tomb? Had not Marcus Aurelius to suffer--from Commodus, the son who
already showed signs of the monster he was to become; from Faustina,
the wife whom he loved, but who cared not for him? Was not destiny's
hand laid heavy on Paulus Aemilius, who was fully as wise as
Timoleon? did not both his sons die, one five days before his
triumph in Rome, and the other but three days after? What becomes of
the refuge, then, where wisdom keeps watch over happiness? Must we
take back all we have said? and is wisdom yet one more illusion, by
whose aid the soul would fain conciliate reason, and justify
cravings that experience is sure to reject as being opposed to
reason?

39. Nay, In truth, the sage too must suffer. He suffers; and
suffering forms a constituent part of his wisdom. He will suffer,
perhaps, more than most men, for that his nature is far more
complete. And being nearer to all mankind, as the wise ever must be,
his suffering will be but the greater, for the sorrows of others are
his. He will suffer in his flesh, in his heart, in his spirit; for
there are sides in all these that no wisdom on earth can dispute
against destiny. And so he accepts his suffering, but is not
discouraged thereby; not for him are the chains that it fastens on
those who cringe down before it, unaware that it is but a messenger
sent by a mightier personage, whom a bend in the road hides from
view. Needs must the sage, like his neighbour, be startled from
sleep by the shouts of the truculent envoy, by the blows at the door
that cause the whole house to tremble. He, too, must go down and
parley. But yet, as he listens, his eyes are not fixed on this
bringer of evil tidings; his glance will at times be lifted over the
messenger's shoulder, will scan the dust on the horizon in search of
the mighty idea that perhaps may be near at hand. And indeed, when