PLUTARCH to Paccius, greeting:

It was late when I received your letter, asking me to write you something on peace of mind, and the passages in the Timaeus which require fuller explanation. And about that very time our friend Erotus felt he must take ship quickly for Rome. He had received a letter from the powerful Fundanus, urging haste, as is his wont. So I had not the time I would have wished to do what you wanted, and yet I could not bear to have you see a man just come from us with wholly empty hands. Accordingly I gathered up from my notes some I had happened to make for myself on peace of mind, for I thought you did not want this to be merely an essay to be listened to as an exhibit of fine writing, but as something helpful for use.

The man who said that anyone who expected to get peace of mind must have little to do either in public or in private life, first of all makes that peace a costly article, if we must buy it at the price of doing nothing. It sounds like advice to sick people,

Lie still, poor wretch in your bed,
[Euripedes--Orestes]

though really the stupor induced by idleness is a bad remedy for the body. And it is a poor physician for the soul who would free it of trouble and anxiety by prescribing a soft and lazy life, leaving our friends and relatives and country in the lurch. Besides, it is not true that persons with little to do are peaceful in their minds. If it were, women would be serener than men, since they mostly lead lives of inactivity, and nowadays as Hesiad says, the north wind

Comes not near a soft-skinned maiden;
[Works and Days]

yet griefs and troubles and petty spites, more than one could describe, springing from jealousy or superstition or ambition or empty vanity, inundate the women's part of the house. And Laertes, who had lived for twenty years alone in the country,

With but an old woman to serve as his handmaid,
To set on his board his meat and his drink,
[Homer, Odyssey]

and who was in exile from his country, his house, and his kingdom, had sorrow and despondency as companions in his leisure. So even Epicurus thinks that men who love honor and glory should not idle their lives away, but use their natural talents in politics and public service, since they are likely to be more fretted and harmed by inaction than by not getting everything they work for.

There are some people quite certain that there is a kind of life which is carefree. Some of them think the farmer's life is, others the bachelor's life, others the king's. Menander reminds us of them when he says,

Phania, I thought they were rich
Who never were forced to borrow,
Nor groan at night, nor toss up and down,
Sighing "Alas" but sweetly and gently
Slept the whole night through.

But then he goes on to say that he sees the rich suffering the same as the poor.

Trouble and life, he says, are akin.
In luxurious lives or in lives of great honor
Trouble is there, and in lives that are poor
Stays with them to the end.

But we are like people at sea, timid and seasick, who think they will find it easier if they change from a sailboat to a galley, and then if they change again to a trireme, but gain nothing thereby, for they take their fears and their qualms with them. So changes in manner of life do not cure the sorrows and disturbances of the soul, which come from lack of experience and reflection or from inability or ignorace of how rightly to enjoy the present. These are afflictions of both rich and poor; they trouble both the married and unmarried. They make some men shun the forum, but find retirement unbearable; they make others work for introductions at court, and on their arrival straightway discover they care nothing for it.

The sick are peevish in their helplessness,
[Euripides, Orestes]

for the wife bothers them, and they blame the doctor, and they find the bed uncomfortable, and as Ion says,

The friend who visits them is tiring,
And yet they do not like his going.

However, when the illness is over, and the man in better shape, sweet health returns and makes all things pleasant and acceptable. He that yesterday loathed eggs and fine meal loaves and sesame cakes will today today eat eagerly and with appetite coarse bread with olives and watercress.

But reason, if inbred in us, creates contentment and a readiness to accept vicissitudes in every kind of life. It was a burden to Agamemnon to be king over so many subjects,


Here you see Atreus' son Agamemnon, on whom forever
Zeus has sent cares without end.
[Homer, Iliad]

On the other hand, Diogenes, when he was being sold, sat down and kept jeering at the auctioneer, and would not stand up when bidden, but said jokingly with a laugh, Suppose it were a fish you were selling? And Socrates in prison talked philosophy with his friends. But Phaethon, after ascending to heaven, wept because nobody gave his his father's horses and chariot. As, then, the foot shapes the shoe, and not the shoe the foot, so does the disposition make the life similar to itself.

Plato [in the Republic], compared life to a game of dice; we ought to throw in whatever way promises gain, but having thrown, make the best of whatever turn up. It is not in our power to decide what the throw will be, and it is our duty, if we are wise, to take in a right spirit what fortune sends, and adjust the situation to everyone participating, so that what was not may do them the least harm.

So we ought first to cultivate and practice a habit of adapting ourselves to circumstances, like the man who threw a stone at his dog, and missed it but hit his stepmother and cried out Not so bad! In that way we may put a different face on fortune when things turn wrong. Diogenes was sentenced to banishment. Not so bad, for it was after his banishment that he began to be a philosopher. What keeps us from imitating men like them? Have you failed to win an office? You can live in the country and manage your own affairs. Did you court the friendship of a great men and meet with rebuff? You can live now free from risks and exertions. Or have you been involved in business that kept you busy and anxious? Even warm water will not make the limbs so soft, according to Pindar [Nemean Ode], as glory and honor, with some power, make labor sweet, and toil no toil. [Euripides, Bacchae] Or have you met with bad luck or opprobium because of some other man's slander and envy? The breeze is favorable to waft you to the Muses and the Academy, as it did Plato when he was suffering from the break in his friendship with Dionysius.

It does indeed help one in keeping a quiet mind to observe how famous men have borne unflinchingly the same troubles that you have. Is your childlessness a grief to you? Look at the kings of the Romans, not one of whom left a son to inherit his kingdom. Do you find your poverty painful? But what Boeotian would you rather be than Epaminondas? What Roman than Fabricus? But my wife has been seduced! Have you never read that inscription at Delphi,

Agis, king of land and sea, created me;

and have you not heard that his wife Timaea was seduced by Alcibiades, and in whispers to her handmaidens called the child she bore Alcibiades? But this ill fortune did not prevent Agis from being the most renowned and greatest Greek of his time. Nor did the licentiousness of his daughter prevent Stilpo from leading the merriest life of all contemporary philosophers.

Many people are irritated and exasperated both by what is wrong in their friends and intimates, and by the misdeeds of their enemies. Back-biting and anger and envy and malice and jealousy and ill-will are characteristics of persons destined to some disaster, and foolish men are troubled and worried by them. Take, for instance, the quarrels of neighbors, the peevishness of friends, and the wickedness of those in charge of the state. You seem to me considerably upset by them, like the doctors in Sophocles, who

With bitter physic would purge the bitter bile.

So indignant and bitter are you at people's weaknesses and infirmities, which is not reasonable of you.

But if you accept things as they are, and, as the surgeon does with his forceps and bandages, as far as possible show yourself cheerful and calm. Your happiness in your own state of mind will be greater than your distress at the other people's disagreeable shortcomings, for you will think of them simply as barking dogs, doing what is natural for them to do. Look, it is not unreasonable to allow ourselves to be so annoyed and vexed because everyone who has dealings with us and comes near us is not good and charming? Let us see to it, dear Paccius, that we are not, unaware, really criticizing and fearing, instead of the general faultiness of the people we meet, just as in them which touches ourselves, our motive then being selfishness, not a hatred of evil.