But here lay
Thy error; thou didst deem thyself a man
Able to rule, because thou wert possess'd
Of wealth, which in itself is nought, and stays
For a short season only with its owner:
But Nature, and not Gold, is ever firm;
Nature abides with man, and can remove
Evils the most severe, while lawless Gold,
That inmate of the wicked, takes his flight
From mansions where he flourish'd but a moment
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]

Herein lay thy grievous error, due to ignorance; thou thoughtest thyself some one, relying on thy wealth, but this is naught save to stay with us a space. 'Tis nature that stands fast, not wealth. For it, if it abide unchanged, exalts man's horn. But riches dishonestly acquired and in the hands of fools, soon take their flight, their blossom quickly shed.
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

Which thing has most deceived thee, not knowing it. Thou didst boast to be somebody, relying on thy wealth; but wealth is naught, except to tarry with us for a little time. But nature is stable; not money: since the one ever remaining uplifts her head; but wealth unjust, and dwelling with the foolish, is wont to flit from the house, having flourished for a short season.
[tr. Buckley (1892)]

This was thy strong delusion, blind of heart,
Through pride of wealth to boast thee some great one!
Nought wealth is, save for fleeting fellowship.
'Tis character abideth, not possessions:
This, ever-staying, lifteth up the head;
But wealth by vanity gotten, held of fools,
Takes to it wings; as a flower it fadeth soon.
[tr. Way (1896)]

And then the lie of lies that dimmed thy brow,
Vaunting that by thy gold, thy chattels, Thou
Wert Something; which themselves are nothingness,
Shadows, to clasp a moment ere they cease.
The thing thou art, and not the things thou hast,
Abideth, yea, and bindeth to the last
Thy burden on thee: while all else, ill-won
And sin-companioned, like a flower o'erblown,
Flies on the wind away.
[tr. Murray (1905)]

This deceived you the most, in your ignorance: you professed to be some one, strong in your wealth, but that is nothing, except to associate with briefly. It is nature that is secure, not wealth; for, always standing by, it takes away troubles; but prosperity, when it lives wickedly and with fools, flies out of the house, flowering for a short time.
[tr. Coleridge (1938 ed.)]

And you, Aigisthus, because of your lack of intelligence, fell into a big trap which is that you thought that the great wealth made you important. Yet wealth is not something you can have for long.
A man’s strength is his nature, not his wealth because that is what stays with us and that is what defeats our troubles. When the unjust joy falls into sinful ways, it blossoms in the house for a very short time before it flies away again.
[tr. Theodoridis (2006)]

But most of all,
you were so ignorant you were deceived
in claiming to be someone because your strength
was in your wealth. But that’s not worth a thing --
its presence is short lived. What stays secure
is not possessions but one’s nature, which stands
beside you and takes away your troubles.
But when riches live with fools unjustly,
they bloom a little while, then flee the house.
[tr. Johnston (2009)]

Now here's where you deceived yourself the most: that you had wealth, and thought it made you someone. But money's nothing: here and gone again. Trust nature, it's secure. Riches are not. Nature remains forever, helps in trouble. Prosperity that lives a while with fools briefly flowers with evil, then flies from home.
[tr. Wilson (2016)]

But it is not nede also to remembre in what thynges the othir olde men tokyn their honeste delectacyons. Therfor I shall come ayen to speke of myself.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]

But wherefore speak I so much of others? I will now returne to my selfe.
[tr. Austin (1648)]

But what have I to do with others, let me return now to myself.
[tr. J. D. (1744)]

But why should I quote others, and not rather return and speak of myself?
[tr. Logan (1744)]

But to pass from the practice of others to my own ....
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]

But why do I mention others? I will now return to myself.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]

But why do I refer to others? let me now return to myself.
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]

But why am I talking about others? I now return to my own case.
[tr. Peabody (1884)]

But why mention others? I will come back to my own case.
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]

Why speak of these?
Let's take myself.
[tr. Allison (1916)]

But enough of others -- let me return to myself!
[tr. Grant (1960, 1971 ed.)]

But why speak of other men? Let me revert to my own case.
[tr. Copley (1967)]

Enough of other people. Let me speak now of my own experience.
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]

But again I don't have to talk about the world famous. I can provide personal examples.
[tr. Gerberding (2014)]

I’ll now revert only to myself,
And put all the others on the shelf.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]

We would gladly have others perfect, but will not amend our own defaults. We would that others should be straitly corrected for their offences, but we will not be corrected. It misliketh us that others have liberty, but we will not be denied of that we ask. We would also that others should be restrained according to the statutes, but we in nowise will be restrained.
[tr. Whitford/Raynal (1530/1871)]

We would gladly have others perfect, yet we will not amend our own faults. We desire others to be strictly corrected for their offenses, yet we will not be corrected. We dislike it that others have liberty, yet we will not be denied what we ask. We desire that others should be restrained according to the laws, yet we will in no way be restrained.
[tr. Whitford/Gardiner (1530/1955)]

It is injustice to expect that in another which thou hast not in thy self, to looke for perfection in others, and yet not to amend imperfections in our selves. We will have others severely punisht, and will not amend our selves; the large liberty of others disliketh us, and yet we will not have our desires deni'd us, we will have rigorous Lawes imposed upon others, but in no sort will we our selves be restrained.
[tr. Page (1639), 1.16.8-9]

And, indeed, nothing is more common, than to express exceeding Zeal in amending our Neighbours, and mighty Indignation against Their Vices or Imperfections, while at the same time we neglect the beginning at Home, and either quite overlook, or seem highly contented with our own. We set up for Reformers, declaim at the Wickendess of the Age, and are all for suppressing and punishing it by vigorous Laws; and yet are unwilling that any Check or Restraint should be put upon our own Freedoms.
[tr. Stanhope (1696; 1706 ed.)]

But we require perfection in the rest of mankind, and take no care to rectify the disorders of our own heart; we desire that the faults of others should be severely punished, and refuse the gentlest correction ourselves; we are offended at their licentiousness, and yet cannot bear the least opposition to our own immoderate desires. We would subject all to the control of rigorous statute and penal laws, but will not suffer any restraint upon our own actions.
[tr. Payne (1803), 1.16.3]

We would willingly have others perfect, and yet we amend not our own faults. We will have others severely corrected, and will not be corrected ourselves. The large liberty of others displeaseth us; and yet we will not have our own desires denied us. We will have others kept under by strict laws; but in no sort will ourselves be restrained.
[ed. Parker (1841)]

We willingly require perfection in the rest of mankind, and yet do not rectify the disorders of our own hearts. We desire that the faults of others should be severely punished, and refuse the gentlest correction ourselves. We are offended at their licentiousness, and yet cannot bear the least denial of our own immoderate desires. We would subject all to the control of rigorous statutes, but suffer no restraint upon our own action.
[tr. Dibdin (1851)]

We would fain have others perfect, and yet we amend not our own defects. We would have others strictly corrected, but will not be corrected ourselves. The large liberty of others displeases us, and yet we would not be denied anything we ask for. We wish others to be bound down by laws, and we suffer ourselves to be in no sort restrained.
[ed. Bagster (1860)]

We are ready to see others made perfect, and yet we do not amend our own shortcomings. We will that others be straitly corrected, but we will not be corrected ourselves. The freedom of others displeaseth us, but we are dissatisfied that our own wishes shall be denied us. We desire rules to be made restraining others, but by no means will we suffer ourselves to be restrained.
[tr. Benham (1874)]

We are desirous to have others perfect, and yet we amend not our own faults. We will have others severely corrected, and will not be corrected ourselves. The large liberty of others displeaseth us; and yet we will not have our own desires denied us. We will have others kept under by strict laws; but in no sort will we ourselves be restrained.
[tr. Anon. (1901)]

We want them to be perfect, yet we do not correct our own faults. We wish them to be severely corrected, yet we will not correct ourselves. Their great liberty displeases us, yet we would not be denied what we ask. We would have them bound by laws, yet we will allow ourselves to be restrained in nothing.
[tr. Croft/Bolton (1940)]

We would readily have others perfect and yet not amend our own defects. We want others rigidly corrected and are unwilling to be corrected ourselves. The wide freedom of others displeases us, and yet we would not be denied whatever we ask. We wish others to be bound by rules, and will ourselves in no way be held in.
[tr. Daplyn (1952)]

For we require other people to be perfect, but do not correct our own faults. We wish to see others severely reprimanded; yet we are unwilling to be corrected ourselves. We wish to restrict the liberty of others, but are not willing to be denied anything ourselves. We wish others to be bound by rules, yet we will not let ourselves be bound.
[tr. Sherley-Price (1952)]

We like to have everybody around us quite perfect, but our own faults -- we never seem to correct them. Tom, Dick and Harry must be strictly called to order, but we aren't fond of being called to order ourselves. It is always the other man that has too much rope given him -- our wishes must not be thwarted; rules for everybody else, but our own liberties must not be abridged for a moment.
[tr. Knox-Oakley (1959), 1.16.3]

Though quick to expect perfection in others, we take little care to correct our own shortcomings. We wouidl have others strictly corrected, but not ourselves. The wide freedom of others displeases us, yet we wish to be denied nothing that we ourselves desire. We would have others under the restraint of the rule while unwilling ourselves to be under any sort of restraint.
[tr. Rooney (1979)]

We would willingly have others be perfect, and yet we fail to correct our own faults. We want others to be strictly corrected, and yet we are unwilling to be corrected ourselves. Other peoples' far-ranging freedom annoys us, and yet we insist on having our own way. We wish others to be tied down by rules, and yet we will not allow ourselves to be held in check in any way at all.
[tr. Creasy (1989)]

But presently after I observ’d, that whilst I would think that all was false, it must necessarily follow, that I who thought it, must be something. And perceiving that this Truth, I think, therefore, I am, was so firm and certain, that all the most extravagant suppositions of the Scepticks was not able to shake it, I judg’d that I might receive it without scruple for the first principle of the Philosophy I sought.
[Newcombe ed. (1649)]

But immediately afterwards I noticed that whilst I thus wished to think all things false, it was absolutely essential that the "I" who thought this should be somewhat, and remarking that this truth "I think, therefore I am" was so certain and so assured that all the most extravagant suppositions brought forward by the sceptics were incapable of shaking it, I came to the conclusion that could receive it without scruple as the first principle of the Philosophy for which I was seeking.
[tr. Haldane & Ross (1911)]

But immediately upon this I noticed that while I was trying to think everything false, it must needs be that I, who was thinking this, was something. And observing that this truty "I am thinking, therefore I exist" was so solid sceptics could not overthrow it, I judged that I need not scriple to accept it as the first principle of philosophy that I was seeking.
[tr. Ascombe & Geach (1971)]

But immediately I noticed that while I was endeavoring in this way to think that everything was false, it was necessary that I, who was thinking this, was something. And observing that this truth, "I am thinking, therefore I exist" was so firm and sure that all the most extravagant suppositions of the sceptics were incapable of shaking it, I decided that I could accept it without scruple as the first principle of the philosophy I was seeking.
[tr. Cottingham, Stoothoff (1985)]

• "Those things are in themselves tolerable, which others have born, and do bear." [tr. Wase (1643)]
• "All things are tolerable which others have borne and can bear." [tr. Main (1824)]
• "What others have endured and endure must be tolerable." [tr. Otis (1839)]
• "Things are tolerable which others have borne and are bearing." [tr. Peabody (1886)]
• "The circumstances at hand are indeed tolerable, since others have tolerated them and continue to do so." [tr. Graver (2002)]

Alt. trans.:
• "A man may nevertheless be perfectly well able to live on, to be a mn, a it seems, to occupy himself with temporal things, get married, beget children, win honor and esteem -- and perhaps no one notices that in a deeper sense he lacks a self. About such a thing as that not much fuss made in the world for a self is the thing the world is least apt to inquire about, and the thing of all things the most dangerous for a man to let people notice that he has it. The greatest danger, that of losing one's own self, may pass off as quietly as if it were nothing; every other loss, that of an arm, a leg, five dollars, a wife, etc., is sure to be noticed." (Source)
• "But to become fantastic in this way, and therefore be in despair, although usually obvious, does not mean that a person may not continue living a fairly good life, to all appearances be someone, employed with temporal matters, get married, beget children, be honored and esteemed -- and one may fail to notice that in a deeper sense he lacks a self. Such things cause little stir in the world; for in the world a self is what one least asks after, and the thing it is the most dangerous of all to show signs of having. The biggest danger, that of losing oneself, can pass off in the world as quietly as if it were nothing; every other loss, an arm, a leg, five dollars, a wife, etc. is bound to be noticed." (Source)

• 1874: Eugene Crowell, The Identity of Primitive Christianity and Modern Spiritualism (no attribution to Hugo).
• 1873: Maria Westmoreland, Clifford Troup: A Georgia Story, ch. 23.
• 1872-05-09: Massillon Independent, Vol. 9, No. 49 (column filler, no attribution to Hugo).
• 1872: Maturin Ballou, Treasury of Thought.

• "Man cannot live without an enduring faith in something indestructible within him." [In Max Brod, introduction to Gustav Janouch, Conversations with Kafka (1953) [tr. Rees]]
• "Man cannot live long without a steady faith in something indestructible within him, though both faith and the indestructible thing may remain permanently concealed from him."

The supreme happiness of life is the conviction of being loved for yourself, or, more correctly speaking, loved in spite of yourself.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]

The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved -- loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.
[E.g. (1873)]

The supreme happiness of life consists in the conviction that one is loved; loved for one's own sake -- let us say rather, loved in spite of one's self.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]

The supreme happiness in life is the assurance of being loved; of being loved for oneself, even in spite of oneself.
[tr. Denny (1976)]

The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves -- say rather, loved in spite of ourselves.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]

The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that you are loved, loved for yourself, better still, loved despite yourself.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]