Letter 5

I approve of you, and I am glad that you persist in your studies, putting everything else aside and making it your daily effort to become better. I do not merely urge you to keep at it; I beg you to. But I warn you not to behave like those who want to be noticed rather than improved, doing things that attract attention to their dress or general way of life. Avoid repellent clothing, unkempt hair, a neglected beard, open contempt for silver dishes, a bed on the bare ground, and every other distorted form of showing off. The very name of philosophy, even when pursued quietly, draws enough scorn on its own. What would happen if we began to separate ourselves from the customs of other people? Inwardly we should be different in every respect, but our outward life should fit with society. Do not wear a toga that is too fine, or one that is deliberately shabby. There is no need for silver plate chased and embossed in solid gold; but we should not think that lacking silver and gold proves a simple life. Let us try to hold ourselves to a higher standard than the crowd, but not to a contrary one. Otherwise we frighten away and repel the very people we are trying to improve. We also make them unwilling to imitate us in anything, because they fear they will have to imitate us in everything. The first thing philosophy promises is fellow feeling with all people: sympathy and sociability. We abandon that promise if we are unlike everyone else. We must make sure that the things by which we hope to win admiration are not absurd and hateful. Our motto, as you know, is "Live according to nature." But it is completely contrary to nature to torture the body, to hate unforced neatness, to be dirty on purpose, or to eat food that is not only plain but disgusting and forbidding. Just as it is luxurious to hunt for delicacies, it is madness to avoid what is customary and can be bought at no great cost. Philosophy calls for plain living, not punishment; and we can perfectly well be plain and neat at the same time. This is the balance I approve: our life should hold a happy middle ground between the ways of the sage and the ways of the world at large. Everyone should admire it, but everyone should also understand it. "Then should we act just like other people?" you ask. "Should there be no distinction between us and the world?" Yes, a very great one. Let people find that we are unlike the crowd if they look closely. If they visit us at home, they should admire us rather than our household furnishings. A great person uses earthenware dishes as if they were silver; but the person who uses silver as if it were earthenware is just as great. It is the sign of an unstable mind not to be able to endure wealth. But I want to share today's profit with you too. I find in the writings of our Hecato that limiting desires also helps cure fears: "Cease to hope," he says, "and you will cease to fear." "But how," you will reply, "can things so different go side by side?" In this way, my dear Lucilius: though they seem opposed, they are joined together. Just as the same chain fastens the prisoner and the guard, so hope and fear, different as they are, keep step together. Fear follows hope. I am not surprised they move in this way. Each belongs to a mind held in suspense, a mind worried by looking ahead to the future. The chief cause of both troubles is that we do not adapt ourselves to the present, but send our thoughts far ahead. So foresight, the noblest blessing of the human condition, is turned into an evil. Animals flee the dangers they see, and once they have escaped, they are free from care. We torment ourselves over what is coming and over what has passed. Many of our blessings harm us: memory brings back the torments of fear, and foresight anticipates them. The present alone can make no one miserable. Farewell.

I commend you and rejoice in the fact that you are persistent in your studies, and that, putting all else aside, you make it each day your endeavour to become a better man. I do not merely exhort you to keep at it; I actually beg you to do so. I warn you, however, not to act after the fashion of those who desire to be conspicuous rather than to improve, by doing things which will rouse comment as regards your dress or general way of living. Repellent attire, unkempt hair, slovenly beard, open scorn of silver dishes, a couch on the bare earth, and any other perverted forms of self-display, are to be avoided. The mere name of philosophy, however quietly pursued, is an object of sufficient scorn; and what would happen if we should begin to separate ourselves from the customs of our fellow-men? Inwardly, we ought to be different in all respects, but our exterior should conform to society. Do not wear too fine, nor yet too frowzy, a toga. One needs no silver plate, encrusted and embossed in solid gold; but we should not believe the lack of silver and gold to be proof of the simple life. Let us try to maintain a higher standard of life than that of the multitude, but not a contrary standard; otherwise, we shall frighten away and repel the very persons whom we are trying to improve. We also bring it about that they are unwilling to imitate us in anything, because they are afraid lest they might be compelled to imitate us in everything. The first thing which philosophy undertakes to give is fellow-feeling with all men; in other words, sympathy and sociability. We part company with our promise if we are unlike other men. We must see to it that the means by which we wish to draw admiration be not absurd and odious. Our motto, as you know, is “Live according to Nature”; but it is quite contrary to nature to torture the body, to hate unlaboured elegance, to be dirty on purpose, to eat food that is not only plain, but disgusting and forbidding. Just as it is a sign of luxury to seek out dainties, so it is madness to avoid that which is customary and can be purchased at no great price. Philosophy calls for plain living, but not for penance; and we may perfectly well be plain and neat at the same time. This is the mean of which I approve; our life should observe a happy medium between the ways of a sage and the ways of the world at large; all men should admire it, but they should understand it also. “Well then, shall we act like other men? Shall there be no distinction between ourselves and the world?” Yes, a very great one; let men find that we are unlike the common herd, if they look closely. If they visit us at home, they should admire us, rather than our household appointments. He is a great man who uses earthenware dishes as if they were silver; but he is equally great who uses silver as if it were earthenware. It is the sign of an unstable mind not to be able to endure riches. But I wish to share with you to-day’s profit also. I find in the writings of our Hecato that the limiting of desires helps also to cure fears: “Cease to hope,” he says, “and you will cease to fear.” “But how,” you will reply, “can things so different go side by side?” In this way, my dear Lucilius: though they do seem at variance, yet they are really united. Just as the same chain fastens the prisoner and the soldier who guards him, so hope and fear, dissimilar as they are, keep step together; fear follows hope. I am not surprised that they proceed in this way; each alike belongs to a mind that is in suspense, a mind that is fretted by looking forward to the future. But the chief cause of both these ills is that we do not adapt ourselves to the present, but send our thoughts a long way ahead. And so foresight, the noblest blessing of the human race, becomes perverted. Beasts avoid the dangers which they see, and when they have escaped them are free from care; but we men torment ourselves over that which is to come as well as over that which is past. Many of our blessings bring bane to us; for memory recalls the tortures of fear, while foresight anticipates them. The present alone can make no man wretched. Farewell.

[1] Quod pertinaciter studes et omnibus omissis hoc unum agis, ut te meliorem cotidie facias, et probo et gaudeo, nec tantum hortor ut perseveres sed etiam rogo. Illud autem te admoneo, ne eorum more qui non proficere sed conspici cupiunt facias aliqua quae in habitu tuo aut genere vitae notabilia sint; [2] asperum cultum et intonsum caput et neglegentiorem barbam et indictum argento odium et cubile humi positum et quidquid aliud ambitionem perversa via sequitur evita. Satis ipsum nomen philosophiae, etiam si modeste tractetur, invidiosum est: quid si nos hominum consuetudini coeperimus excerpere? Intus omnia dissimilia sint, frons populo nostra conveniat. [3] Non splendeat toga, ne sordeat quidem; non habeamus argentum in quod solidi auri caelatura descenderit, sed non putemus frugalitatis indicium auro argentoque caruisse. Id agamus ut meliorem vitam sequamur quam vulgus, non ut contrariam: alioquin quos emendari volumus fugamus a nobis et avertimus; illud quoque efficimus, ut nihil imitari velint nostri, dum timent ne imitanda sint omnia. [4] Hoc primum philosophia promittit, sensum communem, humanitatem et congregationem; a qua professione dissimilitudo nos separabit. Videamus ne ista per quae admirationem parare volumus ridicula et odiosa sint. Nempe propositum nostrum est secundum naturam vivere: hoc contra naturam est, torquere corpus suum et faciles odisse munditias et squalorem appetere et cibis non tantum vilibus uti sed taetris et horridis. [5] Quemadmodum desiderare delicatas res luxuriae est, ita usitatas et non magno parabiles fugere dementiae. Frugalitatem exigit philosophia, non poenam; potest autem esse non incompta frugalitas. Hic mihi modus placet: temperetur vita inter bonos mores et publicos; suspiciant omnes vitam nostram sed agnoscant. [6] 'Quid ergo? eadem faciemus quae ceteri? nihil inter nos et illos intererit?' Plurimum: dissimiles esse nos vulgo sciat qui inspexerit propius; qui domum intraverit nos potius miretur quam supellectilem nostram. Magnus ille est qui fictilibus sic utitur quemadmodum argento, nec ille minor est qui sic argento utitur quemadmodum fictilibus; infirmi animi est pati non posse divitias. [7] Sed ut huius quoque diei lucellum tecum communicem, apud Hecatonem nostrum inveni cupiditatum finem etiam ad timoris remedia proficere. 'Desines' inquit 'timere, si sperare desieris.' Dices, 'quomodo ista tam diversa pariter sunt?' Ita est, mi Lucili: cum videantur dissidere, coniuncta sunt. Quemadmodum eadem catena et custodiam et militem copulat, sic ista quae tam dissimilia sunt pariter incedunt: spem metus sequitur. [8] Nec miror ista sic ire: utrumque pendentis animi est, utrumque futuri exspectatione solliciti. Maxima autem utriusque causa est quod non ad praesentia aptamur sed cogitationes in longinqua praemittimus; itaque providentia, maximum bonum condicionis humanae, in malum versa est. [9] Ferae pericula quae vident fugiunt, cum effugere, securae sunt: nos et venturo torquemur et praeterito. Multa bona nostra nobis nocent; timoris enim tormentum memoria reducit, providentia anticipat; nemo tantum praesentibus miser est. Vale.