways; either if they comply with the wicked, because they are many, or quarrel with the multitude because they are not principled alike. The best way is to retire, and associate only with those that may be the better for us, and we for them. These respects are mutual; for while we teach, we learn. To deal freely, I dare not trust myself in the hands of much company: I never go abroad that I come home again the same man I went out. Something or other that I had put in order is discomposed; some passion that I had subdued gets head again; and it is just with our minds as it is after a long indisposition with our bodies; we are grown so tender, that the least breath of air exposes us to a relapse. And it is no wonder if a numerous conversation be dangerous, where there is scarce any single man but by his discourse, example, or behavior, does either recommend to us, or imprint in us, or, by a kind of contagion, insensibly infect us with one vice or other; and the more people the greater is the peril. Especially let us have a care of public spectacles where wickedness insinuates itself with pleasure; and, above all others, let us avoid spectacles of cruelty and blood; and have nothing to do with those that are perpetually whining and complaining; there may be faith and kindness there, but no peace. People that are either sad or fearful, we do commonly, for their own sakes, set a guard upon them, for fear they should make an ill use of being alone; especially the imprudent, who are still contriving of mischief, either for others or for themselves, in cherishing their lusts, or forming their designs. So much for the choice of a companion; we shall now proceed to that of a friend.
One person's greed or extravagance can cause tremendous harm. One person with expensive tastes creates many others like them. A wealthy neighbor stirs up envy, and a sneering companion spreads bad feelings wherever he goes. What happens to people who expose themselves to mob violence? This violence is harmful either way. It's bad if they give in to the wicked majority, and it's bad if they fight the crowd simply because they have different principles. The best approach is to withdraw and associate only with people who can benefit from us, and we from them. These relationships work both ways. While we teach, we learn. To be honest, I don't dare trust myself in large groups. I never go out and return home the same person I was when I left. Something I had organized gets disrupted. Some passion I had controlled takes over again. It's just like our bodies after a long illness. We become so fragile that the slightest breeze can cause a relapse. It's no wonder that being around many people is dangerous. Almost every single person, through their words, example, or behavior, either recommends some vice to us, imprints it on us, or infects us with it through a kind of contagion. The more people, the greater the danger. We should especially avoid public spectacles where wickedness disguises itself as pleasure. Above all, let's avoid spectacles of cruelty and bloodshed. Have nothing to do with people who constantly whine and complain. There may be loyalty and kindness there, but no peace. We usually guard people who are sad or fearful for their own protection, to prevent them from misusing their alone time. This is especially true for reckless people who are always plotting mischief, either for others or themselves, feeding their desires or forming their schemes. So much for choosing a companion. Now we'll move on to choosing a friend.