It is natural enough to think so, for we are not the offspring of flints, but we have by nature something soft and tender in our souls, which may be put into a violent motion by grief, as by a storm. Nor did that Crantor, who was one of the most distinguished men that our Academy has ever produced, say this amiss: “I am by no means of their opinion who talk so much in praise of I know not what insensibility, which neither can exist, nor ought to exist. I would choose,” says he, “never to be ill. But should I be so, still I should choose to retain my sensation, whether there was to be an amputation or any other separation of anything from my body. For that insensibility cannot be but at the expense of some unnatural ferocity of mind, or stupor of body.” But let us consider whether to talk in this manner be not allowing that we are weak, and yielding to our softness. Notwithstanding, let us be hardy enough, not only to lop off every arm of our miseries, but even to pluck up every fibre of their roots. Yet still something, perhaps, may be left behind, so deep does folly strike its roots; but whatever may be left it will be no more than is necessary. But let us be persuaded of this, that unless the mind be in a sound state, which philosophy alone can effect, there can be no end of our miseries. Wherefore, as we began, let us submit ourselves to it for a cure. We shall be cured if we choose to be. I shall advance something further. I shall not treat of grief alone, though that indeed is the principal thing, but, as I originally proposed, of every perturbation of the mind, as I termed it: disorder, as the Greeks call it. And first, with your leave, I shall treat it in the manner of the Stoics, whose method is to reduce their arguments into a very small space; afterward I shall enlarge more in my own way.
A man of courage is also full of faith. I do not use the word “confident,” because, owing to an erroneous custom of speaking, that word has come to be used in a bad sense, though it is derived from “confiding,” which is commendable. But he who is full of faith is certainly under no fear, for there is an inconsistency between faith and fear. Now, whoever is subject to grief is subject to fear, for whatever things we grieve at when present we dread when hanging over us and approaching. Thus it comes about that grief is inconsistent with courage. It is very probable, therefore, that whoever is subject to grief is also liable to fear, and to a broken kind of spirits and sinking. Now, whenever these befall a man, he is in a servile state, and must own that he is overpowered; for whoever admits these feelings, must admit timidity and cowardice. But these cannot enter into the mind of a man of courage; neither, therefore, can grief. But the man of courage is the only wise man, therefore grief cannot befall the wise man. It is, besides, necessary that whoever is brave should be a man of great soul, that whoever is a man of a great soul should be invincible, whoever is invincible looks down with contempt on all things here and considers them beneath him. But no one can despise those things on account of which he may be affected with grief, from whence it follows that a wise man is never affected with grief: for all wise men are brave, therefore a wise man is not subject to grief. And as the eye, when disordered, is not in a good condition for performing its office properly; and as the other parts, and the whole body itself, when unsettled, cannot perform their office and business; so the mind, when disordered, is but ill-fitted to perform its duty. The office of the mind is to use its reason well, but the mind of a wise man is always in condition to make the best use of his reason, and therefore is never out of order. But grief is a disorder of the mind, therefore a wise man will be always free from it.
And from these considerations we may get at a very probable definition of the temperate man, whom the Greeks call σώφρων. And they call that virtue σωφροσύνην, which I at one time call temperance, at another time moderation, and sometimes even modesty. But I do not know whether that virtue may not be properly called frugality, which has a more confined meaning with the Greeks, for they call frugal men χρησίμους, which implies only that they are useful. But our name has a more extensive meaning: for all abstinence, all innocency (which the Greeks have no ordinary name for, though they might use the word ἀβλάβεια, for innocency is that disposition of mind which would offend no one) and several other virtues are comprehended under frugality. But if this quality were of less importance, and confined in as small a compass as some imagine, the surname of Piso36 would not have been in so great esteem. But as we allow him not the name of a frugal man (frugi), who either quits his post through fear, which is cowardice, or who reserves to his own use what was privately committed to his keeping, which is injustice, or who fails in his military undertakings through rashness, which is folly—for that reason the word frugality takes in these three virtues of fortitude, justice, and prudence, though it is indeed common to all virtues, for they are all connected and knit together. Let us allow, then, frugality itself to be another and fourth virtue; for its peculiar property seems to be to govern and
