For the nature of each thing does what is proper to it, nor is it mingled with the effects of contrary things, and of its own accord it drives off what is averse to it. And yet neither can riches quench insatiable avarice, nor will power make master of himself one whom vicious lusts hold bound with indissoluble chains; and dignity conferred on the wicked not only does not make them worthy, but rather betrays and exposes them as unworthy. Why does it so come about? Because you take delight in calling things, which are otherwise, by false names — names which are easily refuted by the very effect of the things themselves. And so neither those riches, nor that power, nor this dignity can rightly be so called. Finally, the same may be concluded concerning Fortune as a whole, in which it is manifest that there is nothing to be desired, nothing of native goodness, which neither always joins itself to the good, nor makes good those to whom it has been joined.
We know how great were the ruins he wrought, with the City in flames and the senators slain — he who, savage, once, when his brother had been murdered, was drenched with his mother's outpoured blood, and, ranging over her body, cold to the sight, did not wet his face with tears, but could be a critic of beauty now extinguished. Yet this man ruled with his scepter the peoples whom Phoebus beholds as he sinks his rays beneath the waves, coming from the farthest dawn — whom the seven chill stars of the Plough press hard, whom the South Wind, violent with its dry heat, scorches, baking the burning sands. Could exalted power, then, at last avail to turn the madness of perverse Nero? Alas, the grievous lot, as often as the unjust sword is added to savage poison! Then I: 'You know yourself,' I said, 'that ambition for mortal things has held the least dominion over me. But I desired material for the doing of deeds, lest virtue should grow old in silence.' And she:
And yet there is one thing that can allure minds which are by nature excellent but not yet brought to the final perfection of the virtues — namely the desire of glory and the renown of outstanding services to the commonwealth. But consider how slight a thing this is and how empty of all weight. The whole compass of the earth, as you have learned from the demonstrations of astronomy, holds, in relation to the expanse of the heavens, the ratio of a mere point; that is, if it be compared to the magnitude of the celestial sphere, it is judged to have no extent at all. And of this so very tiny region of the world, only about a fourth part, as you have learned on the authority of Ptolemy, is inhabited by living creatures known to us. If from this fourth part you subtract in thought all that seas and marshes press down and all that the vast region parched with drought stretches over, scarcely the most narrow space is left for human habitation.
Hemmed in then and shut up within this smallest point of a point, do you think about spreading your fame and making your name known? Or what is there grand and magnificent in a glory cramped within such narrow and meager bounds? Add to this that within this very enclosure of a tiny dwelling-place there live many nations differing in language, in customs, in their whole way of life — nations to which, whether by the difficulty of travel, or by diversity of speech, or by the rarity of commerce, not only the fame of individual men but not even that of cities can reach. In the age of Marcus Tullius, finally, as he himself indicates in a certain passage, the fame of the Roman commonwealth had not yet crossed Mount Caucasus, though it was by then full-grown and dreaded even by the Parthians and the other peoples of those regions. Do you see then how narrow, how confined is that glory which you labor to spread abroad and propagate?
Or where the fame of the Roman name cannot pass, will the glory of a Roman man advance? What of the fact that the customs and institutions of different peoples disagree among themselves, so that what among some is judged worthy of praise, among others is judged worthy of punishment? Hence it comes about that, if any man delights in the proclaiming of his fame, it in no way profits him to carry his name to many peoples. So each will be content with a glory spread abroad among his own, and that splendid immortality of fame will be confined within the borders of a single nation. But how many men, most illustrious in their own times, has the forgetfulness caused by the lack of writers blotted out! And yet what do writings themselves avail, which, together with their authors, a more lengthy and obscure antiquity buries? But you indeed seem to yourselves to procure immortality when you think of the fame of time to come. Yet if you ponder the boundless spaces of eternity, what have you to rejoice over in the long endurance of your name?
For the duration of a single moment, if it be compared with ten thousand years, since both spans are finite, holds — granted, a very small one, yet still some — proportion. But this very number of years, however many times multiplied, can in no way even be compared with endless duration. For there can be some comparison of finite things one with another, but of the infinite and the finite there can never be any comparison at all. Thus it comes about that the fame of however prolonged a time, if it be set against inexhaustible eternity, will seem to be not small but plainly nothing. But you, unless to win popular breath and empty rumors, know not how to do right, and abandoning the excellence of conscience and virtue, you demand your rewards from the idle chatter of others. Hear how wittily a certain man once mocked the frivolity of such arrogance.
For when a certain man had assailed with insults one who had put on the false name of a philosopher not for the use of true virtue but for proud display of glory, and had added that he would now know whether the other was a philosopher, if indeed he should bear the injuries inflicted gently and patiently — the man assumed patience for a little while, and as if exulting in the insult he had received, said: «Now at last do you understand that I am a philosopher?» Then the other said, all too bitingly: «I would have understood it, if you had kept silent.» But what is it that concerns those eminent men — for it is of these we speak, who seek glory through virtue — what, I say, is there for them in fame after the body has been dissolved by death's last hour? For if, as our reasonings forbid us to believe, men die wholly, there is no glory at all, since he to whom it is said to belong has no existence whatever.
But if the mind, well aware of its own worth, when released from its earthly prison freely seeks heaven, will it not despise every earthly business, and rejoicing in the enjoyment of heaven, count itself exempt from earthly things? Whoever with headlong mind seeks glory alone and counts it the supreme good, let him behold the wide-spreading tracts of the ether and the narrow situation of the lands. He will be ashamed of his swollen name, since it cannot fill even that brief compass. Why, O proud men, do you vainly long to lift your necks from the mortal yoke? Though fame, passing through distant peoples, should unfold their tongues, and a great house should shine with illustrious titles, Death scorns lofty glory, and wraps alike the lowly and the lofty head, and makes the lowest equal to the highest. Where now rest the bones of faithful Fabricius? What is Brutus, or stern Cato? A scant surviving fame marks their empty name with a few letters. But because we know their noble names, are we thereby granted to know the dead? You lie, then, utterly unknown, nor does fame make you known.
But if you think that life is prolonged by the mortal breath of a name, when at last the late day shall snatch even this away from you, then a second death already awaits you. But lest you think that I wage an inexorable war against Fortune, there is a time when she, that deceiver, who is nothing, deserves well of men — namely when she discloses herself, when she lays bare her face and avows her ways. Perhaps you do not yet understand what I am about to say. It is a wondrous thing I am eager to declare, and I can scarcely unfold my meaning in words. For I deem that adverse Fortune profits men more than prosperous. For the latter, always with the appearance of happiness, when she seems caressing, lies; the former is always true, when she shows herself unstable by her changing. The one deceives, the other instructs; the one binds the minds of those who enjoy her with a lying appearance of good things, the other sets them free by the knowledge of fragile happiness.
And so you may see the one windy, flowing, and ever ignorant of herself, but the other sober, well-girded, and made prudent by the very exercise of adversity. Finally, prosperity by her blandishments draws men astray from the true good; adversity for the most part draws them back as with a hook to the true good. Or do you think this should be reckoned among the least of benefits, that this rough, this dreadful Fortune has uncovered for you the minds of your faithful friends? She has sorted out for you the sure faces of your comrades from the doubtful; departing, she has taken away her own and left you yours. At what price, while you were intact and seemed to yourself fortunate, would you have bought this! Now you complain of riches lost; you have found friends, which are the most precious kind of riches.
That the world with steadfast faith varies its harmonious changes; that the warring seeds keep a perpetual covenant; that Phoebus brings forth the rosy day in his golden chariot, so that Phoebe may rule by night over the hours that Hesperus has led in; that the greedy sea confines its waves within a fixed bound, lest it be permitted to the wandering lands to stretch broad their borders — this whole series of things is bound fast by love, which rules the lands and the sea and governs the heaven. If love should slacken the reins, all things that now love one another would straightway wage war, and would strive to break in pieces the engine which now in friendly faith they drive on by their fair movements. This love also holds nations joined by a holy covenant, this binds the sacred bond of marriage with chaste loves, this too dictates its laws to faithful comrades. O happy race of men, if the love by which heaven is ruled should rule your minds!