Lucius Annaeus Seneca→Lucilius Junior|c. 64 AD|Seneca the Younger|From Southern Italy (regional)|To Sicily (regional)|AI-assisted
I endorse your plan: hide yourself away in leisure, but hide your leisure as well. You may be sure that in doing this you are following the Stoics, by their example if not by their precept; yet you will be acting on precept too, and so you will gain the approval both of yourself and of anyone you choose. We Stoics do not send a man into every kind of public service, nor always, nor without any limit. Besides, when we have given the wise man a commonwealth worthy of him, that is, the universe, he is not outside public life even when he has withdrawn; indeed, perhaps, having left a single corner, he passes over into greater and more spacious things, and once set among the heavens he understands, when he used to climb the magistrate's chair or the tribunal [the curule chair and judgment-seat were seats of Roman public office], in how lowly a place he was sitting. Settle this in your mind: the wise man is never more active than when things divine and human alike have come within his view.
Now I return to what I had begun to urge upon you, that your leisure should be unknown. There is no need to label yourself "Philosophy and Repose": give your purpose some other name; call it ill health and frailty, and idleness too. To boast of leisure is a lazy kind of ambition. Certain animals, so that they cannot be found, confuse their own tracks around their very lair: you must do the same, or else there will be no shortage of those who hunt you down. Many pass by what is open; they pry into what is hidden and concealed; a sealed door tempts the thief. Whatever lies exposed seems cheap; the burglar passes by an open house. Such are the ways of the common crowd, and of every most ignorant man: each longs to break into what is secret. The best thing, therefore, is not to parade one's leisure; but it is itself a kind of parading to hide too much and to withdraw from the sight of men. One man has buried himself at Tarentum, another has shut himself up at Naples, another for many years has not crossed the threshold of his own house: whoever has attached some story to his leisure summons a crowd.
When you have withdrawn, your business is not to make men talk about you, but to talk with yourself. And what will you say? Do what men do most gladly when they speak of others: speak ill of yourself, to yourself; you will grow accustomed both to telling the truth and to hearing it. But work hardest on whatever you feel to be weakest in yourself. Each man knows the faults of his own body. And so one man relieves his stomach by vomiting, another props it up with frequent food, another empties and purges his body by inserting a fast; those whose feet are attacked by pain abstain from wine or from the bath: careless in all else, they go to meet the ailment by which they are often beset. So in our mind there are certain parts, as it were, on the sick list, to which a treatment must be applied. What do I do in my leisure? I tend my own sore. If I were to show you a swollen foot, a livid hand, or the withered sinews of a shrunken leg, you would let me lie in one place and nurse my disease: this evil is greater, which I cannot show you: in my very breast there is an abscess and an ulcer. I do not want, I do not want you to praise me, I do not want you to say, "What a great man! He has scorned everything, and condemning the madnesses of human life he has fled." I have condemned nothing except myself. There is no reason for you to want to come to me for the sake of making progress. You are mistaken if you hope for any help from here: it is not a physician but a patient who lives in this place. I would rather, when you have left, that you say: "I used to think that man happy and learned; I had pricked up my ears: I was let down, I saw nothing, I heard nothing that I might covet, nothing to come back for." If you feel this, if you say this, some progress has been made: I would rather you pardoned my leisure than envied it.
"Leisure," you say, "is what you commend to me, Seneca? Are you slipping into the language of Epicurus?" I do commend leisure to you, but a leisure in which you may pursue things greater and more beautiful than those you have left behind: to batter at the proud doors of the more powerful, to enroll in alphabetical lists the childless old men [hunting for legacies by courting heirless old men was a notorious Roman practice], to wield the greatest influence in the Forum, is a power that breeds envy and is short-lived, and, if you value it truly, sordid. One man will far outstrip me in influence at the bar, another in military service and the rank won by it, another in his throng of clients. I cannot equal him in the crowd, for these men have more backing: it is worth being outdone by all of them, provided that Fortune is outdone by me. Would that long ago your mind had set out to follow this purpose! Would that we were not now debating the happy life in the very sight of death! But even now let us not delay; for many things which we would have believed, on reason's word, to be superfluous and hostile, we now believe on the word of experience. Let us add the spur, as those are accustomed to do who set out too late and want to make up the time by speed. This time of life is best suited to these studies: it has now thrown off its froth, it has now worn out the vices that ran wild in the first heat of youth; not much remains for it to extinguish them altogether. "And when," you say, "will it profit you, this thing you learn at your departure, or for what purpose?" For this: that I may depart a better man. Yet you must not suppose that any age is fitter for a sound mind than one which has tamed itself by many trials and by long and frequent repentance for things done, which has come to what is wholesome with its passions calmed. This is the proper time for this good: whoever reaches wisdom in old age has reached it through his years. Farewell.
I fall in with your plan; retire and conceal yourself in repose. But at the same time conceal your retirement also. In doing this, you may be sure that you will be following the example of the Stoics, if not their precept. But you will be acting according to their precept also; you will thus satisfy both yourself and any Stoic you please. We Stoics do not urge men to take up public life in every case, or at all times, or without any qualification. Besides, when we have assigned to our wise man that field of public life which is worthy of him,—in other words, the universe,—he is then not apart from public life, even if he withdraws; nay, perhaps he has abandoned only one little corner thereof and has passed over into greater and wider regions; and when he has been set in the heavens, he understands how lowly was the place in which he sat when he mounted the curule chair or the judgment-seat. Lay this to heart,—that the wise man is never more active in affairs than when things divine as well as things human have come within his ken.
I now return to the advice which I set out to give you,—that you keep your retirement in the background. There is no need to fasten a placard upon yourself with the words: “Philosopher and Quietist.” Give your purpose some other name; call it ill-health and bodily weakness, or mere laziness. To boast of our retirement is but idle self-seeking. Certain animals hide themselves from discovery by confusing the marks of their foot-prints in the neighbourhood of their lairs. You should do the same. Otherwise, there will always be someone dogging your footsteps. Many men pass by that which is visible, and peer after things hidden and concealed; a locked room invites the thief. Things which lie in the open appear cheap; the house-breaker passes by that which is exposed to view. This is the way of the world, and the way of all ignorant men: they crave to burst in upon hidden things. It is therefore best not to vaunt one’s retirement. It is, however, a sort of vaunting to make too much of one’s concealment and of one’s withdrawal from the sight of men. So-and-so has gone into his retreat at Tarentum; that other man has shut himself up at Naples; this third person for many years has not crossed the threshold of his own house. To advertise one’s retirement is to collect a crowd. When you withdraw from the world your business is to talk with yourself, not to have men talk about you. But what shall you talk about? Do just what people are fond of doing when they talk about their neighbours,—speak ill of yourself when by yourself; then you will become accustomed both to speak and to hear the truth. Above all, however, ponder that which you come to feel is your greatest weakness. Each man knows best the defects of his own body. And so one relieves his stomach by vomiting, another props it up by frequent eating, another drains and purges his body by periodic fasting. Those whose feet are visited by pain abstain either from wine or from the bath. In general, men who are careless in other respects go out of their way to relieve the disease which frequently afflicts them. So it is with our souls; there are in them certain parts which are, so to speak, on the sick-list, and to these parts the cure must be applied.
What, then, am I myself doing with my leisure? I am trying to cure my own sores. If I were to show you a swollen foot, or an inflamed hand, or some shrivelled sinews in a withered leg, you would permit me to lie quiet in one place and to apply lotions to the diseased member. But my trouble is greater than any of these, and I cannot show it to you. The abscess, or ulcer, is deep within my breast. Pray, pray, do not commend me, do not say: “What a great man! He has learned to despise all things; condemning the madnesses of man’s life, he has made his escape!” I have condemned nothing except myself. There is no reason why you should desire to come to me for the sake of making progress. You are mistaken if you think that you will get any assistance from this quarter; it is not a physician that dwells here, but a sick man. I would rather have you say, on leaving my presence: “I used to think him a happy man and a learned one, and I had pricked up my ears to hear him; but I have been defrauded. I have seen nothing, heard nothing which I craved and which I came back to hear.” If you feel thus, and speak thus, some progress has been made. I prefer you to pardon rather than envy my retirement.
Then you say: “Is it retirement, Seneca, that you are recommending to me? You will soon be falling back upon the maxims of Epicurus!" I do recommend retirement to you, but only that you may use it for greater and more beautiful activities than those which you have resigned; to knock at the haughty doors of the influential, to make alphabetical lists of childless old men, to wield the highest authority in public life,—this kind of power exposes you to hatred, is short-lived, and, if you rate it at its true value, is tawdry. One man shall be far ahead of me as regards his influence in public life, another in salary as an army officer and in the position which results from this, another in the throng of his clients; but it is worth while to be outdone by all these men, provided that I myself can outdo Fortune. And I am no match for her in the throng; she has the greater backing.
Would that in earlier days you had been minded to follow this purpose! Would that we were not discussing the happy life in plain view of death! But even now let us have no delay. For now we can take the word of experience, which tells us that there are many superfluous and hostile things; for this we should long since have taken the word of reason. Let us do what men are wont to do when they are late in setting forth, and wish to make up for lost time by increasing their speed—let us ply the spur. Our time of life is the best possible for these pursuits; for the period of boiling and foaming is now past. The faults that were uncontrolled in the first fierce heat of youth are now weakened, and but little further effort is needed to extinguish them.
“And when,” you ask, “will that profit you which you do not learn until your departure, and how will it profit you?” Precisely in this way, that I shall depart a better man. You need not think, however, that any time of life is more fitted to the attainment of a sound mind than that which has gained the victory over itself by many trials and by long and oft-repeated regret for past mistakes, and, its passions assuaged, has reached a state of health. This is indeed the time to have acquired this good; he who has attained wisdom in his old age, has attained it by his years. Farewell.
[1] Consilio tuo accedo: absconde te in otio, sed et ipsum otium absconde. Hoc te facturum Stoicorum etiam si non praecepto, at exemplo licet scias; sed ex praecepto quoque facies: et tibi et cui voles approbaris. [2] Nec ad omnem rem publicam mittimus nec semper nec sine ullo fine; praeterea, cum sapienti rem publicam ipso dignam dedimus, id est mundum, non est extra rem publicam etiam si recesserit, immo fortasse relicto uno angulo in maiora atque ampliora transit et caelo impositus intellegit, cum sellam aut tribunal ascenderet, quam humili loco sederit. Depone hoc apud te, numquam plus agere sapientem quam cum in conspectum eius divina atque humana venerunt.
[3] Nunc ad illud revertor quod suadere tibi coeperam, ut otium tuum ignotum sit. Non est quod inscribas tibi philosophiam ac quietem: aliud proposito tuo nomen impone, valetudinem et imbecillitatem vocato et desidiam. Gloriari otio iners ambitio est. [4] Animalia quaedam, ne inveniri possint, vestigia sua circa ipsum cubile confundunt: idem tibi faciendum est, alioqui non deerunt qui persequantur. Multi aperta transeunt, condita et abstrusa rimantur; furem signata sollicitant. Vile videtur quidquid patet; aperta effractarius praeterit. Hos mores habet populus, hos imperitissimus quisque: in secreta irrumpere cupit. [5] Optimum itaque est non iactare otium suum; iactandi autem genus est nimis latere et a conspectu hominum secedere. Ille Tarentum se abdidit, ille Neapoli inclusus est, ille multis annis non transit domus suae limen: convocat turbam quisquis otio suo aliquam fabulam imposuit.
[6] Cum secesseris, non est hoc agendum, ut de te homines loquantur, sed ut ipse tecum loquaris. Quid autem loqueris? quod homines de aliis libentissime faciunt, de te apud te male existima: assuesces et dicere verum et audire. Id autem maxime tracta quod in te esse infirmissimum senties. [7] Nota habet sui quisque corporis vitia. Itaque alius vomitu levat stomachum, alius frequenti cibo fulcit, alius interposito ieiunio corpus exhaurit et purgat; ii quorum pedes dolor repetit aut vino aut balineo abstinent: in cetera neglegentes huic a quo saepe infestantur occurrunt. Sic in animo nostro sunt quaedam quasi causariae partes quibus adhibenda curatio est. [8] Quid in otio facio? ulcus meum curo. Si ostenderem tibi pedem turgidum, lividam manum, aut contracti cruris aridos nervos, permitteres mihi uno loco iacere et fovere morbum meum: maius malum est hoc, quod non possum tibi ostendere: in pectore ipso collectio et vomica est. Nolo nolo laudes, nolo dicas, 'o magnum virum! contempsit omnia et damnatis humanae vitae furoribus fugit'. Nihil damnavi nisi me. [9] Non est quod proficiendi causa venire ad me velis. Erras, qui hinc aliquid auxili speras: non medicus sed aeger hic habitat. Malo illa, cum discesseris, dicas: 'ego istum beatum hominem putabam et eruditum, erexeram aures: destitutus sum, nihil vidi, nihil audivi quod concupiscerem, ad quod reverterer'. Si hoc sentis, si hoc loqueris, aliquid profectum est: malo ignoscas otio meo quam invideas.
[10] 'Otium' inquis 'Seneca, commendas mihi? ad Epicureas voces delaberis?' Otium tibi commendo, in quo maiora agas et pulchriora quam quae reliquisti: pulsare superbas potentiorum fores, digerere in litteram senes orbos, plurimum in foro posse invidiosa potentia ac brevis est et, si verum aestimes, sordida. [11] Ille me gratia forensi longe antecedet, ille stipendiis militaribus et quaesita per hoc dignitate, ille clientium turba. [cui in turba] Par esse non possum, plus habent gratiae: est tanti ab omnibus vinci, dum a me fortuna vincatur. [12] Utinam quidem hoc propositum sequi olim fuisset animus tibi! utinam de vita beata non in conspectu mortis ageremus! Sed nunc quoque non moramur; multa enim quae supervacua esse et inimica credituri fuimus rationi, nunc experientiae credimus. [13] Quod facere solent qui serius exierunt et volunt tempus celeritate reparare, calcar addamus. Haec aetas optime facit ad haec studia: iam despumavit, iam vitia primo fervore adulescentiae indomita lassavit; non multum superest ut exstinguat. [14] 'Et quando' inquis 'tibi proderit istud quod in exitu discis, aut in quam rem?' In hanc, ut exeam melior. Non est tamen quod existimes ullam aetatem aptiorem esse ad bonam mentem quam quae se multis experimentis, longa ac frequenti rerum paenitentia domuit, quae ad salutaria mitigatis affectibus venit. Hoc est huius boni tempus: quisquis senex ad sapientiam pervenit, annis pervenit. Vale.
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I endorse your plan: hide yourself away in leisure, but hide your leisure as well. You may be sure that in doing this you are following the Stoics, by their example if not by their precept; yet you will be acting on precept too, and so you will gain the approval both of yourself and of anyone you choose. We Stoics do not send a man into every kind of public service, nor always, nor without any limit. Besides, when we have given the wise man a commonwealth worthy of him, that is, the universe, he is not outside public life even when he has withdrawn; indeed, perhaps, having left a single corner, he passes over into greater and more spacious things, and once set among the heavens he understands, when he used to climb the magistrate's chair or the tribunal [the curule chair and judgment-seat were seats of Roman public office], in how lowly a place he was sitting. Settle this in your mind: the wise man is never more active than when things divine and human alike have come within his view.
Now I return to what I had begun to urge upon you, that your leisure should be unknown. There is no need to label yourself "Philosophy and Repose": give your purpose some other name; call it ill health and frailty, and idleness too. To boast of leisure is a lazy kind of ambition. Certain animals, so that they cannot be found, confuse their own tracks around their very lair: you must do the same, or else there will be no shortage of those who hunt you down. Many pass by what is open; they pry into what is hidden and concealed; a sealed door tempts the thief. Whatever lies exposed seems cheap; the burglar passes by an open house. Such are the ways of the common crowd, and of every most ignorant man: each longs to break into what is secret. The best thing, therefore, is not to parade one's leisure; but it is itself a kind of parading to hide too much and to withdraw from the sight of men. One man has buried himself at Tarentum, another has shut himself up at Naples, another for many years has not crossed the threshold of his own house: whoever has attached some story to his leisure summons a crowd.
When you have withdrawn, your business is not to make men talk about you, but to talk with yourself. And what will you say? Do what men do most gladly when they speak of others: speak ill of yourself, to yourself; you will grow accustomed both to telling the truth and to hearing it. But work hardest on whatever you feel to be weakest in yourself. Each man knows the faults of his own body. And so one man relieves his stomach by vomiting, another props it up with frequent food, another empties and purges his body by inserting a fast; those whose feet are attacked by pain abstain from wine or from the bath: careless in all else, they go to meet the ailment by which they are often beset. So in our mind there are certain parts, as it were, on the sick list, to which a treatment must be applied. What do I do in my leisure? I tend my own sore. If I were to show you a swollen foot, a livid hand, or the withered sinews of a shrunken leg, you would let me lie in one place and nurse my disease: this evil is greater, which I cannot show you: in my very breast there is an abscess and an ulcer. I do not want, I do not want you to praise me, I do not want you to say, "What a great man! He has scorned everything, and condemning the madnesses of human life he has fled." I have condemned nothing except myself. There is no reason for you to want to come to me for the sake of making progress. You are mistaken if you hope for any help from here: it is not a physician but a patient who lives in this place. I would rather, when you have left, that you say: "I used to think that man happy and learned; I had pricked up my ears: I was let down, I saw nothing, I heard nothing that I might covet, nothing to come back for." If you feel this, if you say this, some progress has been made: I would rather you pardoned my leisure than envied it.
"Leisure," you say, "is what you commend to me, Seneca? Are you slipping into the language of Epicurus?" I do commend leisure to you, but a leisure in which you may pursue things greater and more beautiful than those you have left behind: to batter at the proud doors of the more powerful, to enroll in alphabetical lists the childless old men [hunting for legacies by courting heirless old men was a notorious Roman practice], to wield the greatest influence in the Forum, is a power that breeds envy and is short-lived, and, if you value it truly, sordid. One man will far outstrip me in influence at the bar, another in military service and the rank won by it, another in his throng of clients. I cannot equal him in the crowd, for these men have more backing: it is worth being outdone by all of them, provided that Fortune is outdone by me. Would that long ago your mind had set out to follow this purpose! Would that we were not now debating the happy life in the very sight of death! But even now let us not delay; for many things which we would have believed, on reason's word, to be superfluous and hostile, we now believe on the word of experience. Let us add the spur, as those are accustomed to do who set out too late and want to make up the time by speed. This time of life is best suited to these studies: it has now thrown off its froth, it has now worn out the vices that ran wild in the first heat of youth; not much remains for it to extinguish them altogether. "And when," you say, "will it profit you, this thing you learn at your departure, or for what purpose?" For this: that I may depart a better man. Yet you must not suppose that any age is fitter for a sound mind than one which has tamed itself by many trials and by long and frequent repentance for things done, which has come to what is wholesome with its passions calmed. This is the proper time for this good: whoever reaches wisdom in old age has reached it through his years. Farewell.
AI-assisted translation - This translation was produced with AI assistance and has not been peer-reviewed. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek below for scholarly use.
Latin / Greek Original
[1] Consilio tuo accedo: absconde te in otio, sed et ipsum otium absconde. Hoc te facturum Stoicorum etiam si non praecepto, at exemplo licet scias; sed ex praecepto quoque facies: et tibi et cui voles approbaris. [2] Nec ad omnem rem publicam mittimus nec semper nec sine ullo fine; praeterea, cum sapienti rem publicam ipso dignam dedimus, id est mundum, non est extra rem publicam etiam si recesserit, immo fortasse relicto uno angulo in maiora atque ampliora transit et caelo impositus intellegit, cum sellam aut tribunal ascenderet, quam humili loco sederit. Depone hoc apud te, numquam plus agere sapientem quam cum in conspectum eius divina atque humana venerunt.
[3] Nunc ad illud revertor quod suadere tibi coeperam, ut otium tuum ignotum sit. Non est quod inscribas tibi philosophiam ac quietem: aliud proposito tuo nomen impone, valetudinem et imbecillitatem vocato et desidiam. Gloriari otio iners ambitio est. [4] Animalia quaedam, ne inveniri possint, vestigia sua circa ipsum cubile confundunt: idem tibi faciendum est, alioqui non deerunt qui persequantur. Multi aperta transeunt, condita et abstrusa rimantur; furem signata sollicitant. Vile videtur quidquid patet; aperta effractarius praeterit. Hos mores habet populus, hos imperitissimus quisque: in secreta irrumpere cupit. [5] Optimum itaque est non iactare otium suum; iactandi autem genus est nimis latere et a conspectu hominum secedere. Ille Tarentum se abdidit, ille Neapoli inclusus est, ille multis annis non transit domus suae limen: convocat turbam quisquis otio suo aliquam fabulam imposuit.
[6] Cum secesseris, non est hoc agendum, ut de te homines loquantur, sed ut ipse tecum loquaris. Quid autem loqueris? quod homines de aliis libentissime faciunt, de te apud te male existima: assuesces et dicere verum et audire. Id autem maxime tracta quod in te esse infirmissimum senties. [7] Nota habet sui quisque corporis vitia. Itaque alius vomitu levat stomachum, alius frequenti cibo fulcit, alius interposito ieiunio corpus exhaurit et purgat; ii quorum pedes dolor repetit aut vino aut balineo abstinent: in cetera neglegentes huic a quo saepe infestantur occurrunt. Sic in animo nostro sunt quaedam quasi causariae partes quibus adhibenda curatio est. [8] Quid in otio facio? ulcus meum curo. Si ostenderem tibi pedem turgidum, lividam manum, aut contracti cruris aridos nervos, permitteres mihi uno loco iacere et fovere morbum meum: maius malum est hoc, quod non possum tibi ostendere: in pectore ipso collectio et vomica est. Nolo nolo laudes, nolo dicas, 'o magnum virum! contempsit omnia et damnatis humanae vitae furoribus fugit'. Nihil damnavi nisi me. [9] Non est quod proficiendi causa venire ad me velis. Erras, qui hinc aliquid auxili speras: non medicus sed aeger hic habitat. Malo illa, cum discesseris, dicas: 'ego istum beatum hominem putabam et eruditum, erexeram aures: destitutus sum, nihil vidi, nihil audivi quod concupiscerem, ad quod reverterer'. Si hoc sentis, si hoc loqueris, aliquid profectum est: malo ignoscas otio meo quam invideas.
[10] 'Otium' inquis 'Seneca, commendas mihi? ad Epicureas voces delaberis?' Otium tibi commendo, in quo maiora agas et pulchriora quam quae reliquisti: pulsare superbas potentiorum fores, digerere in litteram senes orbos, plurimum in foro posse invidiosa potentia ac brevis est et, si verum aestimes, sordida. [11] Ille me gratia forensi longe antecedet, ille stipendiis militaribus et quaesita per hoc dignitate, ille clientium turba. [cui in turba] Par esse non possum, plus habent gratiae: est tanti ab omnibus vinci, dum a me fortuna vincatur. [12] Utinam quidem hoc propositum sequi olim fuisset animus tibi! utinam de vita beata non in conspectu mortis ageremus! Sed nunc quoque non moramur; multa enim quae supervacua esse et inimica credituri fuimus rationi, nunc experientiae credimus. [13] Quod facere solent qui serius exierunt et volunt tempus celeritate reparare, calcar addamus. Haec aetas optime facit ad haec studia: iam despumavit, iam vitia primo fervore adulescentiae indomita lassavit; non multum superest ut exstinguat. [14] 'Et quando' inquis 'tibi proderit istud quod in exitu discis, aut in quam rem?' In hanc, ut exeam melior. Non est tamen quod existimes ullam aetatem aptiorem esse ad bonam mentem quam quae se multis experimentis, longa ac frequenti rerum paenitentia domuit, quae ad salutaria mitigatis affectibus venit. Hoc est huius boni tempus: quisquis senex ad sapientiam pervenit, annis pervenit. Vale.