nor have his fellows the power to inflict moral suffering upon him.
For indeed if our tears can flow because of our enemies' malice, it
is only because we ourselves would fain make our enemies weep. If
the shafts of envy can wound and draw blood, it is only because we
ourselves have shafts that we wish to throw; if treachery can wring
a groan from us, we must be disloyal ourselves, Only those weapons
can wound the soul that it has not yet sacrificed on the altar of
Love.

76. The dramas of virtue are played on a stage whose mysteries not
even the wisest can fathom. It is only as the last word is spoken
that the curtain is raised for an instant; we know nothing of all
that preceded, of the brightness or gloom that enwrapped it. But of
one thing at least the just man may be certain; it will be in an act
of charity, or justice, that his destiny will meet him face to face.
The blow must inevitably find him prepared, in a state of grace, as
the Christian calls it; in other words, in a state of inner
happiness. And that in itself bars the door on evil destiny within
us, and closes most of the gates by which external misfortune can
enter. As our conception of duty and happiness gains in dignity, so
does the sway of moral suffering become the more restricted and
purer. And is not moral suffering the most tyrannical weapon in the
armoury of destiny? Our happiness mainly depends on the freedom that
reigns within us; a freedom that widens with every good deed, and
contracts beneath acts of evil. Not metaphorically, but literally,
does Marcus Aurelius free himself each time he discovers a new truth
in indulgence, each time that he pardons, each time he reflects.
Still less of a metaphor is it to declare that Macbeth enchains
himself anew with every fresh crime. And if this be true of the
great crimes of kings and the virtues of heroes, it is no less true