On Tranquillity of Mind Chapter 12

Proximum ab his erit, ne aut in supervacuis aut ex supervacuo laboremus, id est, ne quae aut non possumus consequi concupiscamus, aut adepti vanitatem cupiditatium nostrarum sero post multum pudorem intellegamus. Id est, ne aut labor irritus sit sine effectu aut effectus labore indignus ; fere enim ex his tristitia sequitur, si aut non successit aut successus pudet. Circumcidenda concursatio, qualis est magnae parti hominum domos et theatra et fora pererrantium ; alienis se negotiis offerunt, semper aliquid agentibus similes. Horum si aliquem ex- euntem e domo interrogaveris : " Quo tu ? Quid cogitas ? " respondebit tibi : " Non me hercules scio; sed aliquos videbo, aliquid agam." Sine proposito vagantur quaerentes negotia nec quae destinaverunt agunt, sed in quae incucurrerunt. Inconsultus illis vanusque cursus est, qualis formicis per arbusta Te- pentibus, quae in summum cacumen et inde in imum inanes aguntur ; his plerique similem vitam agunt, quorum non immerito quis inquietam inertiam dixerit. Quorundam quasi ad incendium currentium misereberis ; usque eo impellunt obvios et se aliosque praecipiant, cum interim cucurrerunt aut salutaturi aliquem non resalutaturum aut funus ignoti hominis prosecuturi aut ad iudicium saepe litigantis aut ad sponsalia saepe nubentis et lecticam adsectati quibusdam locis etiam tulerunt. Dein domum cum supervacua redeuntes lassitudine iurant nescire se ipsos, quare exierint, ubi fuerint, postero die erraturi per eadem illa vestigia. Omnis itaque labor aliquo referatur, aliquo respiciat ! Non industria inquietos, sed insanos falsae rerum imagines agitant. Nam ne illi quidem sine aliqua spe moventur ; proritat illos alicuius rei species, cuius vanitatem capta mens non coarguit. Eodem modo unumquemque ex his, qui ad augendam turbam exeunt, inanes et leves causae per urbem circumducunt; nihilque habentem, in quod laboret, lux orta expellit, et eum multorum frustra liminibus inlisus nomeneulatores persalutavit, a multis exclusus neminem ex omnibus difficilius domi quam se convenit. Ex hoc malo dependet illud taeterrimum vitium, auscultatio et publicorum secretorumque inquisitio et multarum rerum scientia, quae nec tuto narrantur nec tuto audiuntur.

The next point to these will be to take care that we do not labour for what is vain, or labour in vain: that is to say, neither to desire what we are not able to obtain, nor yet, having obtained our desire too late, and after much toil to discover the folly of our wishes: in other words, that our labour may not be without result, and that the result may not be unworthy of our labour: for as a rule sadness arises from one of these two things, either from want of success or from being ashamed of having succeeded. We must limit the running to and fro which most men practise, rambling about houses, theatres, and market-places. They mind other men’s business, and always seem as though they themselves had something to do. If you ask one of them as he comes out of his own door, “Whither are you going?” he will answer, “By Hercules, I do not know: but I shall see some people and do something.” They wander purposelessly seeking for something to do, and do, not what they have made up their minds to do, but what has casually fallen in their way. They move uselessly and without any plan, just like ants crawling over bushes, which creep up to the top and then down to the bottom again without gaining anything. Many men spend their lives in exactly the same fashion, which one may call a state of restless indolence. You would pity some of them when you see them running as if their house was on fire: they actually jostle all whom they meet, and hurry along themselves and others with them, though all the while they are going to salute some one who will not return their greeting, or to attend the funeral of some one whom they did not know: they are going to hear the verdict on one who often goes to law, or to see the wedding of one who often gets married: they will follow a man’s litter, and in some places will even carry it: afterwards returning home weary with idleness, they swear that they themselves do not know why they went out, or where they have been, and on the following day they will wander through the same round again. Let all your work, therefore, have some purpose, and keep some object in view: these restless people are not made restless by labour, but are driven out of their minds by mistaken ideas: for even they do not put themselves in motion without any hope: they are excited by the outward appearance of something, and their crazy mind cannot see its futility. In the same way every one of those who walk out to swell the crowd in the streets, is led round the city by worthless and empty reasons; the dawn drives him forth, although he has nothing to do, and after he has pushed his way into many men’s doors, and saluted their nomenclators one after the other, and been turned away from many others, he finds that the most difficult person of all to find at home is himself. From this evil habit comes that worst of all vices, talebearing and prying into public and private secrets, and the knowledge of many things which it is neither safe to tell nor safe to listen to.

Retranchons ces allées et venues habituelles au peuple d’oisifs qui court sans cesse maisons, théâtres, places publiques avec des offres de service à tout venant, et l’air toujours affairé . Demande à l’un d’eux sortant de chez lui où il va et ce qu’il compte faire : il te répondra qu’en vérité il n’en sait rien, mais qu’il verra du monde, qu’il fera quelque chose. Ils errent à l’aventure, à la quête des occupations et saisissant, non ce qu’ils auraient projeté de faire, mais ce que leur offre le hasard. Sans objet, sans résultat dans leurs courses, ils sont comme ces fourmis qui grimpent le long des arbustes et montent au sommet pour redescendre à vide jusqu’à terre. Voilà l’image de presque tous ces gens dont on qualifierait à bon droit l’existence de laborieuse inoccupation. C’est pitié de les voir courir comme à un incendie, heurtant ceux qui passent, tombant et faisant tomber ; et pourquoi s’évertuent-ils tant ? Pour donner un salut qu’on ne leur rendra point, ou grossir le deuil d’un mort qu’ils ne connaissent pas, ou assister au procès d’un plaideur par état, aux fiançailles d’un homme qui change de femme à tout instant, ou suivre une litière qu’en certains endroits ils portent eux-mêmes. Ils rentrent chez eux excédés de fatigues infructueuses ; ils jurent qu’ils ne savent pourquoi ils sont sortis, ni où ils sont allés ; et c’est à recommencer demain sur les mêmes allures qu’aujourd’hui. Que toute peine donc se propose un but, un résultat. À défaut de motifs réels, les esprits inquiets et les fous s’agitent pour de creuses chimères, car il faut même à de telles gens quelque espoir pour se remuer, incités qu’ils sont par des apparences telles quelles, dont l’imagination préoccupée ne reconnaît pas tout le néant. De même chacun de ces hommes, qui ne sortent que pour grossir la foule, a mainte idée frivole et vaine qui le promène par la ville et, sans qu’il ait la moindre affaire devant lui, l’arrache de son lit dès l’aurore, l’envoie heurter à vingt portes différentes, saluer vingt nomenclateurs ; et refusé presque partout, la personne qu’il trouve le plus difficilement chez elle, c’est lui-même. De cette maladie procède un vice des plus odieux, la manie d’écouter, de s’enquérir de ce qui se sait et de ce qui ne se sait pas, d’apprendre une foule de choses qu’il est dangereux de raconter et dangereux d’entendre. C’est, je crois, à ce propos que Démocrite a dit au début de son livre : « Qui voudra vivre tranquille ne se chargera pas de nombreuses affaires, publiques ou privées, » entendant par là sans doute celles qui sont superflues, car les nécessaires, soit privées, soit publiques, il faut s’y vouer, fussent-elles nombreuses, fussent-elles infinies ; mais quand ce n’est pas la voix solennelle du devoir qui commande, il faut s’abstenir d’agir.