XXIV

If we were as intent upon our business as the old fellows at Rome are
upon what interests them, we too might perhaps accomplish something.
I know a man older than I am, now Superintendent of the Corn-market at
Rome, and I remember when he passed through this place on his way back
from exile, what an account he gave me of his former life, declaring
that for the future, once home again, his only care should be to pass
his remaining years in quiet and tranquility. "For how few years have
I left!" he cried. "That," I said, "you will not do; but the moment the
scent of Rome is in your nostrils, you will forget it all; and if you
can but gain admission to Court, you will be glad enough to elbow your
way in, and thank God for it." "Epictetus," he replied, "if ever you
find me setting as much as one foot within the Court, think what you
will of me."

Well, as it was, what did he do? Ere ever he entered the city, he was
met by a despatch from the Emperor. He took it, and forgot the whole
of his resolutions. From that moment, he has been piling one thing upon
another. I should like to be beside him to remind him of what he said
when passing this way, and to add, How much better a prophet I am than
you!

What then? do I say man is not made for an active life? Far from it!
. . . But there is a great difference between other men's occupations and
ours. . . . A glance at theirs will make it clear to you. All day long
they do nothing but calculate, contrive, consult how to wring their