§99.25Illud nullo modo probo, quod ait Metrodorus: esse aliquam cognatam tristitiae voluptatem, hanc esse captandam in eiusmodi tempore.
I in no way approve of that which Metrodorus says: that there is some pleasure akin to sadness, and that this must be sought after at such a time.
Ipsa Metrodori verba subscripsi.
I have transcribed the very words of Metrodorus.
Μητροδώρου ἐπιστολῶν πρὸσ τὴν ἀδελφήν. *)/estin ga/r tis h(donh\ lu/ph| suggenh/s, h(\n xrh\ qhreu/ein kata\ tou=ton to\n kairo/n. §99.26De quibus non dubito quid sis sensurus.
"From Metrodorus' letters to his sister: For there is a certain pleasure akin to sadness, which one must hunt after at this time." About these things, I have no doubt what you will feel.
Quid enim est turpius quam captare in ipso luctu voluptatem, immo per luctum, et inter lacrimas quoque quod iuvet, quaerere? Hi sunt, qui nobis obiciunt nimium rigorem et infamant praecepta nostra duritiae, quod dicamus dolorem aut admittendum in animum non esse aut cito expellendum.
For what is more shameful than to hunt for pleasure in mourning itself, or rather through mourning, and to look for something that pleases even amidst tears? These are the people who object to our excessive rigor and defame our precepts as cruel, because we say that grief must either not be admitted into the mind or quickly expelled.
Utrum tandem est aut incredibiles aut inhumanius non sentire amisso amico dolorem an voluptatem in ipso dolore aucupari?
Which, pray, is either more incredible or more inhuman: to feel no grief when a friend is lost, or to catch at pleasure in grief itself?
§99.27Nos quod praecipimus, honestum est; cum aliquid lacrimarum adfectus effuderit et, ut ita dicam, despumaverit, non esse tradendum animum dolori.
What we prescribe is honorable; that when affection has shed some tears and, so to speak, boiled over, the mind must not be surrendered to grief.
Quid, tu dicis miscendam ipsi dolori voluptatem? Sic consolamur crustulo pueros, sic infantium fletum infuso lacte conpescimus.
What, do you say that pleasure must be mixed with grief itself? In this way we comfort boys with a pastry, in this way we quiet the crying of infants by pouring milk.
"Ne illo quidem tempore, quo filius ardet aut amicus expirat, cessare pateris voluptatem, sed ipsum vis titillare maerorem? Utrum honestius dolor ab animo summovetur an voluptas ad dolorem quoque admittitur? ' Admittitur ' dico? Captatur et quidem ex ipso. '
Do you not even at that time, when a son is burning on the pyre or a friend is expiring, allow pleasure to cease, but want to tickle sorrow itself? Is grief more honorably removed from the mind, or is pleasure admitted also to grief? Do I say "admitted"? It is hunted for, and indeed from grief itself.
§99.28Est aliqua ' inquit' voluptas cognata tristitiae. ' Istuc nobis licet dicere, vobis quidem non licet.
"There is some pleasure," he says, "akin to sadness." It is permitted for us to say that, but certainly not for you.
Unum bonum nostis voluptatem, unum malum dolorem;
You know only one good, pleasure, and only one evil, pain; what kinship can there be between good and evil?
quae potest inter bonum et malum esse cognatio? Sed puta esse;
But suppose there is; is it to be dug out especially now?
nunc potissimum eruitur? Et ipsum dolorem scrutamur, an quid habeat iucundum circa se et voluptarium?
And do we scrutinize grief itself, to see whether it has anything pleasant and pleasurable about it?
§99.29Quaedam remedia aliis partibus corporis salutaria velut foeda et indecora adhiberi aliis nequeunt, et quod aliubi prodesset sine damno verecundiae, id fit inhonestum loco vulneris.
Certain remedies, healthy for other parts of the body, cannot be applied to some as being foul and unbecoming, and what would be beneficial elsewhere without damage to modesty, becomes dishonorable because of the location of the wound.
Non te pudet luctum voluptate sanare? Severius ista plaga curanda est.
Are you not ashamed to cure mourning with pleasure? That wound must be treated more severely.
Illud potius admone, nullum mali sensum ad eum, qui periit, pervenire; nam si pervenit, non periit.
Rather advise this, that no perception of evil reaches him who has perished; for if it reaches him, he has not perished.
§99.30Nulla, inquam, res eum laedit, qui nullus est; vivit, si laeditur.
Nothing, I say, harms him who is non-existent; he lives, if he is harmed.
Utrum putas illi male esse, quod nullus est, an quod est adhuc aliquis? Atqui nec ex eo potest ei tormentum esse, quod non est; quis enim nullius sensus est? Nee ex eo, quod est;
Do you think that it is bad for him because he is non-existent, or because he is still someone? And yet, neither from the fact that he is not, can there be torment for him; for who has any perception of a non-existent thing?
effugit enim maximum mortis incommodum, non esse.
Nor from the fact that he is; for he has escaped the greatest inconvenience of death, which is non-existence.
§99.31"Illud quoque dicamus ei, qui deflet ac desiderat in aetate prima raptum: omnes, quantum ad brevitatem aevi, si universo conpares, et iuvenes et senes, in aequo sumus.
Let us also say this to him who weeps for and misses one snatched away in the prime of life: as far as the brevity of life is concerned, if you compare it to the universe, we are all, both young and old, on an equal footing.
Minus enim ad nos ex aetate omni venit quam quod minimum esse quis dixerit, quoniam quidem minimum aliqua pars est.
For less of all time comes to us than what anyone would call the minimum, since indeed the minimum is some part.
Hoc quod vivimus, proximum nihilost; et tamen, o dementiam nostram, late disponitur.
This life we live is close to nothing; and yet, oh our madness, it is arranged far and wide.
§99.32"Haec tibi scripsi, non tamquam expectaturus esses remedium tam serum, liquet enim mihi te locutum tecum quicquid lecturus es, sed ut castigarem exiguam illam moram, qua a te recessisti, et in reliquom adhortarer, contra fortunam tolleres animos et omnia eius tela, non tamquam possent venire, sed tamquam utique essent ventura, prospiceres.
I have written these things to you, not as if you were going to wait for a remedy so late—for it is clear to me that you have spoken with yourself whatever you are going to read—but to chide that brief delay by which you departed from yourself, and to encourage you for the future, that you should raise your spirit against fortune and look forward to all her weapons, not as if they might come, but as if they were certainly going to come.
"VALE.
FAREWELL.