Letter 14

I admit that affection for our own body is built into us. I admit that we have been entrusted with its care. I do not deny that we should make some allowance for it; I deny that we should serve it. The person who serves the body will serve many masters: he fears too much for it, refers everything to it, and judges everything by it. We should conduct ourselves not as though we must live for the body, but as though we cannot live without it. Too much love for the body makes us restless with fears, loads us with anxieties, and exposes us to insults. Honor becomes cheap to the person whose body is too dear. Let the body be cared for very diligently, but in such a way that, when reason, dignity, or loyalty demands it, it can be sent even into the flames. Still, as far as we can, let us avoid discomforts as well as dangers, and bring ourselves back to safety, thinking often about how the things we fear can be driven off. Unless I am mistaken, there are three kinds of these fears: poverty, illness, and the harms that come through the violence of someone stronger. Of all these, nothing shakes us more than the threat hanging over us from another person's power, because it comes with loud noise and commotion. The natural evils I mentioned, poverty and illness, slip in silently and strike no terror into the eyes or ears. The other evil arrives with a great procession. Around it are iron, fire, chains, and a crowd of wild beasts waiting to be let loose into human bodies. Think here of prison, crosses, racks, hooks, and the stake driven through the middle of a person until it comes out through the mouth. Think of limbs torn apart by chariots pulling in opposite directions, of the tunic smeared and woven with fuel for flames, and of whatever else cruelty has invented beyond these. No wonder this kind of thing terrifies us most. It comes in many forms, and its equipment is frightening. Just as the torturer accomplishes more by displaying more instruments of pain, because the sight defeats people who might have resisted the suffering itself, so among the things that subdue and master our minds, those that can put on a show have the greatest effect. Those other plagues are no less serious - I mean hunger, thirst, ulcers of the stomach, and fever burning the very organs - but they are hidden. They have nothing to threaten with or hold up in front of us. These other things, like huge wars, conquer by spectacle and preparation. Let us therefore make an effort to avoid giving offense. Sometimes it is the people we should fear; sometimes, if the constitution of the state gives most business to the senate, influential men within it; sometimes individuals who have been given power by the people and over the people. It is hard work to have all such people as friends. It is enough not to have them as enemies. So the wise person will never provoke the anger of the powerful. In fact, he will steer away from it just as he would steer away from a storm at sea. When you were traveling to Sicily, you crossed the strait. A reckless pilot ignores the threats of the south wind, the wind that roughens the Sicilian sea and drives it into whirlpools. He does not seek the left-hand shore, but the shore nearest the place where Charybdis churns the water. The more careful pilot asks people who know the area about the tide and the signs in the clouds, and keeps his course far from the region notorious for its swirls. The wise person does the same. He avoids power that may harm him, while first taking care not to appear to avoid it. Part of safety lies in not seeking safety openly, because whatever a person flees, he condemns. We must therefore look around and ask how we can be safe from the crowd. First, let us not desire the same things they desire; rivalry creates quarrels. Next, let us possess nothing that can be taken from us to the great profit of someone plotting against us. Let there be as little loot as possible on your person. No one comes to human blood for blood's own sake, or very few do; more people calculate than hate. The robber passes by the empty-handed person. Even on a road under siege, the poor have peace. Then, according to the old rule, three things must be avoided with special care: hatred, envy, and contempt. Only wisdom can show how this is done. It is hard to keep the right balance. We must beware that fear of envy does not carry us into contempt, and that while we choose not to trample on others, we do not seem trample-able ourselves. Many people have found reason to fear because they could be feared. Let us withdraw on every side. Being despised harms us no less than being admired. So we must take refuge in philosophy. These studies, I will not say among the good only, but even among the moderately bad, serve like a sacred band of protection. Courtroom eloquence, and every other activity that moves the crowd, has opponents. Philosophy is quiet and minds its own business. It cannot be despised; every profession, even among the worst people, honors it. Wickedness will never become so strong, and the conspiracy against virtue will never go so far, that the name of philosophy does not remain venerable and sacred. But philosophy itself must be practiced calmly and moderately. "What then?" you say. "Does Marcus Cato seem to you to have practiced philosophy moderately, when he tried by his vote to stop civil war, when he stood between the weapons of raging leaders, when some were offending Pompey and others Caesar, and he challenged both at once?" Someone may well debate whether, at that time, the wise person should have taken part in public affairs at all. What are you trying to do, Cato? Freedom is no longer at stake; it has long since been ruined. The question is whether Caesar or Pompey will possess the state. What have you to do with that contest? There is no side for you. A master is being chosen. What does it matter to you which one wins? The better man may win, but the winner cannot help being the worse man. I have touched on Cato's final role. Even the earlier years were not times that allowed the wise person into that plundering of the republic. What else could Cato do except shout and send out useless words, when at one moment he was lifted by the hands of the people, buried under spit, and dragged from the forum; and at another was led straight from the senate to prison? But we will consider later whether the wise person should devote effort to public life. For now I call you to those Stoics who, excluded from politics, withdrew into private life in order to cultivate life and frame laws for the human race without offending anyone powerful. The wise person will not unsettle public customs, nor draw the people toward himself by some novelty in his way of living. "What then? Will anyone who follows this plan be safe in every case?" I can promise you this no more than I can promise good health to a temperate person, though temperance does produce good health. Some ship may perish in harbor; but what do you think happens in the middle of the sea? How much more ready would danger be for a person busy and attempting many things, when even leisure is not secure? Innocent people sometimes perish; who denies it? Yet guilty people perish more often. A soldier's skill remains intact even if he is struck through his armor. Finally, the wise person looks to the reason for every action, not to the outcome. Beginnings are in our power; Fortune judges the result, and I do not allow her to pass judgment on me. "But she will bring some trouble, some adversity." The robber does not pass sentence when he kills. Now you are reaching out your hand for the daily gift. I will fill it with golden payment; and since gold has come up, take this lesson on how its use and enjoyment may become more pleasant to you: "The person who needs riches least enjoys riches most." "Name the author," you say. To show you how generous we are, I intend to praise what belongs to other schools. It is from Epicurus, or Metrodorus, or someone from that workshop. And what difference does it make who said it? It was said for everyone. The person who needs riches fears for them. But no one enjoys a good that makes him anxious. He tries to add something to it; while he thinks about increase, he forgets use. He receives accounts, wears down the pavement in the forum, turns over his ledger. In short, he stops being a master and becomes a manager. Farewell.

I confess that we all have an inborn affection for our body; I confess that we are entrusted with its guardianship. I do not maintain that the body is not to be indulged at all; but I maintain that we must not be slaves to it. He will have many masters who makes his body his master, who is over-fearful in its behalf, who judges everything according to the body. We should conduct ourselves not as if we ought to live for the body, but as if we could not live without it. Our too great love for it makes us restless with fears, burdens us with cares, and exposes us to insults. Virtue is held too cheap by the man who counts his body too dear. We should cherish the body with the greatest care; but we should also be prepared, when reason, self-respect, and duty demand the sacrifice, to deliver it even to the flames. Let us, however, in so far as we can, avoid discomforts as well as dangers, and withdraw to safe ground, by thinking continually how we may repel all objects of fear. If I am not mistaken, there are three main classes of these: we fear want, we fear sickness, and we fear the troubles which result from the violence of the stronger. And of all these, that which shakes us most is the dread which hangs over us from our neighbour’s ascendancy; for it is accompanied by great outcry and uproar. But the natural evils which I have mentioned,—want and sickness,—steal upon us silently with no shock of terror to the eye or to the ear. The other kind of evil comes, so to speak, in the form of a huge parade. Surrounding it is a retinue of swords and fire and chains and a mob of beasts to be let loose upon the disembowelled entrails of men. Picture to yourself under this head the prison, the cross, the rack, the hook, and the stake which they drive straight through a man until it protrudes from his throat. Think of human limbs torn apart by chariots driven in opposite directions, of the terrible shirt smeared and interwoven with inflammable materials, and of all the other contrivances devised by cruelty, in addition to those which I have mentioned! It is not surprising, then, if our greatest terror is of such a fate; for it comes in many shapes and its paraphernalia are terrifying. For just as the torturer accomplishes more in proportion to the number of instruments which he displays,—indeed, the spectacle overcomes those who would have patiently withstood the suffering,—similarly, of all the agencies which coerce and master our minds, the most effective are those which can make a display. Those other troubles are of course not less serious; I mean hunger, thirst, ulcers of the stomach, and fever that parches our very bowels. They are, however, secret; they have no bluster and no heralding; but these, like huge arrays of war, prevail by virtue of their display and their equipment. Let us, therefore, see to it that we abstain from giving offence. It is sometimes the people that we ought to fear; or sometimes a body of influential oligarchs in the Senate, if the method of governing the State is such that most of the business is done by that body; and sometimes individuals equipped with power by the people and against the people. It is burdensome to keep the friendship of all such persons; it is enough not to make enemies of them. So the wise man will never provoke the anger of those in power; nay, he will even turn his course, precisely as he would turn from a storm if he were steering a ship. When you travelled to Sicily, you crossed the Straits. The reckless pilot scorned the blustering South Wind,—the wind which roughens the Sicilian Sea and forces it into choppy currents; he sought not the shore on the left, but the strand hard by the place where Charybdis throws the seas into confusion. Your more careful pilot, however, questions those who know the locality as to the tides and the meaning of the clouds; he holds his course far from that region notorious for its swirling waters. Our wise man does the same; he shuns a strong man who may be injurious to him, making a point of not seeming to avoid him, because an important part of one’s safety lies in not seeking safety openly; for what one avoids, one condemns. We should therefore look about us, and see how we may protect ourselves from the mob. And first of all, we should have no cravings like theirs; for rivalry results in strife. Again, let us possess nothing that can be snatched from us to the great profit of a plotting foe. Let there be as little booty as possible on your person. No one sets out to shed the blood of his fellow-men for the sake of bloodshed,—at any rate very few. More murderers speculate on their profits than give vent to hatred. If you are empty-handed, the highwayman passes you by; even along an infested road, the poor may travel in peace. Next, we must follow the old adage and avoid three things with special care: hatred, jealousy, and scorn. And wisdom alone can show you how this may be done. It is hard to observe a mean; we must be chary of letting the fear of jealousy lead us into becoming objects of scorn, lest, when we choose not to stamp others down, we let them think that they can stamp us down. The power to inspire fear has caused many men to be in fear. Let us withdraw ourselves in every way; for it is as harmful to be scorned as to be admired. One must therefore take refuge in philosophy; this pursuit, not only in the eyes of good men, but also in the eyes of those who are even moderately bad, is a sort of protecting emblem. For speech-making at the bar, or any other pursuit that claims the people’s attention, wins enemies for a man; but philosophy is peaceful and minds her own business. Men cannot scorn her; she is honoured by every profession, even the vilest among them. Evil can never grow so strong, and nobility of character can never be so plotted against, that the name of philosophy shall cease to be worshipful and sacred. Philosophy itself, however, should be practised with calmness and moderation. “Very well, then,” you retort, “do you regard the philosophy of Marcus Cato as moderate? Cato’s voice strove to check a civil war. Cato parted the swords of maddened chieftains. When some fell foul of Pompey and others fell foul of Caesar, Cato defied both parties at once!” Nevertheless, one may well question whether, in those days, a wise man ought to have taken any part in public affairs, and ask: “What do you mean, Marcus Cato? It is not now a question of freedom; long since has freedom gone to rack and ruin. The question is, whether it is Caesar or Pompey who controls the State. Why, Cato, should you take sides in that dispute? It is no business of yours; a tyrant is being selected. What does it concern you who conquers? The better man may win; but the winner is bound to be the worse man.” I have referred to Cato’s final rôle. But even in previous years the wise man was not permitted to intervene in such plundering of the state; for what could Cato do but raise his voice and utter unavailing words? At one time he was “hustled” by the mob and spat upon and forcibly removed from the forum and marked for exile; at another, he was taken straight to prison from the senate-chamber. However, we shall consider later whether the wise man ought to give his attention to politics; meanwhile, I beg you to consider those Stoics who, shut out from public life, have withdrawn into privacy for the purpose of improving men’s existence and framing laws for the human race without incurring the displeasure of those in power. The wise man will not upset the customs of the people, nor will he invite the attention of the populace by any novel ways of living. “What then? Can one who follows out this plan be safe in any case?” I cannot guarantee you this any more than I can guarantee good health in the case of a man who observes moderation; although, as a matter of fact, good health results from such moderation. Sometimes a vessel perishes in harbour; but what do you think happens on the open sea? And how much more beset with danger that man would be, who even in his leisure is not secure, if he were busily working at many things! Innocent persons sometimes perish; who would deny that? But the guilty perish more frequently. A soldier’s skill is not at fault if he receives the death-blow through his armour. And finally, the wise man regards the reason for all his actions, but not the results. The beginning is in our own power; fortune decides the issue, but I do not allow her to pass sentence upon myself. You may say: “But she can inflict a measure of suffering and of trouble.” The highwayman does not pass sentence when he slays. Now you are stretching forth your hand for the daily gift. Golden indeed will be the gift with which I shall load you; and, inasmuch as we have mentioned gold, let me tell you how its use and enjoyment may bring you greater pleasure. “He who needs riches least, enjoys riches most.” “Author’s name, please!” you say. Now, to show you how generous I am, it is my intent to praise the dicta of other schools. The phrase belongs to Epicurus, or Metrodorus, or some one of that particular thinking-shop. But what difference does it make who spoke the words? They were uttered for the world. He who craves riches feels fear on their account. No man, however, enjoys a blessing that brings anxiety; he is always trying to add a little more. While he puzzles over increasing his wealth, he forgets how to use it. He collects his accounts, he wears out the pavement in the forum, he turns over his ledger,—in short, he ceases to be master and becomes a steward. Farewell.

[1] Fateor insitam esse nobis corporis nostri caritatem; fateor nos huius gerere tutelam. Non nego indulgendum illi, serviendum nego; multis enim serviet qui corpori servit, qui pro illo nimium timet, qui ad illud omnia refert. [2] Sic gerere nos debemus, non tamquam propter corpus vivere debeamus, sed tamquam non possimus sine corpore; huius nos nimius amor timoribus inquietat, sollicitudinibus onerat, contumeliis obicit; honestum ei vile est cui corpus nimis carum est. Agatur eius diligentissime cura, ita tamen ut, cum exiget ratio, cum dignitas, cum fides, mittendum in ignes sit. [3] Nihilominus quantum possumus evitemus incommoda quoque, non tantum pericula, et in tutum nos reducamus, excogitantes subinde quibus possint timenda depelli. Quorum tria, nisi fallor, genera sunt: timetur inopia, timentur morbi, timentur quae per vim potentioris eveniunt. [4] Ex his omnibus nihil nos magis concutit quam quod ex aliena potentia impendet; magno enim strepitu et tumultu venit. Naturalia mala quae rettuli, inopia atque morbus, silentio subeunt nec oculis nec auribus quicquam terroris incutiunt: ingens alterius mali pompa est; ferrum circa se et ignes habet et catenas et turbam ferarum quam in viscera immittat humana. [5] Cogita hoc loco carcerem et cruces et eculeos et uncum et adactum per medium hominem qui per os emergeret stipitem et distracta in diversum actis curribus membra, illam tunicam alimentis ignium et illitam et textam, et quidquid aliud praeter haec commenta saevitia est. [6] Non est itaque mirum, si maximus huius rei timor est cuius et varietas magna et apparatus terribilis est. Nam quemadmodum plus agit tortor quo plura instrumenta doloris exposuit - specie enim vincuntur qui patientiae restitissent -, ita ex iis quae animos nostros subigunt et domant plus proficiunt quae habent quod ostendant. Illae pestes non minus graves sunt - famem dico et sitim et praecordiorum suppurationes et febrem viscera ipsa torrentem - sed latent, nihil habent quod intentent, quod praeferant: haec ut magna bella aspectu paratuque vicerunt. [7] Demus itaque operam, abstineamus offensis. Interdum populus est quem timere debeamus; interdum, si ea civitatis disciplina est ut plurima per senatum transigantur, gratiosi in eo viri; interdum singuli quibus potestas populi et in populum data est. Hos omnes amicos habere operosum est, satis est inimicos non habere. Itaque sapiens numquam potentium iras provocabit, immo [nec] declinabit, non aliter quam in navigando procellam. [8] Cum peteres Siciliam, traiecisti fretum Temerarius gubernator contempsit austri minas - ille est enim qui Siculum pelagus exasperet et in vertices cogat -; non sinistrum petit litus sed id a quo propior Charybdis maria convolvit. At ille cautior peritos locorum rogat quis aestus sit, quae signa dent nubes; longe ab illa regione verticibus infami cursum tenet. Idem facit sapiens: nocituram potentiam vitat, hoc primum cavens, ne vitare videatur; pars enim securitatis et in hoc est, non ex professo eam petere, quia quae quis fugit damnat. [9] Circumspiciendum ergo nobis est quomodo a vulgo tuti esse possimus. Primum nihil idem concupiscamus: rixa est inter competitores. Deinde nihil habeamus quod cum magno emolumento insidiantis eripi possit; quam minimum sit in corpore tuo spoliorum. Nemo ad humanum sanguinem propter ipsum venit, aut admodum pauci; plures computant quam oderunt. Nudum latro transmittit; etiam in obsessa via pauperi pax est. [10] Tria deinde ex praecepto veteri praestanda sunt ut v itentur: odium, invidia, contemptus. Quomodo hoc fiat sapientia sola monstrabit; difficile enim temperamentum est, verendumque ne in contemptum nos invidiae timor transferat, ne dum calcare nolumus videamur posse calcari. Multis timendi attulit causas timeri posse. Undique nos reducamus: non minus contemni quam suspici nocet. [11] Ad philosophiam ergo confugiendum est; hae litterae, non dico apud bonos sed apud mediocriter malos infularum loco sunt. Nam forensis eloquentia et quaecumque alia populum movet adversarios habet: haec quieta et sui negotii contemni non potest, cui ab omnibus artibus etiam apud pessimos honor est. Numquam in tantum convalescet nequitia, numquam sic contra virtutes coniurabitur, ut non philosophiae nomen venerabile et sacrum maneat. Ceterum philosophia ipsa tranquille modesteque tractanda est. [12] 'Quid ergo?' inquis 'videtur tibi M. Cato modeste philosophari, qui bellum civile sententia reprimit? qui furentium principum armis medius intervenit? qui aliis Pompeium offendentibus, aliis Caesarem, simul lacessit duos?' [13] Potest aliquis disputare an illo tempore capessenda fuerit sapienti res publica. Quid tibi vis, arce Cato? iam non agitur de libertate: olim pessum data est. Quaeritur utrum Caesar an Pompeius possideat rem publicam: quid tibi cum ista contentione? nullae partes tuae sunt. Dominus eligitur: quid tua, uter vincat? potest melior vincere, non potest non peior esse qui vicerit. Ultimas partes attigi Catonis; sed ne priores quidem anni fuerunt qui sapientem in illam rapinam rei publicae admitterent. Quid aliud quam vociferatus est Cato et misit irritas voces, cum modo per populi levatus manus et obrutus sputis exportandus extra forum traheretur, modo e senatu in carcerem duceretur? [14] Sed postea videbimus an sapienti opera rei publicae danda sit: interim ad hos te Stoicos voco qui a re publica exclusi secesserunt ad colendam vitam et humano generi iura condenda sine ulla potentioris offensa. Non conturbabit sapiens publicos mores nec populum in se vitae novitate convertet. [15] 'Quid ergo? utique erit tutus qui hoc propositum sequetur?' Promittere tibi hoc non magis possum quam in homine temperanti bonam valetudinem, et tamen facit temperantia bonam valetudinem. Perit aliqua navis in portu: sed quid tu accidere in medio mari credis? Quanto huic periculum paratius foret multa agenti molientique, cui ne otium quidem tutum est? Pereunt aliquando innocentes - quis negat? -, nocentes tamen saepius. Ars ei constat qui per ornamenta percussus est. [16] Denique consilium rerum omnium sapiens, non exitum spectat; initia in potestate nostra sunt, de eventu fortuna iudicat, cui de me sententiam non do. 'At aliquid vexationis afferet, aliquid adversi.' Non damnat latro cum occidit. [17] Nunc ad cotidianam stipem manum porrigis. Aurea te stipe implebo, et quia facta est auri mentio, accipe quemadmodum usus fructusque eius tibi esse gratior possit. 'Is maxime divitiis fruitur qui minime divitiis indiget.' 'Ede' inquis 'auctorem.' Ut scias quam benigni simus, propositum est aliena laudare: Epicuri est aut Metrodori aut alicuius ex illa officina. [18] Et quid interest quis dixerit? omnibus dixit. Qui eget divitiis timet pro illis; nemo autem sollicito bono fruitur. Adicere illis aliquid studet; dum de incremento cogitat, oblitus est usus. Rationes accipit, forum conterit, kalendarium versat: fit ex domino procurator. Vale.