Letter 31

I recognize my dear Lucilius: he is beginning to show the man he had promised to become. Follow that surge of spirit by which you were advancing toward all that is best, trampling underfoot the goods the crowd admires. I do not ask that you become greater or better than you were already striving to be. Your foundations have claimed a great deal of ground: only accomplish as much as you have attempted, and bring to completion the designs you have carried within your mind. In sum, you will be wise if you close your ears, and it is not enough to seal them with wax: you need a denser plug than the one they say Ulysses used on his comrades. The voice that was feared then was seductive, yet it was not everywhere; this voice, which must be feared, echoes around you not from a single crag but from every quarter of the earth. So sail past not one place rendered suspect by its treacherous pleasure, but past every city. Make yourself deaf to those who love you most: with good intentions they pray for bad things. And if you wish to be happy, beg the gods that none of what people wish for you should come to pass. Those are not good things which those people want heaped upon you. There is one good, which is the cause and the support of a happy life: to trust in oneself. But this cannot come about unless toil is despised and counted among the things that are neither good nor evil; for it is impossible that any one thing should be at one moment evil, at another good, at one moment trivial and to be endured, at another a thing of dread. Toil is not a good. What then is the good? The contempt of toil. And so I would fault those who labor to no purpose; but those who strain toward honorable ends, the harder they bear down and the less they allow themselves to be beaten or to grow weary, I will admire all the more, and I will cry out, 'So much the better! Rise, breathe deep, and surmount that slope in a single breath if you can!' Toil is the nourishment of noble spirits. There is therefore no reason for you to choose, from that old vow of your parents, what you would wish to fall to your lot, what you should pray for; and for a man already carried through the greatest things it is now altogether shameful even still to weary the gods. What need is there of vows? Make yourself happy. And you will do so if you understand that those things are good with which virtue is mingled, and those things base with which wickedness is joined. Just as nothing is bright without an admixture of light, nothing black except what holds darkness or has drawn into itself something dim, just as nothing is hot without the aid of fire, nothing cold without air, so the partnership of virtue and wickedness makes things honorable or base. What then is the good? The knowledge of things. What is the evil? The ignorance of things. The man who is prudent and a craftsman [in living] will reject or choose each thing as the occasion demands; but he neither fears what he rejects nor marvels at what he chooses, provided his mind is great and unconquered. I forbid you to be lowered and pressed down. If you do not refuse toil, that is too little: demand it. 'What then?' you say. 'Is toil that is frivolous and superfluous, the kind summoned forth by paltry motives, not an evil?' No more than the toil spent on noble things, since the very endurance is a matter of the mind, which urges itself on to what is hard and harsh and says, 'Why do you hold back? It is not for a man to fear sweat.' To this let one more thing be added, so that virtue may be complete: evenness, and a steady course of life consistent with itself throughout, which cannot exist unless the knowledge of things is attained, and the art by which things human and divine are known. This is the highest good; and if you seize it, you begin to be the companion of the gods, not their suppliant. 'How,' you say, 'is that reached?' Not by way of the Pennine or the Graian mountain [Alpine passes], nor across the wastes of Candavia [a rugged region of Illyria]; you need not approach the Syrtes, nor Scylla, nor Charybdis, all of which you nonetheless crossed for the price of a petty little governorship. The road is safe, it is pleasant, the one for which nature equipped you. She gave you gifts such that, if you do not abandon them, you will rise the equal of God. But money will not make you the equal of God: God possesses nothing. The bordered toga [the magistrate's robe] will not do it: God is naked. Fame will not do it, nor the showing-off of yourself, nor the report of your name broadcast among the nations: no one knows God, many think ill of him, and go unpunished. Nor will a throng of slaves carrying your litter through city streets and foreign roads: that greatest and most powerful God himself bears all things. Not even beauty and strength can make you blessed: none of these withstands old age. We must seek what does not grow worse by the day, what cannot be opposed. What is this? The mind, but a mind that is upright, good, great. What else would you call this than a god lodging as a guest in a human body? This mind can fall to a Roman knight just as much as to a freedman, just as much as to a slave. For what is a Roman knight, or a freedman, or a slave? Names born of ambition or of injustice. One may leap up to heaven from a corner: only rise, and mold yourself into a likeness of God. You will mold it, however, not from gold or silver: from such material no image can be fashioned that is like God; reflect that those gods, when they were favorable to men, were of clay. Farewell.

Now I recognize my Lucilius! He is beginning to reveal the character of which he gave promise. Follow up the impulse which prompted you to make for all that is best, treading under your feet that which is approved by the crowd. I would not have you greater or better than you planned; for in your case the mere foundations have covered a large extent of ground; only finish all that you have laid out, and take in hand the plans which you have had in mind. In short, you will be a wise man, if you stop up your ears; nor is it enough to close them with wax; you need a denser stopple than that which they say Ulysses used for his comrades. The song which he feared was alluring, but came not from every side; the song, however, which you have to fear, echoes round you not from a single headland, but from every quarter of the world. Sail, therefore, not past one region which you mistrust because of its treacherous delights, but past every city. Be deaf to those who love you most of all; they pray for bad things with good intentions. And, if you would be happy, entreat the gods that none of their fond desires for you may be brought to pass. What they wish to have heaped upon you are not really good things; there is only one good, the cause and the support of a happy life,—trust in oneself. But this cannot be attained, unless one has learned to despise toil and to reckon it among the things which are neither good nor bad. For it is not possible that a single thing should be bad at one time and good at another, at times light and to be endured, and at times a cause of dread. Work is not a good. Then what is a good? I say, the scorning of work. That is why I should rebuke men who toil to no purpose. But when, on the other hand, a man is struggling towards honourable things, in proportion as he applies himself more and more, and allows himself less and less to be beaten or to halt, I shall recommend his conduct and shout my encouragement, saying: "By so much you are better! Rise, draw a fresh breath, and surmount that hill, if possible, at a single spurt!" Work is the sustenance of noble minds. There is, then, no reason why, in accordance with that old vow of your parents, you should pick and choose what fortune you wish should fall to your lot, or what you should pray for; besides, it is base for a man who has already travelled the whole round of highest honours to be still importuning the gods. What need is there of vows? Make yourself happy through your own efforts; you can do this, if once you comprehend that whatever is blended with virtue is good, and that whatever is joined to vice is bad. Just as nothing gleams if it has no light blended with it, and nothing is black unless it contains darkness or draws to itself something of dimness, and as nothing is hot without the aid of fire, and nothing cold without air; so it is the association of virtue and vice that makes things honourable or base. What then is good? The knowledge of things. What is evil? The lack of knowledge of things. Your wise man, who is also a craftsman, will reject or choose in each case as it suits the occasion; but he does not fear that which he rejects, nor does he admire that which he chooses, if only he has a stout and unconquerable soul. I forbid you to be cast down or depressed. It is not enough if you do not shrink from work; ask for it. “But,” you say, “is not trifling and superfluous work, and work that has been inspired by ignoble causes, a bad sort of work?” No; no more than that which is expended upon noble endeavours, since the very quality that endures toil and rouses itself to hard and uphill effort, is of the spirit, which says: “Why do you grow slack? It is not the part of a man to fear sweat.” And besides this, in order that virtue may be perfect, there should be an even temperament and a scheme of life that is consistent with itself throughout; and this result cannot be attained without knowledge of things, and without the art which enables us to understand things human and things divine. That is the greatest good. If you seize this good, you begin to be the associate of the gods, and not their suppliant. “But how,” you ask, “does one attain that goal?” You do not need to cross the Pennine or Graian hills, or traverse the Candavian waste, or face the Syrtes, or Scylla, or Charybdis, although you have travelled through all these places for the bribe of a petty governorship; the journey for which nature has equipped you is safe and pleasant. She has given you such gifts that you may, if you do not prove false to them, rise level with God. Your money, however, will not place you on a level with God; for God has no property. Your bordered robe will not do this; for God is not clad in raiment; nor will your reputation, nor a display of self, nor a knowledge of your name wide-spread throughout the world; for no one has knowledge of God; many even hold him in low esteem, and do not suffer for so doing. The throng of slaves which carries your litter along the city streets and in foreign places will not help you; for this God of whom I speak, though the highest and most powerful of beings, carries all things on his own shoulders. Neither can beauty or strength make you blessed, for none of these qualities can withstand old age. What we have to seek for, then, is that which does not each day pass more and more under the control of some power which cannot be withstood. And what is this? It is the soul,—but the soul that is upright, good, and great. What else could you call such a soul than a god dwelling as a guest in a human body? A soul like this may descend into a Roman knight just as well as into a freedman’s son or a slave. For what is a Roman knight, or a freedman’s son, or a slave? They are mere titles, born of ambition or of wrong. One may leap to heaven from the very slums. Only rise And mould thyself to kinship with thy God. This moulding will not be done in gold or silver; an image that is to be in the likeness of God cannot be fashioned of such materials; remember that the gods, when they were kind unto men, were moulded in clay. Farewell.

[1] Agnosco Lucilium meum: incipit quem promiserat exhibere. Sequere illum impetum animi quo ad optima quaeque calcatis popularibus bonis ibas: non desidero maiorem melioremque te fieri quam moliebaris. Fundamenta tua multum loci occupaverunt: tantum effice quantum conatus es, et illa quae tecum in animo tulisti tracta. [2] Ad summam sapiens eris, si cluseris aures, quibus ceram parum est obdere: firmiore spissamento opus est quam in sociis usum Ulixem ferunt. Illa vox quae timebatur erat blanda, non tamen publica: at haec quae timenda est non ex uno scopulo sed ex omni terrarum parte circumsonat. Praetervehere itaque non unum locum insidiosa voluptate suspectum, sed omnes urbes. Surdum te amantissimis tuis praesta: bono animo mala precantur. Et si esse vis felix, deos ora ne quid tibi ex his quae optantur eveniat. [3] Non sunt ista bona quae in te isti volunt congeri: unum bonum est, quod beatae vitae causa et firmamentum est, sibi fidere. Hoc autem contingere non potest, nisi contemptus est labor et in eorum numero habitus quae neque bona sunt neque mala; fieri enim non potest ut una ulla res modo mala sit, modo bona, modo levis et perferenda, modo expavescenda. [4] Labor bonum non est: quid ergo est bonum? laboris contemptio. Itaque in vanum operosos culpaverim: rursus ad honesta nitentes, quanto magis incubuerint minus que sibi vinci ac strigare permiserint, admirabor et clamabo, 'tanto melior, surge et inspira et clivum istum uno si potes spiritu exsupera'. [5] Generosos animos labor nutrit. Non est ergo quod ex illo <voto> vetere parentum tuorum eligas quid contingere tibi velis, quid optes; et in totum iam per maxima acto viro turpe est etiam nunc deos fatigare. Quid votis opus est? fac te ipse felicem; facies autem, si intellexeris bona esse quibus admixta virtus est, turpia quibus malitia coniuncta est. Quemadmodum sine mixtura lucis nihil splendidum est, nihil atrum nisi quod tenebras habet aut aliquid in se traxit obscuri, quemadmodum sine adiutorio ignis nihil calidum est, nihil sine aere frigidum, ita honesta et turpia virtutis ac malitiae societas efficit. [6] Quid ergo est bonum ? rerum scientia. Quid malum est? rerum imperitia. Ille prudens atque artifex pro tempore quaeque repellet aut eliget; sed nec quae repellit timet nec miratur quae eligit, si modo magnus illi et invictus animus est. Summitti te ac deprimi veto. Laborem si non recuses, parum est: posce. [7] 'Quid ergo?' inquis 'labor frivolus et supervacuus et quem humiles causae evocaverunt non est malus?' Non magis quam ille qui pulchris rebus impenditur, quoniam animi est ipsa tolerantia quae se ad dura et aspera hortatur ac dicit, 'quid cessas? non est viri timere sudorem'. [8] Huc et illud accedat, ut perfecta virtus sit, aequalitas ac tenor vitae per omnia consonans sibi, quod non potest esse nisi rerum scientia contingit et ars per quam humana ac divina noscantur. Hoc est summum bonum; quod si occupas, incipis deorum socius esse, non supplex. [9] 'Quomodo' inquis 'isto pervenitur?' Non per Poeninum Graiumve montem nec per deserta Candaviae; nec Syrtes tibi nec Scylla aut Charybdis adeundae sunt, quae tamen omnia transisti procuratiunculae pretio: tutum iter est, iucundum est, ad quod natura te instruxit. Dedit tibi illa quae si non deserueris, par deo surges. [10] Parem autem te deo pecunia non faciet: deus nihil habet Praetexta non faciet: deus nudus est. Fama non faciet nec ostentatio tui et in populos nominis dimissa notitia: nemo novit deum, multi de illo male existimant, et impune. Non turba servorum lecticam tuam per itinera urbana ac peregrina portantium: deus ille maximus potentissimusque ipse vehit omnia. Ne forma quidem et vires beatum te facere possunt: nihil horum patitur vetustatem. [11] Quaerendum est quod non fiat in dies peius, cui non possit obstari. Quid hoc est? animus, sed hic rectus, bonus, magnus. Quid aliud voces hunc quam deum in corpore humano hospitantem? Hic animus tam in equitem Romanum quam in libertinum, quam in servum potest cadere. Quid est enim eques Romanus aut libertinus aut servus? nomina ex ambitione aut iniuria nata. Subsilire in caelum ex angulo licet: exsurge modo Finges autem non auro vel argento: non potest ex hac materia imago deo exprimi similis; cogita illos, cum propitii essent, fictiles fuisse. Vale.