Lucius Annaeus Seneca→Lucilius Junior|c. 64 AD|Seneca the Younger|From Southern Italy (regional)|To Sicily (regional)|AI-assisted
[1] Today I have time to myself, owing not so much to my own doing as to the games, which have lured all the tiresome people off to a boxing-match. No one will burst in, no one will interrupt my train of thought, which advances all the more boldly because of this very confidence. The door will not keep banging, the curtain will not be drawn aside: I shall be allowed to proceed safely, which matters more to a man who goes his own way and follows his own road. So do I not follow those who came before me? I do, but I allow myself both to discover something, and to change, and to abandon; I am not their slave, but I give them my assent.
[2] And yet it was a bold word I spoke when I promised myself silence and seclusion without anyone to interrupt: look, a huge roar carries over from the stadium, and though it does not shake me out of myself, it shifts my attention to the contemplation of this very thing. I consider with myself how many men train their bodies, and how few their minds; what an enormous crowd gathers for a spectacle that is unreliable and good only for play, and what a desolation surrounds the good arts; how feeble in mind are those whose arms and shoulders we marvel at. [3] This above all I turn over in my mind: if the body can be brought by training to such endurance that it can bear the fists and heels alike of more than one man, that someone enduring the most scorching sun in the most blazing dust, and drenched in his own blood, can hold out the whole day long, how much more easily could the mind be strengthened so that it might receive the blows of Fortune unconquered, so that, thrown down and trampled underfoot, it might rise again. For the body needs many things in order to be strong: the mind grows from itself, feeds itself, exercises itself. Those athletes need much food, much drink, much oil, and finally long labor: virtue will come to you without equipment, without expense. Whatever can make you good is already within you. [4] What do you need in order to be good? To will it. And what better thing could you will than to wrench yourself free from this slavery that weighs upon us all, the slavery that even slaves of the lowest condition, born amid such squalor, strive in every way to throw off? Their savings, which they have scraped together by cheating their own bellies, they pay over for their freedom: will you not long to reach liberty at any price whatever, you who believe you were born to it? [5] Why do you look toward your strongbox? It cannot be bought. And so it is in vain that the word "freedom" is entered onto the tablets [the official register of manumission], a freedom which neither those who bought it possess nor those who sold it: you must give this good to yourself, you must seek it from yourself. First free yourself from the fear of death (that is what lays the yoke on us), then from the fear of poverty. [6] If you want to know how little evil there is in poverty, compare with each other the faces of the poor and the rich: the poor man laughs more often and more honestly; no anxiety lies deep within him; even if some care does strike him, it passes like a light cloud: but among those who are called happy the cheerfulness is counterfeit, or else it is a heavy and festering sadness, all the heavier because at times they are not permitted to be openly wretched, but must play the happy man amid troubles that gnaw at the very heart. [7] I must often make use of this comparison, for there is no more effective way to express this mime of human life, which assigns us the parts we are to play badly. The man who struts grandly across the stage and declaims, head thrown back, "Lo, I am he whom Argos hails as lord, / whom Pelops left as heir of lands that reach / from the Hellespont and the Ionian sea / to the Isthmian straits" - that man is a slave; he gets five measures of grain and five denarii. [8] The one who, proud and uncontrolled and swollen with confidence in his strength, says, "Be still, Menelaus, or this hand will lay you low" - he gets a daily pittance and sleeps in a patchwork rag. The same may be said of all those pampered men whom the litter holds aloft above people's heads and above the crowd: the happiness of every one of them is a mask. You will despise them once you have stripped them. [9] When you are about to buy a horse, you order the saddle-cloth removed; you strip the clothes off slaves put up for sale, so that no flaws of the body may stay hidden: do you appraise a man while he is wrapped up? Slave-dealers hide whatever there is that might give offense under some sort of dressing-up, and so the very ornaments are suspect to buyers: if you were to catch sight of a leg bound up or an arm, you would order them bared and the body itself shown to you. [10] Do you see that king of Scythia or Sarmatia, splendid with the emblem on his head? If you want to appraise him and to know fully what sort of man he is, untie the diadem: much evil lurks beneath it. Why do I speak of others? If you wish to weigh yourself, set aside your money, your house, your rank, and consider yourself from within: as it is, you trust to others for what sort of man you are. Farewell.
To-day I have some free time, thanks not so much to myself as to the games, which have attracted all the bores to the boxing-match. No one will interrupt me or disturb the train of my thoughts, which go ahead more boldly as the result of my very confidence. My door has not been continually creaking on its hinges nor will my curtain be pulled aside; my thoughts may march safely on,—and that is all the more necessary for one who goes independently and follows out his own path. Do I then follow no predecessors? Yes, but I allow myself to discover something new, to alter, to reject. I am not a slave to them, although I give them my approval.
And yet that was a very bold word which I spoke when I assured myself that I should have some quiet, and some uninterrupted retirement. For lo, a great cheer comes from the stadium, and while it does not drive me distracted, yet it shifts my thought to a contrast suggested by this very noise. How many men, I say to myself, train their bodies, and how few train their minds! What crowds flock to the games,—spurious as they are and arranged merely for pastime,—and what a solitude reigns where the good arts are taught! How feather-brained are the athletes whose muscles and shoulders we admire! The question which I ponder most of all is this: if the body can be trained to such a degree of endurance that it will stand the blows and kicks of several opponents at once and to such a degree that a man can last out the day and resist the scorching sun in the midst of the burning dust, drenched all the while with his own blood,—if this can be done, how much more easily might the mind be toughened so that it could receive the blows of Fortune and not be conquered, so that it might struggle to its feet again after it has been laid low, after it has been trampled under foot?
For although the body needs many things in order to be strong, yet the mind grows from within, giving to itself nourishment and exercise. Yonder athletes must have copious food, copious drink, copious quantities of oil, and long training besides; but you can acquire virtue without equipment and without expense. All that goes to make you a good man lies within yourself. And what do you need in order to become good? To wish it. But what better thing could you wish for than to break away from this slavery,—a slavery that oppresses us all, a slavery which even chattels of the lowest estate, born amid such degradation, strive in every possible way to strip off? In exchange for freedom they pay out the savings which they have scraped together by cheating their own bellies; shall you not be eager to attain liberty at any price, seeing that you claim it as your birthright? Why cast glances toward your strong-box? Liberty cannot be bought. It is therefore useless to enter in your ledger the item of “Freedom,” for freedom is possessed neither by those who have bought it, nor by those who have sold it. You must give this good to yourself, and seek it from yourself.
First of all, free yourself from the fear of death, for death puts the yoke about our necks; then free yourself from the fear of poverty. If you would know how little evil there is in poverty, compare the faces of the poor with those of the rich; the poor man smiles more often and more genuinely; his troubles do not go deep down; even if any anxiety comes upon him, it passes like a fitful cloud. But the merriment of those whom men call happy is feigned, while their sadness is heavy and festering, and all the heavier because they may not meanwhile display their grief, but must act the part of happiness in the midst of sorrows that eat out their very hearts. I often feel called upon to use the following illustration, and it seems to me that none expresses more effectively this drama of human life, wherein we are assigned the parts which we are to play so badly. Yonder is the man who stalks upon the stage with swelling port and head thrown back, and says:
Lo, I am he whom Argos hails as lord,
Whom Pelops left the heir of lands that spread
From Hellespont and from th’ Ionian sea
E’en to the Isthmian straits.
And who is this fellow? He is but a slave; his wage is five measures of grain and five denarii. Yon other who, proud and wayward and puffed up by confidence in his power, declaims:
Peace, Menelaus, or this hand shall slay thee!
receives a daily pittance and sleeps on rags. You may speak in the same way about all these dandies whom you see riding in litters above the heads of men and above the crowd; in every case their happiness is put on like the actor’s mask. Tear it off, and you will scorn them.
When you buy a horse, you order its blanket to be removed; you pull off the garments from slaves that are advertised for sale, so that no bodily flaws may escape your notice; if you judge a man, do you judge him when he is wrapped in a disguise? Slave-dealers hide under some sort of finery any defect which may give offence, and for that reason the very trappings arouse the suspicion of the buyer. If you catch sight of a leg or an arm that is bound up in cloths, you demand that it be stripped and that the body itself be revealed to you. Do you see yonder Scythian or Sarmatian king, his head adorned with the badge of his office? If you wish to see what he amounts to, and to know his full worth, take off his diadem; much evil lurks beneath it. But why do I speak of others? If you wish to set a value on yourself, put away your money, your estates, your honours, and look into your own soul. At present, you are taking the word of others for what you are. Farewell.
[1] Hodierno die non tantum meo beneficio mihi vaco sed spectaculi, quod omnes molestos ad sphaeromachian avocavit. Nemo inrumpet, nemo cogitationem meam inpediet, quae hac ipsa fiducia procedit audacius. Non crepabit subinde ostium, non adlevabitur velum: licebit tuto vadere, quod magis necessarium est per se eunti et suam sequenti viam. Non ergo sequor priores? facio, sed permitto mihi et invenire aliquid et mutare et relinquere; non servio illis, sed assentior.
[2] Magnum tamen verbum dixi, qui mihi silentium promittebam et sine interpellatore secretum: ecce ingens clamor ex stadio perfertur et me non excutit mihi, sed in huius ipsius rei contemplationem transfert. Cogito mecum quam multi corpora exerceant, ingenia quam pauci; quantus ad spectaculum non fidele et lusorium fiat concursus, quanta sit circa artes bonas solitudo; quam inbecilli animo sint quorum lacertos umerosque miramur. [3] Illud maxime revolvo mecum: si corpus perduci exercitatione ad hanc patientiam potest qua et pugnos pariter et calces non unius hominis ferat, qua solem ardentissimum in ferventissimo pulvere sustinens aliquis et sanguine suo madens diem ducat, quanto facilius animus conroborari possit ut fortunae ictus invictus excipiat, ut proiectus, ut conculcatus exsurgat. Corpus enim multis eget rebus ut valeat: animus ex se crescit, se ipse alit, se exercet. Illis multo cibo, multa potione opus est, multo oleo, longa denique opera: tibi continget virtus sine apparatu, sine inpensa. Quidquid facere te potest bonum tecum est. [4] Quid tibi opus est ut sis bonus? velle. Quid autem melius potes velle quam eripere te huic servituti quae omnes premit, quam mancipia quoque condicionis extremae et in his sordibus nata omni modo exuere conantur? Peculium suum, quod comparaverunt ventre fraudato, pro capite numerant: tu non concupisces quanticumque ad libertatem pervenire, qui te in illa putas natum? [5] Quid ad arcam tuam respicis? emi non potest. Itaque in tabellas vanum coicitur nomen libertatis, quam nec qui emerunt habent nec qui vendiderunt: tibi des oportet istud bonum, a te petas. Libera te primum metu mortis (illa nobis iugum inponit), deinde metu paupertatis. [6] Si vis scire quam nihil in illa mali sit, compara inter se pauperum et divitum vultus: saepius pauper et fidelius ridet; nulla sollicitudo in alto est; etiam si qua incidit cura, velut nubes levis transit: horum qui felices vocantur hilaritas ficta est aut gravis et suppurata tristitia, eo quidem gravior quia interdum non licet palam esse miseros, sed inter aerumnas cor ipsum exedentes necesse est agere felicem. [7] Saepius hoc exemplo mihi utendum est, nec enim ullo efficacius exprimitur hic humanae vitae mimus, qui nobis partes quas male agamus adsignat. Ille qui in scaena latus incedit et haec resupinus dicit,
servus est, quinque modios accipit et quinque denarios. [8] Ille qui superbus atque inpotens et fiducia virium tumidus ait,
diurnum accipit, in centunculo dormit. Idem de istis licet omnibus dicas quos supra capita hominum supraque turbam delicatos lectica suspendit: omnium istorum personata felicitas est. Contemnes illos si despoliaveris. [9] Equum empturus solvi iubes stratum, detrahis vestimenta venalibus ne qua vitia corporis lateant: hominem involutum aestimas? Mangones quidquid est quod displiceat, id aliquo lenocinio abscondunt, itaque ementibus ornamenta ipsa suspecta sunt: sive crus alligatum sive brachium aspiceres, nudari iuberes et ipsum tibi corpus ostendi. [10] Vides illum Scythiae Sarmatiaeve regem insigni capitis decorum? Si vis illum aestimare totumque scire qualis sit, fasciam solve: multum mali sub illa latet. Quid de aliis loquor? si perpendere te voles, sepone pecuniam, domum, dignitatem, intus te ipse considera: nunc qualis sis aliis credis. Vale.
Seneca the YoungerThe Latin Library The Classics Page
◆
[1] Today I have time to myself, owing not so much to my own doing as to the games, which have lured all the tiresome people off to a boxing-match. No one will burst in, no one will interrupt my train of thought, which advances all the more boldly because of this very confidence. The door will not keep banging, the curtain will not be drawn aside: I shall be allowed to proceed safely, which matters more to a man who goes his own way and follows his own road. So do I not follow those who came before me? I do, but I allow myself both to discover something, and to change, and to abandon; I am not their slave, but I give them my assent.
[2] And yet it was a bold word I spoke when I promised myself silence and seclusion without anyone to interrupt: look, a huge roar carries over from the stadium, and though it does not shake me out of myself, it shifts my attention to the contemplation of this very thing. I consider with myself how many men train their bodies, and how few their minds; what an enormous crowd gathers for a spectacle that is unreliable and good only for play, and what a desolation surrounds the good arts; how feeble in mind are those whose arms and shoulders we marvel at. [3] This above all I turn over in my mind: if the body can be brought by training to such endurance that it can bear the fists and heels alike of more than one man, that someone enduring the most scorching sun in the most blazing dust, and drenched in his own blood, can hold out the whole day long, how much more easily could the mind be strengthened so that it might receive the blows of Fortune unconquered, so that, thrown down and trampled underfoot, it might rise again. For the body needs many things in order to be strong: the mind grows from itself, feeds itself, exercises itself. Those athletes need much food, much drink, much oil, and finally long labor: virtue will come to you without equipment, without expense. Whatever can make you good is already within you. [4] What do you need in order to be good? To will it. And what better thing could you will than to wrench yourself free from this slavery that weighs upon us all, the slavery that even slaves of the lowest condition, born amid such squalor, strive in every way to throw off? Their savings, which they have scraped together by cheating their own bellies, they pay over for their freedom: will you not long to reach liberty at any price whatever, you who believe you were born to it? [5] Why do you look toward your strongbox? It cannot be bought. And so it is in vain that the word "freedom" is entered onto the tablets [the official register of manumission], a freedom which neither those who bought it possess nor those who sold it: you must give this good to yourself, you must seek it from yourself. First free yourself from the fear of death (that is what lays the yoke on us), then from the fear of poverty. [6] If you want to know how little evil there is in poverty, compare with each other the faces of the poor and the rich: the poor man laughs more often and more honestly; no anxiety lies deep within him; even if some care does strike him, it passes like a light cloud: but among those who are called happy the cheerfulness is counterfeit, or else it is a heavy and festering sadness, all the heavier because at times they are not permitted to be openly wretched, but must play the happy man amid troubles that gnaw at the very heart. [7] I must often make use of this comparison, for there is no more effective way to express this mime of human life, which assigns us the parts we are to play badly. The man who struts grandly across the stage and declaims, head thrown back, "Lo, I am he whom Argos hails as lord, / whom Pelops left as heir of lands that reach / from the Hellespont and the Ionian sea / to the Isthmian straits" - that man is a slave; he gets five measures of grain and five denarii. [8] The one who, proud and uncontrolled and swollen with confidence in his strength, says, "Be still, Menelaus, or this hand will lay you low" - he gets a daily pittance and sleeps in a patchwork rag. The same may be said of all those pampered men whom the litter holds aloft above people's heads and above the crowd: the happiness of every one of them is a mask. You will despise them once you have stripped them. [9] When you are about to buy a horse, you order the saddle-cloth removed; you strip the clothes off slaves put up for sale, so that no flaws of the body may stay hidden: do you appraise a man while he is wrapped up? Slave-dealers hide whatever there is that might give offense under some sort of dressing-up, and so the very ornaments are suspect to buyers: if you were to catch sight of a leg bound up or an arm, you would order them bared and the body itself shown to you. [10] Do you see that king of Scythia or Sarmatia, splendid with the emblem on his head? If you want to appraise him and to know fully what sort of man he is, untie the diadem: much evil lurks beneath it. Why do I speak of others? If you wish to weigh yourself, set aside your money, your house, your rank, and consider yourself from within: as it is, you trust to others for what sort of man you are. 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] Hodierno die non tantum meo beneficio mihi vaco sed spectaculi, quod omnes molestos ad sphaeromachian avocavit. Nemo inrumpet, nemo cogitationem meam inpediet, quae hac ipsa fiducia procedit audacius. Non crepabit subinde ostium, non adlevabitur velum: licebit tuto vadere, quod magis necessarium est per se eunti et suam sequenti viam. Non ergo sequor priores? facio, sed permitto mihi et invenire aliquid et mutare et relinquere; non servio illis, sed assentior.
[2] Magnum tamen verbum dixi, qui mihi silentium promittebam et sine interpellatore secretum: ecce ingens clamor ex stadio perfertur et me non excutit mihi, sed in huius ipsius rei contemplationem transfert. Cogito mecum quam multi corpora exerceant, ingenia quam pauci; quantus ad spectaculum non fidele et lusorium fiat concursus, quanta sit circa artes bonas solitudo; quam inbecilli animo sint quorum lacertos umerosque miramur. [3] Illud maxime revolvo mecum: si corpus perduci exercitatione ad hanc patientiam potest qua et pugnos pariter et calces non unius hominis ferat, qua solem ardentissimum in ferventissimo pulvere sustinens aliquis et sanguine suo madens diem ducat, quanto facilius animus conroborari possit ut fortunae ictus invictus excipiat, ut proiectus, ut conculcatus exsurgat. Corpus enim multis eget rebus ut valeat: animus ex se crescit, se ipse alit, se exercet. Illis multo cibo, multa potione opus est, multo oleo, longa denique opera: tibi continget virtus sine apparatu, sine inpensa. Quidquid facere te potest bonum tecum est. [4] Quid tibi opus est ut sis bonus? velle. Quid autem melius potes velle quam eripere te huic servituti quae omnes premit, quam mancipia quoque condicionis extremae et in his sordibus nata omni modo exuere conantur? Peculium suum, quod comparaverunt ventre fraudato, pro capite numerant: tu non concupisces quanticumque ad libertatem pervenire, qui te in illa putas natum? [5] Quid ad arcam tuam respicis? emi non potest. Itaque in tabellas vanum coicitur nomen libertatis, quam nec qui emerunt habent nec qui vendiderunt: tibi des oportet istud bonum, a te petas. Libera te primum metu mortis (illa nobis iugum inponit), deinde metu paupertatis. [6] Si vis scire quam nihil in illa mali sit, compara inter se pauperum et divitum vultus: saepius pauper et fidelius ridet; nulla sollicitudo in alto est; etiam si qua incidit cura, velut nubes levis transit: horum qui felices vocantur hilaritas ficta est aut gravis et suppurata tristitia, eo quidem gravior quia interdum non licet palam esse miseros, sed inter aerumnas cor ipsum exedentes necesse est agere felicem. [7] Saepius hoc exemplo mihi utendum est, nec enim ullo efficacius exprimitur hic humanae vitae mimus, qui nobis partes quas male agamus adsignat. Ille qui in scaena latus incedit et haec resupinus dicit,
servus est, quinque modios accipit et quinque denarios. [8] Ille qui superbus atque inpotens et fiducia virium tumidus ait,
diurnum accipit, in centunculo dormit. Idem de istis licet omnibus dicas quos supra capita hominum supraque turbam delicatos lectica suspendit: omnium istorum personata felicitas est. Contemnes illos si despoliaveris. [9] Equum empturus solvi iubes stratum, detrahis vestimenta venalibus ne qua vitia corporis lateant: hominem involutum aestimas? Mangones quidquid est quod displiceat, id aliquo lenocinio abscondunt, itaque ementibus ornamenta ipsa suspecta sunt: sive crus alligatum sive brachium aspiceres, nudari iuberes et ipsum tibi corpus ostendi. [10] Vides illum Scythiae Sarmatiaeve regem insigni capitis decorum? Si vis illum aestimare totumque scire qualis sit, fasciam solve: multum mali sub illa latet. Quid de aliis loquor? si perpendere te voles, sepone pecuniam, domum, dignitatem, intus te ipse considera: nunc qualis sis aliis credis. Vale.
Seneca the YoungerThe Latin Library The Classics Page