Letter 22

By now you understand that you must withdraw from those glittering and corrupt pursuits, but you still want to know how this can be done. Some things can be pointed out only by someone who is present. A doctor cannot prescribe by letter the right hour for eating or bathing; he has to feel the pulse. There is an old saying about gladiators: they plan their fight in the arena. As they watch closely, something in the opponent's glance, some movement of his hand, even a slight bend in his body, gives warning. We can set out general rules in writing about what is usually done or what ought to be done. Advice of that kind can be given not only to absent friends but even to future generations. But on the second question - when and how your plan should be carried out - no one can advise from a distance. We must take counsel in the presence of the actual situation. You must be present not only in body but in mind, if you want to seize the passing opportunity. So look around for the opportunity; if you see it, grasp it. With all your energy and strength, devote yourself to this one task: freeing yourself from those public obligations. Now listen carefully to the opinion I offer. I think you should withdraw either from that life or from life itself. But I also think you should take the gentler road. Untie rather than cut the knot you have tied so badly, provided that if there is no other way to loosen it, you are ready to cut it. No one is so timid that he would rather hang suspended forever than fall once for all. Meanwhile, and this matters most, do not bind yourself tighter. Be content with the business into which you have lowered yourself, or, as you prefer people to think, into which you have stumbled. There is no reason to struggle toward something more. If you do, you will lose every excuse, and people will see that it was no stumble. The usual excuse is false: "I was forced. Suppose it was against my will; I had to do it." No one is forced to chase prosperity at full speed. It is something already to stop, even if you do not resist, instead of pressing eagerly after favoring Fortune. Will you be annoyed with me if I not only come to advise you myself but call in others, wiser heads than mine, the very people before whom I usually lay any problem I am turning over? Read Epicurus's letter on this subject, addressed to Idomeneus. He asks him to hurry as fast as he can and retreat before some stronger influence comes between him and the freedom to withdraw. But he also adds that nothing should be attempted except at the time when it can be attempted suitably and seasonably. Then, when the long-awaited moment arrives, one must be up and doing. Epicurus forbids us to doze while we are thinking about escape. He tells us to hope for safe release even from the hardest trials, provided that we are neither too hasty before the time nor too slow when the time comes. Now I suppose you are looking for a Stoic saying too. There is no reason for anyone to slander our school to you as reckless. In fact, its caution is greater than its courage. Perhaps you expect the Stoics to say, "It is shameful to shrink under a burden. Wrestle with the duties you have once undertaken. No one is brave and serious if he avoids danger, unless his spirit grows with the very difficulty of the task." Words like these will indeed be said to you, if your perseverance has an object worth pursuing and if you will not have to do or suffer anything unworthy of a good person. A good person will not waste himself on mean and disgraceful work, or be busy merely for the sake of being busy. Nor will he, as you imagine, become so entangled in ambitious plans that he has to endure their constant ebb and flow. When he sees the dangers, uncertainties, and hazards in which he was once tossed, he will withdraw: not turning his back to the enemy, but falling back little by little into a safe position. From business, my dear Lucilius, it is easy to escape if only you despise the rewards of business. We are held back and kept from escape by thoughts like these: "What then? Shall I leave these great prospects behind? Shall I go away at harvest time? Shall I have no slaves beside me, no attendants for my litter, no crowd in my reception room?" That is why people leave such advantages reluctantly. They love the reward of their hardships while cursing the hardships themselves. They complain about ambition as they complain about their mistresses: if you look into their real feelings, you will find not hatred but lovers' quarrels. Examine the minds of those who denounce what they have desired and talk about escaping from things they cannot live without. You will see that they linger willingly in a condition they call hard and miserable. It is so, my dear Lucilius: a few men are held fast by slavery, but many more hold fast to slavery. If, however, you truly intend to be rid of this slavery; if freedom genuinely pleases you; if you seek advice for this one purpose, so that you may have the good fortune to achieve it without constant annoyance, how could the whole company of Stoic thinkers fail to approve you? Zeno, Chrysippus, and all their kind will give advice that is measured, honorable, and suitable. But if you keep turning around to see how much you can carry away and how much money you can keep to equip your leisure, you will never find the way out. No one swims ashore with his baggage. Rise to a higher life, with the gods' favor; but let that favor not be the kind the gods give when, with kind and smiling faces, they bestow magnificent evils, excused only by the fact that the things that irritate and torture us were given in answer to our prayers. I was just sealing this letter, but I must break the seal again so it can come to you with its usual contribution, carrying some noble phrase. Here is one that comes to mind; I do not know whether its truth or its nobility is greater. "Who said it?" you ask. Epicurus, for I am still appropriating other people's property. His words are: "Everyone leaves life as though he had only just entered it." Take anyone off guard - young, old, or middle-aged - and you will find all of them equally afraid of death and equally ignorant of life. No one has anything finished, because we keep postponing all our undertakings into the future. Nothing in that quotation pleases me more than the way it taunts old men with still being infants. "No one," he says, "leaves this world differently from a newborn." That is not true, for we are worse when we die than when we were born; but the fault is ours, not nature's. Nature should scold us and say: "What is this? I brought you into the world without desires or fears, without superstition, treachery, or the other curses. Go out as you entered." A person has grasped wisdom's message if he can die as free from care as he was at birth. As it is, we all tremble when the dreaded end approaches. Our courage fails, our faces go pale, and our useless tears fall. But what is more disgraceful than fretting at the very threshold of peace? The reason is that we are stripped of all our goods; we have thrown the cargo of life overboard and are in distress. None of it has been packed in the hold; it has all drifted away. People do not care how nobly they live, but only how long. Yet living nobly is within everyone's reach; living long is within no one's power. Farewell.

You understand by this time that you must withdraw yourself from those showy and depraved pursuits; but you still wish to know how this may be accomplished. There are certain things which can be pointed out only by someone who is present. The physician cannot prescribe by letter the proper time for eating or bathing; he must feel the pulse. There is an old adage about gladiators,—that they plan their fight in the ring; as they intently watch, something in the adversary’s glance, some movement of his hand, even some slight bending of his body, gives a warning. We can formulate general rules and commit them to writing, as to what is usually done, or ought to be done; such advice may be given, not only to our absent friends, but also to succeeding generations. In regard, however, to that second question,—when or how your plan is to be carried out,—no one will advise at long range; we must take counsel in the presence of the actual situation. You must be not only present in the body, but watchful in mind, if you would avail yourself of the fleeting opportunity. Accordingly, look about you for the opportunity; if you see it, grasp it, and with all your energy and with all your strength devote yourself to this task,—to rid yourself of those business duties. Now listen carefully to the opinion which I shall offer; it is my opinion that you should withdraw either from that kind of existence, or else from existence altogether. But I likewise maintain that you should take a gentle path, that you may loosen rather than cut the knot which you have bungled so badly in tying,—provided that if there shall be no other way of loosening it, you may actually cut it. No man is so faint-hearted that he would rather hang in suspense for ever than drop once for all. Meanwhile,—and this is of first importance,—do not hamper yourself; be content with the business into which you have lowered yourself, or, as you prefer to have people think, have tumbled. There is no reason why you should be struggling on to something further; if you do, you will lose all grounds of excuse, and men will see that it was not a tumble. The usual explanation which men offer is wrong: “I was compelled to do it. Suppose it was against my will; I had to do it.” But no one is compelled to pursue prosperity at top speed; it means something to call a halt,—even if one does not offer resistance,—instead of pressing eagerly after favouring fortune. Shall you then be put out with me, if I not only come to advise you, but also call in others to advise you,—wiser heads than my own, men before whom I am wont to lay any problem upon which I am pondering? Read the letter of Epicurus which bears on this matter; it is addressed to Idomeneus. The writer asks him to hasten as fast as he can, and beat a retreat before some stronger influence comes between and takes from him the liberty to withdraw. But he also adds that one should attempt nothing except at the time when it can be attempted suitably and seasonably. Then, when the long-sought occasion comes, let him be up and doing. Epicurus forbids us to doze when we are meditating escape; he bids us hope for a safe release from even the hardest trials, provided that we are not in too great a hurry before the time, nor too dilatory when the time arrives. Now, I suppose, you are looking for a Stoic motto also. There is really no reason why anyone should slander that school to you on the ground of its rashness; as a matter of fact, its caution is greater than its courage. You are perhaps expecting the sect to utter such words as these: “It is base to flinch under a burden. Wrestle with the duties which you have once undertaken. No man is brave and earnest if he avoids danger, if his spirit does not grow with the very difficulty of his task.” Words like these will indeed be spoken to you, if only your perseverance shall have an object that is worth while, if only you will not have to do or to suffer anything unworthy of a good man; besides, a good man will not waste himself upon mean and discreditable work or be busy merely for the sake of being busy. Neither will he, as you imagine, become so involved in ambitious schemes that he will have continually to endure their ebb and flow. Nay, when he sees the dangers, uncertainties, and hazards in which he was formerly tossed about, he will withdraw,—not turning his back to the foe, but falling back little by little to a safe position. From business, however, my dear Lucilius, it is easy to escape, if only you will despise the rewards of business. We are held back and kept from escaping by thoughts like these: “What then? Shall I leave behind me these great prospects? Shall I depart at the very time of harvest? Shall I have no slaves at my side? no retinue for my litter? no crowd in my reception-room?” Hence men leave such advantages as these with reluctance; they love the reward of their hardships, but curse the hardships themselves. Men complain about their ambitions as they complain about their mistresses; in other words, if you penetrate their real feelings, you will find, not hatred, but bickering. Search the minds of those who cry down what they have desired, who talk about escaping from things which they are unable to do without; you will comprehend that they are lingering of their own free will in a situation which they declare they find it hard and wretched to endure. It is so, my dear Lucilius; there are a few men whom slavery holds fast, but there are many more who hold fast to slavery. If, however, you intend to be rid of this slavery; if freedom is genuinely pleasing in your eyes; and if you seek counsel for this one purpose,—that you may have the good fortune to accomplish this purpose without perpetual annoyance,—how can the whole company of Stoic thinkers fail to approve your course? Zeno, Chrysippus, and all their kind will give you advice that is temperate, honourable, and suitable. But if you keep turning round and looking about, in order to see how much you may carry away with you, and how much money you may keep to equip yourself for the life of leisure, you will never find a way out. No man can swim ashore and take his baggage with him. Rise to a higher life, with the favour of the gods; but let it not be favour of such a kind as the gods give to men when with kind and genial faces they bestow magnificent ills, justified in so doing by the one fact that the things which irritate and torture have been bestowed in answer to prayer. I was just putting the seal upon this letter; but it must be broken again, in order that it may go to you with its customary contribution, bearing with it some noble word. And lo, here is one that occurs to my mind; I do not know whether its truth or its nobility of utterance is the greater. “Spoken by whom?” you ask. By Epicurus; for I am still appropriating other men’s belongings. The words are: “Everyone goes out of life just as if he had but lately entered it.” Take anyone off his guard,—young, old, or middle-aged; you will find that all are equally afraid of death, and equally ignorant of life. No one has anything finished, because we have kept putting off into the future all our undertakings. No thought in the quotation given above pleases me more than that it taunts old men with being infants. “No one,” he says, “leaves this world in a different manner from one who has just been born.” That is not true; for we are worse when we die than when we were born; but it is our fault, and not that of Nature. Nature should scold us, saying: “What does this mean? I brought you into the world without desires or fears, free from superstition, treachery and the other curses. Go forth as you were when you entered!” A man has caught the message of wisdom, if he can die as free from care as he was at birth; but as it is, we are all a-flutter at the approach of the dreaded end. Our courage fails us, our cheeks blanch; our tears fall, though they are unavailing. But what is baser than to fret at the very threshold of peace? The reason, however, is, that we are stripped of all our goods, we have jettisoned our cargo of life and are in distress; for no part of it has been packed in the hold; it has all been heaved overboard and has drifted away. Men do not care how nobly they live, but only how long, although it is within the reach of every man to live nobly, but within no man’s power to live long. Farewell.

[1] Iam intellegis educendum esse te ex istis occupationibus speciosis et malis, sed quomodo id consequi possis quaeris. Quaedam non nisi a praesente monstrantur; non potest medicus per epistulas cibi aut balinei tempus eligere: vena tangenda est. Vetus proverbium est gladiatorem in harena capere consilium: aliquid adversarii vultus, aliquid manus mota, aliquid ipsa inclinatio corporis intuentem monet. [2] Quid fieri soleat, quid oporteat, in universum et mandari potest et scribi; tale consilium non tantum absentibus, etiam posteris datur: illud alterum, quando fieri debeat aut quemadmodum, ex longinquo nemo suadebit, cum rebus ipsis deliberandum est. [3] Non tantum praesentis sed vigilantis est occasionem observare properantem; itaque hanc circumspice, hanc si videris prende, et toto impetu, totis viribus id age ut te istis officiis exuas. Et quidem quam sententiam feram attende: censeo aut ex ista vita tibi aut e vita exeundum. Sed idem illud existimo, leni eundum via, ut quod male implicuisti solvas potius quam abrumpas, dummodo, si alia solvendi ratio non erit, vel abrumpas. Nemo tam timidus est ut malit semper pendere quam semel cadere. [4] Interim, quod primum est, impedire te noli; contentus esto negotiis in quae descendisti, vel, quod videri mavis, incidisti. Non est quod ad ulteriora nitaris, aut perdes excusationem et apparebit te non incidisse. Ista enim quae dici solent falsa sunt: 'non potui aliter. Quid si nollem? necesse erat.' Nulli necesse est felicitatem cursu sequi: est aliquid, etiam si non repugnare, subsistere nec instare fortunae ferenti. [5] Numquid offenderis si in consilium non venio tantum sed advoco, et quidem prudentiores quam ipse sum, ad quos soleo deferre si quid delibero? Epicuri epistulam ad hanc rem pertinentem lege, Idomeneo quae inscribitur, quem rogat ut quantum potest fugiat et properet, antequam aliqua vis maior interveniat et auferat libertatem recedendi. [6] Idem tamen subicit nihil esse temptandum nisi cum apte poterit tempestiveque temptari; sed cum illud tempus captatum diu venerit, exsiliendum ait. Dormitare de fuga cogitantem vetat et sperat salutarem etiam ex difficillimis exitum, si nec properemus ante tempus nec cessemus in tempore. [7] Puto, nunc et Stoicam sententiam quaeris. Non est quod quisquam illos apud te temeritatis infamet: cautiores quam fortiores sunt. Exspectas forsitan ut tibi haec dicant: 'turpe est cedere oneri; luctare cum officio quod semel recepisti. Non est vir fortis ac strenuus qui laborem fugit, nisi crescit illi animus ipsa rerum difficultate.' [8] Dicentur tibi ista, si operae pretium habebit perseverantia, si nihil indignum bono viro faciendum patiendumve erit; alioqui sordido se et contumelioso labore non conteret nec in negotiis erit negotii causa. Ne illud quidem quod existimas facturum eum faciet, ut ambitiosis rebus implicitus semper aestus earum ferat; sed cum viderit gravia in quibus volutatur, incerta, ancipitia, referet pedem, non vertet terga, sed sensim recedet in tutum. [9] Facile est autem, mi Lucili, occupationes evadere, si occupationum pretia contempseris; illa sunt quae nos morantur et detinent. 'Quid ergo? tam magnas spes relinquam? ab ipsa messe discedam? nudum erit latus, incomitata lectica, atrium vacuum?' Ab his ergo inviti homines recedunt et mercedem miseriarum amant, ipsas exsecrantur. Sic de ambitione quo modo de amica queruntur, id est, si verum affectum eorum inspicias, non oderunt sed litigant. Excute istos qui quae cupiere deplorant et de earum rerum loquuntur fuga quibus carere non possunt, videbis voluntariam esse illis in eo moram quod aegre ferre ipsos et misere loquuntur. Ita est, Lucili: paucos servitus, plures servitutem tenent. Sed si deponere illam in animo est et libertas bona fide placuit, in hoc autem unum advocationem petis, ut sine perpetua sollicitudine id tibi facere contingat, quidni tota te cohors Stoicorum probatura sit? omnes Zenones et Chrysippi moderata, honesta, tua suadebunt. Sed si propter hoc tergiversaris, ut circumaspicias quantum feras tecum et quam magna pecunia instruas otium, numquam exitum invenies: nemo cum sarcinis enatat. Emerge ad meliorem vitam propitiis diis, sed non sic quomodo istis propitii sunt quibus bono ac benigno vultu mala magnifica tribuerunt, ob hoc unum excusati, quod ista quae urunt, quae excruciant, optantibus data sunt. [13] Iam imprimebam epistulae signum: resolvenda est, ut cum sollemni ad te munusculo veniat et aliquam magnificam vocem ferat secum; et occurrit mihi ecce nescio utrum verior an eloquentior. 'Cuius?' inquis. Epicuri; adhuc enim alienas +sarcinas adoro+: 'nemo non ita exit e vita tamquam modo intraverit'. Quemcumque vis occupa, adulescentem, senem, medium: invenies aeque timidum mortis, aeque inscium vitae. Nemo quicquam habet facti; in futurum enim nostra distulimus. Nihil me magis in ista voce delectat quam quod exprobratur senibus infantia. 'Nemo' inquit 'aliter quam quomodo natus est exit e vita.' Falsum est: peiores morimur quam nascimur. Nostrum istud, non naturae vitium est. Illa nobiscum queri debet et dicere, 'quid hoc est? sine cupiditatibus vos genui, sine timoribus, sine superstitione, sine perfidia ceterisque pestibus: quales intrastis exite'. Percepit sapientiam, si quis tam securus moritur quam nascitur; nunc vero trepidamus cum periculum accessit, non animus nobis, non color constat, lacrimae nihil profuturae cadunt. Quid est turpius quam in ipso limine securitatis esse sollicitum? Causa autem haec est, quod inanes omnium bonorum sumus, vitae <iactura> laboramus. Non enim apud nos pars eius ulla subsedit: transmissa est et effluxit. Nemo quam bene vivat sed quam diu curat, cum omnibus possit contingere ut bene vivant, ut diu nulli. Vale.