Lucius Annaeus Seneca→Lucilius Junior|c. 65 AD|Seneca the Younger|From Southern Italy (regional)|To Sicily (regional)|AI-assisted
[1] And still you grow indignant at something, or complain, and you fail to understand that there is no evil in those troubles of yours except this one thing: that you are indignant and that you complain? If you ask me, I think nothing is wretched for a man unless there is something in the nature of things that he thinks wretched. I will not put up with myself on the day when I cannot put up with anything. I am in poor health: that is part of my fate. The household has taken to its bed, the loan has gone sour, the house has cracked, losses, wounds, hardships, and fears have come rushing in: this is what usually happens. That is too weak a way to put it: it had to happen. [2] These things are decreed, they do not just befall us. If you trust me at all, I am now, more than ever, laying bare my innermost feelings to you: in everything that seems adverse and harsh I am shaped this way — I do not merely obey God, I agree with him; I follow him from my soul, not because it is necessary. Nothing will ever happen to me that I shall receive with sadness, or with a sour face; I will pay no tax unwillingly. But all the things over which we groan, at which we shudder in dread, are the taxes of life: of these, my dear Lucilius, you should neither have hoped for exemption nor sought it. [3] A pain in the bladder has unsettled you, letters have come that were less than sweet, continual setbacks — let me come closer: you were afraid for your life. Come now, did you not know that you were wishing for these things when you wished for old age? All of that belongs to a long life, just as dust and mud and rain belong to a long journey. [4] "But I wanted to live, and yet to be free of all discomforts." Such an effeminate utterance disgraces a man. You will see how you receive this prayer of mine; I make it with a great spirit, not merely a good one: may neither gods nor goddesses grant that Fortune keep you among her darlings. [5] Ask yourself this: if some god were to give you the choice, whether you would rather live in a butcher's market [macellum, a place of soft abundance and provisioning] or in a military camp. And yet to live, Lucilius, is to serve as a soldier. And so those who are tossed about, who go up and down through laborious and steep places and undertake the most dangerous expeditions, are brave men and the foremost in the camp; but those whom a rotten ease keeps soft while others toil away are little turtle-doves, safe only because they are beneath contempt. Farewell.
Spite of all do you still chafe and complain, not understanding that, in all the evils to which you refer, there is really only one—the fact that you do chafe and complain? If you ask me, I think that for a man there is no misery unless there be something in the universe which he thinks miserable. I shall not endure myself on that day when I find anything unendurable.
I am ill; but that is a part of my lot. My slaves have fallen sick, my income has gone off, my house is rickety, I have been assailed by losses, accidents, toil, and fear; this is a common thing. Nay, that was an understatement; it was an inevitable thing. Such affairs come by order, and not by accident. If you will believe me, it is my inmost emotions that I am just now disclosing to you: when everything seems to go hard and uphill, I have trained myself not merely to obey God, but to agree with His decisions. I follow Him because my soul wills it, and not because I must. Nothing will ever happen to me that I shall receive with ill humour or with a wry face. I shall pay up all my taxes willingly. Now all the things which cause us to groan or recoil, are part of the tax of life—things, my dear Lucilius, which you should never hope and never seek to escape.
It was disease of the bladder that made you apprehensive; downcast letters came from you; you were continually getting worse; I will touch the truth more closely, and say that you feared for your life. But come, did you not know, when you prayed for long life, that this was what you were praying for? A long life includes all these troubles, just as a long journey includes dust and mud and rain. “But,” you cry, “I wished to live, and at the same time to be immune from all ills.” Such a womanish cry does no credit to a man. Consider in what attitude you shall receive this prayer of mine (I offer it not only in a good, but in a noble spirit): “May gods and goddesses alike forbid that Fortune keep you in luxury!” Ask yourself voluntarily which you would choose if some god gave you the choice—life in a café or life in a camp.
And yet life, Lucilius, is really a battle. For this reason those who are tossed about at sea, who proceed uphill and downhill over toilsome crags and heights, who go on campaigns that bring the greatest danger, are heroes and front-rank fighters; but persons who live in rotten luxury and ease while others toil, are mere turtle-doves—safe only because men despise them. Farewell.
[1] Tamen tu indignaris aliquid aut quereris et non intellegis nihil esse in istis mali nisi hoc unum quod indignaris et quereris? Si me interrogas, nihil puto viro miserum nisi aliquid esse in rerum natura quod putet miserum. Non feram me quo die aliquid ferre non potero. Male valeo: pars fati est. Familia decubuit, fenus offendit, domus crepuit, damna, vulnera, labores, metus incucurrerunt: solet fieri. Hoc parum est: debuit fieri. [2] Decernuntur ista, non accidunt. Si quid credis mihi, intimos adfectus meos tibi cum maxime detego: in omnibus quae adversa videntur et dura sic formatus sum: non pareo deo sed adsentior; ex animo illum, non quia necesse est, sequor. Nihil umquam mihi incidet quod tristis excipiam, quod malo vultu; nullum tributum invitus conferam. Omnia autem ad quae gemimus, quae expavescimus, tributa vitae sunt: horum, mi Lucili, nec speraveris immunitatem nec petieris. [3] Vesicae te dolor inquietavit, epistulae venerunt parum dulces, detrimenta continua — propius accedam, de capite timuisti. Quid, tu nesciebas haec te optare cum optares senectutem? Omnia ista in longa vita sunt, quomodo in longa via et pulvis et lutum et pluvia. [4] 'Sed volebam vivere, carere tamen incommodis omnibus.' Tam effeminata vox virum dedecet. Videris quemadmodum hoc votum meum excipias; ego illud magno animo, non tantum bono facio: neque di neque deae faciant ut te fortuna in delicis habeat. [5] Ipse te interroga, si quis potestatem tibi deus faciat, utrum velis vivere in macello an in castris. Atqui vivere, Lucili, militare est. Itaque hi qui iactantur et per operosa atque ardua sursum ac deorsum eunt et expeditiones periculosissimas obeunt fortes viri sunt primoresque castrorum; isti quos putida quies aliis laborantibus molliter habet turturillae sunt, tuti contumeliae causa. Vale.
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[1] And still you grow indignant at something, or complain, and you fail to understand that there is no evil in those troubles of yours except this one thing: that you are indignant and that you complain? If you ask me, I think nothing is wretched for a man unless there is something in the nature of things that he thinks wretched. I will not put up with myself on the day when I cannot put up with anything. I am in poor health: that is part of my fate. The household has taken to its bed, the loan has gone sour, the house has cracked, losses, wounds, hardships, and fears have come rushing in: this is what usually happens. That is too weak a way to put it: it had to happen. [2] These things are decreed, they do not just befall us. If you trust me at all, I am now, more than ever, laying bare my innermost feelings to you: in everything that seems adverse and harsh I am shaped this way — I do not merely obey God, I agree with him; I follow him from my soul, not because it is necessary. Nothing will ever happen to me that I shall receive with sadness, or with a sour face; I will pay no tax unwillingly. But all the things over which we groan, at which we shudder in dread, are the taxes of life: of these, my dear Lucilius, you should neither have hoped for exemption nor sought it. [3] A pain in the bladder has unsettled you, letters have come that were less than sweet, continual setbacks — let me come closer: you were afraid for your life. Come now, did you not know that you were wishing for these things when you wished for old age? All of that belongs to a long life, just as dust and mud and rain belong to a long journey. [4] "But I wanted to live, and yet to be free of all discomforts." Such an effeminate utterance disgraces a man. You will see how you receive this prayer of mine; I make it with a great spirit, not merely a good one: may neither gods nor goddesses grant that Fortune keep you among her darlings. [5] Ask yourself this: if some god were to give you the choice, whether you would rather live in a butcher's market [macellum, a place of soft abundance and provisioning] or in a military camp. And yet to live, Lucilius, is to serve as a soldier. And so those who are tossed about, who go up and down through laborious and steep places and undertake the most dangerous expeditions, are brave men and the foremost in the camp; but those whom a rotten ease keeps soft while others toil away are little turtle-doves, safe only because they are beneath contempt. 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] Tamen tu indignaris aliquid aut quereris et non intellegis nihil esse in istis mali nisi hoc unum quod indignaris et quereris? Si me interrogas, nihil puto viro miserum nisi aliquid esse in rerum natura quod putet miserum. Non feram me quo die aliquid ferre non potero. Male valeo: pars fati est. Familia decubuit, fenus offendit, domus crepuit, damna, vulnera, labores, metus incucurrerunt: solet fieri. Hoc parum est: debuit fieri. [2] Decernuntur ista, non accidunt. Si quid credis mihi, intimos adfectus meos tibi cum maxime detego: in omnibus quae adversa videntur et dura sic formatus sum: non pareo deo sed adsentior; ex animo illum, non quia necesse est, sequor. Nihil umquam mihi incidet quod tristis excipiam, quod malo vultu; nullum tributum invitus conferam. Omnia autem ad quae gemimus, quae expavescimus, tributa vitae sunt: horum, mi Lucili, nec speraveris immunitatem nec petieris. [3] Vesicae te dolor inquietavit, epistulae venerunt parum dulces, detrimenta continua — propius accedam, de capite timuisti. Quid, tu nesciebas haec te optare cum optares senectutem? Omnia ista in longa vita sunt, quomodo in longa via et pulvis et lutum et pluvia. [4] 'Sed volebam vivere, carere tamen incommodis omnibus.' Tam effeminata vox virum dedecet. Videris quemadmodum hoc votum meum excipias; ego illud magno animo, non tantum bono facio: neque di neque deae faciant ut te fortuna in delicis habeat. [5] Ipse te interroga, si quis potestatem tibi deus faciat, utrum velis vivere in macello an in castris. Atqui vivere, Lucili, militare est. Itaque hi qui iactantur et per operosa atque ardua sursum ac deorsum eunt et expeditiones periculosissimas obeunt fortes viri sunt primoresque castrorum; isti quos putida quies aliis laborantibus molliter habet turturillae sunt, tuti contumeliae causa. Vale.