The Pleasures of Life | Page 9

a fly, it is "a black
incarnation of freedom." A life of so-called pleasure and
self-indulgence is not a life of real happiness or true freedom. Far from
it, if we once begin to give way to ourselves, we fall under a most
intolerable tyranny. Other temptations are in some respects like that of
drink. At first, perhaps, it seems delightful, but there is bitterness at the
bottom of the cup. Men drink to satisfy the desire created by previous
indulgence. So it is in other things. Repetition soon becomes a craving,
not a pleasure. Resistance grows more and more painful; yielding,
which at first, perhaps, afforded some slight and temporary gratification,
soon ceases to give pleasure, and even if for a time it procures relief,
ere long becomes odious itself.
To resist is difficult, to give way is painful; until at length the wretched
victim to himself, can only purchase, or thinks he can only purchase,
temporary relief from intolerable craving and depression, at the
expense of far greater suffering in the future.
On the other hand, self-control, however difficult at first, becomes step
by step easier and more delightful. We possess mysteriously a sort of
dual nature, and there are few truer triumphs, or more delightful
sensations, than to obtain thorough command of oneself.
How much pleasanter it is to ride a spirited horse, even perhaps though
requiring some strength and skill, than to creep along upon a jaded
hack. In the one case you feel under you the free, responsive spring of a
living and willing force; in the other you have to spur a dull and lifeless
slave.
To rule oneself is in reality the greatest triumph. "He who is his own
monarch," says Sir T. Browne, "contentedly sways the sceptre of
himself, not envying the glory to crowned heads and Elohim of the
earth;" for those are really highest who are nearest to heaven, and those
are lowest who are farthest from it.

True greatness has little, if anything, to do with rank or power.
"Eurystheus being what he was," says Epictetus, "was not really king of
Argos nor of Mycenae, for he could not even rule himself; while
Hercules purged lawlessness and introduced justice, though he was
both naked and alone."
We are told that Cineas the philosopher once asked Pyrrhus what he
would do when he had conquered Italy. "I will conquer Sicily." "And
after Sicily?" "Then Africa." "And after you have conquered the
world?" "I will take my ease and be merry." "Then," asked Cineas,
"why can you not take your ease and be merry now?"
Moreover, as Sir Arthur Helps has wisely pointed out, "the enlarged
view we have of the Universe must in some measure damp personal
ambition. What is it to be king, sheikh, tetrarch, or emperor over a 'bit
of a bit' of this little earth?" "All rising to great place," says Bacon, "is
by a winding stair;" and "princes are like heavenly bodies, which have
much veneration, but no rest."
Plato in the Republic mentions an old myth that after death every soul
has to choose a lot in life for the existence in the next world; and he
tells us that the wise Ulysses searched for a considerable time for the
lot of a private man. He had some difficulty in finding it, as it was lying
neglected in a corner, but when he had secured it he was delighted; the
recollection of all he had gone through on earth, having disenchanted
him of ambition.
Moreover, there is a great deal of drudgery in the lives of courts.
Ceremonials may be important, but they take up much time and are
terribly tedious.
A man then is his own best kingdom. "He that ruleth his speech," says
Solomon, "is better than he that taketh a city." But self-control, this
truest and greatest monarchy, rarely comes by inheritance. Every one of
us must conquer himself; and we may do so, if we take conscience for
our guide and general.
No one really fails who does his best. Seneca observes that "no one

saith the three hundred Fabii were defeated, but that they were slain,"
and if you have done your best, you will, in the words of an old Norse
ballad, have gained
"Success in thyself, which is best of all."
Being myself engaged in business, I was rather startled to find it laid
down by no less an authority than Aristotle (almost as if it were a
self-evident proposition) that commerce "is incompatible with that
dignified life which it is our wish that our citizens should lead, and
totally adverse to that generous elevation of mind with which it is our
ambition to inspire them." I know not how far that may really have
been the spirit and tendency