Transcription conventions: Page numbers in angle brackets refer to the edition cited as the source. The Latin text, which appears on even-numbered pages, is not included here. Words or phrases singled out for indexing are marked by plus signs. In the index, numbers in parentheses indicate how many times the item appears. A slash followed by a small letter or a number indicates a footnote at the bottom of the page. Only notes of historical, philosophical, or literary interest to a general reader have been included. I have allowed Greek passages to stand as the scanner read them, in unintelligible strings of characters.

WHILE reading the letter in which you were lamenting the death of the philosopher Metronax/a as if he might have, and indeed ought to have, lived longer, I missed the spirit of fairness which abounds in all your discussions concerning men and things, but is lacking when you approach one single subject, - as is indeed the case with us all.  In other words, I have noticed many who deal fairly with their fellow-men, but none who deals fairly with the gods.  We rail every day at Fate, saying "Why has A. been carried off in the very middle of his career?  Why is not B. carried off instead?  Why should he prolong his old age, which is a burden to himself as well as to others?" But tell me, pray, do you consider it fairer that you should obey Nature, or that Nature should obey you?  And what difference does it make how soon you depart from a place which you must depart from sooner or later?  We should strive, not to live long, but to live rightly for to achieve long life you have need of Fate only, but for right living you
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need the soul.  A life is really long if it is a full life; but fulness is not attained until the soul has rendered to itself its proper Good,/a that is, until it has assumed control over itself.  What benefit does this older man derive from the eighty years he has spent in idleness?  A person like him has not lived; he has merely tarried awhile in life.  Nor has he died late in life; he has simply been a long time dying.  He has lived eighty years, has he?  That depends upon the date from which you reckon his death! Your other friend,/b however, departed in the bloom of his manhood.  But he had fulfilled all the duties of a good citizen, a good friend, a good son; in no respect had he fallen short.  His age may have been incomplete, but his life was complete.  The other man has lived eighty years, has he? Nay, he has existed eighty years, unless perchance you mean by "he has lived" what we mean when we say that a tree "lives."
     P ray, let us see to it, my dear Lucilius, that our lives, like jewels of great price, be noteworthy not because of their width but because of their weight./c Let us measure them by their performance, not by their duration.  Would you know wherein lies the difference between this hardy man who, despising Fortune+, has served through every campaign of life {public_service+} and has attained to life's Supreme Good, and that other person over whose head many years have passed?  The former exists even after his death; the latter has died even before he was dead./d
     W e should therefore praise, and number in the company of the blest, that man who has invested well the portion of time, however little, that has been allotted to him; for such a one has seen the true light.  He bas not been one of the common herd.
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He has not only lived, but flourished.  Sometimes he enjoyed fair skies; sometimes, as often happens, it was only through the clouds that there flashed to him the radiance of the mighty star." Why do you ask: "How long did he live?" He still lives!  At one bound he has passed over into posterity and has consigned himself to the guardianship of memory.  And yet I would not on that account decline for myself a few additional years; although, if my life's space be shortened, I shall not say that I have lacked aught that is essential to a happy life.  For I have not planned to live up to the very last day that my greedy hopes had promised me; nay, I have looked upon every day as if it were my last.  Why ask the date of my birth, or whether I am still enrolled on the register of the younger men?/b What I have is my own.  Just as one of small stature can be a perfect man, so a life of small compass can be a perfect life.  Age ranks among the external things./c How long I am to exist is not mine to decide, but how long I shall go on existing in my present way is in my own control.  This is the only thing you have the right to require of me, - that I shall cease to measure out an inglorious age as it were in darkness, and devote myself to living instead of being carried along past life.
     A nd what, you ask, is the fullest span of life?  It is living until you possess wisdom.  He who has attained wisdom has reached, not the furthermost, but the most important, goal.  Such a one may indeed exult boldly and give thanks to the gods - aye, and to himself also - and he may count himself Nature's creditor for having lived.  He will indeed have the right to do so, for he has paid her back a better life than he has received.  He has set up the
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pattern of a good man, showing the quality and the greatness of a good man.  Had another year been added, it would merely have been like the past. And yet how long are we to keep living?  We have had the joy of learning the truth about the universe.  We know from what beginnings Nature arises; how she orders the course of the heavens; by what successive changes she summons back the year; how she has brought to an end all things that ever have been, and has established herself as the only end of her own being./a We know that the stars move by their own motion, and that nothing except the earth stands still, while all the other bodies run on with uninterrupted swiftness./b We know how the moon outstrips the sun; why it is that the slower leaves the swifter behind; in what manner she receives her light, or loses it again; what brings on the night, and what brings back the day. To that place you must go where you are to have a closer view of all these things. "And yet," says the wise man, "I do not depart more valiantly because of this hope -because I judge the path lies clear before me to my own gods. I have indeed earned admission to their presence, and in fact have already been in their company; I have sent my soul to them as they had previously sent theirs to me.  But suppose that I am utterly annihilated, and that after death nothing mortal remains; I have no less courage, even if, when I depart, my course leads - nowhere." "But," you say, "he has not lived as many years as he might have lived.  There are books which contain very few lines, admirable and useful in spite of their size; and there are also the Annals of Tanusius/c - you know how bulky the book is, and
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what men say of it.  This is the case with the long life of certain persons, - a state which resembles the Annals of Tanusius!  Do you regard as more fortunate the fighter who is slain on the last day of the games than one who goes to his death in the middle of the festivities?  Do you believe that anyone is so foolishly covetous of life that he would rather have his throat cut in the dressing-room than in the amphitheatre?  It is by no longer an interval than this that we precede one another.  Death visits each and all; the slayer soon follows the slain.  It is an insignificant trifle, after all, that people discuss with so much concern.  And anyhow, what does it matter for how long a time you avoid that which you cannot escape?  Farewell.
 
 

     T hat department of philosophy which supplies precepts/b appropriate to the individual case, instead of framing them for mankind at large - which, for instance, advises how a husband should conduct himself towards his wife, or how a father should bring up his children, or how a master should rule his slaves - this department of philosophy, I say, is accepted by some as the only significant part, while the other departments are rejected on the ground that they stray beyond the sphere of practical needs - as if any man could give advice concerning a portion of life without having first gained a knowledge of the sum of life as a whole!
     B ut Aristo the Stoic, on the contrary, believes a the above- mentioned department to be of slight import - he holds that it does not sink into the mind,
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having in it nothing but old wives' precepts, and that the greatest benefit is derived from the actual dogmas of philosophy and from the definition of the Supreme Good.  When a man has gained a complete understanding of this definition and has thoroughly learned it, he can frame for himself a precept directing what is to be done in a given case.  Just as the student of javelin-throwing keeps aiming at a fixed target and thus trains the hand to give direction to the missile, and when, by instruction and practice, lie has gained the desired ability he can then employ it against any target he wishes (having learned to strike not any random object, but precisely the object at which he has aimed), -he who has equipped himself for the whole of life does not need to be advised concerning each separate item, because he is now trained to meet his problem as a whole; for he knows not merely how he should live with his wife or his son, but how he should live aright.  In this knowledge there is also included the proper way of living with wife and children.
     C leanthes holds that this department of wisdom is indeed useful, but that it is a feeble thing unless it is derived from general principles - that is, unless it is based upon a knowledge of the actual dogmas of philosophy and its main headings.  This subject is therefore twofold, leading to two separate lines of inquiry: first, Is it useful or useless? and, and second, can it of itself produce a good man? - in other words, Is it superfluous, or does it render all other departments superfluous?
     T hose who urge the view that this department is superfluous argue as follows: "If an object that is held in front of the eyes interferes with the vision, it must be removed.  For just as long as it is in the
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way, it is a waste of time to offer such precepts as these: 'Walk thus and so; extend your hand in that direction.' Similarly, when something blinds a man's soul and hinders it from seeing a line of duty clearly, there is no use in advising him: 'Live thus and so with your father, thus and so with your wife.' For precepts will be of no avail while the mind is clouded with error; only when the cloud is dispersed will it be clear what one's duty is in each case.  Otherwise, you will merely be showing the sick man what he ought to do if he were well, instead of making him well.  Suppose you are trying to reveal to the poor man the art of 'acting rich'; how can the thing be accomplished as long as his poverty is unaltered? You are trying to make clear to a starveling in what manner he is to act the part of one with a well-filled stomach; the first requisite, however, is to relieve him of the hunger that grips his vitals. "The same thing, I assure you, holds good of all faults; the faults themselves must be removed, and precepts should not be given which cannot possibly be carried out while the faults remain.  Unless you drive out the false opinions under which we suffer, the miser will never receive instruction as to the proper use of his money, nor the coward regarding the way to scorn danger.  You must make the miser know that money is neither a good nor an evil;/a show him men of wealth who are miserable to the last degree.  You must make the coward know that the things which generally frighten us out of our wits are less to be feared than rumour advertises them to be, whether the object of fear be suffering or death; that when death comes - fixed by law for us all to suffer -it is often a great solace to reflect that it can never come again; that in the midst of suffering
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resoluteness of soul will be as good as a cure, for the soul renders lighter any burden that it endures with stubborn defiance.  Remember that pain has this most excellent quality: if prolonged it cannot be severe, and if severe it cannot be prolonged;/a and that we should bravely accept whatever commands the inevitable laws of the universe lay upon us. "When by means of such doctrines you have brought the erring man to a sense of his own condition, when he has learned that the happy life is not that which conforms to pleasure, but that which conforms to Nature, when he has fallen deeply in love with virtue as man's sole good and has avoided baseness as man's sole evil, and when he knows that all other things -riches, office, health, strength, dominion - fall in between and are not to be reckoned either among goods or among evils, then he will not need a monitor for every separate action, to say to him: 'Walk thus and so, eat thus and so.  This is the conduct proper for a man and that for a woman; this for a married man and that for a bachelor.' Indeed, the persons who take the greatest pains to proffer such advice are themselves unable to put it into practice.  It is thus that the pedagogue advises the boy, and the grandmother her grandson; it is the hottest-tempered schoolmaster who contends that one should never lose one s temper.  Go into in elementary school, and you will learn that just such pronouncements, emanating from high-browed philosophers, are to be found in the lesson-book for boys! "Shall you then offer precepts that are clear, or precepts that are doubtful?  Those which are clear need no counsellor, and doubtful precepts gain no credence; so the giving of precepts is superfluous.
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Indeed you should study the problem in this way: if you are counselling someone on a matter which is of doubtful clearness and doubtful meaning, you must supplement your precepts by proofs; and if you must resort to proofs, your means of proof are more effective and more satisfactory in themselves. 'It is thus that you must treat your friend, thus your fellowcitizen, thus your associate.' And why? 'Because it is just.' Yet I can find all that material included under the head of Justice.  I find there that fair play is desirable in itself, that we are not forced into it by fear nor hired to that end for pay, and that no man is just who is attracted by anything in this virtue other than the virtue itself.  After convincing myself of this view and thoroughly absorbing it, what good can I obtain from such precepts, which only teach one who is already trained?  To one who knows, it is superfluous to give precepts; to one who does not know, it is insufficient.  For he must be told, not only what he is being instructed to do, but also why.  I repeat, are such precepts useful to him who has correct ideas about good and evil, or to one who has them not?  The latter will receive no benefit from you; for some idea that clashes with your counsel has already monopolized his attention.  He who has made a careful decision as to what should be sought and what should be avoided knows what he ought to do, without a single word from you.  Therefore, that whole department of philosophy may be abolished. "There are two reasons why we go astray: either there is in the soul an evil quality which has been brought about by wrong opinions, or, even if not possessed by false ideas, the soul is prone to falsehood and rapidly corrupted by some outward appear-
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ance which attracts it in the wrong direction.  For this reason it is our duty either to treat carefully the diseased mind and free it from faults, or to take possession of the mind when it is still unoccupied and yet inclined to what is evil.  Both these results can be attained by the main doctrines of philosophy; therefore the giving of such precepts is of no use.  Besides, if we give forth precepts to each individual, the task is stupendous.  For one class of advice should be given to the financier, another to the farmer, another to the business man, another to one who cultivates the good graces of royalty, another to him who will seek the friendship of his equals, another to him who will court those of lower rank.  In the case of marriage, you will advise one person how he should conduct himself with a wife who before her marriage was a maiden, and another how he should behave with a woman who had previously been wedded to another; how the husband of a rich woman should act, or another man with a dowerless spouse.  Or do you not think that there is some difference between a barren woman and one who bears children, between one advanced in years and a mere girl, between a mother and a step-mother?  We cannot include all the types, and yet each type requires separate treatment; but the laws of philosophy are concise and are binding in all cases.  Moreover, the precepts of wisdom should be definite and certain: when things cannot be defined, they are outside the sphere of wisdom; for wisdom knows the proper limits of things. "We should therefore do away with this department of precepts, because it cannot afford to all what it promises only to a few; wisdom, however, embraces all.  Between the insanity of people in general and
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the insanity which is subject to medical treatment there is no difference, except that the latter is suffering from disease and the former from false opinions./a In the one case, the symptoms of madness may be traced to ill-health; the other is the ill- health of the mind.  If one should offer precepts to a madman - how he ought to speak, how he ought to walk, how he ought to conduct himself in public and private, he would be more of a lunatic than the person whom he was advising.  What is really necessary is to treat the black bile/b and remove the essential cause of the madness.  And this is what should also be done in the other case - that of the mind diseased. The madness itself must be shaken off; otherwise, your words of advice will vanish into thin air." This is what Aristo says; and I shall answer his arguments one by one.  First, in opposition to what he says about one's obligation to remove that which blocks the eye and hinders the vision. I admit that such a person does not need precepts in order to see, but that he needs treatment for the curing of his eyesight and the getting rid of the hindrance that handicaps him.  For it is Nature that gives us our eyesight; and he who removes obstacles restores to Nature her proper function.  But Nature does not teach us our duty in every case.  Again, if a man's cataract is cured, he cannot, immediately after his recovery, give back their eyesight to other men also; but when we are freed from evil we can free others also.  There is no need of encouragement, or even of counsel, for the eye to be able to distinguish different colours; black and white can be differentiated without prompting from another.
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The mind, on the other hand, needs many precepts in order to see what it should do in life; although in eye-treatment also the physician not only accomplishes the cure, but gives advice into the bargain.  He says: "There is no reason why you should at once expose your weak vision to a dangerous glare; begin with darkness, and then go into half-lights, and finally be more bold, accustoming yourself gradually to the bright light of day.  There is no reason why you should study immediately after eating; there is no reason why you should impose hard tasks upon your eyes when they are swollen and inflamed; avoid winds and strong blasts of cold air that blow into your face," - and other suggestions of the same sort, which are just as valuable as drugs themselves.  The physician's art supplements remedies by advice. "But," comes the reply, "error is the source of sin;/a precepts do not remove error, nor do they rout our false opinions on the subject of Good and Evil. "I admit that precepts alone are not effective in overthrowing the mind's mistaken beliefs; but they do not on that account fail to be of service when they accompany other measures also.  In the first place, they refresh the memory; in the second place, when sorted into their proper classes, the matters which showed themselves in a jumbled mass when considered as a whole, can be considered in this with greater care.  According to our opponents/b theory, you might even say that consolation, and exhortation were superfluous.  Yet they are not superfluous; neither, therefore, is counsel. "But it is folly," they retort, "to prescribe what a sick man ought to do, just as if he were well, when you should really restore his health; for without health precepts are not worth a jot." But have not
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sick men and sound men something in common, concerning which they need continual advice?  For example, not to grasp greedily after food, and to avoid getting over-tired.  Poor and rich have certain precepts which fit them both. "Cure their greed, then," people say, "and you will not need to lecture either the poor or the rich, provided that in the case of each of them the craving has subsided." But is it not one thing to be free from lust for money, and another thing to know how to use this money?  Misers do not know the proper limits in money matters, but even those who are not misers fail to comprehend its use.  Then comes the reply: "Do away with error, and your precepts become unnecessary." That is wrong; for suppose that avarice is slackened, that luxury is confined, that rashness is reined in, and that laziness is pricked by the spur; even after vices are removed, we must continue to learn what we ought to do, and how we ought to do it. "Nothing," it is said, "will be accomplished by applying advice to the more serious faults." No; and not even medicine can master incurable diseases; it is nevertheless used in some cases as a remedy, in others as a relief. Not even the power of universal philosophy, though it summon all its strength for the purpose, will remove from the soul what is now a stubborn and chronic disease.  But Wisdom, merely because she cannot cure everything, is not incapable of making cures.  People say: "What good does it do to point out the obvious?" A great deal of good; for we sometimes know facts without paying attention to them.  Advice is not teaching; it merely engages the attention and rouses us, and
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concentrates the memory, and keeps it from losing grip.  We miss much that is set before our very eyes.  Advice is, in fact, a sort of exhortation./a The mind often tries not to notice even that which lies before our eyes; we must therefore force upon it the knowledge of things that are perfectly well known.  One might repeat here the saying of Calvus about Vatinius:/b "You all know that bribery has been going on, and everyone knows that you know it." You know that friendship+ should be scrupulously honoured, and yet you do not hold it in honour.  You know that a man does wrong in requiring chastity of his wife while he himself is intriguing with the wives of other men; you know that, as your wife should have no dealings with a lover, neither should you yourself with a mistress; and yet vou do not act accordingly. Hence, you must be continually brought to remember these facts; for they should not be in storage, but ready for use.  And whatever is wholesome should be often discussed and often brought before the mind, so that it may be not only familiar to us, but also ready to hand.  And remember, too, that in this way what is clear often becomes clearer. "But if," comes the answer, "your precepts are not obvious, you will be bound to add proofs; hence the proofs, and not the precepts, will be helpful." But cannot the influence of the monitor avail even without proofs?  It is like the opinions of a legal expert, which hold good even though the reasons for them are not delivered.  Moreover, the precepts which are given are of great weight in themselves, whether they be woven into the fabric of song, or condensed into prose proverbs, like the famous Wisdom of
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Cato/a "Buy not what you need, but what you must have.  That which you do not need, is dear even at a farthing." Or those oracular or oracular-like replies, such as "Be thrifty with time!" "Know thyself!" Shall you need to be told the meaning when someone repeats to you lines like these Forgetting trouble is the way to cure it./b Fortune+ favours the brave, but the coward is foiled by his faint heart./c Such maxims need no special pleader; they go straight to our emotions, and help us simply because Nature is exercising her proper function.  The soul carries within itself the seed of everything, that is honourable, and this seed is stirred to growth by advice, as a spark that is fanned by a gentle breeze develops its natural fire.  Virtue is aroused by a touch, a shock.  Moreover, there are certain things which, though in the mind, yet are not ready to hand but begin to function easily as soon as they are put into words.  Certain things lie scattered about in various places, and it is impossible for the unpractised mind to arrange them in order.  Therefore, we should bring them into unity, and join them, so that they may be more powerful and more of an uplift to the soul.  Or, if precepts do not avail at all, then every method of instruction should be abolished, and we should be content with Nature alone.
     T hose who maintain this view/d do not understand that one man is lively and alert of wit, another sluggish and dull, while certainly some men have more intelligence than others.  The strength of the wit is nourished and kept growing by precepts; it adds new points of view to those which are inborn and corrects depraved ideas. "But suppose,"
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people retort, "that a man is not the possessor of sound dogmas, how can advice help him when he is chained down by vicious dogmas?" In this, assuredly, that he is freed there-from; for his natural disposition has not been crushed, but over-shadowed and kept down.  Even so it goes on endeavouring to rise again, struggling against the influences that make for evil; but when it wins support and receives the aid of precepts, it grows stronger, provided only that the chronic trouble has not corrupted or annihilated the natural man.  For in such a case, not even the training that comes from philosophy, striving with all its might, will make restoration.  What difference, indeed, - is there between the dogmas of philosophy and precepts, unless it be this - that the former are general and the latter special?  Both deal with advice - the one through the universal, the other through the particular.
     S ome say: "If one is familiar with upright and honourable dogmas, it will be superfluous to advise him." By no means; for this person has indeed learned to do things which he ought to do; but he does not see with sufficient clearness what these things are.  For we are hindered from accomplishing praiseworthy deeds not only by our emotions, but also by want of practice in discovering the demands of a particular situation.  Our minds are often under good control, and yet at the same time are inactive and untrained in finding the path of duty, -and advice makes this clear.  Again, it is written: "Cast out all false opinions concerning Good and Evil, but replace them with true opinions; then advice will have no function to perform." Order in the soul can doubtless be established in this way; but these are not the
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only ways.  For although we may infer by proofs just what Good and Evil are, nevertheless precepts have their proper role.  Prudence and justice consist of certain duties; and duties are set in order by precepts.  Moreover, judgment as to Good and Evil is itself strengthened by following up our duties, and precepts conduct us to this end.  For both are in accord with each other; nor can precepts take the lead unless the duties follow.  They observe their natural order; hence precepts clearly come first. "Precepts," it is said "are numberless." Wrong again!  For they are not numberless so far as concerns important and essential things.  Of course there are slight distinctions, due to the time, or the place, or the person; but even in these cases, precepts are given which have a general application.  No one, however," it is said, "cures madness by precepts, and therefore not wickedness either." There is a distinction; for if you rid a man of insanity, he becomes sane again, but if we have removed false opinions, insight into practical conduct does not at once follow.  Even though it follows, counsel will none the less confirm one's right opinion concerning Good and Evil.  And it is also wrong to believe that precepts are of no use to madmen.  For though, by themselves, they are of no avail, yet they are a help towards the cure. "Both scolding and chastening rein in a lunatic.  Note that I here refer to lunatics whose wits are disturbed but not hopelessly gone. "Still," it is objected, "laws do not always make us do what we ought to do; and what else are laws than precepts mingled with threats?" Now first of all, the laws do not persuade just because they threaten; precepts, however, nstead of coercing,
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correct men by pleading.  Again, laws frighten one out of communicating crime, while precepts urge a man on to his duty.  Besides, the laws also are of assistance towards good conduct, at any rate if they instruct as well as command.  On this point I disagree with Posidonius, who says: "I do not think that Plato's Laws should have the preambles/a added to them. For a law should be brief, in order that the uninitiated may grasp it all the more easily.  It should be a voice, as it were, sent down from heaven; it should command, not discuss.  Nothing seems to me more dull or more foolish than a law with a preamble.  Warn me, tell me what you wish me to do; I am not learning but obeying." But laws framed in this way are helpful; hence you will notice that a state with defective laws will have defective morals. "But," it is said, "they are not of avail in every case." Well neither is philosophy; and yet philosophy is not on that account ineffectual and useless in the training of the soul.  Furthermore, is not philosophy the Law of Life?  Grant, if we will, that the laws do not avail; it does not necessarily follow that advice also should not avail.  On this ground, you ought to say that consolation does not avail, and warning, and exhortation, and scolding, and praising; since they are all varieties of advice.  It is by such methods that we arrive at a perfect condition of mind.  Nothing is more successful in bringing honourable influences to bear upon the mind, or in straightening out the wavering spirit that is prone to evil, than association with good men./b For the frequent seeing, the frequent hearing of them little by little sinks into the heart and acquires the force of precepts.
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     W e are indeed uplifted merely by meeting wise men; and one can be helped by a great man even when he is silent.  I could not easily tell you how it helps us, though I am certain of the fact that I have received help in that way.  Phaedo a says: "Certain tiny animals do not leave any pain when they sting us; so subtle is their power, so deceptive for purposes of harm.  The bite is disclosed by a swelling, and even in the swelling there is no visible wound." That will also be your experience when dealing with wise men, you will not discover how or when the benefit comes to you, but you will discover that you have received it. "What is the point of this remark?" you ask.  It is, that good precepts, often welcomed within you, will benefit you just as much as good examples. Pythagoras declares that our souls experience a change when we enter a temple and behold the images of the gods face to face, and await the utterances of an oracle.  Moreover, who can deny that even the most inexperienced are effectively struck by the force of certain precepts?  For example, by such brief but weighty saws as: "Nothing in excess," "The greedy mind is satisfied by no gains," "You must expect to be treated by others as you yourself have treated them." {golden_rule+}/b We receive a sort if shock when we hear such sayings; no one ever thinks of doubting them or of asking "Why?" So strongly, indeed, does mere truth, unaccompanied by reason, attract us.  If reverence reins in the soul and cheeks vice, why cannot counsel do the same?  Also, if rebuke gives one a sense of shame, why has not counsel the same power, even though it does use bare precepts?  The counsel which assists suggestion by reason - which adds the motive
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for doing a given thing and the reward which awaits one who carries out and obeys such precepts is - more effective and settles deeper into the heart.  If commands are helpful, so is advice.  But one is helped by commands; therefore one is helped also by advice.
     V irtue is divided into two parts - into contemplation of truth, and conduct.  Training teaches contemplation, and admonition teaches conduct.  And right conduct both practises and reveals virtue.  But if, when a man is about to act, he is helped by advice, he is also helped by admonition. Therefore, if right conduct is necessary to virtue, and if, moreover, admonition makes clear right conduct, then admonition also is an indispensable thing. There are two strong supports to the soul - trust+/a in the truth and confidence; both are the result of admonition.  For men believe it, and when belief is established, the soul receives great inspiration and is filled with confidence.  Therefore, admonition is not superfluous.  Marcus Agrippa, a great-souled man, the only person among those whom the civil wars raised to fame and power whose prosperity helped the state, used to say that he was greatly indebted to the proverb "Harmony makes small things grow; lack of harmony makes great things decay."/b He held that he himself became the best of brothers and the best of friends by virtue of this saying. And if proverbs of such a kind, when welcomed intimately into the soul, can mould this very soul, why cannot the department of philosophy which consists of such proverbs possess equal influence?  Virtue depends partly upon training and partly upon practice; you must learn first, and then strengthen your learning by action.  If this be true, not only do the doctrines
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of wisdom help us but the precepts also, which check and banish our emotions by a sort of official decree.
     I t is said: "Philosophy is divided into knowledge and state of mind.  For one who has learned and understood what he should do and avoid,/a is not a wise man until his mind is metamorphosed into the shape of that which he has learned.  This third department - that of precept - is compounded from both the others, from dogmas of philosophy and state of mind.  Hence it is superfluous as far as the perfecting of virtue is concerned; the other two parts are enough for the purpose." On that basis, therefore, even consolation would be superfluous, since this also is a combination of the other two, as likewise are exhortation, persuasion, and even proof/b itself.  For proof also originates from a well-ordered and firm mental attitude.  But, although these things result from a sound state of mind, yet the sound state of mind also results from them; it is both creative of them and resultant from them.  Furthermore, that which you mention is the mark of an already perfect man, of one who has attained the height of human happiness.  But the approach to these qualities is slow, and in the meantime in practieal matters, the path should be pointed out for the benefit of one who is still short of perfection, but is making progress.  Wisdom by her own agency may perhaps show herself this path without the help of admonition; for she has brought the soul to a stage where it can be impelled only in the right direction.  Weaker characters, however, need someone to precede them, to say: "Avoid this," or "Do that." Moreover, if one awaits the time when one can know of oneself what the best line of action is, one will sometimes go astray and by going astray will be
<Ep3-43>

hindered from arriving at the point where it is possible to be content with oneself.  The soul should accordingly be guided at the very moment when it is becoming able to guide itself./a Boys study according to direction. Their fingers are held and guided by others so that they may follow the outlines of the letters; next, they are ordered to imitate a copy and base thereon a style of penmanship.  Similarly, the mind is helped if it is taught according to direction.  Such facts as these prove that this department of philosophy is not superfluous.
     T he question next arises whether this part alone is sufficient to make men wise.  The problem shall be treated at the proper time; but at present, omitting all arguments, is it not clear that we need someone whom we may call upon as our preceptor in opposition to the precepts of men in general?  There is no word which reaches our ears without doing us harm; we are injured both by good wishes and by curses. The angry prayers of our enemies instil false fears in us; and the affection of our friends spoils us through their kindly wishes.  For this affection sets us a-groping after goods that are far away, unsure, and wavering, when we really might open the store of happiness at home.  We are not allowed, I maintain, to travel a straight road.  Our parents and our slaves draw us into wrong.  Nobody confines his mistakes to himself; people sprinkle folly among their neighbours, and receive it from them in turn.  For this reason, in an individual, you find the vices of nations, because the nation has given them to the individual.  Each man, in corrupting others, corrupts himself; he imbibes, and then imparts, badness the result is a vast mass of wickedness, because the
<Ep3-45>

worst in every separate person is concentrated in one mass./a We should, therefore, have a guardian, as it were, to pluck us continually by the ear and dispel rumours and protest against popular enthusiasms.  For you are mistaken if you suppose that our faults are inborn in us; they have come from without, have been heaped upon us.  Hence, by receiving frequent admonitions, we can reject the opinions which din about our ears.  Nature does not ally us with any vice; she produced us in health and freedom. She put before our eyes no object which might stir in us the itch of greed. She placed gold and silver beneath our feet, and bade those feet stamp down and crush everything that causes us to be stamped down and crushed. Nature elevated our gaze towards the sky and willed that we should look upward to behold her glorious and wonderful works.  She gave us the rising and the setting sun, the whirling course of the on-rushing world which discloses the things of earth by day and the heavenly bodies by night, the movements of the stars, which are slow if you compare them with the universe, but most rapid if you reflect on the size of the orbits which they describe with unslackened speed; she showed us the successive eclipses of sun and moon, and other phenomena, wonderful because they occur regularly or because, through sudden causes they help into view - such as nightly trails of fire, or flashes in the open heavens unaccompanied by stroke or sound of thunder, or columns and beams and the various phenomena of flames./b She ordained that all these bodies should proceed above our heads; but gold and silver, with the iron which, because of the gold and silver, never brings peace, she has hidden away, as if they
<Ep3-47>

were dangerous things to trust to our keeping.  It is we ourselves that have dragged them into the light of day to the end that we might fight over them; it is we ourselves who, tearing away the superincumbent earth, have dug out the causes and tools of our own destruction; it is we ourselves who have attributed our own misdeeds to Fortune, and do not blush to regard as the loftiest objects those which once lay in the depths of earth.  Do you wish to know how false is the gleam/a that has deceived your eyes? There is really nothing fouler or more involved in darkness than these things of earth, sunk and covered for so long a time in the mud where they belong.  Of course they are foul; they have been hauled out through a long and murky mine-shaft.  There is nothing uglier than these metais during the process of refinement and separation from the ore.  Furthermore, watch the very workmen who must handle and sift the barren grade of dirt, the sort which comes from the bottom; see how soot-besmeared they are!  And yet the stuff they handle soils the soul more than the body, and there is more foulness in the owner than in the workman.
     I t is therefore indispensable that we be admonished, that we have some advocate with upright mind, and, amid all the uproar and jangle of falsehood, hear one voice only.  But what voice shall this be?  Surely a voice which, amid all the tumult of self-seeking, shall whisper wholesome words into the deafened ear, saying: "You need not be envious of those whom the people call great and fortunate; applause need not disturb your composed attitude and your sanity of mind; you need not become disgusted with your calm spirit because you see a great man, clothed in purple, protected by the well-known symbols of authority;" you need not judge the
<Ep3-49>

magistrate for whom the road is cleared to be any happier than yourself, whom his officer pushes from the road.  If you would wield a command that is profitable to yourself, and injurious to nobody, clear your own faults out of the way.  There are many who set fire to cities, who storm garrisons that have remained impregnable for generations and safe for numerous ages, who raise mounds as high as the walls they are besieging, who with battering-rams and engines shatter towers that have been reared to a wondrous height. There are many who can send their columns ahead and press destructively upon the rear of the foe, who can reach the Great Sea/a dripping with the blood of nations; but even these men, before they could conquer their foe, were conquered by their own greed.  No one withstood their attack; but they themselves could not withstand desire for power and the impulse to cruelty; at the time when they seemed to be hounding others, they were themselves being hounded.  Alexander was hounded into misfortune and dispatched to unknown countries by a mad desire to lay waste other men's territory.  Do you believe that the man was in his senses who could begin by devastating Greece, the land where he received his education?  One who snatched away the dearest guerdon of each nation, bidding Spartans be slaves, and Athenians hold their tongues?  Not content with the ruin of all the states which Philip had either conquered or bribed into bondage,/b he overthrew various commonwealths in various places and carried his weapons all over the world; his cruelty was tired, but it never ceased - like a wild beast that tears to pieces more than its hunger demands.  Already he has joined many kingdoms into one
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kingdom; ageady Greeks and Persians fear the same lord; already nations Darius had left free submit to the yoke:/a yet he passes beyond the Ocean and the Sun, deeming it shame that he should shift his course of victory from the paths which Hercules and Bacchus had trod;/b He threatens violence to Nature herself.  He does not wish to go; but he cannot stay; he is like a weight that falls headlong, its course ending only when it lies motionless. It was not virtue or reason which persuaded Gnaeus Pompeius to take part in foreign and civil warfare; it was his mad craving for unreal glory. Now he attacked Spain and the faction of Sertorius;/c now he fared forth to enchain the pirates and subdue the seas./d These were merely excuses and pretexts for extending his power.  What drew him into Africa, into the North, against Mithridates, into Armenia and all the corners of Asia?/e Assuredly it was his boundless desire to grow bigger; for only in his own eyes was he not great enough.  And what impelled Gaius Caesar to the combined ruin of himself and of the state?  Renown, self-seeking, and the setting no limit to preeminence over all other men.  He could not allow a single person to outrank him, although the state allowed two men to stand at its head.  Do you think that Gaius Marius, who was once consul/f (he received this office on one occasion, and stole it on all the others) courted all his perils by the inspiration of virtue when he was slaughtering the Teutons and the Cimbri, and pursuing Jugurtha through the wilds of Africa?/g Marius commanded armies, ambition Marius.
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     W hen such men as these/a were disturbing the world, they were themselves disturbed - like cyclones that whirl together what they have seized, but which are first whirled themselves and can for this reason rush on with all the greater force, having no control over themselves; hence, after causing such destruction to others, they feel in their own body the ruinous force which has enabled them to cause havoc to many.  You need never believe that a man can become happy through the unhappiness of another.  We must unravel all such cases/a as are forced before our eyes and crammed into our ears; we must clear out our hearts, for they are full of evil talk. {Hotspur+} Virtue must be conducted into the place these have seized, - a kind of virtue which may root out falsehood and doctrines which contravene the truth, or may sunder us from the throng, in which we put too great trust, and may restore us to the possession of sound opinions.  For this is wisdom - a return to Nature and a restoration to the condition from which man's errors have driven us.  It is a great part of health to have forsaken the counsellors of madness and to have fled far from a companionship that is mutually baneful.
     T hat you may know the truth of my remark, see how different is each individual's life before the public from that of his inner self.  A quiet life does not of itself give lessons in upright conduct; the countryside does not of itself teach plain living; no, but when witnesses and onlookers are removed, faults which ripen in publicity and display sink into the background.  Who puts on the purple robe for the sake of flaunting it in no man's eyes?  Who uses gold plate when he dines alone?  Who, as he flings himself down beneath the shadow of some rustic tree,
<Ep3-55>

displays in solitude the splendour of his luxury?  No one makes himself elegant only for his own beholding, or even for the admiration of a few friends or relatives.  Rather does he spread out his well-appointed vices in proportion to the size of the admiring crowd.  It is so: claqueurs and witnesses are irritants of all our mad foibles.  You can make us cease to crave, if you only make us cease to display.  Ambition, luxury, and waywardness need a stage to act upon; you will cure all those ills if you seek retirement.
     T herefore, if our dwelling is situated amid the din of a city, there should be an adviser standing near us.  When men praise great incomes, he should praise the person who can be rich with a slender estate and measures his wealth by the use he makes of it.  In the face of those who glorify influence and power, he should of his own volition recommend a leisure devoted to study, and a soul which has left the external and found itself.  He should point out persons, happy in the popular estimation, who totter on their envied heights of power, who are dismayed and hold a far different opinion of themselves from what others hold of them.  That which others think elevated, is to them a sheer precipice. Hence they are frightened and in a flutter whenever they look down the abrupt steep of their greatness.  For they reflect that there are various ways of falling and that the topmost point is the most slippery.  Then they fear that for which they strove, and the good fortune which made them weighty in the eyes of others weighs more heavily upon themselves.  Then they praise easy leisure and independence; they hate the glamour and try to escape while their fortunes axe still unimpaired.  Then at last you may see them studying philosophy amid their fear, and
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hunting sound advice when their fortunes go awry.  For these two things are, as it were, at opposite poles - good fortune and good sense; that is why we are wiser when in the midst of adversity+.  It is prosperity that takes away righteousness.  Farewell.
 
 

     Y ou keep asking me to explain without postponement/a a topic which I once remarked should be put off until the proper time, and to inform you by letter whether this department of philosophy which the Greeks call paraenetic,/b and we Romans call the "preceptorial," is enough to give us perfect wisdom.  Now I know that you will take it in good part if I refuse to do so.  But I accept your request all the more willingly, and refuse to let the common saying lose its point:  Don't ask for what you'll wish you hadn't got.  For sometimes we seek with effort that which we should decline if offered voluntarily.  Call that fickleness or call it pettishness,/c - we must punish the habit by ready compliance.  There are many things that we would have men think that we wish, but that we really do not wish.  A lecturer sometimes brings upon the platform a huge work of research, written in the tiniest hand and very closely folded; after reading off a large portion, he says: "I shall stop, if you wish;" and a shout arises: "Read on, read on!" from the lips of those who are anxious for the speaker to hold
<Ep3-59>

his peace then and there.  We often want one thing and pray for another, not telling the truth even to the gods, while the gods either do not hearken, or else take pity on us.  But I shall without pity avenge myself and shall load a huge letter upon your shoulders; for your part, if you read it with reluctance, you may say: "I brought this burden upon myself," and may class yourself among those men whose too ambitious wives drive them antic, or those whom riches harass, earned by extreme sweat of the brow, or those who are tortured with the titles which they have sought by every sort of device and toil, and all others who are responsible for their own misfortunes. But I must stop this preamble and approach the problem under consideration. Men say: "The happy life consists in upright conduct; precepts guide one to upright conduct; therefore precepts are sufficient for attaining the happy life." But they do not always guide us to upright conduct; this occurs only when the will is receptive; and sometimes they are applied in vain, when wrong opinions obsess the soul.  Furthermore, a man may act rightly without knowing that he is acting rightly.  For nobody, except he be trained from the start and equipped with complete reason, can develop to perfect proportions, understanding when he should do certain things, and to what extent, and in whose company, and how, and why.  Without such training a man cannot strive with all his heart after that which is honourable, or even with steadiness or gladness, but will ever be looking back and wavering. It is also said: "If honourable conduct results from precepts, then precepts are amply sufficient for the happy life; but the first of these statements is
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true; therefore the second is true also." We shall reply to these words that honourable conduct is, to be sure, brought about by precepts, but not by precepts alone. "Then," comes the reply, "if the other arts are content with precepts, wisdom will also be content therewith; for wisdom itself is an art of living.  And vet the pilot is made by precepts which tell him thus and so to turn the tiller, set his sails, make use of a fair wind, tack, make the best of shifting and variable breezes - all in the proper manner.  Other craftsmen also are drilled by precepts; hence precepts will be able to accomplish the same result in the case of our craftsman in the art of living." Now all these arts are concerned with the tools of life, but not with life as a whole./a Hence there is much to clog these arts from without and to complicate them - such as hope, greed, fear.  But that art/b which professes to teach the art of life cannot be forbidden by any circumstance from exercising its functions; for it shakes off complications and pierces through obstacles.  Would you like to know how unlike its status is to the ether arts?  In the case of the latter, it is more pardonable to err voluntarily rather than by accident; but in the case of wisdom the worst fault is to commit sin wilfully.  I mean something like this:  A scholar will blush for shame, not if he makes a grammatical blunder intentionally, but if he makes it unintentionally; if a physician does not recognize that his patient is failing, he is a much poorer practitioner than if he recognizes the fact and conceals his knowledge.  But in this art of living a voluntary mistake is the more shameful.
     F urthermore, many arts, aye and the most liberal of them all, have their special doctrine, and not mere
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precepts of advice - the medical profession, for example.  There are the different schools of Hippocrates, of Asclepiades, of Themison./a And besides, no art that concerns itself with theories can exist without its own doctrines; the Greeks call them dogmas, while we Romans may use the term "doctrines," or "tenets," or "adopted principles,"/b - such as you will find in geometry or astronomy.  But philosophy is both theoretic and practical; it contemplates and at the same time acts.  You are indeed mistaken if you think that philosophy offers you nothing but worldly assistance; her aspirations are loftier than that.  She cries: "I investigate the whole universe, nor am I content, keeping myself within a mortal dwelling, to give you favourable or unfavourable advice.  Great matters invite and such as are set far above you.  In the words of Lucretius:/c

` To thee shall I reveal the ways of heaven
Amd the gods, spreading before thine eyes
The atoms, - whence all thinhgs are brought to birth,
And eke their end when Nature casts them off.

universe in its completeness.  There is the same difference between philosophical doctrines and precepts as there is between elements and members/a; the latter depend upon the former, while the former are the source both of the latter and of all things.
     P eople say: "The old-style wisdom advised only what one should do and avoid;/b and yet the men of former days were better men by far.  When savants have appeared, sages have become rare. For that frank, simple virtue has changed into hidden and crafty knowledge; we are taught how to debate, not how to live." Of course, as you say, the oldfashioned wisdom, especially in its beginnings, was crude; but so were the other arts, in which dexterity developed with progress.  Nor indeed in those days was there yet any need for carefully-planned cures.  Wickedness had not yet reached such a high point, or scattered itself so broadcast. Plain vices could be treated by plain cures; now, however, we need defences erected with all the greater care, because of the stronger powers by which we are attacked.  Medicine once consisted of the knowledge of a few simples, to stop the flow of blood, or to heal wounds; then by degrees it reached its present stage of complicated variety.  No wonder that in early days medicine had less to do!  Men's bodies were still sound and strong; their food was light and not spoiled by art and luxury, whereas when they began to seek dishes not for the sake of removing, but of rousing, the appetite, and devised countless sauces to whet their gluttony, - then what before was nourishment to a hungry man became a burden to the full stomach.  Thence come paleness, and a trembling of winesodden muscles, and a repulsive thinness, due rather to indigestion than to hunger.  Thence weak tottering
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steps, and a reeling gait just like that of drunkenness.  Thence dropsy, spreading under the entire skin, and the belly growing to a paunch through an ill habit of taking more than it can hold.  Thence yellow jaundice, discoloured countenances, and bodies that rot inwardly, and fingers that grow knotty when the joints stiffen, and muscles that are numbed and without power of feeling, and palpitation of the heart with its ceaseless pounding.  Why need I mention dizziness?  Or speak of pain in the eye and in the ear, itching and aching/a in the fevered brain, and internal ulcers throughout the digestive system?  Besides these, there are countless kinds of fever, some acute in their malignity, others creeping upon us with subtle damage, and still others which approach us with chills and severe ague.  Why should I mention the other innumerable diseases, the tortures that result from high living?
     M en used to be free from such ills, because they had not yet slackened their strength by indulgence, because they had control over themselves, and supplied their own needs./b They toughened their bodies by work and real toil, tiring themselves out by running or hunting or tilling the earth.  They were refreshed by food in which only a hungry man could take pleasure.  Hence, there was no need for all our mighty medical paraphernalia, for so many instruments and pill-boxes.  For plain reasons they enjoved plain health; it took elaborate courses to produce elaborate diseases.  Mark the number of things - all to pass down a single throat - that luxury mixes together, after ravaging land and sea.  So many different dishes must surely disagree; they are
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bolted with difficulty and are digested with difficulty, each jostling against the other.  And no wonder, that diseases which result from ill-assorted food are variable and manifold; there must be an overflow when so many unnatural combinations are jumbled together.  Hence there are as many ways of being ill as there are of living.  The illustrious founder of the guild and profession of medicine a remarked that women+ never lost their hair or suffered from pain in the feet; and yet nowadays they run short of hair and are afflicted with gout.  This does not mean that woman's physique has changed, but that it has been conquered; in rivalling male indulgences they have also rivalled the ills to which men are heirs.  They keep just as late hours, and drink just as much liquor; they challenge men in wrestling and carousing; they are no less given to vomiting from distended stomachs and to thus discharging all their wine again; nor are they behind the men in gnawing ice, as a relief to their fevered digestions.  And they even match the men in their passions, although they were created to feel love passively (may the gods and goddesses confound them!).  They devise the most impossible varieties of unchastity, and in the company of men they play the part of men.  What wonder, then, that we can trip up the statement of the greatest and most skilled physician, when so many women are gouty and bald!  Because of their vices, women+ have ceased to deserve the privileges of their sex; they have put off their womanly nature and are therefore condemned to suffer the discases of men.
     P hysicians of old time knew nothing about prescribing frequent nourishment and propping the
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feeble pulse with wine; they did not understand the practice of blood-letting and of easing chronic complaints with sweat-baths; they did not understand how, by bandaging ankles and arms, to recall to the outward parts the hidden strength which had taken refuge in the centre.  They were not compelled to seek many varieties of relief, because the varieties of suffering were very few in number.  Nowadays, however, to what a stage have the evils of ill-health advanced!  Thisg is the interest which we pay on pleasures which we have coveted beyond what is reasonable and right.  You need not wonder that diseases are beyond counting: count the cooks!  All intellectual interests are in abeyance; those who follow culture lecture to empty rooms, in out-of-the- way places.  The halls of the professor and the philosopher are deserted; but what a crowd there is in the cafes!  How many young fellows besiege the kitchens of their gluttonous friends!  I shall not mention the troops of luckless boys who must put up with other shameful treatment after the banquet is over.  I shall not mention the troops of catamites, rated according to nation and colour, who must all have the same smooth skin, and the same amount of youthful down on their cheeks, and the same way of dressing their hair, so that no boy with straight locks may get among the curly-heads. Nor shall I mention the medley of bakers, and the numbers of waiters who at a given signal scurry to carry in the courses.  Ye gods!  How many men are kept busy to humour a single belly!  What?  Do you imagine that those mushrooms, the epicure's poison, work no evil results in secret,/a even though they have had no immediate effect?  What?  Do you suppose that your summer snow does not harden
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the tissue of the liver?  What?  Do you suppose that those oysters, a sluggish food fattened on slime, do not weigh one down with mud-begotten heaviness?  What?  Do you not think that the so-called "Sauce from the Provinces,"/a the costly extract of poisonous fish, burns up the stomach with its salted putrefaction?  What?  Do you judge that the corrupted dishes which a man swallows almost burning from the kitchen fire, are quenched in the digestive system without doing harm?  How repulsive, then, and how unhealthy are their belchings, and how disgusted men are with themselves when they breathe forth the fumes of yesterday's debauch!  You may be sure that their food is not being digested, but is rotting.
     I remember once hearing gossip about a notorious dish into which everything over which epicures love to dally had been heaped together by a cookshop that was fast rushing into bankruptcy; there were two kinds of mussels, and oysters trimmed round at the line where they are edible, set off at intervals by sea-urchins; the whole was flanked by mullets cut up and served without the bones.  In these days we are ashamed of separate foods; people mix many flavours into one.  The dinner table does work which the stomach ought to do. {ragouts+} I look forward next to food being served masticated!  And how little we are from it already when we pick out shells and bones and the cook performs the office of the teeth!
     T hey say: "It is too much trouble to take our luxuries one by one; let us have everything served at the same time and blended into the same flavour.  Why should I help myself to a single dish?  Let us have many coming to the table at once; the dainties of
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various courses should be combined and confounded.  Those who used to declare that this was done for display and notoriety should understand that it is not done for show, but that it is an oblation to our sense of duty!  Let us have at one time, drenched in the same sauce, the dishes that are usually served separately.  Let there be no difference: let oysters, sea-urchins, shell- fish, and mullets be mixed together and cooked in the same dish." No vomited food could be jumbled up more helter-skelter.  And as the food itself is complicated, so the resulting diseases are complex, unaccountable, manifold, variegated; medicine has begun to campaign against them in many ways and by many rules of treatment.
     N ow I declare to you that the same statement applies to philosophy.  It was once more simple because men's sins were on a smaller scale, and could be cured with but slight trouble; in the face, however, of all this moral topsy-turvy men must leave no remedy untried. And would that this pest might so at last be overcome!  We are mad, not only individually, but nationally.  We check manslaughter and isolated murders; but what of war+ and the much-vaunted crime of slaughtering whole peoples? There are no limits to our greed, none to our cruelty.  And as long as such crimes are committed by stealth and by individuals, they are less harmful and less portentous; but cruelties are practised in accordance with acts of senate and popular assembly, and the public is bidden to do that which is forbidden to the individual.  Deeds that would be punished by loss of life when committed in secret, are praised by us because uniformed generals have carried them out.  Man, naturally the gentlest class of being, is not ashamed to revel in the blood of others, to wage
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war, and to entrust the waging of war to his sons, when even dumb beasts and wild beasts keep the peace with one another.  Against this overmastering and widespread madness philosophy has become a matter of greater effort, and has taken on strength in proportion to the strength which is gained by the opposition forces.
     I t used to be easy to scold men who were slaves to drink and who sought out more luxurious food; it did not require a mighty effort to bring the spirit back to the simplicity from which it had departed only slightly.  But now One needs the rapid hand, the master-craft./a Men seek pleasure from every source.  No vice remains within its limits; luxury is precipitated into greed.  We are overwhelmed with forgetfulness of that which is honourable.  Nothing that has an attractive value, is base. Man, an object of reverence in the eyes of man, is now slaughtered for jest and sport; and those whom it used to be unholy to train for the purpose of inflicting and enduring wounds, are thrust forth exposed and defenceless; and it is a satisfying spectacle to see a man made a corpse.
     A mid this upset condition of morals, something stronger than usual is needed, - something which will shake off these chronic ills; in order to root out a deep-seated belief in wrong ideas, conduct must be regulated by doctrines.  It is only when we add precepts, consolation, and encouragement to these, that they can prevail; by themselves they are ineffective.  If we would hold men firmly bound and tear them away from the ills which clutch them fast, they must learn what is evil and what is good.  They must know
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that everything except virtue changes its name and becomes now good and now bad.  Just as the soldier's primary bond of union is his oath of allegiance and his love for the flag, and a horror of desertion, and just as, after this stage, other duties can easily be demanded of him, and trusts given to him when once the oath/a has been administered; so it is with those whom you would bring to the happy life: the first foundations must be laid, and virtue worked into these men.  Let them be held by a sort of superstitious worship of virtue; let them love her; let them desire to live with her, and refuse to live without her. "But what, then," people say, "have not certain persons won their way to excellence without complicated training?  Have they not made great progress by obeying bare precepts alone/b?" Very true; but their temperaments were propitious, and they snatched salvation as it were by the way.  For just as the immortal gods did not learn virtue having been born with virtue complete, and containing in their nature the essence of goodness - even so certain men are fitted with unusual qualities and reach without a long apprenticeship that which is ordinarily a matter of teaching, welcoming honourable things as soon as they hear them.  Hence come the choice minds which seize quickly upon virtue, or else produce it from within themselves.  But your dull, sluggish fellow, who is hampered by his evil habits, must have this soul- rust incessantly rubbed off.  Now, as the former sort, who are inclined towards the good, can be raised to the heights more quickly: so the weaker spirits will be assisted and freed from their evil opinions if we entrust to them the accepted principles of philosophy; and you may understand how
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essential these principles are in the following way.  Certain things sink into us, rendering us sluggish in some ways, and hasty in others. These two qualities, the one of recklessness and the other of sloth, cannot be respectively checked or roused unless we remove their causes, which are mistaken admiration and mistaken fear.  As long as we are obsessed by such feelings, you may say to us: "You owe this duty+ to your father, this to your children, this to your friends, this to your guests"; but greed will always hold us back, no matter how we try.  A man may know that he should fight for his country, but fear will dissuade him.  A man may know that he should sweat forth his last drop of energy on behalf of his friends, but luxury will forbid.  A man may know that keeping a mistress is the worst kind of insult to his wife, but lust will drive him in the opposite direction. It will therefore be of no avail to give precepts unless you first remove the conditions that are likely to stand in the way of precepts; it will do no more good than to place weapons by your side and bring yourself near the foe without having your hands free to use those weapons.  The soul, in order to deal with the precepts which we offer, must first be set free. Suppose that a man is acting as he should; he cannot keep it up continuously or consistently, since he will not know the reason for so acting.  Some of his conduct will result rightly because of luck or practice; but there will be in his hand no rule by which he may regulate his acts, and which he may trust to tell him whether that which he has done is right.  One who is good through mere chance will not give promise of retaining such a character for ever.  Furthermore, precepts will perhaps help you to do what should be done; but
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 they will not help you to do it in the proper way; and if they do not help you to this end, they do not conduct you to virtue.  I grant you that, if warned, a man will do what he should; but that is not enough, since the credit lies, not in the actual deed, but in the way it is done. What is more shameful than a costly meal which eats away the income even of a knight?  Or what so worthy of the censor's condemnation/a as to be always indulging oneself and one's "inner man,"/b if I may speak as the gluttons do?  And yet often has an inaugural dinner cost the most careful man a cool million!  The very sum that is called disgraceful if spent on the appetite, is beyond reproach if spent for official purposes!  For it is not luxury but an expenditure sanctioned by custom.  A mullet of monstrous size was presented to the Emperor Tiberius.  They say it weighed four and one half pounds (and why should I not tickle the palates of certain epicures by mentioning its weight?).  Tiberius ordered it to be sent to the fish-market and put up for sale, remarking: "I shall be taken entirely by surprise, my friends, if either Apicius/c or P.  Octavius/c does not buy that mullet." The guess came true beyond his expectation: the two men bid, and Octavius won, thereby acquiring a great reputation among his intimates because he had bought for five thousand sesterces a fish which the Emperor had sold, and which even Apicius did not succeed in buying.  To pay such a price was disgraceful for Octavius, but not for the individual who purchased the fish in order to present it to Tiberius, - though I should be inclined to blame the latter as well; but at any rate he admired a gift of which he thought Caesar worthy.
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     W hen people sit by the bedsides of their sick friends, we honour their motives.  But when people do this for the purpose of attaining a legacy,/a they are like vultures waiting for carrion.  The same act may be either shameful or honourable: the purpose and the manner make all the difference.  Now each of our acts will be honourable if we declare allegiance to honour+ and judge honour and its results to be the only good that can fall to man's lot; for other things are only temporarily good.  I think, then, that there should be deeply implanted a firm belief which will apply to life as a whole: this is what I call a "doctrine." And as this belief is, so will be our acts and our thoughts.  As our acts and our thoughts are, so will our lives be.  It is not enough, when a man is arranging his existence as a whole, to give him advice about details. Marcus Brutus, in the book which he has entitled Concerning Duty,/b gives many precepts to parents, children, and brothers; but no one will do his duty as he ought, unless he has some principle to which he may refer his conduct.  We must set before our eyes the goal of the Supreme Good, towards which we may strive, and to which all our acts and words may have reference - just as sailors must guide their course according to a certain star. Life without ideals is erratic: {PlainDealer+} as soon as an ideal is to be set up, doctrines begin to be necessary.  I am sure you will admit that there is nothing more shameful than uncertain and wavering conduct, than the habit of timorous retreat.  This will be our experience in all cases unless we remove that which checks the spirit and clogs it, and keeps it from making an attempt and trying with all its might.  Precepts are commonly given as to how the gods should be worshipped.  But let us forbid lamps to
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be lighted on the Sabbath, since the gods do not need light, neither do men take pleasure in soot.  Let us forbid men to offer morning salutation and to throng the doors of temples; mortal ambitions are attracted by such ceremonies, but God is worshipped by those who truly know Him.  Let us forbid bringing towels and flesh-scrapers to Jupiter, and proffering mirrors to Juno;/a for God seeks no servants.  Of course not; he himself does service to mankind, everywhere and to all he is at hand to help.  Although a man hear what limit he should observe in sacrifice, and how far he should recoil from burdensome superstitions, he will never make sufficient progress until he has conceived a right idea of God, - regarding Him as one who possesses all things, and allots all things, and bestows them without price.  And what reason have the Gods for doing deeds of kindness?  It is their nature. One who thinks that they are unwilling to do harm, is wrong; they cannot do harm.  They cannot receive or inflict injury; for doing harm is in the same category as suffering harm.  The universal nature, all-glorious and all-beautiful, has rendered incapable of inflicting ill those whom it has removed from the danger of ill.
     T he first way to worship the gods is to believe in the gods; the next to acknowledge their majesty, to acknowledge their goodness without which there is no majesty.  Also, to know that they are supreme commanders in the universe, controlling all things by their power and acting as guardians of the human race, even though they are sometimes unmindful of the individual.  They neither give nor have evil but they do chasten and restrain certain persons and impose penalties, and sometimes punish by bestowing
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that which seems good outwardly.  Would you win over the gods?  Then be a good man.  Whoever imitates them, is worshipping them sufficiently.  Then comes the second problem, - how to deal with men.  What is our purpose? What precepts do we offer?  Should we bid them refrain from bloodshed?  What a little thing it is not to harm one whom you ought to help!  It is indeed worthy of great praise, when man treats man with kindness!  Shall we advise stretching forth the hand to the shipwrecked sailor, or pointing out the way to the wanderer, or sharing a crust with the starving?  Yes, if I can only tell you first everything which ought to be afforded or withheld; meantime, I can lay down for mankind a rule, in short compass, for our duties in human relationships: all that you behold, that which comprises both god and man, is one - we are the parts of one great body.  Nature produced us related to one another, since she created us from the same source and to the same end.  She engendered in us mutual affection, and made us prone to friendships.  She established fairness and justice; according to her ruling, it is more wretched to commit than to suffer injury.  Through her orders, let our hands be ready for all that needs to be helped.  Let this verse be in your heart and on your lips:

I am a man; and nothing in man's lot
Do I deem foreign to me./a

how we should make use of things.  It is useless for us to have mouthed out precepts, unless we begin by reflecting what opinion we ought to hold concerning everything - concerning poverty, riches, renown, disgrace, citizenship, exile.  Let us banish rumour and set a value upon each thing, asking what it is and not what it is called.
     N ow let us turn to a consideration of the virtues.  Some persons will advise us to rate prudence very high, to cherish bravery, and to cleave more closely, if possible, to justice than to all other qualities.  But this will do us no good if we do not know what virtue is, whether it is simple or compound, whether it is one or more than one, whether its parts are separate or interwoven with one another; whether he who has one virtue possesses the other virtues also; and just what are the distinctions between them.  The carpenter does not need to inquire about his art in the light of its origin or of its function, any more than a pantomime need inquire about the art of dancing; if these arts understand themselves, nothing is lacking, for they do not refer to life as a whole. But virtue means the knowledge of other things besides herself: if we would learn virtue we must learn all about virtue.  Conduct will not be right unless the will to act is right; for this is the source of conduct.  Nor, again, can the will be right without a right attitude of mind; for this is the source of the will.  Furthermore, such an attitude of mind will not be found even in the best of men unless he has learned the laws of life as a whole and has worked out a proper judgment about everything, and unless he has reduced facts to a standard of truth.  Peace of mind is enjoyed only by those who have attained a fixed and unchanging
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standard of judgment; the rest of mankind continually ebb and flow in their decisions, floating in a condition where they alternately reject things and seek them.  And what is the reason for this tossing to and fro? It is because nothing is clear to them, because they make use of a most unsure criterion - rumour+.  If you would always desire the same things,/a you must desire the truth.  But one cannot attain the truth without doctrines; for doctrines embrace the whole of life.  Things good and evil, honourable and disgraceful, just and unjust, dutiful and undutiful, the virtues and their practice, the possession of comforts, worth and respect, health, strength, beauty, keenness of the senses -all these qualities call for one who is able to appraise them.  One should be allowed to know at what value every object is to be rated on the list; for sometimes you are deceived and believe that certain things are worth more than their real value; in fact, so badly are you deceived that you will find you should value at a mere pennyworth those things which we men regard as worth most of all - for example, riches, influence, and power.
     Y ou will never understand this unless you have investigated the actual standard by which such conditions are relatively rated.  As leaves cannot flourish by their own efforts, but need a branch to which they may cling and from which they may draw sap, so your precepts, when taken alone, wither away; they must be grafted upon a school of philosophy. Moreover, those who do away with doctrines do not understand that these doctrines are proved by the very arguments through which they seem to disprove them.  For what are these men saying?  They are saying that precepts are sufficient to develop life, and that the doctrines of wisdom (in other words, dogmas) are
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superfluous.  And yet this very utterance of theirs is a doctrine just as if I should now remark that one must dispense with precepts on the ground that they are superfluous, that one must make use of doctrines, and that our studies should be directed solely towards this end; thus, by my very statement that precepts should not be taken seriously, I should be uttering a precept.  There are certain matters in philosophy which need admonition; there are others which need proof, and a great deal of proof, too, because they are complicated and can scarcely be made clear with the greatest care and the greatest dialectic skill.  If proofs are necessary, so are doctrines; for doctrines deduce the truth by reasoning.  Some matters are clear, and others are vague: those which the senses and the memory can embrace are clear; those which are outside their scope are vague.
     B ut reason is not satisfied by obvious facts; its higher and nobler function is to deal with hidden things.  Hidden things need proof; proof cannot come without doctrines; therefore, doctrines are necessary.  That which leads to a general agreement, and likewise to a perfect one,/a is an assured belief in certain facts; but if, lacking this assurance, all things are adrift in our minds, then doctrines are indispensable; for they give to our minds the means of unswerving decision.  Furthermore, when we advise a man to regard his friends as highly as himself, to reflect that an eneniy may become a friend, to stimulate love in the friend, and to check hatred in the enemy, we add: "This is just and honourable." Now the just and honourable element in our doctrines is embraced by reason; hence reason is necessary; for without it the doctrines cannot exist, either. But let us unite the two.  For indeed branches are useless
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without their roots, and the roots themselves are strengthened by the growths which they have produced.  Everyone can understand how useful the hands are; they obviously help us.  But the heart, the source of the hands growth and power and motion, is hidden.  And I can say the same thing about precepts: they are manifest, while the doctrines of wisdom are concealed. And as only the initiated/a know the more hallowed portion of the rites, so in philosophy the hidden truths are revealed only to those who are members and have been admitted to the sacred rites.  But precepts and other such matters are familiar even to the uninitiated.
     P osidonius holds that not only precept-giving (there is nothing to prevent my using this word), but even persuasion, consolation, and encouragement, are necessary.  To these he adds the investigation of causes (but I fail to see why I should not dare to eall it aetiology, since the scholars who mount guard over the Latin language thus use the term as having the right to do so).  He remarks that it will also be useful to illustrate each particular virtue; this science Posidonius calls ethology, while others call it characterization+{characterismon+}./b It gives the signs and marks which belong to each virtue and vice, so that by them distinction may be drawn between like things.  Its function is the same as that of precept. For he who utters precepts says: "If you would have self-control, act thus and so!" He who illustrates, says "The man who acts thus and so, and refrains from certain other things, possesses self-control." If you ask what the difference here is, I say that the one gives the precepts of virtue, the other its embodiment.  These illustrations, or, to use a commercial
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term, these samples, have, I confess, a certain utility; just put them up for exhibition well recommended, and you will find men to copy them. Would you, for instance, deem it a useful thing to have evidence given you by which you may recognize a thoroughbred horse, and not be cheated in your purchase or waste your time over a low-bred animal?/a But how much more useful it is to know the marks of a surpassingly fine soul - marks which one may appropriate from another for oneself!

Straightway the foal of the high-bred drove, nursed up in the pastures,
Marches with spirited step, and treads with a delicate motion;
First on the dangerous pathway and into the threatening river,
Trusting himself to the unknown bridge, without fear at its creekings,
Neck thrown high in the air, and clear-cut head, and a belly
Spare, back rounded, and breast abounding in courage and muscle.
He, when the clashing of weapons is heard to resound in the distance,
Leaps from his pl

time and, when some were supporting Caesar's party and others that of Pompey, issued a challenge to both leaders,/a thus showing that the republic also had some backers.  For it is not enough to say of Cato "without fear at its creakings." Of course he is not afraid!  He does not quail before real and imminent noises; in the face of ten legions, Gallic auxiliaries, and a motley host of citizens and foreigners, he utters words fraught with freedom, encouraging the Republic not to fail in the struggle for freedom, but to try all hazards; he declares that it is more honourable to fall into servitude than to fall in line with it.  What force and energy are his!  What confidence he displays amid the general panic!  He knows that he is the only one whose standing is not in question, and that men do not ask whether Cato is free, but whether he is still among the free.  Hence his contempt for danger and the sword.  What a pleasure it is to say, in admiration of the unflinching steadiness of a hero who did not totter when the whole state was in ruins: 1 A breast abounding in courage and muscle!
     I t will be helpful not only to state what is the usual quality of good men, and to outline their figures and features, but also to relate and set forth what men there have been of this kind. We might picture that last and bravest wound of Cato's, through which Freedom breathed her last; or the wise Laelius and his harmonious life with his friend Scipio; or the noble deeds of the Elder Cato at home and abroad; or the wooden couches of Tubero, spread at a public feast, goatskins instead of tapestry, and vessels of earthenware set out for
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the banquet before the very shrine of Jupiter!  What else was this except consecrating poverty on the Capitol?  Though I know no other deed of his for which to rank him with the Catos, is this one not enough?  It was a censorship, not a banquet/a How lamentably do those who covet glory fail to understand what glory is, or in what way it should be sought!  On that day the Roman populace viewed the furniture of many men; it marvelled only at that of one!  The gold and silver of all the others has been broken up and melted down times without number; but Tubero's earthenware will endure throughout eternity.  Farewell.
 
 

     S pite 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
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 decisions.  I follow Him because my soul wills it, and not because I must./a 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 - a life in a cafe of 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. {effeminacy+} Farewell.
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     Y ou are mistaken, my dear Lucilius, if you think that luxury, neglect of good manners, and other vices of which each man accuses the age in which he lives, are especially characteristic of our own epoch; no, they are the vices of mankind and not of the times. No era in history has ever been free from blame.  Moreover, if you once begin to take account of the irregularities belonging to any particular era, you will find - to man's shame be it spoken - that sin never stalked abroad more openly than in Cato's very presence.  Would anyone believe that money changed hands in the trial when Clodius was defendant on the charge of secret adultery with Caesar's wife, when he violated/a the ritual of that sacrifice which is said to be offered on behalf of the people when all males are so rigorously removed outside the precinct, that even pictures of all male creatures are covered up?  And yet, money was given to the jury, and, baser even than such a bargain, sexual crimes were demanded of married women and noble youths as a sort of additional contribution./b The charge involved less sin than the acquittal; for the defendant on a charge of adultery parcelled out the adulteries, and was not sure of his own safety until he had made the jury criminals like himself.  All this was done at the trial in which Cato gave evidence, although that was his sole part therein.
     I shall quote Cicero's actual words,/c because the facts are so bad as to pass belief: "He made
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assignations, promises, pleas, and gifts.  And more than this (merciful Heavens, what an abandoned state of affairs!) upon several of the jury, to round out their reward, he even bestowed the enjoyment of certain women and meetings with noble youths." It is superfluous to be shocked at the bribe; the additions to the bribe were worse. "Will you have the wife of that prig, A.?  Very good.  Or of B., the millionaire?  I will guarantee that you shall lie with her.  If you fail to commit adultery, condemn Clodius. That beauty whom you desire shall visit you.  I assure you a night in that woman's company without delay; my promise shall be carried out faithfully within the legal time of postponement." It means more to parcel out such crimes than to commit them; it means blackmailing dignified matrons.  These juryrnen in the Clodius trial had asked the Senate for a guard - a favour which would have been necessary only for a jury about to convict the accused; and their request had been granted.  Hence the witty remark of Vatulus after the defendant had been acquitted: "Why did you ask us for the guard?  Were you afraid of having your money stolen from you? "And yet, amid jests like these he got off unpunished who before the trial was an adulterer, during the trial a pander, and who escaped conviction more vilely than he deserved it.  Do you believe that anvthing could be more disgraceful than such moral standards - when lust could not keep its hands either from religious worship or from the courts of law, when, in the very inquiry which was held in special session by order of the Senate, more crime was committed than investigated? The question at issue was whether one could be safe after committing adultery; it was
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shown that one could not be safe without committing adultery!  All this bargaining took place in the presence of Pompey and Caesar, of Cicero and Cato, - yes, that very Cato whose presence, it is said, caused the people to refrain from demanding the usual quips and cranks of naked actresses at the Floralia,/a - if you can believe that men were stricter in their conduct at a festival than in a court-room!  Such things will be done in the future, as they have been done in the past; and the licentiousness of cities will sometimes abate through discipline and fear, never of itself.{Lear+} {Man_of_Mode+} Therefore, you need not believe that it is we who have yielded most to lust and least to law.  For young men of to-day live far more simple lives than those of an epoch when a defendant would plead not guilty to an adultery charge before his judges, and his judges admit it before the defendant, when debauchery was practised to secure a verdict, and when Clodius, befriended by the very vices of which he was guilty, played the procurer during the actual hearing of the case.  Could one believe this?  He to whom one adultery brought condemnation was acquitted because of many.  All ages will produce men like Clodius, but not all ages men like Cato.  We degenerate easily, because we lack neither guides nor associates in our wickedness, and the wickedness goes on of itself, even without guides or associates.  The road to vice is not only downhill, but steep; and many men are rendered incorrigible by the fact that, while in all other crafts errors bring shame to good craftsmen and cause vexation to those who go astray. the errors of life are a positive source of pleasure.  The pilot is not glad when his ship is thrown on her beam-ends; the
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physician is not glad when he buries his patient; the orator is not glad when the defendant loses a case through the fault of his advocate; but on the other hand every man enjoys his own crimes.  A. delights in an intrigue - for it was the very difficulty which attracted him thereto. B. delights in forgery and theft, and is only displeased with his sin when his sin has failed to hit the mark.  And all this is the result of perverted habits.  Conversely, however, in order that you may know that there is an idea of good conduct present subconsciously in souls which have been led even into the most depraved ways, and that men are not ignorant of what evil is but indifferent - I say that all men hide their sins, and, even though the issue be successful, enjoy the results while concealing the sins themselves.  A good conscience, however, wishes to come forth and be seen of men; wickedness fears the very shadows.  Hence I hold Epicurus's saying/a to be most apt: "That the guilty may haply remain hidden is possible, that he should be sure of remaining hidden is not possible," or, if you think that the meaning can be made more clear in this way: "The reason that it is no advantage to wrong- doers to remain hidden is that even though they have the good fortune they have not the assurance of remaining so. "This is what I mean: crimes can be well guarded; free from anxiety they cannot be.
     T his view, I maintain, is not at variance with the principles of our school, if it be so explained.  And why?  Because the first and worst penalty of sin is to have committed sin; and crime, though Fortune deck it out with her favours, though she protect and take it in her charge, can never go unpunished;
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since the punishment of crime lies in the crime itself.  But none the less do these second penalties press close upon the heels of the first - constant fear, constant terror, and distrust in one's own security. {Macbeth+} Why, then, should I set wickedness free from such a punishment?  Why should I not always leave it trembling in the balance?  Let us disagree with Epicurus on the one point, when he declares that there is no natural justice, and that crime should be avoided because one cannot escape the fear which results therefrom; let us agree with him on the other - that bad deeds are lashed by the whip of conscience, and that conscience+ is tortured to the greatest degree because unending anxiety drives and whips it on, and it cannot rely upon the guarantors of its own peace of mind.  For this, Epicurus, is the very proof that we are by nature reluctant to commit crime, because even in circumstances of safety there is no one who does not feel fear.  Good luck frees many men from punishment, but no man from fear.  And why should this be if it were not that we have engrained in us a loathing for that which Nature has condemned?  Hence even men who hide their sins can never count upon remaining hidden; for their conscience convicts them and reveals them to themselves.  But it is the property of guilt to be in fear.  It had gone ill with us, owing to the many crimes which escape the vengeance of the law and the prescribed punishments, were it not that those grievous offences against nature must pay the penalty in ready money, and that in place of suffering the punishment comes fear.  Farewell.
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     Y ou 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./a 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
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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!"/a 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
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there is no difference between grief for something lost and the fear of losing it.
     B ut 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-tormenters - 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/a on which mortal things are tossed, and they guarantee for themselves exclusively a steady continuance of the gifts of chance.
     F or this very reason I regard as excellent the saying/b 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
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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.
     W hat 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,/a and when he was censor branded them with disapproval. -------- a i.e., when he declined the bribe of Pyrrhus, 280 B.C.
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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./a The elder Sextius rejected the honours of office;/b 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.
     L et 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!"
     B y 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
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sufferings; but our friend considers it no less base to flee from death than to flee towards death.  But, 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 courag