Letter 98

[1] You must never believe that anyone is happy who hangs suspended upon his own good fortune. The man who is gladdened by things that come from outside leans upon what is fragile: the joy that came in will go out again. But the joy that has arisen from oneself is trustworthy and firm; it grows, and it accompanies us right to the end. The other things, which the crowd admires, are goods only for a day. "What then? Can they not serve for use and for pleasure?" Who denies it? But only on this condition: that they depend upon us, and not we upon them. [2] All the things that Fortune regards become fruitful and pleasant only if the one who possesses them possesses himself as well, and is not in the power of his own belongings. For they are mistaken, Lucilius, who judge that Fortune bestows on us anything good or anything bad: she gives the raw material of goods and evils, and the beginnings of things that will turn out, in our hands, toward evil or good. For the mind is stronger than any Fortune, and it draws its own affairs in either direction, and is to itself the cause of a blessed or a wretched life. [3] The bad man turns everything to bad, even what had come with the appearance of the best; the upright and whole man corrects the crookedness of Fortune, and softens what is hard and harsh by the knowledge of how to bear it; that same man receives prosperity with gratitude and moderation, and adversity with steadfastness and courage. Granted that he is prudent, granted that he does everything with exact judgment, granted that he attempts nothing beyond his own strength, that good of his, whole and set beyond the reach of threats, will not fall to him unless he is certain in the face of what is uncertain. [4] Whether you choose to observe others (for judgment is freer when it ranges among the affairs of others) or to observe yourself with favoritism laid aside, you will both perceive this and confess it: that nothing among these desirable and dear things is of use, unless you have armed yourself against the fickleness of chance and against the chances that follow upon it, unless you have said this often and without complaint amid your several losses: [5] Indeed, by Hercules, so that I may seek out a stronger and more righteous formula by which you may better prop up your mind, say this every time something has turned out otherwise than you were thinking: "the gods have done better." To one so composed nothing will happen. And he will be so composed if, before he feels it, he has reflected on what the variability of human affairs is capable of; if he has held his children and his wife and his patrimony in such a way as one who will not in any case possess them forever, and as one who will not on that account be more wretched if he ceases to possess them. [6] Wretched is the mind anxious about the future and miserable before its miseries, which is uneasy lest the things in which it delights should remain to the very end; for at no time will it be at rest, and through expectation of what is to come it will let slip the present things it could have enjoyed. For the grief over a thing lost and the fear of losing it stand on equal footing. [7] And I do not for this reason prescribe negligence to you. Rather, turn aside from what is to be feared; whatever can be foreseen by planning, foresee; whatever is going to wound you, watch for and ward off long before it happens. Toward this very end confidence will contribute most to you, and a mind hardened to endure everything. The man who can bear Fortune is able to beware of her; certainly, in calm weather, he raises no tumult. There is nothing more wretched, nor more foolish, than to fear in advance: what madness is this, to run ahead to meet one's own misfortune? [8] Finally, to enclose briefly what I think, and to describe for you those fussy people who are a burden to themselves: they are as intemperate in their very miseries as they are before them. He grieves more than is necessary who grieves before it is necessary; for he does not measure the grief by the same weakness by which he does not wait for it; with the same intemperance he imagines for himself a perpetual happiness, he imagines that whatever has fallen to him must grow, not merely endure, and forgetting this springboard by which human affairs are tossed about, he guarantees to himself alone a constancy of fortuitous things. [9] And so Metrodorus seems to me to have said it splendidly in that letter in which he addresses his sister after the loss of her son, a boy of the best natural gifts: "Every good of mortals is mortal." He is speaking of those goods toward which men rush in throngs; for that true good does not die, it is certain and everlasting—wisdom and virtue; this one thing falls to mortals as immortal. [10] But the rest of men are so depraved, and so forgetful of where they are going, of where each single day shoves them along, that they marvel at losing something, though they will lose everything in a single day. Whatever it is upon which you are inscribed as owner is with you, but is not your own; nothing firm belongs to what is infirm, nothing eternal and unconquered to what is frail. It is as necessary to perish as to lose, and this very fact, if we understand it, is a consolation. Lose with an even mind: we too must perish. [11] What help, then, do we find against these losses? This: that we keep what is lost in memory, and not allow the fruit we received from those things to fall away together with them. Having is snatched from us, having had, never. He is utterly thankless who, when he has lost a thing, owes nothing for what he received. Chance snatches the thing away from us, but leaves the use and enjoyment of it with us, which we have lost through the unfairness of our longing. [12] Say to yourself: "Of those things that seem terrible, nothing is unconquerable." Many have already conquered them one by one: fire by Mucius, the cross by Regulus, poison by Socrates, exile by Rutilius, a death driven home by the sword by Cato: let us too conquer something. [13] Again, those things which, as showy and prosperous, draw the crowd, have often been despised by many. Fabricius as commander rejected riches, and as censor he stigmatized them; Tubero judged poverty worthy both of himself and of the Capitol when, by using earthenware at a public banquet, he showed that a man ought to be content with the very things the gods still use. Sextius the father rebuffed honors—he who, though born under the obligation to take up public affairs, did not accept the broad stripe [the senatorial stripe, mark of senatorial rank] when the deified Julius offered it; for he understood that what can be given can also be snatched away. Let us too do something with spirit on our own account; let us be among the examples. [14] Why have we failed? Why do we despair? Whatever could be done, can be done, provided only that we cleanse our minds and follow Nature—from which the one who strays must crave and fear, and be a slave to fortuitous things. It is possible to return to the road, possible to be restored to our former state: let us be restored, so that we may be able to endure pains in whatever way they have invaded the body, and to say to Fortune: "It is with a man that you have your business: look for someone you can conquer." [15] * * * By these conversations and others like them that fierce force of the ulcer is soothed, which I pray, by Hercules, may be relieved, and either healed or brought to a standstill and grow old along with the man himself. But I am free of worry about him: it is our own loss that is at stake, we from whom an outstanding old man is being taken. For he himself is full of life, and desires nothing be added to it for his own sake, but only for the sake of those to whom he is useful. [16] He acts generously in continuing to live. Another man would already have put an end to these torments; but he thinks it as shameful to flee from death as to take refuge in death. "What then? If the situation advises it, will he not depart?" Why should he not depart, if no one can any longer make use of him, if he will do nothing but devote his labor to pain? [17] This, my Lucilius, is to learn philosophy in practice and to be trained toward truth: to see what a prudent man holds in his mind against death, against pain, when death draws near and pain bears down; what must be done is to be learned from one who is doing it. [18] So far the matter has been handled with arguments—whether anyone can resist pain, whether death, when it approaches, can bring even great minds low. What need is there of words? Let us go to the case present before us: neither does death make him braver against pain, nor pain against death. Against both he trusts in himself; he neither endures pain patiently out of hope for death, nor does he die gladly out of weariness with pain: this he bears, that he awaits. Farewell.

You need never believe that anyone who depends upon happiness is happy! It is a fragile support—this delight in adventitious things; the joy which entered from without will some day depart. But that joy which springs wholly from oneself is leal and sound; it increases and attends us to the last; while all other things which provoke the admiration of the crowd are but temporary Goods. You may reply: “What do you mean? Cannot such things serve both for utility and for delight?” Of course. But only if they depend on us, and not we on them. All things that Fortune looks upon become productive and pleasant, only if he who possesses them is in possession also of himself, and is not in the power of that which belongs to him. For men make a mistake, my dear Lucilius, if they hold that anything good, or evil either, is bestowed upon us by Fortune; it is simply the raw material of Goods and Ills that she gives to us—the sources of things which, in our keeping, will develop into good or ill. For the soul is more powerful than any sort of Fortune; by its own agency it guides its affairs in either direction, and of its own power it can produce a happy life, or a wretched one. A bad man makes everything bad—even things which had come with the appearance of what is best; but the upright and honest man corrects the wrongs of Fortune, and softens hardship and bitterness because he knows how to endure them; he likewise accepts prosperity with appreciation and moderation, and stands up against trouble with steadiness and courage. Though a man be prudent, though he conduct all his interests with well-balanced judgment, though he attempt nothing beyond his strength, he will not attain the Good which is unalloyed and beyond the reach of threats, unless he is sure in dealing with that which is unsure. For whether you prefer to observe other men (and it is easier to make up one’s mind when judging the affairs of others), or whether you observe yourself, with all prejudice laid aside, you will perceive and acknowledge that there is no utility in all these desirable and beloved things, unless you equip yourself in opposition to the fickleness of chance and its consequences, and unless you repeat to yourself often and uncomplainingly, at every mishap, the words: “Heaven decreed it otherwise!” Nay rather, to adopt a phrase which is braver and nearer the truth—one on which you may more safely prop your spirit—say to yourself, whenever things turn out contrary to your expectation: “Heaven decreed better!” If you are thus poised, nothing will affect you and a man will be thus poised if he reflects on the possible ups and downs in human affairs before he feels their force, and if he comes to regard children, or wife, or property, with the idea that he will not necessarily possess them always and that he will not be any more wretched just because he ceases to possess them. It is tragic for the soul to be apprehensive of the future and wretched in anticipation of wretchedness, consumed with an anxious desire that the objects which give pleasure may remain in its possession to the very end. For such a soul will never be at rest; in waiting for the future it will lose the present blessings which it might enjoy. And there is no difference between grief for something lost and the fear of losing it. But I do not for this reason advise you to be indifferent. Rather do you turn aside from you whatever may cause fear. Be sure to foresee whatever can be foreseen by planning. Observe and avoid, long before it happens, anything that is likely to do you harm. To effect this your best assistance will be a spirit of confidence and a mind strongly resolved to endure all things. He who can bear Fortune, can also beware of Fortune. At any rate, there is no dashing of billows when the sea is calm. And there is nothing more wretched or foolish than premature fear. What madness it is to anticipate one’s troubles! In fine, to express my thoughts in brief compass and portray to you those busybodies and self-tormentors—they are as uncontrolled in the midst of their troubles as they are before them. He suffers more than is necessary, who suffers before it is necessary; such men do not weigh the amount of their suffering, by reason of the same failing which prevents them from being ready for it; and with the same lack of restraint they fondly imagine that their luck will last for ever, and fondly imagine that their gains are bound to increase as well as merely continue. They forget this spring-board on which mortal things are tossed, and they guarantee for themselves exclusively a steady continuance of the gifts of chance. For this very reason I regard as excellent the saying of Metrodorus, in a letter of consolation to his sister on the loss of her son, a lad of great promise: “All the Good of mortals is mortal.” He is referring to those Goods towards which men rush in shoals. For the real Good does not perish; it is certain and lasting and it consists of wisdom and virtue; it is the only immortal thing that falls to mortal lot. But men are so wayward, and so forgetful of their goal and of the point toward which every day jostles them, that they are surprised at losing anything, although some day they are bound to lose everything. Anything of which you are entitled the owner is in your possession but is not your own; for there is no strength in that which is weak, nor anything lasting and invincible in that which is frail. We must lose our lives as surely as we lose our property, and this, if we understand the truth, is itself a consolation. Lose it with equanimity; for you must lose your life also. What resource do we find, then, in the face of these losses? Simply this—to keep in memory the things we have lost, and not to suffer the enjoyment which we have derived from them to pass away along with them. To have may be taken from us, to have had, never. A man is thankless in the highest degree if, after losing something, he feels no obligation for having received it. Chance robs us of the thing, but leaves us its use and its enjoyment—and we have lost this if we are so unfair as to regret. Just say to yourself: “Of all these experiences that seem so frightful, none is insuperable. Separate trials have been overcome by many: fire by Mucius, crucifixion by Regulus, poison by Socrates, exile by Rutilius, and a sword-inflicted death by Cato; therefore, let us also overcome something.” Again, those objects which attract the crowd under the appearance of beauty and happiness, have been scorned by many men and on many occasions. Fabricius when he was general refused riches, and when he was censor branded them with disapproval. Tubero deemed poverty worthy both of himself and of the deity on the Capitol when, by the use of earthenware dishes at a public festival, he showed that man should be satisfied with that which the gods could still use. The elder Sextius rejected the honours of office; he was born with an obligation to take part in public affairs, and yet would not accept the broad stripe even when the deified Julius offered it to him. For he understood that what can be given can also be taken away. Let us also, therefore, carry out some courageous act of our own accord; let us be included among the ideal types of history. Why have we been slack? Why do we lose heart? That which could be done, can be done, if only we purify our souls and follow Nature; for when one strays away from Nature one is compelled to crave, and fear, and be a slave to the things of chance. We may return to the true path; we may be restored to our proper state; let us therefore be so, in order that we may be able to endure pain, in whatever form it attacks our bodies, and say to Fortune: “You have to deal with a man; seek someone whom you can conquer!” By these words, and words of a like kind, the malignity of the ulcer is quieted down; and I hope indeed that it can be reduced, and either cured or brought to a stop, and grow old along with the patient himself. I am, however, comfortable in my mind regarding him; what we are now discussing is our own loss—the taking-off of a most excellent old man. For he himself has lived a full life, and anything additional may be craved by him, not for his own sake, but for the sake of those who need his services. In continuing to live, he deals generously. Some other person might have put an end to these sufferings; but our friend considers it no less base to flee from death than to flee towards death. “But,” comes the answer, “if circumstances warrant, shall he not take his departure?” Of course, if he can no longer be of service to anyone, if all his business will be to deal with pain. This, my dear Lucilius, is what we mean by studying philosophy while applying it, by practising it on truth—note what courage a prudent man possesses against death, or against pain, when the one approaches and the other weighs heavily. What ought to be done must be learned from one who does it. Up to now we have dealt with arguments—whether any man can resist pain, or whether the approach of death can cast down even great souls. Why discuss it further? Here is an immediate fact for us to tackle—death does not make our friend braver to face pain, nor pain to face death. Rather does he trust himself in the face of both; he does not suffer with resignation because he hopes for death, nor does he die gladly because he is tired of suffering. Pain he endures, death he awaits. Farewell.

[1] Numquam credideris felicem quemquam ex felicitate suspensum. Fragilibus innititur qui adventicio laetus est: exibit gaudium quod intravit. At illud ex se ortum fidele firmumque est et crescit et ad extremum usque prosequitur: cetera quorum admiratio est vulgo in diem bona sunt. 'Quid ergo? non usui ac voluptati esse possunt?' Quis negat? sed ita si illa ex nobis pendent, non ex illis nos. [2] Omnia quae fortuna intuetur ita fructifera ac iucunda fiunt si qui habet illa se quoque habet nec in rerum suarum potestate est. Errant enim, Lucili, qui aut boni aliquid nobis aut mali iudicant tribuere fortunam: materiam dat bonorum ac malorum et initia rerum apud nos in malum bonumve exiturarum. Valentior enim omni fortuna animus est et in utramque partem ipse res suas ducit beataeque ac miserae vitae sibi causa est. [3] Malus omnia in malum vertit, etiam quae cum specie optimi venerant: rectus atque integer corrigit prava fortunae et dura atque aspera ferendi scientia mollit, idemque et secunda grate excipit modesteque et adversa constanter ac fortiter. Qui licet prudens sit, licet exacto faciat cuncta iudicio, licet nihil supra vires suas temptet, non continget illi bonum illud integrum et extra minas positum nisi certus adversus incerta est. [4] Sive alios observare volueris (liberius enim inter aliena iudicium est) sive te ipsum favore seposito, et senties hoc et confiteberis, nihil ex his optabilibus et caris utile esse nisi te contra levitatem casus rerumque casum sequentium instruxeris, nisi illud frequenter et sine querella inter singula damna dixeris: [5] Immo mehercules, ut carmen fortius ac iustius petam quo animum tuum magis fulcias, hoc dicito quotiens aliquid aliter quam cogitabas evenerit: 'di melius'. Sic composito nihil accidet. Sic autem componetur si quid humanarum rerum varietas possit cogitaverit antequam senserit, si et liberos et coniugem et patrimonium sic habuerit tamquam non utique semper habiturus et tamquam non futurus ob hoc miserior si habere desierit. [6] Calamitosus est animus futuri anxius et ante miserias miser, qui sollicitus est ut ea quibus delectatur ad extremum usque permaneant; nullo enim tempore conquiescet et expectatione venturi praesentia, quibus frui poterat, amittet. In aequo est autem amissae rei <dolor> et timor amittendae. [7] Nec ideo praecipio tibi neglegentiam. Tu vero metuenda declina; quidquid consilio prospici potest prospice; quodcumque laesurum est multo ante quam accidat speculare et averte. In hoc ipsum tibi plurimum conferet fiducia et ad tolerandum omne obfirmata mens. Potest fortunam cavere qui potest ferre; certe in tranquillo non tumultuatur. Nihil est nec miserius nec stultius quam praetimere: quae ista dementia est malum suum antecedere? [8] Denique, ut breviter includam quod sentio et istos satagios ac sibi molestos describam tibi, tam intemperantes in ipsis miseriis sunt quam ante illas. Plus dolet quam necesse est qui ante dolet quam necesse est; eadem enim infirmitate dolorem non aestimat qua non expectat; eadem intemperantia fingit sibi perpetuam felicitatem suam, fingit crescere debere quaecumque contigerunt, non tantum durare, et oblitus huius petauri quo humana iactantur sibi uni fortuitorum constantiam spondet. [9] Egregie itaque videtur mihi Metrodorus dixisse in ea epistula qua sororem amisso optimae indolis filio adloquitur: 'mortale est omne mortalium bonum'. De his loquitur bonis ad quae concurritur; nam illud verum bonum non moritur, certum est sempiternumque, sapientia et virtus; hoc unum contingit inmortale mortalibus. [10] Ceterum tam inprobi sunt tamque obliti quo eant, quo illos singuli dies trudant, ut mirentur aliquid ipsos amittere, amissuri uno die omnia. Quidquid est cui dominus inscriberis apud te est, tuum non est; nihil firmum infirmo, nihil fragili aeternum et invictum est. Tam necesse est perire quam perdere et hoc ipsum, si intellegimus, solacium est. Aequo animo perde: pereundum est. [11] Quid ergo adversus has amissiones auxili invenimus? hoc, ut memoria teneamus amissa nec cum ipsis fructum excidere patiamur quem ex illis percepimus. Habere eripitur, habuisse numquam. Peringratus est qui, cum amisit, pro accepto nihil debet. Rem nobis eripit casus, usum fructumque apud nos relinquit, quem nos iniquitate desiderii perdidimus. [12] Dic tibi ex istis quae terribilia videntur nihil est invictum'. Singula vicere iam multi, ignem Mucius, crucem Regulus, venenum Socrates, exilium Rutilius, mortem ferro adactam Cato: et nos vincamus aliquid. [13] Rursus ista quae ut speciosa et felicia trahunt vulgum a multis et saepe contempta sunt. Fabricius divitias imperator reiecit, censor notavit; Tubero paupertatem et se dignam et Capitolio iudicavit, cum fictilibus in publica cena usus ostendit debere iis hominem esse contentum quibus di etiamnunc uterentur. Honores reppulit pater Sextius, qui ita natus ut rem publicam deberet capessere, latum clavum divo Iulio dante non recepit; intellegebat enim quod dari posset et eripi posse. Nos quoque aliquid et ipsi faciamus animose; simus inter exempla. [14] Quare defecimus? quare desperamus? Quidquid fieri potuit potest, nos modo purgemus animum sequamurque naturam, a qua aberranti cupiendum timendumque est et fortuitis serviendum. Licet reverti in viam, licet in integrum restitui: restituamur, ut possimus dolores quocumque modo corpus invaserint perferre et fortunae dicere 'cum viro tibi negotium est: quaere quem vincas'. [15] * * * His sermonibus et his similibus lenitur illa vis ulceris, quam opto mehercules mitigari et aut sanari aut stare et cum ipso senescere. Sed securus de illo sum: de nostro damno agitur, quibus senex egregius eripitur. Nam ipse vitae plenus est, cui adici nihil desiderat sua causa sed eorum quibus utilis est. [16] Liberaliter facit quod vivit. Alius iam hos cruciatus finisset: hic tam turpe putat mortem fugere quam ad mortem confugere. 'Quid ergo? non si suadebit res exibit?' Quidni exeat, si nemo iam uti eo poterit, si nihil aliud quam dolori operam dabit? [17] Hoc est, mi Lucili, philosophiam in opere discere et ad verum exerceri, videre quid homo prudens animi habeat contra mortem, contra dolorem, cum illa accedat, hic premat; quid faciendum sit a faciente discendum est. [18] Adhuc argumentis actum est an posset aliqui dolori resistere, an mors magnos quoque animos admota summittere. Quid opus est verbis? in rem praesentem eamus: nec mors illum contra dolorem facit fortiorem nec dolor contra mortem. Contra utrumque sibi fidit nec spe mortis patienter dolet nec taedio doloris libenter moritur: hunc fert, illam expectat. Vale.