us, it is we who go to them. Many of us
fritter our life away. La Bruyère says that "most men spend much of
their lives in making the rest miserable;" or, as Goethe puts it:
"Careworn man has, in all ages, Sown vanity to reap despair."
Not only do we suffer much in the anticipation of evil, as "Noah lived
many years under the affliction of a flood, and Jerusalem was taken
unto Jeremy before it was besieged," but we often distress ourselves
greatly in the apprehension of misfortunes which after all never happen
at all. We should do our best and wait calmly the result. We often hear
of people breaking down from overwork, but in nine cases out of ten
they are really suffering from worry or anxiety.
"Nos maux moraux," says Rousseau, "sont tous dans l'opinion, hors un
seul, qui est le crime; et celui-la dépend de nous: nos maux physiques
nous détruisent, ou se détruisent. Le temps, ou la mort, sont nos
remèdes."
"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to heaven."
[14]
This, however, applies to the grown up. With children of course it is
different. It is customary, but I think it is a mistake, to speak of happy
childhood. Children, however, are often over-anxious and acutely
sensitive. Man ought to be man and master of his fate; but children are
at the mercy of those around them. Mr. Rarey, the great horse-tamer,
has told us that he has known an angry word raise the pulse of a horse
ten beats in a minute. Think then how it must affect a child!
It is small blame to the young if they are over-anxious; but it is a
danger to be striven against. "The terrors of the storm are chiefly felt in
the parlor or the cabin." [15]
To save ourselves from imaginary, or at any rate problematical, evils,
we often incur real suffering. "The man," said Epicurus, "who is not
content with little is content with nothing." How often do we "labor for
that which satisfieth not." More than we use is more than we need, and
only a burden to the bearer. [16] We most of us give ourselves an
immense amount of useless trouble; encumber ourselves, as it were, on
the journey of life with a dead weight of unnecessary baggage; and as
"a man maketh his train longer, he makes his wings shorter." [17] In
that delightful fairy tale, _Alice through the Looking-Glass_, the
"White Knight" is described as having loaded himself on starting for a
journey with a variety of odds and ends, including a mousetrap, in case
he was troubled by mice at night, and a beehive in case he came across
a swarm of bees.
Hearne, in his Journey to the Mouth of the Coppermine River tells us
that a few days after starting on his expedition he met a party of Indians,
who annexed a great deal of his property, and all Hearne says is, "The
weight of our baggage being so much lightened, our next day's journey
was much pleasanter." I ought, however, to add that the Indians broke
up the philosophical instruments, which, no doubt, were rather an
encumbrance.
When troubles do come, Marcus Aurelius wisely tells us to "remember
on every occasion which leads thee to vexation to apply this principle,
that this is not a misfortune, but that to bear it nobly is good fortune."
Our own anger indeed does us more harm than the thing which makes
us angry; and we suffer much more from the anger and vexation which
we allow acts to rouse in us, than we do from the acts themselves at
which we are angry and vexed. How much most people, for instance,
allow themselves to be distracted and disturbed by quarrels and family
disputes. Yet in nine cases out of ten one ought not to suffer from being
found fault with. If the condemnation is just, it should be welcome as a
warning; if it is undeserved, why should we allow it to distress us?
Moreover, if misfortunes happen we do but make them worse by
grieving over them.
"I must die," again says Epictetus. "But must I then die sorrowing? I
must be put in chains. Must I then also lament? I must go into exile.
Can I be prevented from going with cheerfulness and contentment? But
I will put you in prison. Man, what are you saying? You may put my
body in prison, but my mind not even Zeus himself can overpower."
If, indeed, we cannot be happy, the fault is generally in ourselves.
Socrates lived under the Thirty Tyrants. Epictetus was a poor slave, and
yet how much we owe him!
"How is it possible," he says, "that a man who
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