Letter 7

You ask what I think you should especially avoid. My answer is: the crowd. You are not yet able to entrust yourself to it safely. I will admit my own weakness, at least: I never bring home the same character I took out with me. Something in me that I had forced into calm is disturbed; some of the enemies I had driven off return. What happens to the sick, when long weakness has left them unable to be taken anywhere without a relapse, happens also to us, whose minds are recovering from a long illness. Conversation with many people is hostile to the soul. Everyone either recommends some vice to us, or stamps it onto us, or smears it on us without our noticing. The larger the crowd in which we mingle, the greater the danger. But nothing is so damaging to good character as sitting idly at a public spectacle. Vice then slips in more easily through pleasure. What do you think I mean? That I come back greedier, more ambitious, more given to pleasure? Worse than that: I come back more cruel and less human because I have been among human beings. By chance I went to the midday show, expecting games, wit, and some relaxation, something by which human eyes might rest from human blood. It was the opposite. Everything fought earlier looked merciful by comparison; now the trifles are removed and it is pure murder. The men have nothing to protect them. Their whole bodies are exposed to the blow, and no one ever strikes in vain. Most spectators prefer this to the regular matched pairs and special-request bouts. Why would they not? No helmet, no shield turns the sword aside. What use are defenses? What use is skill? All that only delays death. In the morning men are thrown to lions and bears; at noon they are thrown to their spectators. The killers are ordered to face those who will kill them in turn, and the victor is kept for another slaughter. Every fight ends in death. Fire and sword do the work. This is what happens while the arena is supposedly empty. "But one of them was a bandit," someone says. "He killed a man." And what of it? Because he killed, he deserved to suffer this punishment. But what have you done, poor man, that you deserve to watch it? "Kill him! Whip him! Burn him! Why does he run on the blade so timidly? Why does he strike so feebly? Why does he die so unwillingly? Drive him with lashes into his wounds. Let them take blow for blow, bare chests facing the stroke." When there is an intermission in the show, they say, "Let men be slaughtered meanwhile, so nothing stops happening." Come now: do you not even understand that bad examples fall back on those who set them? Thank the immortal gods that you are teaching cruelty to someone who cannot learn it. A young mind, still tender and not yet firm in what is right, must be withdrawn from the people. It is easy to go over to the majority. A crowd unlike them could have shaken even Socrates, Cato, and Laelius out of their settled character. None of us, however carefully we cultivates ourselves, can withstand the shock of vices approaching with so great an escort. A single example of luxury or greed does harm. A companion devoted to pleasure weakens and softens us little by little. A rich neighbor stirs our covetousness. A slanderous associate rubs some of his rust onto us, however clean and sincere we may be. What, then, do you think happens to character when the whole world attacks it? You must either imitate the world or hate it. Both are to be avoided. Do not copy the bad because they are many; do not hate the many because they are unlike you. Withdraw into yourself as far as you can. Associate with people who will make you better, and welcome those whom you can make better. The process is mutual: people learn while they teach. There is no reason for vanity about your abilities to lure you into public display, making you want to recite or lecture before the crowd. I would be willing for you to do that if you had goods suited to such an audience. As things stand, not one of them can understand you. Perhaps one or two people will cross your path, but even they will have to be shaped and trained by you before they understand. "Then why did I learn all this?" you ask. Do not fear that you have wasted your effort, if you learned it for yourself. Still, so that I do not learn today only for myself, I will share with you three excellent sayings that have come to me, all pointing in roughly the same direction. This letter will pay one of them as my debt; accept the other two as an advance. Democritus says, "One person is as much to me as a crowd, and a crowd as much as one person." Another saying is noble too, whoever said it, for the author is disputed. When someone asked why he devoted such care to an art that would reach very few, he answered, "A few are enough for me; one is enough; none is enough." The third, excellent as well, is from Epicurus, written to one of his companions in study: "I write this not for the many, but for you; each of us is a large enough audience for the other." Store these sayings in your mind, Lucilius, so that you may despise the pleasure that comes from the approval of many people. Many praise you. But do you have any reason to be pleased with yourself if you are the kind of person the many can understand? Let your good qualities face inward. Farewell.

Do you ask me what you should regard as especially to be avoided? I say, crowds; for as yet you cannot trust yourself to them with safety. I shall admit my own weakness, at any rate; for I never bring back home the same character that I took abroad with me. Something of that which I have forced to be calm within me is disturbed; some of the foes that I have routed return again. Just as the sick man, who has been weak for a long time, is in such a condition that he cannot be taken out of the house without suffering a relapse, so we ourselves are affected when our souls are recovering from a lingering disease. To consort with the crowd is harmful; there is no person who does not make some vice attractive to us, or stamp it upon us, or taint us unconsciously therewith. Certainly, the greater the mob with which we mingle, the greater the danger. But nothing is so damaging to good character as the habit of lounging at the games; for then it is that vice steals subtly upon one through the avenue of pleasure. What do you think I mean? I mean that I come home more greedy, more ambitious, more voluptuous, and even more cruel and inhuman,—because I have been among human beings. By chance I attended a mid-day exhibition, expecting some fun, wit, and relaxation,—an exhibition at which men’s eyes have respite from the slaughter of their fellow-men. But it was quite the reverse. The previous combats were the essence of compassion; but now all the trifling is put aside and it is pure murder. The men have no defensive armour. They are exposed to blows at all points, and no one ever strikes in vain. Many persons prefer this programme to the usual pairs and to the bouts “by request.” Of course they do; there is no helmet or shield to deflect the weapon. What is the need of defensive armour, or of skill? All these mean delaying death. In the morning they throw men to the lions and the bears; at noon, they throw them to the spectators. The spectators demand that the slayer shall face the man who is to slay him in his turn; and they always reserve the latest conqueror for another butchering. The outcome of every fight is death, and the means are fire and sword. This sort of thing goes on while the arena is empty. You may retort: “But he was a highway robber; he killed a man!” And what of it? Granted that, as a murderer, he deserved this punishment, what crime have you committed, poor fellow, that you should deserve to sit and see this show? In the morning they cried “Kill him! Lash him! Burn him! Why does he meet the sword in so cowardly a way? Why does he strike so feebly? Why doesn’t he die game? Whip him to meet his wounds! Let them receive blow for blow, with chests bare and exposed to the stroke!” And when the games stop for the intermission, they announce: “A little throat-cutting in the meantime, so that there may still be something going on!” Come now; do you not understand even this truth, that a bad example reacts on the agent? Thank the immortal gods that you are teaching cruelty to a person who cannot learn to be cruel. The young character, which cannot hold fast to righteousness, must be rescued from the mob; it is too easy to side with the majority. Even Socrates, Cato, and Laelius might have been shaken in their moral strength by a crowd that was unlike them; so true it is that none of us, no matter how much he cultivates his abilities, can withstand the shock of faults that approach, as it were, with so great a retinue. Much harm is done by a single case of indulgence or greed; the familiar friend, if he be luxurious, weakens and softens us imperceptibly; the neighbour, if he be rich, rouses our covetousness; the companion, if he be slanderous, rubs off some of his rust upon us, even though we be spotless and sincere. What then do you think the effect will be on character, when the world at large assaults it! You must either imitate or loathe the world. But both courses are to be avoided; you should not copy the bad simply because they are many, nor should you hate the many because they are unlike you. Withdraw into yourself, as far as you can. Associate with those who will make a better man of you. Welcome those whom you yourself can improve. The process is mutual; for men learn while they teach. There is no reason why pride in advertising your abilities should lure you into publicity, so that you should desire to recite or harangue before the general public. Of course I should be willing for you to do so if you had a stock-in-trade that suited such a mob; as it is, there is not a man of them who can understand you. One or two individuals will perhaps come in your way, but even these will have to be moulded and trained by you so that they will understand you. You may say: “For what purpose did I learn all these things?” But you need not fear that you have wasted your efforts; it was for yourself that you learned them. In order, however, that I may not to-day have learned exclusively for myself, I shall share with you three excellent sayings, of the same general purport, which have come to my attention. This letter will give you one of them as payment of my debt; the other two you may accept as a contribution in advance. Democritus says: “One man means as much to me as a multitude, and a multitude only as much as one man.” The following also was nobly spoken by someone or other, for it is doubtful who the author was; they asked him what was the object of all this study applied to an art that would reach but very few. He replied: “I am content with few, content with one, content with none at all.” The third saying—and a noteworthy one, too—is by Epicurus, written to one of the partners of his studies: “I write this not for the many, but for you; each of us is enough of an audience for the other.” Lay these words to heart, Lucilius, that you may scorn the pleasure which comes from the applause of the majority. Many men praise you; but have you any reason for being pleased with yourself, if you are a person whom the many can understand? Your good qualities should face inwards. Farewell.

[1] Quid tibi vitandum praecipue existimes quaeris? turbam. Nondum illi tuto committeris. Ego certe confitebor imbecillitatem meam: numquam mores quos extuli refero; aliquid ex eo quod composui turbatur, aliquid ex iis quae fugavi redit. Quod aegris evenit quos longa imbecillitas usque eo affecit ut nusquam sine offensa proferantur, hoc accidit nobis quorum animi ex longo morbo reficiuntur. [2] Inimica est multorum conversatio: nemo non aliquod nobis vitium aut commendat aut imprimit aut nescientibus allinit. Utique quo maior est populus cui miscemur, hoc periculi plus est. Nihil vero tam damnosum bonis moribus quam in aliquo spectaculo desidere; tunc enim per voluptatem facilius vitia subrepunt. [3] Quid me existimas dicere? avarior redeo, ambitiosior, luxuriosior? immo vero crudelior et inhumanior, quia inter homines fui. Casu in meridianum spectaculum incidi, lusus exspectans et sales et aliquid laxamenti quo hominum oculi ab humano cruore acquiescant. Contra est: quidquid ante pugnatum est misericordia fuit; nunc omissis nugis mera homicidia sunt. Nihil habent quo tegantur; ad ictum totis corporibus ex positi numquam frustra manum mittunt. [4] Hoc plerique ordinariis paribus et postulaticiis praeferunt. Quidni praeferant? non galea, non scuto repellitur ferrum. Quo munimenta? quo artes? omnia ista mortis morae sunt. Mane leonibus et ursis homines, meridie spectatoribus suis obiciuntur. Interfectores interfecturis iubent obici et victorem in aliam detinent caedem; exitus pugnantium mors est. Ferro et igne res geritur. [5] Haec fiunt dum vacat harena. 'Sed latrocinium fecit aliquis, occidit hominem.' Quid ergo? quia occidit, ille meruit ut hoc pateretur: tu quid meruisti miser ut hoc spectes? 'Occide, verbera, ure! Quare tam timide incurrit in ferrum? quare parum audacter occidit? quare parum libenter moritur? Plagis agatur in vulnera, mutuos ictus nudis et obviis pectoribus excipiant.' Intermissum est spectaculum: 'interim iugulentur homines, ne nihil agatur'. Age, ne hoc quidem intellegitis, mala exempla in eos redundare qui faciunt? Agite dis immortalibus gratias quod eum docetis esse crudelem qui non potest discere. [6] Subducendus populo est tener animus et parum tenax recti: facile transitur ad plures. Socrati et Catoni et Laelio excutere morem suum dissimilis multitudo potuisset: adeo nemo nostrum, qui cum maxime concinnamus ingenium, ferre impetum vitiorum tam magno comitatu venientium potest. [7] Unum exemplum luxuriae aut avaritiae multum mali facit: convictor delicatus paulatim enervat et mollit, vicinus dives cupiditatem irritat, malignus comes quamvis candido et simplici rubiginem suam affricuit: quid tu accidere his moribus credis in quos publice factus est impetus? [8] Necesse est aut imiteris aut oderis. Utrumque autem devitandum est: neve similis malis fias, quia multi sunt, neve inimicus multis, quia dissimiles sunt. Recede in te ipse quantum potes; cum his versare qui te meliorem facturi sunt, illos admitte quos tu potes facere meliores. Mutuo ista fiunt, et homines dum docent discunt. [9] Non est quod te gloria publicandi ingenii producat in medium, ut recitare istis velis aut disputare; quod facere te vellem, si haberes isti populo idoneam mercem: nemo est qui intellegere te possit. Aliquis fortasse, unus aut alter incidet, et hic ipse formandus tibi erit instituendusque ad intellectum tui. 'Cui ergo ista didici?' Non est quod timeas ne operam perdideris, si tibi didicisti. [10] Sed ne soli mihi hodie didicerim, communicabo tecum quae occurrunt mihi egregie dicta circa eundem fere sensum tria, ex quibus unum haec epistula in debitum solvet, duo in antecessum accipe. Democritus ait, 'unus mihi pro populo est, et populus pro uno'. [11] Bene et ille, quisquis fuit - ambigitur enim de auctore -, cum quaereretur ab illo quo tanta diligentia artis spectaret ad paucissimos perventurae, 'satis sunt' inquit 'mihi pauci, satis est unus, satis est nullus'. Egregie hoc tertium Epicurus, cum uni ex consortibus studiorum suorum scriberet: 'haec' inquit 'ego non multis, sed tibi; satis enim magnum alter alteri theatrum sumus'. [12] Ista, mi Lucili, condenda in animum sunt, ut contemnas voluptatem ex plurium assensione venientem. Multi te laudant: ecquid habes cur placeas tibi, si is es quem intellegant multi ? introrsus bona tua spectent. Vale.