Seneca · a new plain-English translation from the Latin
Seneca to his dear Lucilius: greetings. I admit that a love of our own body is bred into us; I admit that we are its caretakers. I do not deny that it should be indulged; I deny that it should be served. A man who serves his body serves many masters — whoever fears too much on its behalf, whoever refers everything to it. We should conduct ourselves not as though we had to live for the body, but as though we could not live without it. Excessive love of it fills us with fears, burdens us with anxieties, exposes us to insults. To a man who cherishes his body too dearly, honor becomes worthless. Let the body's care be attended to most carefully, yet on the understanding that when reason demands it, or dignity, or good faith, it must be thrown into the fire. Nonetheless, as far as we are able, let us avoid inconveniences too, not just dangers, and withdraw ourselves into safety, constantly devising ways by which the things we fear may be driven off. These fears, unless I am mistaken, are of three kinds: we fear poverty, we fear illness, and we fear whatever comes to us through the violence of someone more powerful. Of all these, nothing shakes us more than what threatens from another's power, for it comes with great noise and commotion. The natural evils I have mentioned — poverty and illness — creep upon us in silence, striking no terror into eyes or ears; but the other kind of evil comes with an enormous show. It carries iron around it, and fires, and chains, and a mob of wild beasts to loose upon human flesh. Picture, here, the prison, the crosses, the racks, the hook, the stake driven straight through a man so that it emerges from his mouth, limbs torn apart by chariots driven in opposite directions, that tunic smeared and woven with material to feed the flames, and whatever else cruelty has invented besides these. It is no wonder, then, that the fear of this is greatest, since its variety is so great and its apparatus so terrible. For just as a torturer accomplishes more the more instruments of pain he displays — since men who would have held out against the pain itself are overcome by the mere sight — so too, among the things that subdue and tame our minds, those succeed best which have something to put on display. Those other afflictions are no less serious — I mean hunger and thirst and festering internal wounds and a fever that scorches the very vitals — but they lie hidden; they have nothing to brandish, nothing to display. These others have conquered, as great wars do, by their appearance and their preparation.
Let us take care, then, to give no offense. Sometimes it is the people we ought to fear; sometimes, if the constitution of the state is such that most business is transacted through the senate, it is the men in favor there; sometimes it is individuals to whom power over the people has been given. It is a great deal of work to have all of these as friends; it is enough not to have them as enemies. So the wise man will never provoke the anger of the powerful — indeed he will steer around it, just as a sailor steers around a storm. When you were sailing for Sicily, you crossed the strait. A reckless helmsman scorns the threats of the south wind — for it is this wind that roughens the Sicilian sea and gathers it into whirlpools — and makes not for the left-hand shore, but for the one nearer which Charybdis churns the waters. But the more cautious pilot asks those who know the region what the tides are like, what signs the clouds give, and keeps his course far from that region infamous for its whirlpools. The wise man does the same: he avoids power that could harm him, taking care above all not to seem to be avoiding it; for part of safety lies in not seeking it as an open policy, since a man condemns whatever he flees. We must therefore look carefully to how we can be safe from the crowd. First, let us desire nothing that others desire too — that is a recipe for a brawl. Next, let us possess nothing that could be snatched away to great profit for someone lying in wait; let there be as little plunder as possible on your person. No one comes after human blood for its own sake, or very few do; most calculate rather than hate. The robber lets the naked man pass; even on a road beset by bandits, the poor man has peace. Then, according to an old precept, there are three things to be avoided: hatred, envy, and contempt. How this is to be done, wisdom alone can show; for it is a difficult balance to strike, and there is a danger that fear of envy may tip us over into contempt, so that in not wanting to be trampled on we may seem able to be trampled on. Being feared has given many people reasons to fear. Let us withdraw from every side: being despised does no less harm than being envied. We must therefore take refuge in philosophy. This pursuit is, among the good — no, even among the moderately bad — something like a sacred badge of protection. For forensic eloquence, and anything else that stirs up the crowd, has adversaries; but philosophy, quiet and minding its own business, cannot be despised — it is honored by every trade, even by the worst of men. Wickedness will never grow so strong, the conspiracy against virtue will never be so complete, that the name of philosophy does not remain venerable and sacred. But philosophy itself must be handled calmly and modestly.
'Well then,' you say, 'does it seem to you that Marcus Cato philosophized modestly, when he tries to check civil war with a single vote? When he steps between the armies of raging leaders? When, with some men attacking Pompey and others Caesar, he provokes both at once?' One could debate whether the wise man ought to have taken up public affairs at that particular time. What do you want of me, Cato? By now it is no longer freedom that is at stake — that was thrown away long ago. The question is whether Caesar or Pompey will possess the republic. What business is that of yours? You have no part in it. A master is being chosen: what is it to you which one wins? The better man may win, but whoever wins cannot help being the worse for it. I have touched on Cato's last role; but not even the earlier years were such as would have admitted a wise man into that plundering of the republic. What did Cato do but shout, and utter cries that came to nothing, when at one moment he was lifted up and dragged out of the forum by the people's hands, spat upon and covered in filth, and at another led from the senate straight to prison?
But we shall see later whether the wise man ought to devote his efforts to public affairs. For now I call you to those Stoics who, shut out from the republic, withdrew to cultivate their own lives and to lay down laws for the human race without giving offense to anyone more powerful. The wise man will not throw public morals into confusion, nor will he turn the people's attention toward himself by the novelty of his way of life. 'Well then — will a man who follows this course always be safe?' I can no more promise you this than I can promise good health to a temperate man; and yet temperance does produce good health. A ship sometimes sinks even in harbor — but what do you suppose can happen out on the open sea? How much more exposed to danger would this man be if he were busy with many undertakings, striving after many things, a man for whom not even leisure is safe? The innocent do sometimes perish — who denies it? — but the guilty perish more often. It is the man struck down amid his own decorations whose skill has failed him. In the end, the wise man looks to the plan behind every action, not its outcome. The beginnings are in our power; fortune decides the results, and I grant fortune no verdict over me. 'But it will bring some trouble, some adversity.' A robber does not condemn a man simply by killing him.
Now you are holding out your hand for the daily dole. I shall fill it with a golden one — and since gold has been mentioned, let me tell you how you can enjoy the use and profit of it more agreeably. 'The man who enjoys riches most is the one who needs riches least.' 'Name the author,' you say. So you can see how generous we are, it is our policy to praise other men's work: this belongs to Epicurus, or to Metrodorus, or to someone from that workshop. And what does it matter who said it? He said it for everyone. Whoever is in need of riches is afraid for them; and no one enjoys a good that causes anxiety. He strives to add something more to them; while he is thinking about increase, he has forgotten how to use what he has. He takes accounts, wears out the marketplace, pores over his ledger: from being master, he turns into a mere steward. Farewell.