Letter 110
F rom my villa at Nomentum I send you greeting
and bid you keep a sound spirit within you - in other words, gain the blessing
of all the gods, for he is assured of their grace and favour who has become
a blessing to himself. Lay aside for the present the belief of certain
persons - that a god is assigned to each one of us as a sort of attendant
- not a god of regular rank, but one of a lower grade - one of those whom
Ovid calls "plebeian gods." Yet, while laying aside this belief, I would
have you remember that our ancestors, who followed such a creed, have become
Stoics; for they have assigned a Genius or a Juno to every individual.
Later on we shall investigate whether the gods have enough time on their
hands to care for the concerns of private individuals; in the meantime,
you must know that whether we are allotted to special guardians, or whether
we are neglected and consigned to Fortune, you can curse a man with no
heavier
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curse than to pray that he may be at enmity with himself.
T here is no reason, however, why you should
ask the gods to be hostile to anyone whom you regard as deserving of punishment;
they are hostile to such a person, I maintain, even though he seems to
be advanced by their favour. Apply careful investigation, considering
how our affairs actually stand, and not what men say of them; you will
then understand that evils are more likely to help us than to harm us.
For how often has so- called affliction been the source and the beginning
of happiness! How often have privileges which we welcomed with deep thanksgiving
built steps for themselves to the top of a precipice, still uplifting men
who were already distinguished - just as if they had previously stood in
a position whence they could fall in safety! But this very fall has
in it nothing evil, if you consider the end, after which nature lays
no man lower. The universal limit is near; yes, there is near us
the point where the prosperous man is upset, and the point where the unfortunate
is set free. It is we ourselves that extend both these limits, lengthening
them by our hopes and by our fears.
I f, however, you are wise, measure all things
according to the state of man; restrict at the same time both your joys
and your fears. Moreover, it is worth while not to rejoice at anything
for long, so that you may not fear anything for long. But why do
I confine the scope of this evil? There is no reason why you should
suppose that anything is to be feared. All these things which stir
us and keep us a-flutter, are empty things. None of us has sifted
out the truth; we have passed fear on to one another; none has dared to
approach the object which
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caused his dread, and to understand the nature of his fear - aye, the
good behind it. That is why falsehood and vanity still gain credit
- because they are not refuted. Let us account it worth while to
look closely at the matter; then it will be clear how fleeting, how unsure,
and how harmless are the things which we fear. The disturbance in
our spirits is similar to that which Lucretius detected:
Like boys who cower frightened in the dark,
So grown-ups in the light of day feel fear.
What, then? Are we not more foolish than child, we who "in the light
of day feel fear. But you were wrong, Lucretius; we are not afraid
in the daylight; we have turned everything into a state of darkness.
We see neither what injures nor what profits us; all our lives through
we blunder along, neither stopping nor treading more carefully on this
account. But you see what madness it is to rush ahead in the dark.
Indeed, we are bent on getting ourselves called back from a greater distance;
and though we do not know our goal, yet we hasten with wild speed in the
direction whither we are straining.
T he light, however, may begin to shine, provided
we are willing. But such a result can come about only in one way
- if we acquire by knowledge this familiarity with things divine and human,
if we not only flood ourselves but steep ourselves therein, if a man reviews
the same principles even though he understands them and applies them again
and again to himself, if he has investigated what is good, what is evil,
and what has falsely been so entitled; and, finally, if he has investigated
honour and baseness, and Providence. The range of the human intelligence
is not
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confined within these limits; it may also explore outside the universe
- its destination and its source, and the ruin towards which all nature
hastens so rapidly. We have withdrawn the soul from this divine contemplation
and dragged it into mean and lowly tasks, so that it might be a slave to
greed, so that it might forsake the universe and its confines, and, under
the command of masters who try all possible schemes, pry beneath the earth
and seek what evil it can dig up therefrom - discontented with that which
was freely offered to it. Now God, who is the Father of us all, has
placed ready to our hands those things which he intended for our own good;
he did not wait for any search on our part, and he gave them to us voluntarily.
But that which would be injurious, he buried deep in the earth. We
can complain of nothing but ourselves; for we have brought to light the
materials for our destruction, against the will of Nature, who hid them
from us. We have bound over our souls to pleasure, whose service is the
source of all evil; we have surrendered ourselves to self- seeking and
reputation, and to other aims which are equally idle and useless.
What, then, do I now encourage you to do? Nothing new - we are not
trying to find cures for new evils - but this first of all: namely, to
see clearly for yourself what is necessary and what is superfluous. What
is necessary will meet you every where; what is superfluous has always
to be hunted-out - and with great endeavour. But there is no reason
why you should flatter yourself over-much if you despise gilded couches
and jewelled furniture. For what virtue lies in despising useless
things? The time to admire your own conduct is when you
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have come to despise the necessities. You are doing no great thing
if you can live without royal pomp, if you feel no craving for boars which
weigh a thousand pounds, or for flamingo tongues, or for the other absurdities
of a luxury that already wearies of game cooked whole, and chooses different
bits from separate animals; I shall admire you only when you have learned
to scorn even the common sort of bread, when you have made yourself believe
that grass grows for the needs of men as well as of cattle, when you have
found out that food from the treetop a can fill the belly - into which
we cram things of value as if it could keep what it has received.
We should satisfy our stomachs without being over-nice. How does
it matter what the stomach receives, since it must lose whatever it has
received? You enjoy the carefully arranged dainties which are caught
on land and sea; some are more pleasing if they are brought fresh to the
table, others, if after long feeding and forced fattening they almost melt
and can hardly retain their own grease. You like the subtly devised
flavour of these dishes. But I assure you that such carefully chosen and
variously seasoned dishes, once they have entered the belly, will be overtaken
alike by one and the same corruption. Would you despise the pleasures
of eating? Then consider its result! I remember some words
of Attalus, which elicited general applause: "Riches long deceived me.
I used to be dazed when I caught some gleam of them here and there.
I used to think that their hidden influence matched their visible show.
But once, at a certain elaborate entertainment, I saw embossed work in
silver and gold squalling the wealth of a whole city, and colours and tapestry
devised to match objects which sur-
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passed the value of gold or of silver - brought not only from beyond
our own borders, but from beyond the borders of our enemies; on one side
were slave-boys notable for their training and beauty, on the other were
throngs of slave-women, and all the other resources that a prosperous and
mighty empire could offer after reviewing its possessions. What else
is this, I said to myself, than a stirring-up of man's cravings, which
are in themselves provocative of lust? What is the meaning of all
this display of money? Did we gather merely to learn what greed was?
For my own part I left the place with less craving than I had when I entered.
I came to despise riches, not because of their uselessness, but because
of their pettiness. Have you noticed how, inside a few hours, that
programme, however slow-moving and carefully arranged, was over and done?
Has a business filled up this whole life of ours, which could not fill
up a whole day? "I had another thought also: the riches seemed to me to
be as useless to the possessors as they were to the onlookers. Accordingly,
I say to myself, whenever a show of that sort dazzles my eyes, whenever
I see a splendid palace with a well- groomed corps of attendants and beautiful
bearers carrying a litter: Why wonder? Why gape in astonishment?
It is all show; such things are displayed, not possessed; while they please
they pass away. Turn thyself rather to the true riches. Learn
ti be cootent with little, and cry out with courage and with greatness
of soul: 'We have water, we have porridge; let us compete in happiness
with Jupiter himself.' And why not, I pray thee, make this challenge even
without porridge and water? For it is base to make the happy life
depend upon silver and gold, and
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Latin / Greek Original
[1] Ex Nomentano meo te saluto et iubeo habere mentem bonam, hoc est propitios deos omnis, quos habet placatos et faventes quisquis sibi se propitiavit. Sepone in praesentia quae quibusdam placent, unicuique nostrum paedagogum dari deum, non quidem ordinarium, sed hunc inferioris notae ex eorum numero quos Ovidius ait 'de plebe deos'. Ita tamen hoc seponas volo ut memineris maiores nostros qui crediderunt Stoicos fuisse; singulis enim et Genium et Iunonem dederunt. [2] Postea videbimus an tantum dis vacet ut privatorum negotia procurent: interim illud scito, sive adsignati sumus sive neglecti et fortunae dati, nulli te posse inprecari quicquam gravius quam si inprecatus fueris ut se habeat iratum. Sed non est quare cuiquam quem poena putaveris dignum optes ut infestos deos habeat: habet, inquam, etiam si videtur eorum favore produci. [3] Adhibe diligentiam tuam et intuere quid sint res nostrae, non quid vocentur, et scies plura mala contingere nobis quam accidere. Quotiens enim felicitatis et causa et initium fuit quod calamitas vocabatur! quotiens magna gratulatione excepta res gradum sibi struxit in praeceps et aliquem iam eminentem adlevavit etiamnunc, tamquam adhuc ibi staret unde tuto cadunt! [4] Sed ipsum illud cadere non habet in se mali quicquam si exitum spectes, ultra quem natura neminem deiecit. Prope est rerum omnium terminus, prope est, inquam, et illud unde felix eicitur et illud unde infelix emittitur: nos utraque extendimus et longa spe ac metu facimus. Sed, si sapis, omnia humana condicione metire; simul et quod gaudes et quod times contrahe. Est autem tanti nihil diu gaudere ne quid diu timeas.
[5] Sed quare istuc malum adstringo? Non est quod quicquam timendum putes: vana sunt ista quae nos movent, quae attonitos habent. Nemo nostrum quid veri esset excussit, sed metum alter alteri tradidit; nemo ausus est ad id quo perturbabatur accedere et naturam ac bonum timoris sui nosse. Itaque res falsa et inanis habet adhuc fidem quia non coarguitur. [6] Tanti putemus oculos intendere: iam apparebit quam brevia, quam incerta, quam tuta timeantur. Talis est animorum nostrorum confusio qualis Lucretio visa est:
Quid ergo? non omni puero stultiores sumus qui in luce timemus? [7] Sed falsum est, Lucreti, non timemus in luce: omnia nobis fecimus tenebras. Nihil videmus, nec quid noceat nec quid expediat; tota vita incursitamus nec ob hoc resistimus aut circumspectius pedem ponimus. Vides autem quam sit furiosa res in tenebris impetus. At mehercules id agimus ut longius revocandi simus, et cum ignoremus quo feramur, velociter tamen illo quo intendimus perseveramus. [8] Sed lucescere, si velimus, potest. Uno autem modo potest, si quis hanc humanorum divinorumque notitiam [scientia] acceperit, si illa se non perfuderit sed infecerit, si eadem, quamvis sciat, retractaverit et ad se saepe rettulerit, si quaesierit quae sint bona, quae mala, quibus hoc falso sit nomen adscriptum, si quaesierit de honestis et turpibus, de providentia. [9] Nec intra haec humani ingenii sagacitas sistitur: prospicere et ultra mundum libet, quo feratur, unde surrexerit, in quem exitum tanta rerum velocitas properet. Ab hac divina contemplatione abductum animum in sordida et humilia pertraximus, ut avaritiae serviret, ut relicto mundo terminisque eius et dominis cuncta versantibus terram rimaretur et quaereret quid ex illa mali effoderet, non contentus oblatis. [10] Quidquid nobis bono futurum erat deus et parens noster in proximo posuit; non expectavit inquisitionem nostram et ultro dedit: nocitura altissime pressit. Nihil nisi de nobis queri possumus: ea quibus periremus nolente rerum natura et abscondente protulimus. Addiximus animum voluptati, cui indulgere initium omnium malorum est, tradidimus ambitioni et famae, ceteris aeque vanis et inanibus.
[11] Quid ergo nunc te hortor ut facias? nihil novi — nec enim novis malis remedia quaeruntur - sed hoc primum, ut tecum ipse dispicias quid sit necessarium, quid supervacuum. Necessaria tibi ubique occurrent: supervacua et semper et toto animo quaerenda sunt. [12] Non est autem quod te nimis laudes si contempseris aureos lectos et gemmeam supellectilem; quae est enim virtus supervacua contemnere? Tunc te admirare cum contempseris necessaria. Non magnam rem facis quod vivere sine regio apparatu potes, quod non desideras milliarios apros nec linguas phoenicopterorum et alia portenta luxuriae iam tota animalia fastidientis et certa membra ex singulis eligentis: tunc te admirabor si contempseris etiam sordidum panem, si tibi persuaseris herbam, ubi necesse est, non pecori tantum sed homini nasci, si scieris cacumina arborum explementum esse ventris in quem sic pretiosa congerimus tamquam recepta servantem. Sine fastidio implendus est; quid enim ad rem pertinet quid accipiat, perditurus quidquid acceperit? [13] Delectant te disposita quae terra marique capiuntur, alia eo gratiora si recentia perferuntur ad mensam, alia si diu pasta et coacta pinguescere fluunt ac vix saginam continent suam; delectat te nitor horum arte quaesitus. At mehercules ista sollicite scrutata varieque condita, cum subierint ventrem, una atque eadem foeditas occupabit. Vis ciborum voluptatem contemnere? exitum specta.
[14] Attalum memini cum magna admiratione omnium haec dicere: 'diu' inquit 'mihi inposuere divitiae. Stupebam ubi aliquid ex illis alio atque alio loco fulserat; existimabam similia esse quae laterent his quae ostenderentur. Sed in quodam apparatu vidi totas opes urbis, caelata et auro et argento et iis quae pretium auri argentique vicerunt, exquisitos colores et vestes ultra non tantum nostrum sed ultra finem hostium advectas; hinc puerorum perspicuos cultu atque forma greges, hinc feminarum, et alia quae res suas recognoscens summi imperii fortuna protulerat. [15] "Quid hoc est" inquam "aliud inritare cupiditates hominum per se incitatas? quid sibi vult ista pecuniae pompa? ad discendam avaritiam convenimus?" At mehercules minus cupiditatis istinc effero quam adtuleram. Contempsi divitias, non quia supervacuae sed quia pusillae sunt. [16] Vidistine quam intra paucas horas ille ordo quamvis lentus dispositusque transierit? Hoc totam vitam nostram occupabit quod totum diem occupare non potuit? Accessit illud quoque: tam supervacuae mihi visae sunt habentibus quam fuerunt spectantibus. [17] Hoc itaque ipse mihi dico quotiens tale aliquid praestrinxerit oculos meos, quotiens occurrit domus splendida, cohors culta servorum, lectica formonsis inposita calonibus: "quid miraris? quid stupes? pompa est. Ostenduntur istae res, non possidentur, et dum placent transeunt". [18] Ad veras potius te converte divitias; disce parvo esse contentus et illam vocem magnus atque animosus exclama: habemus aquam, habemus polentam; Iovi ipsi controversiam de felicitate faciamus. Faciamus, oro te, etiam si ista defuerint; turpe est beatam vitam in auro et argento reponere, aeque turpe in aqua et polenta. "Quid ergo faciam si ista non fuerint?" [19] Quaeris quod sit remedium inopiae? Famem fames finit: alioquin quid interest magna sint an exigua quae servire te cogant? quid refert quantulum sit quod tibi possit negare fortuna? [20] Haec ipsa aqua et polenta in alienum arbitrium cadit; liber est autem non in quem parum licet fortunae, sed in quem nihil. Ita est: nihil desideres oportet si vis Iovem provocare nihil desiderantem.'
Haec nobis Attalus dixit, natura omnibus dixit; quae si voles frequenter cogitare, id ages ut sis felix, non ut videaris, et ut tibi videaris, non aliis. Vale.