Book 3, Chapter 28

“What has greater power to make us lay down pain than the realization that it achieves nothing and has been undertaken in vain? If it can be laid down, it can also be kept from being taken up. We must therefore admit that distress is taken up by choice and judgment.

67 “This is also shown by the endurance of those who, having often suffered much, more readily bear whatever happens, and think themselves now hardened against fortune, like the man in Euripides: “‘If this were the first sad day to dawn on me, “‘And I had not sailed through such a troubled sea, “‘There would be cause for grief—as colts, when bridled, “‘Are suddenly excited by the unfamiliar touch; “‘But now, worn down by miseries, I have grown numb.’ “Since exhaustion from miseries makes distress lighter, we must understand that the event itself is not the cause and source of grief.

68 “Do not the greatest philosophers, who have not yet attained wisdom, understand that they are amid the greatest evil? For they are unwise, and no evil is greater than folly. Yet they do not mourn. Why? Because to this class of evils we do not attach the opinion that it is right, fair, and part of one’s duty to be distressed at not being wise. Yet we attach that very opinion to the distress which contains mourning, the greatest distress of all.

69 “Accordingly, Aristotle, criticizing earlier philosophers who thought philosophy had been perfected by their own intelligence, says they were either supremely foolish or supremely boastful. He himself, however, sees that since so much progress has been made in a few years, philosophy will soon be fully complete. Theophrastus, as he was dying, is said to have accused nature of giving stags and crows long lives, though it made no difference to them, while granting so brief a life to human beings, to whom it mattered most. If their span could have been longer, all the arts would have been perfected, and human life instructed in every branch of knowledge. He complained, then, that he was being extinguished just as he had begun to see these things. And what of the other philosophers? Do not the best and most serious of them admit that there is much they do not know, and much that they still have to learn over and over?

70 “Yet although they understand that they are stuck in the midst of folly, than which nothing is worse, they are not crushed by distress; for no opinion that pain is a duty is mixed in. What of those who do not think men should mourn? Such was Quintus Maximus when he buried his son, a former consul; such was Lucius Paulus when he lost two sons within a few days; such was Marcus Cato when his son, the praetor-elect, died; such were the others whose cases I collected in my Consolation.

71 “What else brought them peace but their belief that mourning and grief were not a man’s part? Thus, while others commonly surrender to distress because they think it right, these men repelled it because they thought it shameful. From this we understand that distress lies not in nature but in opinion.”

“What could do more to help us put down pain than understanding that it achieves nothing and has been taken on pointlessly? If we can put it down, we can also avoid taking it on. So we must admit that distress is taken on by choice and judgment.

67 “Look at the endurance of those who’ve been through repeated suffering: that confirms it. Whatever comes, they stand up to it more readily, feeling that they’re already toughened against fortune. A character in Euripides says: “‘Had sorrow’s day dawned on me for the first time now, “‘Had I not sailed a sea so full of hardship, “‘There would be cause for grief: a colt with a bridle “‘Newly put on tosses at the strange, sudden touch. “‘But suffering has already worked me over till I’m numb.’ “Weariness of suffering thus eases distress. We have to recognize, therefore, that grief doesn’t take its origin or cause from the event itself.

68 “Don’t the greatest philosophers, who still haven’t attained wisdom, understand that they’re in the worst possible trouble? They lack wisdom, and nothing is worse than that. Yet they don’t mourn. Why? Because we don’t tack onto this kind of trouble the belief that it’s right, proper, and a matter of duty to feel distress at not being wise. We do tack that belief onto distress involving mourning, the greatest distress of all.

69 “Aristotle criticizes the early philosophers for supposing their own abilities had finished philosophy: in his view, they were either exceptionally foolish or exceptionally boastful. So much had been added in just a few years, he says, that he could see philosophy becoming quite complete soon. The dying Theophrastus reportedly complained about nature instead. Deer and crows had received a lengthy lifespan, though it mattered nothing to them; people, to whom it mattered enormously, had received so little time. Given a longer lifetime, every art would have been perfected and people’s lives enriched by every branch of learning. His complaint was that he was going out just as he was beginning to see those things. And surely the best, most thoughtful of the other philosophers admit their ignorance of a great deal, and acknowledge the many lessons still to be learned, again and again?

70 “They know they remain caught in foolishness, with nothing worse than that. Even so, they aren’t burdened by distress: they don’t attach the belief that pain is something they owe as a duty. Consider also those who say a man shouldn’t mourn. Quintus Maximus showed that spirit at the funeral of his son, a former consul. So did Lucius Paulus, losing two sons in the space of a few days, and Marcus Cato, whose son died after being chosen praetor. There are the other examples gathered in my Consolation too.

71 “What calmed them except their belief that grief and mourning weren’t a man’s part? Others usually give themselves up to distress because they think it’s right. These men drove distress away because they thought it shameful. That shows distress lies not in nature but in belief.”