Letter 61

[1] Let us stop wanting what we once wanted. I, at any rate, am working at this: that as an old man I should not want the same things I wanted as a boy. To this one purpose my days are devoted, to this my nights; this is my work, this my whole reflection: to set an end to my long-standing faults. I am working so that a single day may be for me the measure of an entire life. And I do not, by Hercules, snatch each day as if it were my last, but I look upon it as one that could even be the last. [2] It is in this spirit that I write you this letter, as though death were going to summon me at the very moment of writing. I am ready to depart, and for that very reason I shall enjoy life, because I am not too anxious about how long this will last. Before old age I took care to live well; in old age, to die well. And to die well is to die willingly. [3] Take pains never to do anything against your will. Whatever is going to be a necessity for one who resists, that is no necessity for one who is willing. So I say: the man who accepts commands willingly escapes the bitterest part of slavery, which is to do what he does not wish; it is not the man who does something at another's order who is wretched, but the man who does it unwillingly. Let us therefore so compose our minds that we may want whatever circumstance demands, and above all that we may contemplate our own end without sorrow. [4] We must prepare ourselves for death before we prepare for life. Life is well enough equipped, but we are greedy for its equipment; something seems to be lacking to us, and always will seem so. To have lived long enough is determined neither by years nor by days, but by the mind. I have lived, my dearest Lucilius, as long as was enough; full, I await death. Farewell.

Let us cease to desire that which we have been desiring. I, at least, am doing this: in my old age I have ceased to desire what I desired when a boy. To this single end my days and my nights are passed; this is my task, this the object of my thoughts,—to put an end to my chronic ills. I am endeavouring to live every day as if it were a complete life. I do not indeed snatch it up as if it were my last; I do regard it, however, as if it might even be my last. The present letter is written to you with this in mind,—as if death were about to call me away in the very act of writing. I am ready to depart, and I shall enjoy life just because I am not over-anxious as to the future date of my departure. Before I became old I tried to live well; now that I am old, I shall try to die well; but dying well means dying gladly. See to it that you never do anything unwillingly. That which is bound to be a necessity if you rebel, is not a necessity if you desire it. This is what I mean: he who takes his orders gladly, escapes the bitterest part of slavery,—doing what one does not want to do. The man who does something under orders is not unhappy; he is unhappy who does something against his will. Let us therefore so set our minds in order that we may desire whatever is demanded of us by circumstances, and above all that we may reflect upon our end without sadness. We must make ready for death before we make ready for life. Life is well enough furnished, but we are too greedy with regard to its furnishings; something always seems to us lacking, and will always seem lacking. To have lived long enough depends neither upon our years nor upon our days, but upon our minds. I have lived, my dear friend Lucilius, long enough. I have had my fill; I await death. Farewell.

[1] Desinamus quod voluimus velle. Ego certe id ago <ne> senex eadem velim quae puer volui. In hoc unum eunt dies, in hoc noctes, hoc opus meum est, haec cogitatio, imponere veteribus malis finem. Id ago ut mihi instar totius vitae dies sit; nec mehercules tamquam ultimum rapio, sed sic illum aspicio tamquam esse vel ultimus possit. [2] Hoc animo tibi hanc epistulam scribo, tamquam me cum maxime scribentem mors evocatura sit; paratus exire sum, et ideo fruar vita quia quam diu futurum hoc sit non nimis pendeo. Ante senectutem curavi ut bene viverem, in senectute ut bene moriar; bene autem mori est libenter mori. [3] Da operam ne quid umquam invitus facias: quidquid necesse futurum est repugnanti, id volenti necessitas non est. Ita dico: qui imperia libens excipit partem acerbissimam servitutis effugit, facere quod nolit; non qui iussus aliquid facit miser est, sed qui invitus facit. Itaque sic animum componamus ut quidquid res exiget, id velimus, et in primis ut finem nostri sine tristitia cogitemus. [4] Ante ad mortem quam ad vitam praeparandi sumus. Satis instructa vita est, sed nos in instrumenta eius avidi sumus; deesse aliquid nobis videtur et semper videbitur: ut satis vixerimus, nec anni nec dies faciunt sed animus. Vixi, Lucili carissime, quantum satis erat; mortem plenus exspecto. Vale.