Plutarch · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
So then envy seems to differ in no way from hatred, but to be the same thing. For in general, like a many-hooked evil, wickedness, as it moves this way and that through the passions attached to it, produces many connections and interweavings among them; and these, like diseases, share in one another's inflammations. For a man who prospers grieves alike both the one who hates him and the one who envies him. That is why
we think good will is opposed to both, being the wish for good things for one's neighbor; and we think hating and envying are the same, because both hold the opposite disposition to loving. But since resemblances do not make things as identical as differences make them distinct, let us investigate along the lines of these differences, beginning from the origin of the passions. Hatred, then, is generated from the perception
that the person hated is wicked, either in general or toward oneself; for those who believe themselves wronged are by nature inclined to hate, and they thrust forward and are vexed at those who are unjust or wicked in other ways, whereas they simply envy those who seem to fare well. Hence envy appears to be indefinite, like an inflammation of the eye that is disturbed by anything bright at all, while hatred is always fixed upon certain particular
objects, bearing down upon them. Second, hatred also arises toward irrational animals: for some people hate weasels and beetles, toads and snakes; Germanicus could not endure either the voice or the sight of a cock; and the Magi of the Persians used to kill mice, both because they themselves hated them and because they held the animal to be displeasing to their god — indeed almost all Arabs and Ethiopians
loathe them. Envy, however, arises only between man and man. Even among wild animals it is not likely that envy arises toward one another, for they do not form any conception of one another's faring well or ill, nor does reputation or disrepute touch them — the very things by which envy is chiefly provoked. But they do hate one another, and are estranged, and wage what might be called truceless wars, as eagles and
serpents do, crows and owls, tits and goldfinches — so much so that people say that even the blood of these creatures, when they are slaughtered, will not mix together, but even if you blend it, it separates again and flows apart on its own. And it is reasonable that fear should have generated a strong hatred in the lion toward the cock and in the elephant toward the pig: for what creatures fear, they are also by nature inclined to hate — so that in this respect too hatred appears to differ from
envy, in that the nature of wild animals admits the one but not the other. Furthermore, envy toward no one arises justly, for no one does wrong by faring well, yet it is for this very thing that men are envied; hatred, on the other hand, is often felt justly toward many — those we call deserving of hatred — unless one avoids and abhors and is vexed at such people. A great proof of this is that men
openly admit to hating many people, but none says he envies anyone. Indeed hatred of wickedness is among the things praised: and when some were praising Charillus, Lycurgus's nephew, who reigned in Sparta and was mild and gentle, his co-ruler said, "How can Charillus be good, when he is not even harsh to the wicked?" And the poet, in describing Thersites' bodily ugliness, fashioned it
in many details and at great length, but expressed the baseness of his character most concisely, in a single line: "and he was most hateful to Achilles and to Odysseus above all" — for it is a kind of extreme of vileness to be hateful to the best men. But men deny that they envy, even when they are caught in the act, and they put forward countless pretexts, saying they are angry, or afraid of the man, or that they hate him, or whatever else they happen upon, throwing a cloak over their envy
and hiding it under some other name for the feeling, as though this alone among the diseases of the soul must not be spoken of. It is necessary, then, that these passions, like plants, both feed on and grow from and give rise to one another in those who harbor them. We hate more those who advance further into wickedness, but we envy more those who seem to advance further in virtue. That is why Themistocles, while still a youth, said he had
done nothing splendid yet, for he was not yet envied. For just as beetles fasten most upon grain in its prime and upon roses in full bloom, so envy takes hold most of characters and persons that are good and increasing toward virtue and reputation. And conversely, unmixed wickedness rather intensifies hatred. At any rate, the citizens hated those who had brought false charges against Socrates, as men who had gone to the utmost extreme of vice, so
much so that they turned away from them, refusing to kindle fire for them or answer their questions or share water with them when they bathed, but forced the attendants to pour out the water as polluted, until they hanged themselves, unable to bear the hatred. But the superiorities and splendors of good fortune often quench envy. For it is not likely that anyone envies Alexander or Cyrus, once they had conquered and become masters of all things. But
just as the sun, wherever it comes to stand overhead, pouring down its light either removes the shadow altogether or makes it small, so too, of those who have attained great height and come to stand above envy, envy itself contracts and withdraws, being outshone. Hatred, however, is not relaxed by the superiority and power of one's enemies. Alexander, at any rate, had no one who envied him, but he had many who hated him,
by whom he was in the end plotted against and killed. Likewise, then, misfortunes stop those who envy, but they do not remove enmities: for men hate their enemies even when they have become humbled, but no one envies a man in misfortune. Indeed what was said by one of the sophists of our own day is true, that those who envy take the greatest pleasure in pitying — so that in this respect too there is a great
difference between the passions: hatred is not naturally inclined to withdraw either from those who prosper or from those who suffer misfortune, whereas envy gives up in the face of an excess of either. Let us, then, examine the same matter still further from the opposite side. Men give up enmities and hatred either by being persuaded that they were not wronged at all, or by forming a good opinion of those whom they had hated as wicked, or, third, by receiving some benefit from them: "for the last
favor," as Thucydides says, "even if it is smaller, because it comes at the right moment, can outweigh a greater grievance." Of these, the first does not dissolve envy: for those who are persuaded from the start that they were not wronged nevertheless envy; and the remaining causes actually provoke it further, for men feel malice more toward those who seem good, on the grounds that they possess virtue, the greatest good of all, and even if they are treated well by those who prosper,
they are pained, envying them both their moral purpose and their power — for the one belongs to virtue, the other to good fortune, and both are goods. Hence envy is an altogether different passion from hatred, if the very things by which hatred is soothed are the things by which envy is pained and provoked. Let us now, then, also examine the very moral purpose of each passion. The purpose of one who hates is to do harm according
to his power; and thus they define it, as a certain disposition and purpose that watches for the chance to do harm. But this at least is absent from envy: for many who envy their familiars and kin would not wish them to perish or to suffer misfortune, yet they are burdened by their prospering; and they hinder, if they can, their reputation and splendor, but they would not inflict irreparable disasters upon them — rather, like men living beside
a house that overshadows them, they are content merely to tear down whatever blocks their light.