Letter 11

I have had a conversation with your friend. He has real promise. His first words showed how much spirit and intelligence he has, and how much progress he has already made. He gave us a sample of himself, and he will live up to it. He was not speaking from preparation; he was caught off guard. When he tried to collect himself, he could barely shake off his embarrassment, which is a good sign in a young man. The blush rose so deeply in him that I suspect it will stay with him even after he has strengthened his character, stripped away every vice, and become wise. No wisdom removes the natural traits of body or temperament. What is planted and inborn can be softened by training, but not conquered. Some of the most steady people break into a sweat when they face a crowd, as if they were exhausted or overheated. Some people's knees tremble when they rise to speak. I know others whose teeth chatter, whose tongues stumble, whose lips shake. Neither discipline nor experience ever drives these things out completely. Nature asserts her power and, through that small weakness, reminds even the strongest people that she is there. I know that blushing belongs among these habits. It comes suddenly even over very serious men. It shows up more often in the young, because their blood is warmer and their faces more tender; still, it touches veterans and old men too. Some people are never more dangerous than when they redden, as if all their shame had poured out of them. Sulla was most violent when blood rushed into his face. Nothing was softer than Pompey's expression; he blushed whenever he stood before a group, especially in public meetings. I remember Fabianus blushing when he was brought before the senate as a witness, and that modesty suited him wonderfully. This does not happen from weakness of mind, but from the strangeness of the situation. An inexperienced person may not be shaken, but he is often moved by the body's natural readiness for this response. Just as some people have rich blood, others have blood that is quick and mobile and rushes at once into the face. As I said, no wisdom banishes these things. If it did, wisdom would have nature itself under command. Whatever our birth and bodily constitution assign to us will cling to us, no matter how long and how carefully the mind has composed itself. We cannot forbid these responses any more than we can call them up at will. Stage actors, who imitate passions, who represent fear and trembling and grief, imitate modesty in this way: they lower their faces, soften their voices, and fix their eyes on the ground. But they cannot produce a blush. It cannot be prevented; it cannot be summoned. Wisdom promises no cure for such things and makes no progress against them. They are independent: they come unbidden and leave unbidden. Now my letter asks for its closing sentence. Take this one, and fix it in your mind, because it is useful and healthy: "We should choose some good person and keep him always before our eyes, so that we live as though he were watching us and do everything as though he saw us." This, my dear Lucilius, is Epicurus' advice. He has given us a guardian and tutor, and rightly so. A great many sins disappear if a witness stands near us when we are about to go wrong. The mind should have someone it respects, someone by whose authority it can make even its private inner room more sacred. Happy is the person who improves others not only when present, but even when remembered. Happy too is the person who can revere someone so deeply that the mere thought of him steadies and orders the self. Anyone who can revere another in this way will soon deserve reverence himself. Choose Cato, then; or, if Cato seems too severe, choose Laelius, whose spirit was gentler. Choose someone whose life, speech, and face - that visible image of the soul - have satisfied you. Keep him always before you as either guardian or model. We need someone against whom our character can measure itself. You cannot straighten what is crooked unless you use a ruler. Farewell.

Your friend and I have had a conversation. He is a man of ability; his very first words showed what spirit and understanding he possesses, and what progress he has already made. He gave me a foretaste, and he will not fail to answer thereto. For he spoke not from forethought, but was suddenly caught off his guard. When he tried to collect himself, he could scarcely banish that hue of modesty, which is a good sign in a young man; the blush that spread over his face seemed so to rise from the depths. And I feel sure that his habit of blushing will stay with him after he has strengthened his character, stripped off all his faults, and become wise. For by no wisdom can natural weaknesses of the body be removed. That which is implanted and inborn can be toned down by training, but not overcome. The steadiest speaker, when before the public, often breaks into a perspiration, as if he had wearied or over-heated himself; some tremble in the knees when they rise to speak; I know of some whose teeth chatter, whose tongues falter, whose lips quiver. Training and experience can never shake off this habit; nature exerts her own power and through such a weakness makes her presence known even to the strongest. I know that the blush, too, is a habit of this sort, spreading suddenly over the faces of the most dignified men. It is, indeed more prevalent in youth, because of the warmer blood and the sensitive countenance; nevertheless, both seasoned men and aged men are affected by it. Some are most dangerous when they redden, as if they were letting all their sense of shame escape. Sulla, when the blood mantled his cheeks, was in his fiercest mood. Pompey had the most sensitive cast of countenance; he always blushed in the presence of a gathering, and especially at a public assembly. Fabianus also, I remember, reddened when he appeared as a witness before the senate; and his embarrassment became him to a remarkable degree. Such a habit is not due to mental weakness, but to the novelty of a situation; an inexperienced person is not necessarily confused, but is usually affected, because he slips into this habit by natural tendency of the body. Just as certain men are full-blooded, so others are of a quick and mobile blood, that rushes to the face at once. As I remarked, Wisdom can never remove this habit; for if she could rub out all our faults, she would be mistress of the universe. Whatever is assigned to us by the terms of our birth and the blend in our constitutions, will stick with us, no matter how hard or how long the soul may have tried to master itself. And we cannot forbid these feelings any more than we can summon them. Actors in the theatre, who imitate the emotions, who portray fear and nervousness, who depict sorrow, imitate bashfulness by hanging their heads, lowering their voices, and keeping their eyes fixed and rooted upon the ground. They cannot, however, muster a blush; for the blush cannot be prevented or acquired. Wisdom will not assure us of a remedy, or give us help against it; it comes or goes unbidden, and is a law unto itself. But my letter calls for its closing sentence. Hear and take to heart this useful and wholesome motto: “Cherish some man of high character, and keep him ever before your eyes, living as if he were watching you, and ordering all your actions as if he beheld them.” Such, my dear Lucilius, is the counsel of Epicurus; he has quite properly given us a guardian and an attendant. We can get rid of most sins, if we have a witness who stands near us when we are likely to go wrong. The soul should have someone whom it can respect,—one by whose authority it may make even its inner shrine more hallowed. Happy is the man who can make others better, not merely when he is in their company, but even when he is in their thoughts! And happy also is he who can so revere a man as to calm and regulate himself by calling him to mind! One who can so revere another, will soon be himself worthy of reverence. Choose therefore a Cato; or, if Cato seems too severe a model, choose some Laelius, a gentler spirit. Choose a master whose life, conversation, and soul-expressing face have satisfied you; picture him always to yourself as your protector or your pattern. For we must indeed have someone according to whom we may regulate our characters; you can never straighten that which is crooked unless you use a ruler. Farewell.

[1] Locutus est mecum amicus tuus bonae indolis, in quo quantum esset animi, quantum ingenii, quantum iam etiam profectus, sermo primus ostendit. Dedit nobis gustum, ad quem respondebit; non enim ex praeparato locutus est, sed subito deprehensus. Ubi se colligebat, verecundiam, bonum in adulescente signum, vix potuit excutere; adeo illi ex alto suffusus est rubor. Hic illum, quantum suspicor, etiam cum se confirmaverit et omnibus vitiis exuerit, sapientem quoque sequetur. Nulla enim sapientia naturalia corporis aut animi vitia ponuntur: quidquid infixum et ingenitum est lenitur arte, non vincitur. [2] Quibusdam etiam constantissimis in conspectu populi sudor erumpit non aliter quam fatigatis et aestuantibus solet, quibusdam tremunt genua dicturis, quorundam dentes colliduntur, lingua titubat, labra concurrunt: haec nec disciplina nec usus umquam excutit, sed natura vim suam exercet et illo vitio sui etiam robustissimos admonet. [3] Inter haec esse et ruborem scio, qui gravissimis quoque viris subitus affunditur. Magis quidem in iuvenibus apparet, quibus et plus caloris est et tenera frons; nihilominus et veteranos et senes tangit. Quidam numquam magis quam cum erubuerint timendi sunt, quasi omnem verecundiam effuderint; [4] Sulla tunc erat violentissimus cum faciem eius sanguis invaserat. Nihil erat mollius ore Pompei; numquam non coram pluribus rubuit, utique in contionibus. Fabianum, cum in senatum testis esset inductus, erubuisse memini, et hic illum mire pudor decuit. [5] Non accidit hoc ab infirmitate mentis sed a novitate rei, quae inexercitatos, etiam si non concutit, movet naturali in hoc facilitate corporis pronos; nam ut quidam boni sanguinis sunt, ita quidam incitati et mobilis et cito in os prodeuntis. [6] Haec, ut dixi, nulla sapientia abigit: alioquin haberet rerum naturam sub imperio, si omnia eraderet vitia. Quaecumque attribuit condicio nascendi et corporis temperatura, cum multum se diuque animus composuerit, haerebunt; nihil horum vetari potest, non magis quam accersi. [7] Artifices scaenici, qui imitantur affectus, qui metum et trepidationem exprimunt, qui tristitiam repraesentant, hoc indicio imitantur verecundiam. Deiciunt enim vultum, verba summittunt, figunt in terram oculos et deprimunt: ruborem sibi exprimere non possunt; nec prohibetur hic nec adducitur. Nihil adversus haec sapientia promittit, nihil proficit: sui iuris sunt, iniussa veniunt, iniussa discedunt. [8] Iam clausulam epistula poscit. Accipe, et quidem utilem ac salutarem, quam te affigere animo volo: 'aliquis vir bonus nobis diligendus est ac semper ante oculos habendus, ut sic tamquam illo spectante vivamus et omnia tamquam illo vidente faciamus'. [9] Hoc, mi Lucili, Epicurus praecepit; custodem nobis et paedagogum dedit, nec immerito: magna pars peccatorum tollitur, si peccaturis testis assistit. Aliquem habeat animus quem vereatur, cuius auctoritate etiam secretum suum sanctius faciat. O felicem illum qui non praesens tantum sed etiam cogitatus emendat! O felicem qui sic aliquem vereri potest ut ad memoriam quoque eius se componat atque ordinet! Qui sic aliquem vereri potest cito erit verendus. [10] Elige itaque Catonem; si hic tibi videtur nimis rigidus, elige remissioris animi virum Laelium. Elige eum cuius tibi placuit et vita et oratio et ipse animum ante se ferens vultus; illum tibi semper ostende vel custodem vel exemplum. Opus est, inquam, aliquo ad quem mores nostri se ipsi exigant: nisi ad regulam prava non corriges. Vale.