Letter 76

[1] You threaten me with your hostility if I leave you ignorant of anything I do from day to day. See how openly I live with you: I will confide this too. I am attending the lectures of a philosopher; this is now the fifth day I have been going to his school, listening to him lecture from the eighth hour [around two in the afternoon]. "A fine age for it," you say. Why not a fine age? What could be more foolish than to refuse to learn simply because you have not learned for a long time? [2] "What then? Am I to do the same as the dandies and the young men?" It goes well enough with me if this is the only thing that disgraces my old age: this school admits men of every age. "Are we to grow old for this, to follow the young?" An old man, I will go to the theater and have myself carried to the circus, and no pair of gladiators will fight it out without me: am I to blush to go to a philosopher? [3] One must keep learning as long as one is ignorant; or, if we trust the proverb, as long as one lives. And nothing suits this case better: one must keep learning how to live as long as one lives. Yet there I also teach something. You ask what I teach? That even an old man must keep learning. [4] But I feel ashamed of the human race every time I enter the school. As you know, on the way to Metronax's house one must pass right by the theater of the Neapolitans. That place is packed, and people judge with enormous zeal who is a good piper; even the Greek trumpeter and the herald draw a crowd. But in that other place, where the good man is sought, where one learns to be a good man, very few sit, and these few seem to most people to have no worthwhile business to occupy them; they are called fools and idlers. May that mockery fall to me: the insults of the ignorant must be heard with an even mind, and the man advancing toward what is honorable must despise contempt itself. [5] Press on, Lucilius, and hurry, so that what happened to me does not happen to you, that you learn as an old man; indeed, hurry all the more for this reason, since you have now taken up something you can scarcely master fully even as an old man. "How much," you ask, "shall I gain?" As much as you attempt. [6] What are you waiting for? Wisdom has come to no one by chance. Money will come of its own accord, honor will be offered, influence and rank will perhaps be heaped upon you: virtue [virtus] will not fall upon you by chance. It is not recognized by light effort or small toil; but it is worth laboring, when one is about to lay hold of all goods at a single stroke. For there is one good only, that which is honorable: in those other things which please popular opinion you will find nothing true, nothing certain. [7] But I will say why the one good is that which is honorable, since you judge that I followed the matter through too little in my earlier letter, and think this point was praised to you rather than proved; and I will compress into a narrow space what has been said. [8] Everything consists in its own particular good. Fruitfulness commends the vine, and the flavor of its wine; speed commends the stag. In beasts of burden you ask how strong of back they are, since their one use is to carry a load. In a dog, keenness of scent is foremost, if it must track wild beasts; speed, if it must run them down; boldness, if it must bite and attack: in each thing that quality ought to be best for which it is born, by which it is appraised. [9] In a man, what is best? Reason [ratio]: by this he goes before the animals and follows after the gods. Perfected reason, therefore, is his proper good; the rest he shares in common with animals and even with plants. He is strong: so are lions. He is handsome: so are peacocks. He is swift: so are horses. I do not say that in all these he is surpassed; I am not asking what greatest thing he has in himself, but what is his own. He has a body: so do trees. He has impulse and voluntary motion: so do beasts and worms. He has a voice: but how much clearer is the dogs', how much sharper the eagles', how much deeper the bulls', how much sweeter and more nimble the nightingale's? [10] What is proper to man? Reason: this, when right and complete, has filled out man's happiness. Therefore, if everything is praiseworthy when it has perfected its own good and has reached the end of its nature, and if man's own good is reason, then if he has perfected this, he is praiseworthy and has touched the end of his nature. This perfected reason is called virtue, and it is the same as the honorable. [11] And so that one thing is the good in man which alone is man's own; for now we are not asking what is good, but what is man's good. If man has nothing other than reason, this will be his one good, but one to be weighed against all the rest. If anyone is bad, I think he will be disapproved; if good, I think he will be approved. That, therefore, is the first and only thing in man by which he is both approved and disapproved. [12] You do not doubt whether this is a good; you doubt whether it is the only good. If someone has everything else, health, riches, many ancestral busts, a crowded entrance hall, but is admittedly bad, you will disapprove of him; likewise, if someone has none of the things I have listed, lacks money, a throng of clients, noble birth and a line of grandfathers and great-grandfathers, but is admittedly good, you will approve of him. Therefore this one thing is man's good: the man who has it is to be praised even if he is destitute of other things, while the man who does not have it is condemned and rejected amid an abundance of all other things. [13] The same condition that holds for things holds for men: a ship is called good not because it is painted with costly colors, nor because it has a prow of silver or gold, nor because its tutelary image is carved in ivory, nor because it is weighed down with treasuries and royal wealth, but because it is steady and firm, tight with joints that keep out the water, solid enough to bear the sea's assault, obedient to the helm, swift and not feeling the wind; [14] you will call a sword good not because its belt is gilded, nor because its scabbard is set with gems, but because its edge is fine for cutting and its point will break through any defense. With a measuring rule, the question is not how beautiful it is but how straight it is: each thing is praised for that to which it is referred, which is its own property. [15] So in a man too it is of no relevance how much he plows, how much he lends at interest, by how many he is greeted, how costly the couch on which he reclines, how transparent the cup from which he drinks, but how good he is. And he is good if his reason is unfolded and right and adapted to the will of his own nature. [16] This is called virtue; this is the honorable, and man's one and only good. For since reason alone perfects man, reason alone makes him perfectly happy [beatus]; and this is the one good by which alone he is made happy. We do say that those things too are goods which proceed from virtue and are drawn together by it, that is, all its works; but virtue itself is the one good for this reason, that there is no good without it. [17] If every good is in the mind [animus], then whatever strengthens, exalts, and enlarges it is a good; and virtue makes the mind stronger and loftier and ampler. For the other things, which excite our desires, also depress the mind and shake it, and while they seem to lift it up, they inflate it and delude it with much emptiness. Therefore that is the one good by which the mind is made better. [18] All the actions of one's whole life are regulated with regard to the honorable and the base; toward these the principle of doing and not doing is directed. I will say what this means: a good man will do what he thinks he can do honorably, even if it is laborious; he will do it even if it is costly; he will do it even if it is dangerous; conversely, what is base he will not do, even if it brings money, even if it brings pleasure, even if it brings power; from the honorable he will be deterred by nothing, to the base he will be enticed by nothing. [19] Therefore, if he is bound to follow the honorable in every case, and to avoid the base in every case, and in every act of life to look to these two things, regarding no other thing as good than the honorable and no other thing as evil than the base; if virtue alone is uncorrupted in him and alone keeps its course steady, then virtue is the one good, to which it can no longer happen that it ceases to be good. It has escaped the danger of change: folly may creep up toward wisdom, but wisdom does not slide back into folly. [20] I said, if you happen to remember, that many men have trampled underfoot, in an unconsidered impulse, both the things the crowd craves and the things it dreads: a man has been found to throw away his riches, a man to put his hand into the flames, one whose laughter the torturer could not interrupt, one who shed no tear at the funeral of his children, one who met death without trembling; for love, anger, and desire have demanded dangers for themselves. If a brief obstinacy of mind, roused by some goad, can do this, how much more can virtue, which is strong not by impulse or suddenly but evenly, whose strength is everlasting? [21] It follows that the things often despised by the unthinking, and always despised by the wise, are neither goods nor evils. The one good, therefore, is virtue itself, which marches proudly between this Fortune and that, with great contempt for both. [22] If you accept this opinion, that anything is good besides the honorable, every virtue will labor; for none can be maintained if it looks to anything outside itself. And if it does so, it is at war with reason, from which the virtues arise, and with truth, which does not exist without reason; and whatever opinion is at war with truth is false. [23] You must grant that a good man has the highest piety toward the gods. And so he will bear with an even mind whatever happens to him; for he will know that it has happened by the divine law by which all things proceed. And if this is so, his one good will be the honorable; for it lies in this both to obey the gods and not to flare up at sudden events nor to bewail his lot, but to receive fate patiently and do what is commanded. [24] If there is any other good than the honorable, then a greed for life will pursue us, a greed for the things that furnish life, which is intolerable, boundless, wandering. Therefore the honorable alone is good, because it has a measure. [25] We said that the life of men would be happier than that of the gods, if those things are goods of which the gods have no use, such as money and honors. Add now this: if souls, once released from bodies, indeed endure, a happier state remains for them than while they are caught up in the body. And yet, if those things are goods which we use through our bodies, things will be worse for souls once set free, which is contrary to belief: that souls are happier when shut up and besieged than when freed and given to the universe. [26] This too I had said: if the things that come to man as much as to dumb animals are goods, then dumb animals too will lead a happy life; which can in no way come to pass. All things must be endured for the honorable; which would not have to be done if there were any other good than the honorable. Although I had pursued these matters more broadly in my earlier letter, I have tightened them and run through them briefly. [27] But such an opinion will never seem true to you unless you lift up your mind and question yourself: if circumstances demanded that you die for your country and buy the safety of all your fellow citizens with your own, whether you would offer your neck not only patiently but even gladly. If you would do this, there is no other good; for you give up everything in order to have this. See how great is the force of the honorable: you will die for the commonwealth, even if you are to do this the moment you know you must. [28] Sometimes from a most beautiful deed a great joy is taken even in a small and brief span of time; and although no fruit of the completed work reaches the man once dead and removed from human affairs, yet the very contemplation of the work to come is a delight, and the brave and just man, when he has set before himself the prizes of his death, the freedom of his country, the safety of all those for whom he pays out his life, is in the highest pleasure and enjoys his own peril. [29] But even that man who is robbed of this joy too, the joy that the handling of a great and final work supplies, will leap down into death without hesitation, content to act rightly and dutifully. Set before him even now many things to dissuade him, say: "A swift oblivion will follow your deed, and little gratitude in the esteem of the citizens." He will answer you: "All these things are outside my work; I contemplate the work itself; I know this is honorable; therefore wherever it leads and calls, I come." [30] This, then, is the one good, which not only the perfected mind but also the noble and well-born nature perceives: the rest are trivial, changeable. And so they are possessed with anxiety; even if by Fortune's favor they have been heaped into one place, they lie heavy upon their owners and always press them down, and sometimes even mock them. [31] None of those whom you see clad in purple is happy, no more than those to whom a play assigns a scepter and a cloak on the stage: when before the watching people they have walked tall in their high boots, the moment they go off, they are unshod and return to their own height. None of those whom riches and honors set on a higher pinnacle is great. Why then does he seem great? Because you measure him together with his pedestal. A dwarf is not great, though he stands on a mountain; a colossus will keep its greatness even if it stands in a well. [32] We labor under this error, in this way we are deceived, because we appraise no one for what he is, but add to him the things with which he is adorned. Yet when you want to make a true appraisal of a man and to know what sort he is, inspect him naked; let him lay aside his patrimony, lay aside his honors and the other lies of Fortune, let him strip off his very body: look upon his mind, of what quality and how great it is, whether it is great with another's greatness or its own. [33] If with steady eyes he sees swords flashing and knows that it makes no difference to him whether the breath leaves through his mouth or through his throat, call him happy; if, when bodily torments are threatened against him, both those that come by chance and those that come through the injustice of someone more powerful, if he hears of chains and exiles and the empty terrors of human minds untroubled, and says: [I have foreseen it all; nothing comes upon me with a new and unexpected face.] You threaten me with these things today: I have always threatened them to myself, and have prepared myself, a man, for what befalls men. [34] The blow of an evil thought through beforehand comes softly. But to fools, and to those who trust in Fortune, every face of things seems new and unforeseen; and a great part of the evil, for the inexperienced, lies in its novelty. So that you may know this, the things they had thought harsh they endure more bravely once they have grown used to them. [35] Therefore the wise man accustoms himself to coming evils, and the things others make light by long enduring, he makes light by long thinking about them. We sometimes hear the voices of the inexperienced saying, "I knew this was left in store for me": the wise man knows that all things are in store for him; whatever has happened, he says, "I knew it." Farewell.

You have been threatening me with your enmity, if I do not keep you informed about all my daily actions. But see, now, upon what frank terms you and I live: for I shall confide even the following fact to your ears. I have been hearing the lectures of a philosopher; four days have already passed since I have been attending his school and listening to the harangue, which begins at two o’clock. “A fine time of life for that!” you say. Yes, fine indeed! Now what is more foolish than refusing to learn, simply because one has not been learning for a long time? “What do you mean? Must I follow the fashion set by the fops and youngsters?” But I am pretty well off if this is the only thing that discredits my declining years. Men of all ages are admitted to this class-room. You retort: “Do we grow old merely in order to tag after the youngsters?” But if I, an old man, go to the theatre, and am carried to the races, and allow no duel in the arena to be fought to a finish without my presence, shall I blush to attend a philosopher’s lecture? You should keep learning as long as you are ignorant,—even to the end of your life, if there is anything in the proverb. And the proverb suits the present case as well as any: “As long as you live, keep learning how to live.” For all that, there is also something which I can teach in that school. You ask, do you, what I can teach? That even an old man should keep learning. But I am ashamed of mankind, as often as I enter the lecture-hall. On my way to the house of Metronax I am compelled to go, as you know, right past the Neapolitan Theatre. The building is jammed; men are deciding, with tremendous zeal, who is entitled to be called a good flute-player; even the Greek piper and the herald draw their crowds. But in the other place, where the question discussed is: “What is a good man?” and the lesson which we learn is “How to be a good man,” very few are in attendance, and the majority think that even these few are engaged in no good business; they have the name of being empty-headed idlers. I hope I may be blessed with that kind of mockery; for one should listen in an unruffled spirit to the railings of the ignorant; when one is marching toward the goal of honour, one should scorn scorn itself. Proceed, then, Lucilius, and hasten, lest you yourself be compelled to learn in your old age, as is the case with me. Nay, you must hasten all the more, because for a long time you have not approached the subject, which is one that you can scarcely learn thoroughly when you are old. “How much progress shall I make?” you ask. Just as much as you try to make. Why do you wait? Wisdom comes haphazard to no man. Money will come of its own accord; titles will be given to you; influence and authority will perhaps be thrust upon you; but virtue will not fall upon you by chance. Neither is knowledge thereof to be won by light effort or small toil; but toiling is worth while when one is about to win all goods at a single stroke. For there is but a single good,—namely, that which is honourable; in all those other things of which the general opinion approves, you will find no truth or certainty. Why it is, however, that there is but one good, namely, that which is honourable, I shall now tell you, inasmuch as you judge that in my earlier letter I did not carry the discussion far enough, and think that this theory was commended to you rather than proved. I shall also compress the remarks of other authors into narrow compass. Everything is estimated by the standard of its own good. The vine is valued for its productiveness and the flavour of its wine, the stag for his speed. We ask, with regard to beasts of burden, how sturdy of back they are; for their only use is to bear burdens. If a dog is to find the trail of a wild beast, keenness of scent is of first importance; if to catch his quarry, swiftness of foot; if to attack and harry it, courage. In each thing that quality should be best for which the thing is brought into being and by which it is judged. And what quality is best in man? It is reason; by virtue of reason he surpasses the animals, and is surpassed only by the gods. Perfect reason is therefore the good peculiar to man; all other qualities he shares in some degree with animals and plants. Man is strong; so is the lion. Man is comely; so is the peacock. Man is swift; so is the horse. I do not say that man is surpassed in all these qualities. I am not seeking to find that which is greatest in him, but that which is peculiarly his own. Man has body; so also have trees. Man has the power to act and to move at will; so have beasts and worms. Man has a voice; but how much louder is the voice of the dog, how much shriller that of the eagle, how much deeper that of the bull, how much sweeter and more melodious that of the nightingale! What then is peculiar to man? Reason. When this is right and has reached perfection, man’s felicity is complete. Hence, if everything is praiseworthy and has arrived at the end intended by its nature, when it has brought its peculiar good to perfection, and if man’s peculiar good is reason; then, if a man has brought his reason to perfection, he is praiseworthy and has reached the end suited to his nature. This perfect reason is called virtue, and is likewise that which is honourable. Hence that in man is alone a good which alone belongs to man. For we are not now seeking to discover what is a good, but what good is man’s. And if there is no other attribute which belongs peculiarly to man except reason, then reason will be his one peculiar good, but a good that is worth all the rest put together. If any man is bad, he will, I suppose, be regarded with disapproval; if good, I suppose he will be regarded with approval. Therefore, that attribute of man whereby he is approved or disapproved is his chief and only good. You do not doubt whether this is a good; you merely doubt whether it is the sole good. If a man possess all other things, such as health, riches, pedigree, a crowded reception-hall, but is confessedly bad, you will disapprove of him. Likewise, if a man possess none of the things which I have mentioned, and lacks money, or an escort of clients, or rank and a line of grandfathers and great-grandfathers, but is confessedly good, you will approve of him. Hence, this is man’s one peculiar good, and the possessor of it is to be praised even if he lacks other things; but he who does not possess it, though he possess everything else in abundance, is condemned and rejected. The same thing holds good regarding men as regarding things. A ship is said to be good not when it is decorated with costly colours, nor when its prow is covered with silver or gold or its figure-head embossed in ivory, nor when it is laden with the imperial revenues or with the wealth of kings, but when it is steady and staunch and taut, with seams that keep out the water, stout enough to endure the buffeting of the waves’ obedient to its helm, swift and caring naught for the winds. You will speak of a sword as good, not when its sword-belt is of gold, or its scabbard studded with gems, but when its edge is fine for cutting and its point will pierce any armour. Take the carpenter’s rule: we do not ask how beautiful it is, but how straight it is. Each thing is praised in regard to that attribute which is taken as its standard, in regard to that which is its peculiar quality. Therefore in the case of man also, it is not pertinent to the question to know how many acres he ploughs, how much money he has out at interest, how many callers attend his receptions, how costly is the couch on which he lies, how transparent are the cups from which he drinks, but how good he is. He is good, however, if his reason is well-ordered and right and adapted to that which his nature has willed. It is this that is called virtue; this is what we mean by “honourable”; it is man’s unique good. For since reason alone brings man to perfection, reason alone, when perfected, makes man happy. This, moreover, is man’s only good, the only means by which he is made happy. We do indeed say that those things also are goods which are furthered and brought together by virtue,—that is, all the works of virtue; but virtue itself is for this reason the only good, because there is no good without virtue. If every good is in the soul, then whatever strengthens, uplifts, and enlarges the soul, is a good; virtue, however, does make the soul stronger, loftier, and larger. For all other things, which arouse our desires, depress the soul and weaken it, and when we think that they are uplifting the soul, they are merely puffing it up and cheating it with much emptiness. Therefore, that alone is good which will make the soul better. All the actions of life, taken as a whole, are controlled by the consideration of what is honourable or base; it is with reference to these two things that our reason is governed in doing or not doing a particular thing. I shall explain what I mean: A good man will do what he thinks it will be honourable for him to do, even if it involves toil; he will do it even if it involves harm to him; he will do it even if it involves peril; again, he will not do that which will be base, even if it brings him money, or pleasure, or power. Nothing will deter him from that which is honourable, and nothing will tempt him into baseness. Therefore, if he is determined invariably to follow that which is honourable, invariably to avoid baseness, and in every act of his life to have regard for these two things, deeming nothing else good except that which is honourable, and nothing else bad except that which is base; if virtue alone is unperverted in him and by itself keeps its even course, then virtue is that man’s only good, and nothing can thenceforth happen to it which may make it anything else than good. It has escaped all risk of change; folly may creep upwards towards wisdom, but wisdom never slips back into folly. You may perhaps remember my saying that the things which have been generally desired and feared have been trampled down by many a man in moments of sudden passion. There have been found men who would place their hands in the flames, men whose smiles could not be stopped by the torturer, men who would shed not a tear at the funeral of their children, men who would meet death unflinchingly. It is love, for example, anger, lust, which have challenged dangers. If a momentary stubbornness can accomplish all this when roused by some goad that pricks the spirit, how much more can be accomplished by virtue, which does not act impulsively or suddenly, but uniformly and with a strength that is lasting! It follows that the things which are often scorned by the men who are moved with a sudden passion, and are always scorned by the wise, are neither goods nor evils. Virtue itself is therefore the only good; she marches proudly between the two extremes of fortune, with great scorn for both. If, however, you accept the view that there is anything good besides that which is honourable, all the virtues will suffer. For it will never be possible for any virtue to be won and held, if there is anything outside itself which virtue must take into consideration. If there is any such thing, then it is at variance with reason, from which the virtues spring, and with truth also, which cannot exist without reason. Any opinion, however, which is at variance with truth, is wrong. A good man, you will admit, must have the highest sense of duty toward the gods. Hence he will endure with an unruffled spirit whatever happens to him; for he will know that it has happened as a result of the divine law, by which the whole creation moves. This being so, there will be for him one good, and only one, namely, that which is honourable; for one of its dictates is that we shall obey the gods and not blaze forth in anger at sudden misfortunes or deplore our lot, but rather patiently accept fate and obey its commands. If anything except the honourable is good, we shall be hounded by greed for life, and by greed for the things which provide life with its furnishings,—an intolerable state, subject to no limits, unstable. The only good, therefore, is that which is honourable, that which is subject to bounds. I have declared that man’s life would be more blest than that of the gods, if those things which the gods do not enjoy are goods,—such as money and offices of dignity. There is this further consideration: if only it is true that our souls, when released from the body, still abide, a happier condition is in store for them than is theirs while they dwell in the body. And yet, if those things are goods which we make use of for our bodies’ sake, our souls will be worse off when set free; and that is contrary to our belief, to say that the soul is happier when it is cabined and confined than when it is free and has betaken itself to the universe. I also said that if those things which dumb animals possess equally with man are goods, then dumb animals also will lead a happy life; which is of course impossible. One must endure all things in defence of that which is honourable; but this would not be necessary if there existed any other good besides that which is honourable. Although this question was discussed by me pretty extensively in a previous letter, I have discussed it summarily and briefly run through the argument. But an opinion of this kind will never seem true to you unless you exalt your mind and ask yourself whether, at the call of duty, you would be willing to die for your country, and buy the safety of all your fellow-citizens at the price of your own; whether you would offer your neck not only with patience, but also with gladness. If you would do this, there is no other good in your eyes. For you are giving up everything in order to acquire this good. Consider how great is the power of that which is honourable: you will die for your country, even at a moment’s notice, when you know that you ought to do so. Sometimes, as a result of noble conduct, one wins great joy even in a very short and fleeting space of time; and though none of the fruits of a deed that has been done will accrue to the doer after he is dead and removed from the sphere of human affairs, yet the mere contemplation of a deed that is to be done is a delight, and the brave and upright man, picturing to himself the guerdons of his death,—guerdons such as the freedom of his country and the deliverance of all those for whom he is paying out his life,—partakes of the greatest pleasure and enjoys the fruit of his own peril. But that man also who is deprived of this joy, the joy which is afforded by the contemplation of some last noble effort, will leap to his death without a moment’s hesitation, content to act rightly and dutifully. Moreover, you may confront him with many discouragements; you may say: “Your deed will speedily be forgotten,” or “Your fellow-citizens will offer you scant thanks.” He will answer: “All these matters lie outside my task. My thoughts are on the deed itself. I know that this is honourable. Therefore, whithersoever I am led and summoned by honour, I will go.” This, therefore, is the only good, and not only is every soul that has reached perfection aware of it, but also every soul that is by nature noble and of right instincts; all other goods are trivial and mutable. For this reason we are harassed if we possess them. Even though, by the kindness of Fortune, they have been heaped together, they weigh heavily upon their owners, always pressing them down and sometimes crushing them. None of those whom you behold clad in purple is happy, any more than one of these actors upon whom the play bestows a sceptre and a cloak while on the stage; they strut their hour before a crowded house, with swelling port and buskined foot; but when once they make their exit the foot-gear is removed and they return to their proper stature. None of those who have been raised to a loftier height by riches and honours is really great. Why then does he seem great to you? It is because you are measuring the pedestal along with the man. A dwarf is not tall, though he stand upon a mountain-top; a colossal statue will still be tall, though you place it in a well. This is the error under which we labour; this is the reason why we are imposed upon: we value no man at what he is, but add to the man himself the trappings in which he is clothed. But when you wish to inquire into a man’s true worth, and to know what manner of man he is, look at him when he is naked; make him lay aside his inherited estate, his titles, and the other deceptions of fortune; let him even strip off his body. Consider his soul, its quality and its stature, and thus learn whether its greatness is borrowed, or its own. If a man can behold with unflinching eyes the flash of a sword, if he knows that it makes no difference to him whether his soul takes flight through his mouth or through a wound in his throat, you may call him happy; you may also call him happy if, when he is threatened with bodily torture, whether it be the result of accident or of the might of the stronger, he can without concern hear talk of chains, or of exile, or of all the idle fears that stir men’s minds, and can say: “O maiden, no new sudden form of toil Springs up before my eyes; within my soul I have forestalled and surveyed everything. To-day it is you who threaten me with these terrors; but I have always threatened myself with them, and have prepared myself as a man to meet man’s destiny.” If an evil has been pondered beforehand, the blow is gentle when it comes. To the fool, however, and to him who trusts in fortune, each event as it arrives “comes in a new and sudden form,” and a large part of evil, to the inexperienced, consists in its novelty. This is proved by the fact that men endure with greater courage, when they have once become accustomed to them, the things which they had at first regarded as hardships. Hence, the wise man accustoms himself to coming trouble, lightening by long reflection the evils which others lighten by long endurance. We sometimes hear the inexperienced say: “I knew that this was in store for me.” But the wise man knows that all things are in store for him. Whatever happens, he says: “I knew it.” Farewell.

[1] Inimicitias mihi denuntias si quicquam ex iis quae cotidie facio ignoraveris. Vide quam simpliciter tecum vivam: hoc quoque tibi committam. Philosophum audio et quidem quintum iam diem habeo ex quo in scholam eo et ab octava disputantem audio. 'Bona' inquis 'aetate.' Quidni bona? quid autem stultius est quam quia diu non didiceris non discere? [2] 'Quid ergo? idem faciam quod trossuli et iuvenes?' Bene mecum agitur si hoc unum senectutem meam dedecet: omnis aetatis homines haec schola admittit. 'In hoc senescamus, ut iuvenes sequamur?' In theatrum senex ibo et in circum deferar et nullum par sine me depugnabit: ad philosophum ire erubescam? [3] Tamdiu discendum est quamdiu nescias; si proverbio credimus, quamdiu vivas. Nec ulli hoc rei magis convenit quam huic: tamdiu discendum est quemadmodum vivas quamdiu vivas. Ego tamen illic aliquid et doceo. Quaeris quid doceam? etiam seni esse discendum. [4] Pudet autem me generis humani quotiens scholam intravi. Praeter ipsum theatrum Neapolitanorum, ut scis, transeundum est Metronactis petenti domum. Illud quidem fartum est, et ingenti studio quis sit pythaules bonus iudicatur; habet tubicen quoque Graecus et praeco concursum: at in illo loco in quo vir bonus quaeritur, in quo vir bonus discitur, paucissimi sedent, et hi plerisque videntur nihil boni negotii habere quod agant; inepti et inertes vocantur. Mihi contingat iste derisus: aequo animo audienda sunt inperitorum convicia et ad honesta vadenti contemnendus est ipse contemptus. [5] Perge, Lucili, et propera, ne tibi accidat quod mihi, ut senex discas; immo ideo magis propera quoniam id nunc adgressus es quod perdiscere vix senex possis. 'Quantum' inquis 'proficiam?' Quantum temptaveris. [6] Quid expectas? nulli sapere casu obtigit. Pecunia veniet ultro, honor offeretur, gratia ac dignitas fortasse ingerentur tibi: virtus in te non incidet. Ne levi quidem opera aut parvo labore cognoscitur; sed est tanti laborare omnia bona semel occupaturo. Unum est enim bonum quod honestum: in illis nihil invenies veri, nihil certi, quaecumque famae placent. [7] Quare autem unum sit bonum quod honestum dicam, quoniam parum me exsecutum priore epistula iudicas magisque hanc rem tibi laudatam quam probatam putas, et in artum quae dicta sunt contraham. [8] Omnia suo bono constant. Vitem fertilitas commendat et sapor vini, velocitas cervum; quam fortia dorso iumenta sint quaeris, quorum hic unus est usus, sarcinam ferre; in cane sagacitas prima est, si investigare debet feras, cursus, si consequi, audacia, si mordere et invadere: id in quoque optimum esse debet cui nascitur, quo censetur. [9] In homine quid est optimum? ratio: hac antecedit animalia, deos sequitur. Ratio ergo perfecta proprium bonum est, cetera illi cum animalibus satisque communia sunt. Valet: et leones. Formonsus est: et pavones. Velox est: et equi. Non dico, in his omnibus vincitur; non quaero quid in se maximum habeat, sed quid suum. Corpus habet: et arbores. Habet impetum ac motum voluntarium: et bestiae et vermes. Habet vocem: sed quanto clariorem canes, acutiorem aquilae, graviorem tauri, dulciorem mobilioremque luscinii? [10] Quid est in homine proprium? ratio: haec recta et consummata felicitatem hominis implevit. Ergo si omnis res, cum bonum suum perfecit, laudabilis est et ad finem naturae suae pervenit, homini autem suum bonum ratio est, si hanc perfecit laudabilis est et finem naturae suae tetigit. Haec ratio perfecta virtus vocatur eademque honestum est. [11] Id itaque unum bonum est in homine quod unum hominis est; nunc enim non quaerimus quid sit bonum, sed quid sit hominis bonum. Si nullum aliud est hominis quam ratio, haec erit unum eius bonum, sed pensandum cum omnibus. Si sit aliquis malus, puto inprobabitur; si bonus, puto probabitur. Id ergo in homine primum solumque est quo et probatur et inprobatur. [12] Non dubitas an hoc sit bonum; dubitas an solum bonum sit. Si quis omnia alia habeat, valetudinem, divitias, imagines multas, frequens atrium, sed malus ex confesso sit, inprobabis illum; item si quis nihil quidem eorum quae rettuli habeat, deficiatur pecunia, clientium turba, nobilitate et avorum proavorumque serie, sed ex confesso bonus sit, probabis illum. Ergo hoc unum est bonum hominis, quod qui habet, etiam si aliis destituitur, laudandus est, quod qui non habet in omnium aliorum copia damnatur ac reicitur. [13] Quae condicio rerum, eadem hominum est: navis bona dicitur non quae pretiosis coloribus picta est nec cui argenteum aut aureum rostrum est nec cuius tutela ebore caelata est nec quae fiscis atque opibus regiis pressa est, sed stabilis et firma et iuncturis aquam excludentibus spissa, ad ferendum incursum maris solida, gubernaculo parens, velox et non sentiens ventum; [14] gladium bonum dices non cui auratus est balteus nec cuius vagina gemmis distinguitur, sed cui et ad secandum subtilis acies est et mucro munimentum omne rupturus; regula non quam formosa, sed quam recta sit quaeritur: eo quidque laudatur cui comparatur, quod illi proprium est. [15] Ergo in homine quoque nihil ad rem pertinet quantum aret, quantum feneret, a quam multis salutetur, quam pretioso incumbat lecto, quam perlucido poculo bibat, sed quam bonus sit. Bonus autem est si ratio eius explicita et recta est et ad naturae suae voluntatem accommodata. [16] Haec vocatur virtus, hoc est honestum et unicum hominis bonum. Nam cum sola ratio perficiat hominem, sola ratio perfecte beatum facit; hoc autem unum bonum est quo uno beatus efficitur. Dicimus et illa bona esse quae a virtute profecta contractaque sunt, id est opera eius omnia; sed ideo unum ipsa bonum est quia nullum sine illa est. [17] Si omne in animo bonum est, quidquid illum confirmat, extollit, amplificat, bonum est; validiorem autem animum et excelsiorem et ampliorem facit virtus. Nam cetera quae cupiditates nostras inritant deprimunt quoque animum et labefaciunt et cum videntur attollere inflant ac multa vanitate deludunt. Ergo id unum bonum est quo melior animus efficitur. [18] Omnes actiones totius vitae honesti ac turpis respectu temperantur; ad haec faciendi et non faciendi ratio derigitur. Quid sit hoc dicam: vir bonus quod honeste se facturum putaverit faciet etiam [sine pecunia] si laboriosum erit, faciet etiam si damnosum erit, faciet etiam si periculosum erit; rursus quod turpe erit non faciet, etiam si pecuniam adferet, etiam si voluptatem, etiam si potentiam; ab honesto nulla re deterrebitur, ad turpia nulla invitabitur. [19] Ergo si honestum utique secuturus est, turpe utique vitaturus, et in omni actu vitae spectaturus haec duo, <nec aliud bonum quam honestum> nec aliud malum quam turpe, si una indepravata virtus est et sola permanet tenoris sui, unum est bonum virtus, cui iam accidere ne sit bonum non potest. Mutationis periculum effugit: stultitia ad sapientiam erepit, sapientia in stultitiam non revolvitur. [20] Dixi, si forte meministi, et concupita vulgo et formidata inconsulto impetu plerosque calcasse: inventus est qui divitias proiceret, inventus est qui flammis manum inponeret, cuius risum non interrumperet tortor, qui in funere liberorum lacrimam non mitteret, qui morti non trepidus occurreret; amor enim, ira, cupiditas pericula depoposcerunt. Quod potest brevis obstinatio animi, aliquo stimulo excitata, quanto magis virtus, quae non ex impetu nec subito sed aequaliter valet, cui perpetuum robur est? [21] Sequitur ut quae ab inconsultis saepe contemnuntur, a sapientibus semper, ea nec bona sint nec mala. Unum ergo bonum ipsa virtus est, quae inter hanc fortunam et illam superba incedit cum magno utriusque contemptu. [22] Si hanc opinionem receperis, aliquid bonum esse praeter honestum, nulla non virtus laborabit; nulla enim obtineri poterit si quicquam extra se respexerit. Quod si est, rationi repugnat, ex qua virtutes sunt, et veritati, quae sine ratione non est; quaecumque autem opinio veritati repugnat falsa est. [23] Virum bonum concedas necesse est summae pietatis erga deos esse. Itaque quidquid illi accidit aequo animo sustinebit; sciet enim id accidisse lege divina qua universa procedunt. Quod si est, unum illi bonum erit quod honestum; in hoc enim positum <est> et parere diis nec excandescere ad subita nec deplorare sortem suam, sed patienter excipere fatum et facere imperata. [24] Si ullum aliud est bonum quam honestum, sequetur nos aviditas vitae, aviditas rerum vitam instruentium, quod est intolerabile, infinitum, vagum. Solum ergo bonum est honestum, cui modus est. [25] Diximus futuram hominum feliciorem vitam quam deorum, si ea bona sunt quorum nullus diis usus est, tamquam pecunia, honores. Adice nunc quod, si modo solutae corporibus animae manent, felicior illis status restat quam est dum versantur in corpore. Atqui si ista bona sunt quibus per corpora utimur, emissis erit peius, quod contra fidem est, feliciores esse liberis et in universum datis clusas et obsessas. [26] Illud quoque dixeram, si bona sunt ea quae tam homini contingunt quam mutis animalibus, et muta animalia beatam vitam actura; quod fieri nullo modo potest. Omnia pro honesto patienda sunt; quod non erat faciendum si esset ullum aliud bonum quam honestum. Haec quamvis latius exsecutus essem priore epistula, constrinxi et breviter percucurri. [27] Numquam autem vera tibi opinio talis videbitur, nisi animum adleves et te ipse interroges, si res exegerit ut pro patria moriaris et salutem omnium civium tua redimas, an porrecturus sis cervicem non tantum patienter sed etiam libenter. Si hoc facturus es, nullum aliud bonum est; omnia enim relinquis ut hoc habeas. Vide quanta vis honesti sit: pro re publica morieris, etiam si statim facturus hoc eris cum scieris tibi esse faciendum. [28] Interdum ex re pulcherrima magnum gaudium etiam exiguo tempore ac brevi capitur, et quamvis fructus operis peracti nullus ad defunctum exemptumque rebus humanis pertineat, ipsa tamen contemplatio futuri operis iuvat, et vir fortis ac iustus, cum mortis suae pretia ante se posuit, libertatem patriae, salutem omnium pro quibus dependit animam, in summa voluptate est et periculo suo fruitur. [29] Sed ille quoque cui etiam hoc gaudium eripitur quod tractatio operis maximi et ultimi praestat, nihil cunctatus desiliet in mortem, facere recte pieque contentus. Oppone etiamnunc illi multa quae dehortentur, dic, 'factum tuum matura sequetur oblivio et parum grata existimatio civium'. Respondebit tibi, 'ista omnia extra opus meum sunt, ego ipsum contemplor; hoc esse honestum scio; itaque quocumque ducit ac vocat venio'. [30] Hoc ergo unum bonum est, quod non tantum perfectus animus sed generosus quoque et indolis bonae sentit: cetera levia sunt, mutabilia. Itaque sollicite possidentur; etiam si favente fortuna in unum congesta sunt, dominis suis incubant gravia et illos semper premunt, aliquando et inludunt. [31] Nemo ex istis quos purpuratos vides felix est, non magis quam ex illis quibus sceptrum et chlamydem in scaena fabulae adsignant: cum praesente populo lati incesserunt et coturnati, simul exierunt, excalceantur et ad staturam suam redeunt. Nemo istorum quos divitiae honoresque in altiore fastigio ponunt magnus est. Quare ergo magnus videtur? cum basi illum sua metiris. Non est magnus pumilio licet in monte constiterit; colossus magnitudinem suam servabit etiam si steterit in puteo. [32] Hoc laboramus errore, sic nobis inponitur, quod neminem aestimamus eo quod est, sed adicimus illi et ea quibus adornatus est. Atqui cum voles veram hominis aestimationem inire et scire qualis sit, nudum inspice; ponat patrimonium, ponat honores et alia fortunae mendacia, corpus ipsum exuat: animum intuere, qualis quantusque sit, alieno an suo magnus. [33] Si rectis oculis gladios micantes videt et si scit sua nihil interesse utrum anima per os an per iugulum exeat, beatum voca; si cum illi denuntiata sunt corporis tormenta et quae casu veniunt et quae potentioris iniuria, si vincula et exilia et vanas humanarum formidines mentium securus audit et dicit: Tu hodie ista denuntias: ego semper denuntiavi mihi et hominem paravi ad humana.' [34] Praecogitati mali mollis ictus venit. At stultis et fortunae credentibus omnis videtur nova rerum et inopinata facies; magna autem pars est apud inperitos mali novitas. Hoc ut scias, ea quae putaverant aspera fortius, cum adsuevere, patiuntur. [35] Ideo sapiens adsuescit futuris malis, et quae alii diu patiendo levia faciunt hic levia facit diu cogitando. Audimus aliquando voces inperitorum dicentium 'sciebam hoc mihi restare': sapiens scit sibi omnia restare; quidquid factum est, dicit 'sciebam'. Vale.