Seneca's Letters from a Stoic

by Lucius Annaeus Seneca, Richard Mott Gummere (Translator)

Overview

As chief advisor to the emperor Nero, Lucius Annaeus Seneca was most influential in ancient Rome as a power behind the throne. His lasting fame derives from his writings on Stoic ideology, in which philosophy is a practical form of self-improvement rather than a matter of argument or wordplay. Seneca's letters to a young friend advise action rather than reflection, addressing the issues that confront every generation: how to achieve a good life; how to avoid corruption and self-indulgence; and how to live without fear of death.
Written in an intimate, conversational style, the letters reflect the traditional Stoic focus on living in accordance with nature and accepting the world on its own terms. The philosopher emphasizes the Roman values of courage, self-control, and rationality, yet he remains remarkably modern in his tolerant and cosmopolitan attitude. Rich in epigrammatic wit, Seneca's interpretation of Stoicism constitutes a timeless and inspiring declaration of the dignity of the individual mind.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780486811246
Publisher:	Dover Publications
Publication date:	12/14/2016
Series:	Dover Thrift Editions: Philosophy
Pages:	480
Sales rank:	300,468
Product dimensions:	5.00(w) x 7.90(h) x 1.20(d)

About the Author

Lucius Annaeus Seneca (4 B.C–A.D. 65) was a Roman statesman, Stoic philosopher, and dramatist. He served as an advisor to Nero; upon his implication in a plot to assassinate the emperor, he was compelled to commit suicide

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Seneca's Letters from a Stoic

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By Lucius Annaeus Seneca, Richard Mott Gummere

Dover Publications, Inc.

Copyright © 2016 Dover Publications, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-486-81124-6

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CHAPTER 1

ON SAVING TIME

Greetings from Seneca to his friend Lucilius.

Continue to act thus, my dear Lucilius — set yourself free for your own sake; gather and save your time, which till lately has been forced from you, or filched away, or has merely slipped from your hands. Make yourself believe the truth of my words — that certain moments are torn from us, that some are gently removed, and that others glide beyond our reach. The most disgraceful kind of loss, however, is that due to carelessness. Furthermore, if you will pay close heed to the problem, you will find that the largest portion of our life passes while we are doing ill, a goodly share while we are doing nothing, and the whole while we are doing that which is not to the purpose. What man can you show me who places any value on his time, who reckons the worth of each day, who understands that he is dying daily? For we are mistaken when we look forward to death; the major portion of death has already passed. Whatever years be behind us are in death's hands.

Therefore, Lucilius, do as you write me that you are doing: hold every hour in your grasp. Lay hold of today's task, and you will not need to depend so much upon tomorrow's. While we are postponing, life speeds by. Nothing, Lucilius, is ours, except time. We were entrusted by nature with the ownership of this single thing, so fleeting and slippery that anyone who will can oust us from possession. What fools these mortals be! They allow the cheapest and most useless things, which can easily be replaced, to be charged in the reckoning, after they have acquired them; but they never regard themselves as in debt when they have received some of that precious commodity — time! And yet time is the one loan which even a grateful recipient cannot repay.

You may desire to know how I, who preach to you so freely, am practising. I confess frankly: my expense account balances, as you would expect from one who is free-handed but careful. I cannot boast that I waste nothing, but I can at least tell you what I am wasting, and the cause and manner of the loss; I can give you the reasons why I am a poor man. My situation, however, is the same as that of many who are reduced to slender means through no fault of their own: every one forgives them, but no one comes to their rescue.

What is the state of things, then? It is this: I do not regard a man as poor, if the little which remains is enough for him. I advise you, however, to keep what is really yours; and you cannot begin too early. For, as our ancestors believed, it is too late to spare when you reach the dregs of the cask. Of that which remains at the bottom, the amount is slight, and the quality is vile. Farewell.

CHAPTER 2

ON DISCURSIVENESS IN READING

Judging by what you write me, and by what I hear, I am forming a good opinion regarding your future. You do not run hither and thither and distract yourself by changing your abode; for such restlessness is the sign of a disordered spirit. The primary indication, to my thinking, of a well-ordered mind is a man's ability to remain in one place and linger in his own company. Be careful, however, lest this reading of many authors and books of every sort may tend to make you discursive and unsteady. You must linger among a limited number of master thinkers, and digest their works, if you would derive ideas which shall win firm hold in your mind. Everywhere means nowhere. When a person spends all his time in foreign travel, he ends by having many acquaintances, but no friends. And the same thing must hold true of men who seek intimate acquaintance with no single author, but visit them all in a hasty and hurried manner. Food does no good and is not assimilated into the body if it leaves the stomach as soon as it is eaten; nothing hinders a cure so much as frequent change of medicine; no wound will heal when one salve is tried after another; a plant which is often moved can never grow strong. There is nothing so efficacious that it can be helpful while it is being shifted about. And in reading of many books is distraction.

Accordingly, since you cannot read all the books which you may possess, it is enough to possess only as many books as you can read. "But," you reply, "I wish to dip first into one book and then into another." I tell you that it is the sign of an overnice appetite to toy with many dishes; for when they are manifold and varied, they cloy but do not nourish. So you should always read standard authors; and when you crave a change, fall back upon those whom you read before. Each day acquire something that will fortify you against poverty, against death, indeed against other misfortunes as well; and after you have run over many thoughts, select one to be thoroughly digested that day. This is my own custom; from the many things which I have read, I claim some one part for myself.

The thought for today is one which I discovered in Epicurus; for I am wont to cross over even into the enemy's camp — not as a deserter, but as a scout. He says: "Contented poverty is an honourable estate." Indeed, if it be contented, it is not poverty at all. It is not the man who has too little, but the man who craves more, that is poor. What does it matter how much a man has laid up in his safe, or in his warehouse, how large are his flocks and how fat his dividends, if he covets his neighbour's property, and reckons, not his past gains, but his hopes of gains to come? Do you ask what is the proper limit to wealth? It is, first, to have what is necessary, and, second, to have what is enough. Farewell.

CHAPTER 3

ON TRUE AND FALSE FRIENDSHIP

You have sent a letter to me through the hand of a "friend" of yours, as you call him. And in your very next sentence you warn me not to discuss with him all the matters that concern you, saying that even you yourself are not accustomed to do this; in other words, you have in the same letter affirmed and denied that he is your friend. Now if you used this word of ours in the popular sense, and called him "friend" in the same way in which we speak of all candidates for election as "honourable gentlemen," and as we greet all men whom we meet casually, if their names slip us for the moment, with the salutation "my dear sir," — so be it. But if you consider any man a friend whom you do not trust as you trust yourself, you are mightily mistaken and you do not sufficiently understand what true friendship means. Indeed, I would have you discuss everything with a friend; but first of all discuss the man himself. When friendship is settled, you must trust; before friendship is formed, you must pass judgment. Those persons indeed put last first and confound their duties, who, violating the rules of Theophrastus, judge a man after they have made him their friend, instead of making him their friend after they have judged him. Ponder for a long time whether you shall admit a given person to your friendship; but when you have decided to admit him, welcome him with all your heart and soul. Speak as boldly with him as with yourself. As to yourself, although you should live in such a way that you trust your own self with nothing which you could not entrust even to your enemy, yet, since certain matters occur which convention keeps secret, you should share with a friend at least all your worries and reflections. Regard him as loyal, and you will make him loyal. Some, for example, fearing to be deceived, have taught men to deceive; by their suspicions they have given their friend the right to do wrong. Why need I keep back any words in the presence of my friend? Why should I not regard myself as alone when in his company?

There is a class of men who communicate, to anyone whom they meet, matters which should be revealed to friends alone, and unload upon the chance listener whatever irks them. Others, again, fear to confide in their closest intimates; and if it were possible, they would not trust even themselves, burying their secrets deep in their hearts. But we should do neither. It is equally faulty to trust everyone and to trust no one. Yet the former fault is, I should say, the more ingenuous, the latter the more safe. In like manner you should rebuke these two kinds of men, — both those who always lack repose, and those who are always in repose. For love of bustle is not industry, — it is only the restlessness of a hunted mind. And true repose does not consist in condemning all motion as merely vexation; that kind of repose is slackness and inertia. Therefore, you should note the following saying, taken from my reading in Pomponius: "Some men shrink into dark corners, to such a degree that they see darkly by day." No, men should combine these tendencies, and he who reposes should act and he who acts should take repose. Discuss the problem with Nature; she will tell you that she has created both day and night. Farewell.

CHAPTER 4

ON THE TERRORS OF DEATH

Keep on as you have begun, and make all possible haste, so that you may have longer enjoyment of an improved mind, one that is at peace with itself. Doubtless you will derive enjoyment during the time when you are improving your mind and setting it at peace with itself; but quite different is the pleasure which comes from contemplation when one's mind is so cleansed from every stain that it shines. You remember, of course, what joy you felt when you laid aside the garments of boyhood and donned the man's toga, and were escorted to the forum; nevertheless, you may look for a still greater joy when you have laid aside the mind of boyhood and when wisdom has enrolled you among men. For it is not boyhood that still stays with us, but something worse, — boyishness. And this condition is all the more serious because we possess the authority of old age, together with the follies of boyhood, yea, even the follies of infancy. Boys fear trifles, children fear shadows, we fear both.

All you need to do is to advance; you will thus understand that some things are less to be dreaded, precisely because they inspire us with great fear. No evil is great which is the last evil of all. Death arrives; it would be a thing to dread, if it could remain with you. But death must either not come at all, or else must come and pass away.

"It is difficult, however," you say, "to bring the mind to a point where it can scorn life." But do you not see what trifling reasons impel men to scorn life? One hangs himself before the door of his mistress; another hurls himself from the house-top that he may no longer be compelled to bear the taunts of a bad-tempered master; a third, to be saved from arrest after running away, drives a sword into his vitals. Do you not suppose that virtue will be as efficacious as excessive fear? No man can have a peaceful life who thinks too much about lengthening it, or believes that living through many consulships is a great blessing. Rehearse this thought every day, that you may be able to depart from life contentedly; for many men clutch and cling to life, even as those who are carried down a rushing stream clutch and cling to briars and sharp rocks.

Most men ebb and flow in wretchedness between the fear of death and the hardships of life; they are unwilling to live, and yet they do not know how to die. For this reason, make life as a whole agreeable to yourself by banishing all worry about it. No good thing renders its possessor happy, unless his mind is reconciled to the possibility of loss; nothing, however, is lost with less discomfort than that which, when lost, cannot be missed. Therefore, encourage and toughen your spirit against the mishaps that afflict even the most powerful. For example, the fate of Pompey was settled by a boy and a eunuch, that of Crassus by a cruel and insolent Parthian. Gaius Caesar ordered Lepidus to bare his neck for the axe of the tribune Dexter; and he himself offered his own throat to Chaerea. No man has ever been so far advanced by Fortune that she did not threaten him as greatly as she had previously indulged him. Do not trust her seeming calm; in a moment the sea is moved to its depths. The very day the ships have made a brave show in the games, they are engulfed. Reflect that a highwayman or an enemy may cut your throat; and, though he is not your master, every slave wields the power of life and death over you. Therefore I declare to you: he is lord of your life that scorns his own. Think of those who have perished through plots in their own home, slain either openly or by guile; you will realize that just as many have been killed by angry slaves as by angry kings. What matter, therefore, how powerful he be whom you fear, when every one possesses the power which inspires your fear? "But," you will say, "if you should chance to fall into the hands of the enemy, the conqueror will command that you be led away,"— yes, whither you are already being led. Why do you voluntarily deceive yourself and require to be told now for the first time what fate it is that you have long been labouring under? Take my word for it: since the day you were born you are being led thither. We must ponder this thought, and thoughts of the like nature, if we desire to be calm as we await that last hour, the fear of which makes all previous hours uneasy.

But I must end my letter. Let me share with you the saying which pleased me today. It, too, is culled from another man's Garden: "Poverty brought into conformity with the law of nature, is great wealth." Do you know what limits that law of nature ordains for us? Merely to avert hunger, thirst, and cold. In order to banish hunger and thirst, it is not necessary for you to pay court at the doors of the purse-proud, or to submit to the stern frown, or to the kindness that humiliates; nor is it necessary for you to scour the seas, or go campaigning; nature's needs are easily provided and ready to hand. It is the superfluous things for which men sweat — the superfluous things that wear our togas threadbare, that force us to grow old in camp, that dash us upon foreign shores. That which is enough is ready to our hands. He who has made a fair compact with poverty is rich. Farewell.

CHAPTER 5

ON THE PHILOSOPHER'S MEAN

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.

(Continues...)

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Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Introduction

Letter I – On Saving Time

Letter II – On Discursiveness in Reading

Letter III – On True and False Friendship

Letter IV – On the Terrors of Death

Letter V – On the Philosopher’s Mean

Letter VI – On Sharing Knowledge

Letter VII – On Crowds

Letter VIII – On the Philosopher’s Seclusion

Letter IX – On Philosophy and Friendship

Letter X – On Living to Oneself

Letter XI – On the Blush of Modesty

Letter XII – On Old Age

Letter XIII – On Groundless Fears

Letter XIV – On the Reasons for Withdrawing from the World

Letter XV – On Brawn and Brains

Letter XVI – On Philosophy, the Guide of Life

Letter XVII – On Philosophy and Riches

Letter XVIII – On Festivals and Fasting

Letter XIX – On Worldliness and Retirement

Letter XX – On Practising what you Preach

Letter XXI – On the Renown which my Writings will Bring you

Letter XXII – On the Futility of Half-Way Measures

Letter XXIII – On the True Joy which Comes from Philosophy

Letter XXIV – On Despising Death

Letter XXV – On Reformation

Letter XXVI – On Old Age and Death

Letter XXVII – On the Good which Abides

Letter XXVIII – On Travel as a Cure for Discontent

Letter XXIX – On the Critical Condition of Marcellinus

Letter XXX – On Conquering the Conqueror

Letter XXXI – On Siren Songs

Letter XXXII – On Progress

Letter XXXIII – On the Futility of Learning Maxims

Letter XXXIV – On a Promising Pupil

Letter XXXV – On the Friendship of Kindred Minds

Letter XXXVI – On the Value of Retirement

Letter XXXVII – On Allegiance to Virtue

Letter XXXVIII – On Quiet Conversation

Letter XXXIX – On Noble Aspirations

Letter XL – On the Proper Style for a Philosopher’s Discourse

Letter XLI – On the God within Us

Letter XLII – On Values

Letter XLIII – On the Relativity of Fame

Letter XLIV – On Philosophy and Pedigrees

Letter XLV – On Sophistical Argumentation

Letter XLVI – On a New Book by Lucilius

Letter XLVII – On Master and Slave

Letter XLVIII – On Quibbling as Unworthy of the Philosopher

Letter XLIX – On the Shortness of Life

Letter L – On our Blindness and its Cure

Letter LI – On Baiae and Morals

Letter LII – On Choosing our Teachers

Letter LIII – On the Faults of the Spirit

Letter LIV – On Asthma and Death

Letter LV – On Vatia’s Villa

Letter LVI – On Quiet and Study

Letter LVII – On the Trials of Travel

Letter LVIII – On Being

Letter LIX – On Pleasure and Joy

Letter LX – On Harmful Prayers

Letter LXI – On Meeting Death Cheerfully

Letter LXII – On Good Company

Letter LXIII – On Grief for Lost Friends

Letter LXIV – On the Philosopher’s Task

Letter LXV – On the First Cause

Letter LXVI – On Various Aspects of Virtue

Letter LXVII – On Ill-Health and Endurance of Suffering

Letter LXVIII – On Wisdom and Retirement

Letter LXIX – On Rest and Restlessness

Letter LXX – On the Proper Time to Slip the Cable

Letter LXXI – On the Supreme Good

Letter LXXII – On Business as the Enemy of Philosophy

Letter LXXIII – On Philosophers and Kings

Letter LXXIV – On Virtue as a Refuge from Worldly Distractions

Letter LXXV – On the Diseases of the Soul

Letter LXXVI – On Learning Wisdom in Old Age

Letter LXXVII – On Taking One’s Own Life

Letter LXXVIII – On the Healing Power of the Mind

Letter LXXIX – On the Rewards of Scientific Discovery

Letter LXXX – On Worldly Deceptions

Letter LXXXI – On Benefits

Letter LXXXII – On the Natural Fear of Death

Letter LXXXIII – On Drunkenness

Letter LXXXIV – On Gathering Ideas

Letter LXXXV – On Some Vain Syllogisms

Letter LXXXVI – On Scipio’s Villa

Letter LXXXVII - Some Arguments in Favour of the Simple Life

Letter LXXXVIII – On Liberal and Vocational Studies

Letter LXXXIX – On the Parts of Philosophy

Letter XC – On the Part Played by Philosophy in the Progress of Man

Letter XCI – On the Lesson to be Drawn from the Burning of Lyons

Letter XCII – On the Happy Life

Letter XCIII – On the Quality, as Contrasted with the Length, of Life

Letter XCIV – On the Value of Advice

Letter XCV – On the Usefulness of Basic Principles

Letter XCVI – On Facing Hardships

Letter XCVII – On the Degeneracy of the Age

Letter XCVIII – On the Fickleness of Fortune

Letter XCIX – On Consolation to the Bereaved

Letter C – On the Writings of Fabianus

Letter CI – On the Futility of Planning Ahead

Letter CII – On the Intimations of Our Immortality

Letter CIII – On the Dangers of Association with Our Fellow-Men

Letter CIV – On Care of Health and Peace of Mind

Letter CV – On Facing the World with Confidence

Letter CVI – On the Corporeality of Virtue

Letter CVII – On Obedience to the Universal Will

Letter CVIII – On the Approaches to Philosophy

Letter CIX – On the Fellowship of Wise Men

Letter CX – On True and False Riches

Letter CXI – On the Vanity of Mental Gymnastics

Letter CXII – On Reforming Hardened Sinners

Letter CXIII – On the Vitality of the Soul and Its Attributes

Letter CXIV – On Style as a Mirror of Character

Letter CXV – On the Superficial Blessings

Letter CXVI – On Self-Control

Letter CXVII – On Real Ethics as Superior to Syllogistic Subtleties

Letter CXVIII – On the Vanity of Place-Seeking

Letter CXIX – On Nature as our Best Provider

Letter CXX – More About Virtue

Letter CXXI – On Instinct in Animals

Letter CXXII – On Darkness as a Veil for Wickedness

Letter CXXIII – On the Conflict between Pleasure and Virtue

Letter CXXIV – On the True Good as Attained by Reason