Lucius Annaeus Seneca→Lucilius Junior|c. 63 AD|Seneca the Younger|From Southern Italy (regional)|To Sicily (regional)|AI-assisted
[1] Urge your friend to despise, with a great spirit, those who reproach him for having sought the shade and a life of leisure, for having abandoned his rank, and for having preferred peace to everything else when he might have gained much more. Let him show them daily how well he has managed his own affairs. The men they envy will not stop passing by: some will be crushed, others will fall. Prosperity is a restless thing; it agitates itself. It unsettles the brain in more than one way: it goads different men toward different ends, these toward a loss of self-control, those toward extravagance; some it puffs up, others it softens and wholly dissolves. [2] "But so-and-so bears his prosperity well." Yes, in the same way he bears his wine. So there is no reason for these people to convince you that the man besieged by a crowd is happy: they rush to him just as men rush to a pool of water, which they drain and muddy. "They call him a trifler and a do-nothing." You know that some people speak perversely and mean the opposite of what they say. They used to call him happy: well then, was he? [3] I do not even mind that to certain people he seems too harsh and grim in spirit. Aristo used to say that he preferred a young man who was severe to one who was cheerful and pleasing to the crowd; for, he said, the wine that seemed hard and rough when new turns out to be good, while the wine that was pleasant in the vat does not survive the years. Let them call him grim and an enemy to his own advancement: that very grimness will turn out well with age, provided only that he keeps cultivating virtue [virtus], and drinks deep of the liberal studies—not those it is enough merely to be sprinkled with, but those in which the mind [animus] must be steeped. [4] Now is the time for learning. "What then? Is there any age at which one ought not to learn?" Not at all; but just as it is honorable to study at every age, it is not fitting to be schooled at every age. An old man learning his ABCs is a shameful and ridiculous thing: the young man must acquire, the old man must use. You will therefore be doing the most useful thing for yourself if you make him as good a man as possible; these, they say, are the kindnesses to be sought after and bestowed, and without doubt the very best kind, which it is as profitable to give as to receive. [5] In short, he no longer has any freedom in the matter; he has given his word. And it is less shameful to default on a creditor than on a good prospect. To pay off that debt, the merchant needs a prosperous voyage, the farmer needs the fertility of the land he tills and the favor of the weather: but what your friend owes can be paid in full by the will alone. [6] Over character, Fortune [fortuna] has no jurisdiction. Let him so order his character that the mind may arrive, as untroubled as possible, at perfection—a mind that feels nothing taken from it and nothing added to it, but stays in the same condition however things turn out; a mind that, if ordinary goods are heaped upon it, rises above its own wealth, and if chance has struck away some of these things or all of them, is made no smaller.
[7] If he had been born in Parthia, he would have drawn the bow at once as an infant; if in Germania, as a boy he would straightway have brandished the slender spear; if he had lived in the days of our forefathers, he would have learned to ride and to strike the enemy hand to hand. To each man the training of his own nation urges and commands these things. [8] What, then, should this man practice? That which serves well against every weapon, against every kind of enemy: to despise death. No one doubts that death has something terrible in it, something that offends even our minds, which nature has shaped for love of themselves; for there would be no need to be prepared and sharpened for what we would go toward by a kind of voluntary instinct, just as all creatures are carried toward self-preservation. [9] No one trains himself so that, if it should be necessary, he may lie down with composure on a bed of roses; rather, a man is hardened to this: that he may not betray his pledged faith under torture, that, if it should be necessary, he may even sometimes keep watch through the night while wounded and standing before the rampart, and not lean even on his spear, because sleep tends to steal up meanwhile on those who recline against any support. Death has no hardship in it; for there must be something for whom that hardship exists. [10] But if so great a desire for a longer life holds you, consider that none of the things which pass from our eyes and are stored back into the nature of things—from which they came forth and into which they will soon pass again—is destroyed: these things cease, they do not perish; and death, which we dread and refuse, interrupts life, it does not snatch it away. A day will come again that will set us back into the light, a day that many would refuse, were it not that it brings us back having forgotten the past. [11] But later I shall teach more carefully that everything which seems to perish is only changed. The man who is destined to return ought to depart with a calm mind. Observe the cycle of things returning into themselves: you will see that nothing in this world is extinguished, but that things sink and rise by turns. Summer departs, but another year will bring it back; winter has fallen, but its own months will restore it; night has overwhelmed the sun, but day will at once drive the night away. That coursing of the stars seeks again whatever it passes by; one part of the sky is constantly being lifted up, another part sinks down.
[12] In short, I will make an end, if I add this one thing: that neither infants nor boys nor those who have lost their reason fear death—and it is utterly shameful if reason does not secure for us that freedom from care to which folly leads them. Farewell.
Encourage your friend to despise stout-heartedly those who upbraid him because he has sought the shade of retirement and has abdicated his career of honours, and, though he might have attained more, has preferred tranquillity to them all. Let him prove daily to these detractors how wisely he has looked out for his own interests. Those whom men envy will continue to march past him; some will be pushed out of the ranks, and others will fall. Prosperity is a turbulent thing; it torments itself. It stirs the brain in more ways than one, goading men on to various aims,—some to power, and others to high living. Some it puffs up; others it slackens and wholly enervates.
“But,” the retort comes, “so-and-so carries his prosperity well.” Yes; just as he carries his liquor. So you need not let this class of men persuade you that one who is besieged by the crowd is happy; they run to him as crowds rush for a pool of water, rendering it muddy while they drain it. But you say: “Men call our friend a trifler and a sluggard.” There are men, you know, whose speech is awry, who use the contrary terms. They called him happy; what of it? Was he happy? Even the fact that to certain persons he seems a man of a very rough and gloomy cast of mind, does not trouble me. Aristo used to say that he preferred a youth of stern disposition to one who was a jolly fellow and agreeable to the crowd. “For,” he added, “wine which, when new, seemed harsh and sour, becomes good wine; but that which tasted well at the vintage cannot stand age.” So let them call him stern and a foe to his own advancement. It is just this sternness that will go well when it is aged, provided only that he continues to cherish virtue and to absorb thoroughly the studies which make for culture,—not those with which it is sufficient for a man to sprinkle himself, but those in which the mind should be steeped. Now is the time to learn. “What? Is there any time when a man should not learn?” By no means; but just as it is creditable for every age to study, so it is not creditable for every age to be instructed. An old man learning his A B C is a disgraceful and absurd object; the young man must store up, the old man must use. You will therefore be doing a thing most helpful to yourself if you make this friend of yours as good a man as possible; those kindnesses, they tell us, are to be both sought for and bestowed, which benefit the giver no less than the receiver; and they are unquestionably the best kind.
Finally, he has no longer any freedom in the matter; he has pledged his word. And it is less disgraceful to compound with a creditor than to compound with a promising future. To pay his debt of money, the business man must have a prosperous voyage, the farmer must have fruitful fields and kindly weather; but the debt which your friend owes can be completely paid by mere goodwill. Fortune has no jurisdiction over character. Let him so regulate his character that in perfect peace he may bring to perfection that spirit within him which feels neither loss nor gain, but remains in the same attitude, no matter how things fall out. A spirit like this, if it is heaped with worldly goods, rises superior to its wealth; if, on the other hand, chance has stripped him of a part of his wealth, or even all, it is not impaired.
If your friend had been born in Parthia, he would have begun, when a child, to bend the bow; if in Germany, he would forthwith have been brandishing his slender spear; if he had been born in the days of our forefathers, he would have learned to ride a horse and smite his enemy hand to hand. These are the occupations which the system of each race recommends to the individual,—yes, prescribes for him. To what, then, shall this friend of yours devote his attention? I say, let him learn that which is helpful against all weapons, against every kind of foe,—contempt of death; because no one doubts that death has in it something that inspires terror, so that it shocks even our souls, which nature has so moulded that they love their own existence; for otherwise there would be no need to prepare ourselves, and to whet our courage, to face that towards which we should move with a sort of voluntary instinct, precisely as all men tend to preserve their existence. No man learns a thing in order that, if necessity arises, he may lie down with composure upon a bed of roses; but he steels his courage to this end,—that he may not surrender his plighted faith to torture, and that, if need be, he may some day stay out his watch in the trenches, even though wounded, without even leaning on his spear; because sleep is likely to creep over men who support themselves by any prop whatsoever.
In death there is nothing harmful; for there must exist something to which it is harmful. And yet, if you are possessed by so great a craving for a longer life, reflect that none of the objects which vanish from our gaze and are re-absorbed into the world of things, from which they have come forth and are soon to come forth again, is annihilated; they merely end their course and do not perish. And death, which we fear and shrink from, merely interrupts life, but does not steal it away; the time will return when we shall be restored to the light of day; and many men would object to this, were they not brought back in forgetfulness of the past.
But I mean to show you later, with more care, that everything which seems to perish merely changes. Since you are destined to return, you ought to depart with a tranquil mind. Mark how the round of the universe repeats its course; you will see that no star in our firmament is extinguished, but that they all set and rise in alternation. Summer has gone, but another year will bring it again; winter lies low, but will be restored by its own proper months; night has overwhelmed the sun, but day will soon rout the night again. The wandering stars retrace their former courses; a part of the sky is rising unceasingly, and a part is sinking. One word more, and then I shall stop; infants, and boys, and those who have gone mad, have no fear of death, and it is most shameful if reason cannot afford us that peace of mind to which they have been brought by their folly. Farewell.
[1] Amicum tuum hortare ut istos magno animo contemnat qui illum obiurgant quod umbram et otium petierit, quod dignitatem suam destituerit et, cum plus consequi posset, praetulerit quietem omnibus; quam utiliter suum negotium gesserit cotidie illis ostentet. Hi quibus invidetur non desinent transire: alii elidentur, alii cadent. Res est inquieta felicitas; ipsa se exagitat. Movet cerebrum non uno genere: alios in aliud irritat, hos in impotentiam, illos in luxuriam; hos inflat, illos mollit et totos resolvit. [2] 'At bene aliquis illam fert.' Sic, quomodo vinum. Itaque non est quod tibi isti persuadeant eum esse felicem qui a multis obsidetur: sic ad illum quemadmodum ad lacum concurritur, quem exhauriunt et turbant. 'Nugatorium et inertem vocant.' Scis quosdam perverse loqui et significare contraria. Felicem vocabant: quid ergo? erat? [3] Ne illud quidem curo, quod quibusdam nimis horridi animi videtur et tetrici. Ariston aiebat malle se adulescentem tristem quam hilarem et amabilem turbae; vinum enim bonum fieri quod recens durum et asperum visum est; non pati aetatem quod in dolio placuit. Sine eum tristem appellent et inimicum processibus suis: bene se dabit in vetustate ipsa tristitia, perseveret modo colere virtutem, perbibere liberalia studia, non illa quibus perfundi satis est, sed haec quibus tingendus est animus. [4] Hoc est discendi tempus. 'Quid ergo? aliquod est quo non sit discendum?' Minime; sed quemadmodum omnibus annis studere honestum est, ita non omnibus institui. Turpis et ridicula res est elementarius senex: iuveni parandum, seni utendum est. Facies ergo rem utilissimam tibi, si illum quam optimum feceris; haec aiunt beneficia esse expetenda tribuendaque, non dubie primae sortis, quae tam dare prodest quam accipere. [5] Denique nihil illi iam liberi est, spopondit; minus autem turpe est creditori quam spei bonae decoquere. Ad illud aes alienum solvendum opus est negotianti navigatione prospera, agrum colenti ubertate eius quam colit terrae, caeli favore: ille quod debet sola potest voluntate persolvi. [6] In mores fortuna ius non habet. Hos disponat ut quam tranquillissimus ille animus ad perfectum veniat, qui nec ablatum sibi quicquam sentit nec adiectum, sed in eodem habitu est quomodocumque res cedunt; cui sive aggeruntur vulgaria bona, supra res suas eminet, sive aliquid ex istis vel omnia casus excussit, minor non fit.
[7] Si in Parthia natus esset, arcum infans statim tenderet; si in Germania, protinus puer tenerum hastile vibraret; si avorum nostrorum temporibus fuisset, equitare et hostem comminus percutere didicisset. Haec singulis disciplina gentis suae suadet atque imperat. [8] Quid ergo huic meditandum est? quod adversus omnia tela, quod adversus omne hostium genus bene facit, mortem contemnere, quae quin habeat aliquid in se terribile, ut et animos nostros quos in amorem sui natura formavit offendat, nemo dubitat; nec enim opus esset in id comparari et acui in quod instinctu quodam voluntario iremus, sicut feruntur omnes ad conservationem sui. [9] Nemo discit ut si necesse fuerit aequo animo in rosa iaceat, sed in hoc duratur, ut tormentis non summittat fidem, ut si necesse fuerit stans etiam aliquando saucius pro vallo pervigilet et ne pilo quidem incumbat, quia solet obrepere interim somnus in aliquod adminiculum reclinatis. Mors nullum habet incommodum; esse enim debet aliquid cuius sit incommodum. [10] Quod si tanta cupiditas te longioris aevi tenet? cogita nihil eorum quae ab oculis abeunt et in rerum naturam, ex qua prodierunt ac mox processura sunt, reconduntur consumi: desinunt ista, non pereunt, et mors, quam pertimescimus ac recusamus, intermittit vitam, non eripit; veniet iterum qui nos in lucem reponat dies, quem multi recusarent nisi oblitos reduceret. [11] Sed postea diligentius docebo omnia quae videntur perire mutari. Aequo animo debet rediturus exire. Observa orbem rerum in se remeantium: videbis nihil in hoc mundo exstingui sed vicibus descendere ac surgere. Aestas abit, sed alter illam annus adducet; hiemps cecidit, referent illam sui menses; solem nox obruit, sed ipsam statim dies abiget. Stellarum iste discursus quidquid praeterit repetit; pars caeli levatur assidue, pars mergitur.
[12] Denique finem faciam, si hoc unum adiecero, nec infantes [nec] pueros nec mente lapsos timere mortem et esse turpissimum si eam securitatem nobis ratio non praestat ad quam stultitia perducit. Vale.
◆
[1] Urge your friend to despise, with a great spirit, those who reproach him for having sought the shade and a life of leisure, for having abandoned his rank, and for having preferred peace to everything else when he might have gained much more. Let him show them daily how well he has managed his own affairs. The men they envy will not stop passing by: some will be crushed, others will fall. Prosperity is a restless thing; it agitates itself. It unsettles the brain in more than one way: it goads different men toward different ends, these toward a loss of self-control, those toward extravagance; some it puffs up, others it softens and wholly dissolves. [2] "But so-and-so bears his prosperity well." Yes, in the same way he bears his wine. So there is no reason for these people to convince you that the man besieged by a crowd is happy: they rush to him just as men rush to a pool of water, which they drain and muddy. "They call him a trifler and a do-nothing." You know that some people speak perversely and mean the opposite of what they say. They used to call him happy: well then, was he? [3] I do not even mind that to certain people he seems too harsh and grim in spirit. Aristo used to say that he preferred a young man who was severe to one who was cheerful and pleasing to the crowd; for, he said, the wine that seemed hard and rough when new turns out to be good, while the wine that was pleasant in the vat does not survive the years. Let them call him grim and an enemy to his own advancement: that very grimness will turn out well with age, provided only that he keeps cultivating virtue [virtus], and drinks deep of the liberal studies—not those it is enough merely to be sprinkled with, but those in which the mind [animus] must be steeped. [4] Now is the time for learning. "What then? Is there any age at which one ought not to learn?" Not at all; but just as it is honorable to study at every age, it is not fitting to be schooled at every age. An old man learning his ABCs is a shameful and ridiculous thing: the young man must acquire, the old man must use. You will therefore be doing the most useful thing for yourself if you make him as good a man as possible; these, they say, are the kindnesses to be sought after and bestowed, and without doubt the very best kind, which it is as profitable to give as to receive. [5] In short, he no longer has any freedom in the matter; he has given his word. And it is less shameful to default on a creditor than on a good prospect. To pay off that debt, the merchant needs a prosperous voyage, the farmer needs the fertility of the land he tills and the favor of the weather: but what your friend owes can be paid in full by the will alone. [6] Over character, Fortune [fortuna] has no jurisdiction. Let him so order his character that the mind may arrive, as untroubled as possible, at perfection—a mind that feels nothing taken from it and nothing added to it, but stays in the same condition however things turn out; a mind that, if ordinary goods are heaped upon it, rises above its own wealth, and if chance has struck away some of these things or all of them, is made no smaller.
[7] If he had been born in Parthia, he would have drawn the bow at once as an infant; if in Germania, as a boy he would straightway have brandished the slender spear; if he had lived in the days of our forefathers, he would have learned to ride and to strike the enemy hand to hand. To each man the training of his own nation urges and commands these things. [8] What, then, should this man practice? That which serves well against every weapon, against every kind of enemy: to despise death. No one doubts that death has something terrible in it, something that offends even our minds, which nature has shaped for love of themselves; for there would be no need to be prepared and sharpened for what we would go toward by a kind of voluntary instinct, just as all creatures are carried toward self-preservation. [9] No one trains himself so that, if it should be necessary, he may lie down with composure on a bed of roses; rather, a man is hardened to this: that he may not betray his pledged faith under torture, that, if it should be necessary, he may even sometimes keep watch through the night while wounded and standing before the rampart, and not lean even on his spear, because sleep tends to steal up meanwhile on those who recline against any support. Death has no hardship in it; for there must be something for whom that hardship exists. [10] But if so great a desire for a longer life holds you, consider that none of the things which pass from our eyes and are stored back into the nature of things—from which they came forth and into which they will soon pass again—is destroyed: these things cease, they do not perish; and death, which we dread and refuse, interrupts life, it does not snatch it away. A day will come again that will set us back into the light, a day that many would refuse, were it not that it brings us back having forgotten the past. [11] But later I shall teach more carefully that everything which seems to perish is only changed. The man who is destined to return ought to depart with a calm mind. Observe the cycle of things returning into themselves: you will see that nothing in this world is extinguished, but that things sink and rise by turns. Summer departs, but another year will bring it back; winter has fallen, but its own months will restore it; night has overwhelmed the sun, but day will at once drive the night away. That coursing of the stars seeks again whatever it passes by; one part of the sky is constantly being lifted up, another part sinks down.
[12] In short, I will make an end, if I add this one thing: that neither infants nor boys nor those who have lost their reason fear death—and it is utterly shameful if reason does not secure for us that freedom from care to which folly leads them. Farewell.
AI-assisted translation - This translation was produced with AI assistance and has not been peer-reviewed. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek below for scholarly use.
Latin / Greek Original
[1] Amicum tuum hortare ut istos magno animo contemnat qui illum obiurgant quod umbram et otium petierit, quod dignitatem suam destituerit et, cum plus consequi posset, praetulerit quietem omnibus; quam utiliter suum negotium gesserit cotidie illis ostentet. Hi quibus invidetur non desinent transire: alii elidentur, alii cadent. Res est inquieta felicitas; ipsa se exagitat. Movet cerebrum non uno genere: alios in aliud irritat, hos in impotentiam, illos in luxuriam; hos inflat, illos mollit et totos resolvit. [2] 'At bene aliquis illam fert.' Sic, quomodo vinum. Itaque non est quod tibi isti persuadeant eum esse felicem qui a multis obsidetur: sic ad illum quemadmodum ad lacum concurritur, quem exhauriunt et turbant. 'Nugatorium et inertem vocant.' Scis quosdam perverse loqui et significare contraria. Felicem vocabant: quid ergo? erat? [3] Ne illud quidem curo, quod quibusdam nimis horridi animi videtur et tetrici. Ariston aiebat malle se adulescentem tristem quam hilarem et amabilem turbae; vinum enim bonum fieri quod recens durum et asperum visum est; non pati aetatem quod in dolio placuit. Sine eum tristem appellent et inimicum processibus suis: bene se dabit in vetustate ipsa tristitia, perseveret modo colere virtutem, perbibere liberalia studia, non illa quibus perfundi satis est, sed haec quibus tingendus est animus. [4] Hoc est discendi tempus. 'Quid ergo? aliquod est quo non sit discendum?' Minime; sed quemadmodum omnibus annis studere honestum est, ita non omnibus institui. Turpis et ridicula res est elementarius senex: iuveni parandum, seni utendum est. Facies ergo rem utilissimam tibi, si illum quam optimum feceris; haec aiunt beneficia esse expetenda tribuendaque, non dubie primae sortis, quae tam dare prodest quam accipere. [5] Denique nihil illi iam liberi est, spopondit; minus autem turpe est creditori quam spei bonae decoquere. Ad illud aes alienum solvendum opus est negotianti navigatione prospera, agrum colenti ubertate eius quam colit terrae, caeli favore: ille quod debet sola potest voluntate persolvi. [6] In mores fortuna ius non habet. Hos disponat ut quam tranquillissimus ille animus ad perfectum veniat, qui nec ablatum sibi quicquam sentit nec adiectum, sed in eodem habitu est quomodocumque res cedunt; cui sive aggeruntur vulgaria bona, supra res suas eminet, sive aliquid ex istis vel omnia casus excussit, minor non fit.
[7] Si in Parthia natus esset, arcum infans statim tenderet; si in Germania, protinus puer tenerum hastile vibraret; si avorum nostrorum temporibus fuisset, equitare et hostem comminus percutere didicisset. Haec singulis disciplina gentis suae suadet atque imperat. [8] Quid ergo huic meditandum est? quod adversus omnia tela, quod adversus omne hostium genus bene facit, mortem contemnere, quae quin habeat aliquid in se terribile, ut et animos nostros quos in amorem sui natura formavit offendat, nemo dubitat; nec enim opus esset in id comparari et acui in quod instinctu quodam voluntario iremus, sicut feruntur omnes ad conservationem sui. [9] Nemo discit ut si necesse fuerit aequo animo in rosa iaceat, sed in hoc duratur, ut tormentis non summittat fidem, ut si necesse fuerit stans etiam aliquando saucius pro vallo pervigilet et ne pilo quidem incumbat, quia solet obrepere interim somnus in aliquod adminiculum reclinatis. Mors nullum habet incommodum; esse enim debet aliquid cuius sit incommodum. [10] Quod si tanta cupiditas te longioris aevi tenet? cogita nihil eorum quae ab oculis abeunt et in rerum naturam, ex qua prodierunt ac mox processura sunt, reconduntur consumi: desinunt ista, non pereunt, et mors, quam pertimescimus ac recusamus, intermittit vitam, non eripit; veniet iterum qui nos in lucem reponat dies, quem multi recusarent nisi oblitos reduceret. [11] Sed postea diligentius docebo omnia quae videntur perire mutari. Aequo animo debet rediturus exire. Observa orbem rerum in se remeantium: videbis nihil in hoc mundo exstingui sed vicibus descendere ac surgere. Aestas abit, sed alter illam annus adducet; hiemps cecidit, referent illam sui menses; solem nox obruit, sed ipsam statim dies abiget. Stellarum iste discursus quidquid praeterit repetit; pars caeli levatur assidue, pars mergitur.
[12] Denique finem faciam, si hoc unum adiecero, nec infantes [nec] pueros nec mente lapsos timere mortem et esse turpissimum si eam securitatem nobis ratio non praestat ad quam stultitia perducit. Vale.