tenets of stoicism - timothy

8/13/2019 Tenets of Stoicism - Timothy

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THE TEN ET S OF STOICISM,A S S E M B L E D A N DS Y S T E M A T IZ E D ,

FR O M TH E W O R K S OF

L . A N N A E U S S E N E C A

N o s q u o q u e e v i n c a m u s o m n i a , q u o r u mp r a e m i u m n o n c o ro n a n e c p a l m a e s t n e ct u b i c e n p r a e d i c a t i o n i n o m i n i s n o s t r i s i l e n t i u mfac iens , sed v i r tu s e t f i rmi ta s an imi e t pax in| ce te rum pa r t a , s i seme l in a l iquo ce r t amine# e b e l l a t a f o r t u n a e s t .

Seneca : Ep . , LXXVIII . 16 .5-9


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C O N T E N T SPREFACE 1

I: W HAT IS PHILOSO PHY ? 7II: LIVING AND LIVING W ELL 19

Happiness and the soil from which it springsWisdom, the art of lifeVirtue, the highestgood,and its attainabilityIII: KNOWLEDGE OF THINGSDIVINE AND HUMA N 41

Physics or CosmologyTheologyPsychology and Theory of KnowledgeDialecticIV: THE MORAL PROBLEMAND ITS SOLUTION 79

V: THE FINAL GOAL ASTYPIFIED BY THE IDEALOF THE W ISE MAN 95A P PE N D IX I l lSeneca on his use of ideas borrowed from other philosophicschools and his occasional deviation from the standpoint of someof h is Stoic predecessors


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PRE FACESeneca, who is undoubtedly one of the most fascinating figuresever to have passed across the stage of history, was born at Cordubain Spain c. 5-4 B.C. and went to Rome in early childhood with Msfami ly 1 which had to some extent already made and was yet tomake its presence felt in Roman society. His father, M. AnnaeusSeneca, was well known as a rhetorician; his aunt became the wifeof the Roman governor of Egypt; and his brother, Gallio who administered Achaia, is immortalized by his meeting with the ApostleP a u l , 2 while his nephew was Lucan the poet whom Nero condemnedto de ath for his particip ation in Piso's conspiracy.If Roman Law, as has been maintained, had to justify itself interms of the Stoic philosophy, 3 the latter in the natural course ofevents would come to Seneca's attention while he was undergoingthe sort of training regarded by Romans of his class as the avenue tosuccess in public life. His ability early marked him out as a candidate for high honours in the service of the State, but provoked the

animosity of Caligula, motivated, it appears, by jealousy of Seneca'soratorical brilliance. The latter's alleged involvement in a courtintrigue during the reign of Claudius led to his banishment to Corsica in 41 A.D. He had been there for eight years when he wasrecalled to Rome to act as tut or to th e you ng Nero, after whose elevalPrefect of the Praetorian Guard, had virtual control and direction ofimperial affairs. Burrus' death in 62 A.D. heralded the doom whichSeneca must have felt now also awaited him, and three years later,tru e to his Stoic principles, he com mitted suicide.A career so intimately connected with the leading personalitiesand political events during one of the most decisive and dramaticperiods in Roman history has understandably held great interest forhistorians from Tacitus down to the present day. Philologists andliterary critics have not failed to note and fully appreciate what theworld of letters most decidedly owes to Seneca. In all but a verysmall proportion of the latter's extant writings questions of a philosophic na tu re occupy a pro m inen t place, yet, as Grim ai drew at te

2 See Acts. 18: 12-16.3 E. F. Scott. The Gospel and Its Tributaries. Edinburgh 1933,p.167.

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to a num ber of year s ago, La philosophie de Snque, proprem ent d ite, a fait l 'object de peu d'tudes. 4The author of a recently published volume intended as a guideto the thought of Seneca declares:To attempt to find in Seneca's writings fixed and unalterabledogmatic principles is to expect more than he desired to give. . . he sought more to direct a conscience tha n to expound asystem. His only concern is to extract practical principles fromevery field of tho ugh t . . . by em bracing the ethical principlesof all great thinkers, he created his own moral philosophy. 5A careful readin g of Seneca's exta nt prose works , we areinformed in the same place, reveals eclecticism as the distingu ishing mar k of his philosophy. This is, however, almost the exactopposite of w ha t one act ual ly does find from careful rea din g of th e

prose and other works of Seneca, which brings to light thesubstructure of traditional Stoic dogma upon which the greater partof these wri tings r es ts . 6As for the state m en t th at Seneca created his own moral philosophy , the leading exponents of Stoicism at different stages through-4 Snque : Sa vie, son uvre avec un expos de sa philosophie.Paris 1957, p. 154 (Bibliographie. III - La Philosophie. Introductory Note). The expos alluded to, however commendable in itsway, is not fully enough elaborated or sufficiently detailed toafford a completely systematic treatment of Stoic thought inSeneca. Grim al's propre me nt dite applies in par ticul ar toefforts like that of M. Hadas. The Stoic Philosophy of Seneca.New York 1958, which is a collection of passages from some ofSeneca's philosophic works, with an introductory essay of a quitegeneral character. The nearest approach to a systematic exposition of Sene ca's philosophy is J. F. Brad y's A Study of Stoicism inSenecan Tragedy. New York 1968, which is well done butrestricted of necessity to the limits of the topic with which itdeals.5 A. L. Motto. Guide to the Th ought of Lucius An naeus Seneca. Asource book for the extant prose works - Epistulae Mo rales, theDialogi, De Beneficiis, De dementia, and QuaestionesN6 C. Martha, in his Les M oralistes Sous L Empire Romain. Paris1900, p. 1 ff., is partly for and partly against some of the statements made by Motto; yet he says eventually that what for himdistorts the Letters of Seneca is th at for the most par t they a re... too replete with Stoic formulae , p.43-44.2


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out its history, without renouncing any of its basic principles,claimed the right to modify or reapply the teachings handed down tothem from the past. This was, in fact, the secret of Stoicism's abilityto evolve and to adapt relatively to the changing thought-climate ofthe times, so long as it remained a force to be reckoned with inancient society. Its character in this respect is in marked contrast tothe static, almost sacrosanct finality of the doctrines of Epicurus.Seneca himself leaves us in no doubt about that. He concludes abrief bu t unequivocal discussion of the subject w ith these w ords:"We Stoics are not subjects of a despot. Each of us claims freedom forhimself." 7

This freedom claimed by Seneca was exercised by him, as bycertain other Stoics, without detriment to the integrity of the Stoicsystem as a whole, the logical coherence of which has been recognized as one of its most distinctive cha racteristics .

"Every student of Epicureanism", to quote Christensen, "knowsthe intellectual satisfaction one feels when one grasps how theentire system may be constructed out of a basic physical theory ofthe world. I believe the same coherence is characteristic of the Stoicsystem, only Stoic philosophy is really much more sophisticated . . .The logical coherence of the system . . . is so strong t ha t one m ightbegin an exposition almost anywhere and yet really have to presuppose th e res t." 8J. B. Gould makes a plea for less dependence upon what, attimes somewhat gratuitously, has been averred by modern scholarswith regard to the great thinkers of the past. He cites as a case inpoint the traditional representation of Hellenic philosophie asLebensphilosophie or philosophy concerned with the conduct andgoals of life, where it is implied that because in the early centuriesof our era moral philosophy was the main concern of many philosophers, "epistemology and cosmology are no longer cultivated in adisinterested spirit", but formulated merely as "auxiliaries to ethicalconclusions." 9 Traditional interpretations of this sort in Gould'sopinion go too far "in leading one to believe that philosophers eithergave themselves over wholly to ethics or that their reflections onepistemological issues and problems in natural philosophy wereentirely subordinated to and functions of their solutions in the realmof moral philosophy." 1 0

7 Ep.,XXXIII. 4.4-5.8 J. Christensen. An Essay on the Unity of the Stoic Philosophy.(Copenhagen) Munksgaard (c. 1962),p.9-10.9 The Philosophy of Chrysippus. Leiden 1970,p.19.

10 ib.,p.20.3


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Gould's position in this matter was anticipated by A. Bodsonwho, with reference to the Stoics who lived and taught at Romeunder the imperial rgime, wrote that moralists though they were,they were, no less than their predecessors, impregnated with metaphysical ideas. They evoke the latter frequently but do not feel theneed to re-elaborate the Stoic metaphysic in its entirety; and asregards their exploration of the whole domain of social relationshipsin the light of metaphy sics, he points out tha t in choosing to lay barethe extens ions of the subject in, th e direction of moral philosophy,they took the basic doctrinal presuppositions, so to speak, as r e a d . 1 1

There may be an element of truth in the traditional interpretations which Gould has alluded to, but t ha t will not entitle an yone tostate categorically th at fixed and unaltera ble dogmatic principlesare n either to be found in Seneca nor w hat he desires to give, or th athis only concern is to ex tra ct prac tical principles from every field oftho ug ht. Seneca could certa inly on occasion be eclectic. He owns upto the fact himself.12 In his eclectic moments, however, he is nodifferent from Zeno in whom is found, if what has been said by . V.Arnold is correct, a variety of suggestion accounted for by his concern not to overlook anything that might contribute towards hiseffort to grasp the truth, even to the point of retaining and reconciling contradictory conclusions. "These variations need not", inArnold's words, "discourage us from the attempt to trace in generaloutline the common teaching of the School." 1 3 There is no goodreason, on the basis of this argument, for supposing that the samedoes not hold true for Seneca.To say th at the la tter "sought more to direct a conscience th anto expound a system" is quite true in the sense that he laid greatstress on and attached special importance to the ethical strain inStoicism, and, in particular, its application to moral or spiritualcounselling. Systematic exposition of dogma or abstract doctrine, assuch, was not his primary concern; but we should be much mistakenwere we to infer or conclude from this t ha t wi th do ctrinaire, systematic Stoicism he was not concerned at all. Stoic thought, as Bodsonputs it, is coherent and foursquare (charpente), the three parts,Physics, Ethics and Logic, being at one and th e same time nette-11 La Morale Sociale des derniers Stociens, Snque, pictte etMarc Aurle. Bibliothque de la Facult de Philosophie etLettres de L'universit de Lige. Fascicule CLXXVI. Paris 1967,p.15-16 and 22.12 See Appendix to thi s book.13 Roman Stoicism. Cambridge 1911,p.262,213.4


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ment distinctes et troitement solidaires , with each moral preceptbased on this or th at point of physical or metaphy sical th e o r y . 1 4En oug h is known of ancien t Stoicism to enab le us to trace ingeneral outline the common teaching of the School . 1 5 With regardto Seneca, the decisive point is exactly where he stood in relation tothe Stoic teaching as evolved and formulated down to and inclusiveof the early decades of the first century A.D.Arnold sees him as the last Roman who made a system aticstudy of Stoicism in the original authorities and thus grasped thesystem m i ts ful l extent . 1 6 Seneca's philosophy is founded, according to G rima i, su r un e connaissance approfondie des oeuvres del 'ancient Stocisme, appuy sur une doctrine thorique solide. 1 7After consideration of the points on which the teaching of Senecacoincides with or exhibits very close proximity to the tenets of theOld Stoa, C. J. de Vogel sum s up the situatio n by sayin g th at thereis one Stoic doctrine . . . from Zeno and the Ancient Stoics down tothe Roman period. Aristo of Chios and Herillus differed too muchfrom Zeno to be considered as Stoics at all. However, there havebeen alterations of Zeno's doctrine, first by Chrysippus (under theinfluence of Arcesilaus' criticism), next by Panaetius, who was influenced by Carneades. Posidonius restored the ancient doctrine onseveral points but had his own strong individuality. Ancient Stoicdoctrine is found ag ain in Seneca . . . 1 8

14 op.cit.,p.21.15 V. Goldschmidt in his Le Systme Stocien et L Ide de Tem ps.Paris 1953,p.10, attests that Emile Brhier 's works on Stoicismcontain a fundamental and decisive interpretation of the veryspirit of the Stoic philosophy.For a useful summary outline of the ruling principles ofStoicism, the reader is referred to Brhier's The History of Philosophy : The Hellenistic and Roman Age. Tr. W. Baskin. Chicago 1965, Chapter II, p.23-68; also Les Stociens : Textes tr d-uits par Emile Brhier. Ed. Schuhl. Paris 1962.H. F. A. von Arnim's Stoicorum veterum fragmenta. Stut tgart 1964 is the chief standard work on what remains of the original Stoic teaching. There are numerous derivative works on thelatter, both general and specialized, in addition to Brhier's.16 op.cit.,p.113.

17 op.cit.,p.75.18 Greek Philosophy. . The Hellenist ic-Roman Period. Leiden1964,p .49ff.,passim, and No. 896.


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The Loeb Classical Library editions of the Epistulae Morales(the MCMLIII edition of vols. I and II; the MCMXXV edition of Vol. ), the Moral Essays (MCMLVIII), and the Tragedies(MCMXVIII)of Seneca, have been used in the pages that follow as basic sourcematerial, though for the sake of greater clarity or precision wherethe philosophic content of these writings is concerned it was feltdesirable to retr an sla te a good deal of the L atin text.

Seneca's Quaestiones Naturales, whether in J. C. Clark's English translation 1 9 which has been largely followed, or in Gercke'sedition of the Latin original, 2 0 is also important as source material,in that it is here, as we are reminded by Grimai, "that we shall findthe complement and, as it were, the substructure of the ethicalteaching expounded, at the same period and for the same correspondent, in the L etters to Lucilius." 2 1The author desires to tender his apologies for any borrowingsfrom derivative works on Seneca, which have found their way without acknowledgm ent into the w riting of this book.London, Cana da Feb ruary , 1973

19 Physical Science in the Time of Nero. Being a Translation of theQUAESTIONES NATURALES OF SENECA. London 1910.20 Bibliotheca Scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana.L. ANNAEUS SENECA. NATURALES QUAESTIONES. Stuttgart 1970.21 op.cit., p.48.6


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IW HAT IS PHILOSOPHY ?

Both the greatest and the greatest number of authorities,Seneca tells us, 1 have declared that there are three parts of philosophy: the ethical , the natural and the rat ional . 2 The first sets thesoul to rights (conponit). The second scrutinizes the universe. Thethird determines the proper meanings of words and their constructions, and the proofs adduced in order that what is false may notstealthily usurp the place of truth.

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Moral philosophy which embraces whatever divisions of thesubject have been added to those just given, by other philosophers,wh ether Civics, Economics or the special dep artm ents (generibus4 ) of l iwhich apportions to each thing its peculiar function and estimatesthe extent of the worth of each, stands foremost and greatest inrespect of usefulness. For what is so essential as evaluating things?Second comes what concerns itself with impulse, and third what hasto do with actions, for the worth of judgments and in what they consist is the prime consideration; next, that one select with regard tothese a controlled and duly measured impulse; and then agreementbetween impulse and action that one may be in all these respects inharmony with oneself. If any of the three fails, it also throws therest into confusion. For what profit is there in having each thingevaluated in relation to every other thing, if you go too far whereimpulse is concerned? What profit is there in having restrained yourimpulses and in having your desires under control, if in the very actof carrying things into effect, you should be at a loss as regards theappropriate occasion and should not know what must be done andwhen and where and how? For it is one thing to know how mattersstand and their evaluation (dignitates et pretia rerum); it is anotherthing to know the critical mo men ts, and still ano ther to know how to

1 Seneca's introductory disquisition on philosophy, drawn on inwhat follows, passim, will be found in Ep., LXXXIX.9 to 17. 1-9.2 Cf. Ep.,LXXXVIII. 24.1-2.3 ne pro vero falsa subrepant.4 Literally, classes or categories.5 Ep., LXXXIX. 10.

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hold impulses in check and how to make one's way, instead of rushing headlong into action. Life is accordingly in harmony with itselfwhen action has not forsaken impulse and when impulse is selectedfrom consideration of the standing of each object, being in consequence relaxed or keen in proportion to that object's deserving to besought.The part of philosophy that deals with Nature is subdivided intothings that are and things that are not characterized by corporeality(corporalia et incorporalia 6 ). Each is divided into its own gradations,so to speak. The topic dealing with bodies applies to .. . thin gsthat create and things created from them; now, the elements arecreated. The topic dealing with the elements is, as some think, itselfone and indivisible (simplex), while others think it is divided intomatter; the moving cause of all things; and the elements.

6 T he Stoic philosophers, althou gh settin g the principle quidquidfacit corpus corpus est at th e founda tion of th eir system , for themost part mean by this that the corporeal is the real: corpusme ans for them in this context wh at actually ex ists . See G.Verbeke. L volution de la doctrine du pneuma du Stocisme Saint Augustin. Par is-Lo uva in 1945, p.157. Cf. Bodson, op.cit.,p.21 where it is stated, on the basis of Von Arnim, Stoicorumveterum fragmenta, III, 281-282, th at physical and metaph ysicalwere synonymous for the Stoics, who believed that reality, whatever th e forms assum ed by it, was body or corporeal in char acter. In Stoic eyes all being arises from the interplay of an activeprinciple ( ) and a passive principle ( T ), asshown by Von Arnim, op.cit., II, 300. In the human being, theactive role pertains to soul, whereas the body plays the passivepart .The human soul is accordingly corporeal, a dogma whichStoicism will never depart from. It would be going too far, however, to see in this nothing but pure and simple materialism; itseems that the notion of corporeality, applied to spirit was

synonymous with reality and force; a "spiritual energy, somew hat analogous to the energ y associated with electricity". See A.Delatte. Explication et emendation de Snque, De Vita Beata,VIII, 4-5 , in Humanitas, II, 1949, p.305-311.As S. Sambursky puts it in his Physics of the Stoics. London1959, p.36 and 29-32 alth oug h th e Stoics believed in the corporeal* na tur e of the pn eum a, they came to regard it as som ethingnot akin to mat ter, bu t ra th er to force. It was th eir conception ofa continuous field of force interpenetrating matter and spreading8


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I t remains for me, says Seneca, to give the divisions of therational part of philosophy. The spoken word (oratio) has eitherunbroken continuityor issplitupbetween thepersonwhorepliestoandtheperson who as ksthequestions.It isagreed tha t thelat terbecalled dialecticand the former rhetoric. Rhetoric is concerned withwords and sentences and methodical arrangement. Dialectic isdivided into two parts: words and meanings, that is to say, intothings expressed in speech and the names whereby they areexpressed. Nextinorder comesan extensive divisionofeach.Ishall,he says, accordingly b ring th is subjectofdiscussionto aclose. .."In sections 1-15 of the Prologue to Book 1 of the QuaestionesNaturales, he discusses at some length the relation of na tu ra l tomoral philosophyand in theopening section distinguish es as followstheir respective spheresand functions:

through space,and thus being thecauseof physical phenomena,which formed the central idea ofpneuma."The latter, accordingto Bodson, to begin with "organizes, arranges hierarchically thecorporeal matter it penetrates . . . The organizing principle,pneuma is alsothe motive element; endowed with inner energy,it is self movedand this movement is incessant; outside itself, itcan apply this energy to mat ter and impress it with movement;on this subject a passage of Seneca" - Ep. CXIII. 23 - "reportsthe view of Cleanthes and Chrysippus . . ."Pneuma"- and thisrecapitulates all its functions - "is the vital element", thusappearing"as theunique sourceofphysicalandpsychic formsoflife,in all their man ifestations . . . "

Pneuma in the human constitution "is like the AnimaMundi , warm breath or subtle fire, penetrating all parts of thebody, discharging currents from the central heart to the severalorgans. It is primarily rational, and all the lower powers arederived from the controlling and unifying reason". S. Dill.Roman Society from Nero to Marcus Aurelius. London 1911,p.333."The force which moulds indeterminate matter into concreteform is spirit , breath in the literal sense, interfused in rudematter ,and by its tension, outwardandaga in inward upon itself,producing formandqualityandene rgy." D ill, op.cit., p.306-307.

The incorporaliaare either wholly inactive, impassive media- place, spaceand thevoid- or things expressible in verbal form,tha tis, in the form of a proposition. Theyare the incidentalsorexternal aspects of a being's activity and all tha t is thoughtofthings,but not the things themselves, being otherwise know nasthe "intelligibles".

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"While a great gulf separates philosophy from the otherlearned arts, there is to my mind, Lucilius, my highlyesteemed friend, an equally wide gulf in philosophy itself,between the part that relates to human conduct and thatwhich deals with the na ture and power of heaven. The latte r ismore exalted and speculative, allows itself wider liberty. It isnot satisfied with mere observation; it surmises that there isplaced beyond human sight by Nature a greater and fairerrealm. Between these two divisions of philosophy there is, inshort, as wide a gulf as between their subjects, God and man.

The one teaches us what should be done on earth; theother what is done in heaven. The one dispels our errors andflashes a light whereby to thread life's mazes; the other fartranscends this gloom in which we grope, rescues us fromdarkness and leads us to the very source of light itself."It is on the m oral aspect of philosophy tha t, in the first instan ce,Seneca lays the greatest stress. "For you know," he writes to Lucilius, "that I am planning to cover the whole of moral philosophy andto settle all the problems concerning it." 7 Having, to begin with,wavered between waiting to deal with this in its proper place, or outof the usual sequence, he has decided to adopt the second course. 8

He is particularly interested, however, in that aspect of philosophy which deals specifically with moral counselling, which devisesrules, not for mankind at large, but to suit individual need, advising,for example, how a husband should conduct himself toward his wife,how a father should rear his children, how a master should exercisehis power over his slaves. 9Aristo the Stoic, he informs us, considers that, in relation to theother branches of philosophy, moral counselling is unimportantsince "it does not sink into the mind. . .and that from the actualdogmas of philosophy and from the definition of the highest good thegreatest benefit is derived." When a man has acquired a completeunderstanding of the latter, argues Aristo, and has learned it thoroughly he can frame a precept for directing him what to do in anygiven situation, byhimself; he knows what right l iving means andwill know accordingly without having to be told how he should livewith his wife or with his s o n . 1 0

7 Ep. CVI.2.1-3.8 Ep. CVI.2.3-5;3.1-2.9 Ep. XCIV.1.1-5.

10 ib.,XCIV.2;3.1,8-10.10


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This estimate, says Seneca, presents us with two alternatives:moral counselling is either superfluous or renders superfluous allother branches of philosophy. You are talking to a man whose soul isblinded, assert the advocates of this view; he is in consequence unable to see clearly where his duty lies, so what is the use of givinghim advice? He is a sick man and, instead of curing him, you aremerely telling him wh at he should do if he were w e l l . 1 1Again, according to the Aristo school of thought, there areinstances wh en, for th e sak e of clarity, or for the proper understandingmay be requ ired, in which case the m ean s of proof a re m ore effectivein them selves th an the advice you propose to give. Jus tice is th ebasically regu lative principle under which can be found every thing

that is meant by moral counselling when it comes to questions ofhow we should treat our friends or people in general. It is a matterof knowing or not knowing the basic principle. Handing out preceptsis superfluous in the one case and insufficient in the other. Thepreceptory part of philosophy accordingly may be banished in itsentirety, for all you are doing is instructing someone who is alreadyt r a i n e d . 1 2

There are those who allege further that philosophy is dividedinto knowledge or dogma and state of mind, that moral philosophy isthe product of these two and, therefore, superfluous for bringingvirtue to perfection, knowledge and state of mind being themselvesadequa te where the la tter is concerned.

The argument thus adduced, retorts Seneca, will not stand, forthere are many things derived from knowledge and state of mind,such as consolation, exhortation, persuasion and even proof itself,which are not superfluous. The position taken up by the proponentsof this argument, furthermore, is somewhat idealized, seeing that itenvisages the already perfect man or one who has attained to theheight of human happiness. Not many human beings are, however,so well situated. Life for most people is a slow, plodding progress onthe pa th leading upward to the goal. M eantime we m ust be practical.For those who are making progress but are still short of perfectionand are apt to go astray the path must be pointed out. Someone isneeded to precede them saying, "You will avoid this, you will doh a t " , 1 3 someone who, as matters stand, may be called in as preceptor to urge them on in opposition to the injunctions of the mob; such11 Ep. XCIV.4.5-6; 5.5-7,10;6.1.12ib.,XC IV.10.4-6;11.2-8.

13 ib.,XCIV.48-50;51.1.11


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people are not free to march straight forward. Parents and slavesentice them into perversity. No one errs to himself alone, but sowsfolly widespread among his fellows and vice versa. 1 4 The only difference between the dogmas and the precepts of philosophy is thatthe former are general and the latter special; yet both have to dowith advice, the one with reference to the whole, the other withregard to par t icu lars . 1 5 The duties, moreover, in which practicalj u d g m e n t 1 6 and justice consist are apportioned by moral counselling. 1 7On those, however, who consider that the latter is the one andonly part of philosophy having any real significance and who rejectthe other parts as ranging beyond what is practically useful or whoare content with it as their sole guide to right conduct or sufficientfor happiness Seneca rounds scornfully and says: "As if anyone couldgive advice with regard to a part of life without having first of allgot to know life as a w h ol e. " 1 8 Cleanthes has pointed out that, whilemoral counselling has a utilitarian value, it is weak unless it flowsfrom the totality of things. 1 9 No contemplative art exists withoutwhat the Greeks call dogmas, and the Romans, doctrines or decreesor accepted principles, as will be found in geometry and in astronomy. Now, philosophy is both speculative and practical; at one andthe same time it contemplates and acts. You are mistaken, affirmsSeneca, if you think that it promises you earthly aid alone. It aspiresto higher things. My view, it says, ranges over the whole world, nordo I confine myself to man's servile habitation, 2 0 well pleased withgiving you advice for and a ga in s t. 2 1 It is to matters of great momentthat you summon me, and high-exalted t h in g s. 2 2No one, besides, will duly carry out what he must do except theman entrusted with reason whereby he may be able in all circumstances to fulfil every category of duty, which the man will disregard who has received moral counselling, not for all duties, but forthe duty immediately to hand. What is bestowed, so to speak, uponthe parts is weak and rootless initself. Doctrines exist to fortify, to14 ib.,XCIV.54.1-4.15 ib., XCIV.31.10-13.16 prudentia in the Latin.17 Ep.,XCIV.33.7-8.18 ib.,XCIV.1.7-9.19 ab universo. Ep.,XCIV.4.1-2.20 contube rnium = a house occupied by a slave.21 suadere vobis ac dissuadere.22 Ep., XCV.10.6-10.12


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safeguard our freedom from care and our tranquillity, doctrineswhich at once embrace our whole life and the entire order ofthings. 2 3Moral philosophy by itself is not sufficient as a guide to rightconduct or for achieving the happy life, since it is not conducive inevery instance to right conduct which is impossible, if the will isunreceptive. Sometimes moral precepts are applied to no purposewhen wrong opinions obsess the soul; and one may act rightly with

o u tk now ing he so acts. For no one can c arry o ut all t he categories ofduty who has not first of all been trained and equipped with perfectreason, so as to know when and to what extent and with whom andhow and why he ought to carry the m out. He cannot who leheartedly,without such training, attempt what is honourable 2 4 . . . doctrin esand moral counsels which, so to speak, by official decree, restrainan d o u t l aw 2 5 our emotions also serve a useful purpose where wisdom is con cern ed. 2 6

How much t ha t is superfluous, how much th at has so little valuelor what is practical the philosophers contain. They have fallen tothe level of the divisions of syllables and the precise significations ofconjunctions and prepositions and have aspired to rival the grammarians and the geometricians. Whatever was superfluous in thearts of other people they have transferred to their own art. Thus ithas come about that they are more attentive to knowing how to talkthan how to live . . . Either side can be taken in any argument anddebated with equal success, according to Pythagoras . . . Parmenidesdeclares that, with the sole exception of the universe, nothing existsof things that seem to have existence. Zeno of Elea had a muchsimpler solution to the problem. He said that nothing exists at all.The various schools of philosophy are preoccupied more or less withthe same considerations; they have introduced a brand new science,that of knowing nothing, in which they are no better than those whoprovide for liberal studies. The former hand down knowledge, saysSeneca, that will not do me any good; the latter eliminate the hopeof any knowledge whatsoever. Knowing what is useless is better

23 ib., XCV.12.1-10. Wisdom is sure perception because it is all-embracing, therefore, systematic and rational.24 ib.,X CV.4.4-6;5.1-7.25 able gan t = remove, keep at a distance; a euphe m ism for in exsilium26 Ep, XCIV.47.7-9.

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than just not knowing anything. 2 7 Those who indulge in such virtuosity tend to be exhibitionists drawing attention to themselves. 2 8Philosophy has proved perilous to many when employed with insolence and arrogance. A man may be wise without parade and withouta rous ing ho s t i l i ty . 2 9Re ferring to these in tellectu al affectations which he dubs "theoverworking of one's w i t s " 3 0 and "the useless furniture of learning" 3 1 and to the "traffickers in sub tleties" , 3 2 he says: "Our purpose should not be to discuss things cleverly and drag down philosophy from her high eminence by means of petty quibbles of this sort.. . Such argumentation is the sport of men juggling skilfully witheach other. Rather tell me how nearly it accords with Nature to letmy mind reach out into the boundless universe." 3 3 How am I profited by knowing the difference between what is meant by wisdomand what is meant by being wise? Tell me what I should avoid, what

I should aim for, by what sort of learned pursuits I may strengthenmy waver ing m in d . 3 4He speaks of the zeal exhibited by the neophytes in their firstimpulse toward the loftiest ideals, if only some one does his part inexhorting them and whipping up their enthusiasm. Mistakes aremade here, however, and our advisers are to blame; they teach ushow to debate instead of how to live. The pupils also make mistakes;they come to their teach ers to develop the ir w its, and not their souls.The study of wisdom has become the study of words. 3 5Granted that it is necessary as a mental discipline to submit tothe grammarian in one's youth, experience shows that this trainingdoes nothing to form the virtuous character. Who can respect a manwho devotes himself to searching out the relative ages of Hecuba orHelen 3 6 or who was the real mother of A eneas? 3 7

27 ib.,LXXXVIII.42-44;45.1-5.28 ib.,CXIV.21.1-7.29 ib., CIII.5.2-3,6-7.30 ib., CIX.17.4.31 ib., LXXXVIII.36.6.32 ib.,CII.20.1.33 ib., CII.20;21.1-2 somewhat paraphrased.34 ib.,CXVII.20.3-5;21.2-3.35 ib, CVIII.23.3-10.36 ib, LXXXVIII.6.1,3-4.37 ib, LXXXVIII.37.7.

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S u c h are the games of logic that are played and might be justified if they availed in any way to ease the burdens people bear.These over sophisticated subtleties are not only unprofitable; theyarepositively harm ful . . . a noble spirit is frittered away and weakenedweapons which are furnished for men and women destined to go tow a r with Fortun e? W hat poor panoply for the fight Is this th e wayto the highest go od ? 3 8

D ea th calls one man aw ay; poverty irks a noth er; yet an othe r isworriedby his neighb our's we alth or by his own; such an d such a one . apprehensive of bad luck; another wishes to get clear of his ownprosperity. Here is a man who is in bad odour with mankind; yondera man who is in bad odour with the gods. Why are you making upthose games of chance for me? It is nothing to laugh about. You areretained as counsel for unfortunate humanity. You have taken youroath to assist those in peril on the sea, those in captivity, those whoare sick and needy, those who present their necks bent under the axethat is aimed at them. Where are you wandering off to? What arey o u about? This man with whom you are playing games is frightened. Help him; take the noose from about his neck. On all sidesm e n are stretching out imploring hands to you; lives that have beenruinedor are liable to be are ent rea tin g you for aid; hopes, resourcesrest with you. People are asking you to deliver them from so muchrestlessness to show them, scattered hither and thither and strayi n g , as they are, the undimmed light of truth. Tell them whatNature has made needful, what she has made superfluous, whateasy laws she has enacted . . . how unburdened life is for those whofollow them; how bitter and perplexed the life of those who haverusted in opinion rather than put their trust in reason. 3 9

"Rouse yourself", Seneca exhorts Lucilius, "and abandon theword-game played by the philosophers who reduce to syllables athing of surpassing splendour .4 0 When (if called on to speak of virt u e you observe some indication of a change effected by your wordsm someone, say, enslaved to avarice; when you see people moved bys o m e noble sentiment, even against their normal preferences, makethe most of your opportunity. When you have them in this mood,give double meanings, syllogisms, hair-splitting and other sideshows a wide berth. Strike hard; keep at them; and, if they give anyfurther indication of response to your appeal, lay on still harder; do38 i b . , XLVIII.9.6-ll;10.1-3.39 ib ., XLVIII.7.5-8;8;9.1-5.40 i b . ,LXXI.6.4-7.

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not let up on them. You have no idea how much progress can bemade in a situation of this sort when your address is concentrated ona cure and directed wholly to the good of your audience." 4 1All the words juggled with in public by the sophistically mindedhave been uttered by Plato, by Zeno, by Cleanthes, by Posidonius

and the goodly lineage of our school 4 2 who are as num erous and whocarry as much weight. I shall show you, says Seneca, how men canprove their words to be their own; let them act out what they haves a i d . 4 3 The question is: Do such men teach virtue or not? If they donot teach it, neither do they transmit it; if they do, they are philosop h e r s . 4 4 Philosophy instructs men how to act, not how to speak,demanding of every man that he live with a principle in view, to theend that his life-style may not be at variance with his words, thathis inner being may be of one complexion in itself, with everythinghe does in conformity therewith. The highest duty and the supremeproof of wisdom is that deed and word should harmonize, that underall circumstances this self-consistency and sameness in the individua l be main ta ined . 4 5 Virtue is perfected by an even tenor of lifeentirely consistent with itself, and this is impossible unless a knowledge of the universe and of the art whereby things human anddivine come to be know n fall to our lot, which is the g reate st g o o d . 4 6Philosophy has taught men to cherish things divine and highlyesteem things human 4 7 , its sole function b eing , in fact, to discoverthe t ruth about such things . 4 8 One should, accordingly, take refugein phi losophy. 4 9 He who studies with a philosopher should takeaway with him some one good thing every day; he should returnhome either sounder in mind or with the capacity to be s o . 5 0

Philosophy is in equal measure health-giving and pleasant, 5 1and, not only among those who are good, but among those who are

41 ib., CVIII.12.4-11 slightly paraphrased42 ingens agmen nostrorum.43 Ep., CVIII.38;39.1.44 ib., LX XXVIII.4.1-3.45 ib., XX.2.4-10.46 ib., XXXI.8.2-5.47 ib., XC.3.5.48 ib., XC.3.1-2.49 ib.,XIV.11.1.50 ib., CVIII.4.1-3.51 ib., L.9.7-8.

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mo d e r a t e l y bad, s tands as a badge of honour. 5 2 It makes a manj o y f u l strong and brave in face of death. 5 3 Though peace is the mostpowerful solace, there can be no assurance of peace in what cansuffer or cause destruction. Philosophy, however, delivers those whoare wise from fear; even the unlearned man derives great confidencethrough it out of his despair. 5 4 Against the onslaughts of Fortune itis an impregnable wall because the soul, if it has forsaken externaltilings, stands on ground that is unassailable and maintains itsc a u s e in its own citadel short of which every missile falls. 5 5 Itsfruits are magnanimity, complete confidence and invincibility; 5 6 itsservice is perfect freedom, everlasting li b e rt y . 5 7

Facts, not words, are philosophy's concern. It is not pursued forour amusement or as an antidote to the nausea which springs fromthe idleness of our lives. It moulds and fashions the soul, orders ourexistence and directs our conduct, showing us what we should do andwhat we should leave undone. It sits at the helm and steers ourcourse, as we waver amid uncertainties. Without this no one can livein impe rturbability, no one is free from c a r e . 5 8Itself a boon which the gods have given us, a boon the knowledge of which they bestowed on no one, wh ile bestow ing the capacityfor knowledge (of it) on all, philosophy confers nobility upon everybody without making distinctions, neither rejecting nor preferringany man. Its light shines for all men. The distinction of possessing anoble mind is within reach of anyone 5 9 . . . Philosophy did notreceive Plato as a nobleman, but made him a nobleman. 6 0 It isdevoid of prejudice. It aids, not only those who study, but those whoassociate with it . 6 1 It is inseparable from virtue; 6 2 religion neverleaves its side, nor duty nor justice nor any one of the entire com-

52 ib.,XIV.11.1-3. infularum locon place of the white and redwoollen band worn on a priest's forehead as a mark of consecration and inviolability.53 ib., XXX.3.1-3.54 NQ, VI.II.1.3-6,7-9.55 Ep., LXXXII.5.1-4.56 ib., CXI.2.6;3.1.57 ib.,VIII.7.7, XVII.6.7-8. Cf. ibid, XXXVII.3.4-6.58 ib.,XVI.3.3-9.59 ib.,XC.1.5-6;2.1, XLIV.2.6-7;3.1.60 ib.,XLIV.3.3-4.61 ib.,CVIII.4.3-5.62 ib., LX XXIX.8.1-3.

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pany of the virtues which cling together in closely united fellowship.6 3 I t is the parent of the a r t s , 6 4 the only art that enquires intogood and evil the unalterable knowledge of which accomplishes theperfection of the soul, 6 5 and the only art that undertakes finally tomake men equal with God. 6 6

63 ib.,XC.3.2-5.64 NQ, II.LIII.2.11-12.65 Ep., LX XXV II.28.8-11.66 ib.,XLVIII.l1.8-9.18


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IILIVING AND LIVING WELLHappiness and the soilfrom which itspringsIt is not a blessing to live, but to live well. 1 Life is the gift ofthe immortal gods, but living well is the gift of philosophy. 2 Thehearing and reading of the philosophers should be applied to theidea of living the happy life. We ought not to be hunting out archaic

or far-fetched words and eccentric m etaph ors and figures of speech,but should be in search of precepts that will succour us, courageousand spirited utterances which may at once be turned into facts.There are none who have worse served humanity than those whohave applied themselves to philosophy as though it were somemarketable trade, who live in a different fashion from the ideal forliving they prescribe . . . A teacher of this sort, says Seneca, can beof no more use to me tha n a seasick ste ersm an in a storm . . . Howmuch more, do you suppose, than any ship is life buffeted by thetempest? One should not talk but steer. 3All men, he writes to his brother Gallio, desire to live the happylife, but their minds are blinded from seeing clearly what it is thatproduces happiness; and so far from easy is it for them to encompasswhat they desire, that the more anxiously each makes it his aim thefurther he gets away from it, if he has slipped up on the road; andwhen his course carries him in the opposite direction his very hastecauses the intervening distance to increase. 4 On the one hand arethe literary triflers and on the other the industrious pleasure-seekers.5 There is nothin g the busy man is less busied w ith tha n living;there is nothing harder to learn. 6We must, therefore, to begin with, set before us what we are1 De ben. III.XXXI.4.1 2.

2 Ep. XC.1.1-3.3 ib, CVIII.35.2-8;36.1-4;37.1-3,6-8.4 De vita beata,1.1.1-7.5 De brev. vit, XIII.1.3-6.6 ib, VII.3.5-6.

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aiming at, then search about us for a route whereby we may be ableto reach it expeditiously, with the intention of ascertaining on theroute, provided it is straight, how much of it is covered every dayand how closer we are to the goal. We are urged on toward the goalof the good life by a natural desire, but so long as we wander aimlessly having no guide and following only the noise and the discordant cries of those who call us this way and that, our brief existencewill be frittered away in the midst of errors, even though we toil forsoundness of mind (bonae menti) day and night. 7 Let our minds,then, be made up, suggests Seneca, both as regards what we areheading for and the route, likewise, by which we are heading for it,not without some experienced person by whom the former has beenexplored, since here the state of affairs is not the same as in otherjourneys where there is some known way and the inhabitants, ifenquired of, do not let us go astray. Here every track, howeverbeaten and frequented it may be, deceives us most. 8 The well trodden p at h of life, the way life is usua lly lived, is beset by perils everywhere for the man whose goal is happiness. Nothing involves us inmore serious misfortunes than the fact that we accommodate ourselves to hearsa y 9 , thin kin g thing s received with muc h approval tobe best, and the fact that we have numerous examples and do notlive with reason but with conformity in view. 1 0Let us seek after something that is good, not with respect to howit looks, but something well founded and consistent and more comelyas regards the part of it that does not meet the eye; for this let us digdeep (eruamus). Nor is it far away. All you need know to find it iswhere to stretch out your hand. As matters stand, it is as if in thedark we bypassed what lay close by, stumbling up against the verythings that we des i re . 1 1 Let us find out, accordingly, what it is bestto do, what will establish us in possession of eternal happiness, notthe most commonly done thing, nor what the crowd who are leastqualified to assess tru th ha s approved. . .1 hav e, declares Seneca, amore trustworthy light wherewith to discriminate between the factual and the fictitious. Let the soul discover the soul's good. 1 2 If thesoul ever has leisure to get its breath back and retire into itself,7 De vita beata,I.1.8 12;2.1 5.8 ib., I.2.5-10;3.1.9 rumorem =th e talk of the m any whe re facts or opinions areconcerned (Lex.).

10 De vita beata,1.3.4-8.11 ib.,III.l.12 ib., II.2.1-5,8-10.20


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alas, to what self-torture will it come, and how, if it confesses toitself the truth, it will declare, "Would that all I have done hithertowere undone. . .What have I accomplished. . .Why do I not ratherseek for some real good, a good that I could feel, not one I could display?" 1 3Not to bore you, he apologizes, with the tedious details I followNature's guidance, a doctrine on which all the Stoics are agreed.Wisdom is not to stray from Nature and to mould oneself accordingto her law and her example. 1 4 What accords with Nature is good.Th at is one definition. Now, he says, atten d to my way of pu ttin g it:W hat is good is according to N atu re, bu t wha t is according to N atu redoes not also become immediately good, for many things harmonizewith Nature, but are so insignificant that it is not fitting to callthem good. . .The good can be recognized only if it completely accords

w i t h N a t u r e . 1 5 From that has been derived our idea of the happylife which flows on with steady course completely under its ownc o n t r o l , 1 6 because it has attained that spiritual perfection developedto its highest capabilities and inferior only to the mind of God fromwhom a part flows down even into the mortal he art of m a n . 1 7The happy life is a life in harmony with its own nature andthere is one way only whereby it can be attained. One must firsthave a sound mind, a mind in uninterrupted possession of its sanity.1 8 The mind must in the second place be brave and spirited,

capable of endurance to a specially marked degree, well adapted foremergencies, concerned, but not anxiously concerned, about the bodyand the things that pertain to it. The mind must next be careful ofthe other th ings th at provide for life, with out adm iring an y one ofthem, aim ing to use but not become enslaved to Fortune's g if ts . 1 9There is nothing to hinder our saying that happiness is a mindfree and unbowed. . .unyielding, placed beyond fear and desire, amind the only good of which is what is honourable, its only evil

13 ib, II.2.10-11;3;4 passim.14 ib,III.2.1;3.1-3.15 Ep. CXVIII.12.1-6,10-11.16 i b , C XX .11.8-9;12.1. Th is was Z eno's ideal of the hap pylife ' , of which ' was a later Stoic refinement.17 Ep. CXX.14.1-4.18 Chry sippus believed th at dr unk enn ess and excessive eati ngcould likewise prove detrimental.19 De vita beata III.3.4-10;4.1.

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shame, with the rest a worthless rabble of things that neither takefrom nor add aught to happiness, coming and going without increaseand without loss to the highest go od . 2 0Nothing is so hard and difficult that it cannot be overcome by

the human intellect and through persistent study adapted to oneself. . . The m ind holds fast a ny order wh atsoever th at it issues to itself. . . persisten ce su rm ou nts all obstacles. . .noth ing is really difficultthat the mind instructs itself to endure. . .Shall we not, therefore,when a reward so great awaits us, summon ourselves to endurance?.. .we are born to do what is right, Nature herself aiding us, if wedesire to be improved. The pathway to the virtues is not, as somethink, steep and rugged; they are reached by a level road, and thatroad is an easy road that leads to the happy life. You have only toenter upon it, with the portents in your favour and the gods themselves assisting you right well. 2 1 The precipitous approach to theStoic life gives way to a gentle s lo p e . 2 2

Happiness, moreover, is independent of length of life. 2 3 "Iwould not refuse", says Seneca, "a few extra years for myself, yetwould not say that I had suffered any lack where happiness is concerned, if the span of life were cut short. For I have not adjustedmyself to the last day that my eager expectation has promised me;there is rat he r no day I hav e not looked on as thou gh it were the last... As one who is somewhat small in stature can be a complete man,so, too, in a somewhat brief extent of time a life can be complete. Am an's age is a mat ter of externa ls . . . W hat is the fullest span oflife? It is living with wisdom as your goal, and he who has reachedthat has attained, not the most distant, but the most lofty limit,indeed may confidently boast and give thanks to the gods besidesand tohimself, when he is at it, and give Nature credit for the factthat he has lived. He will assuredly have good reason for so doing,having restored to her a better life than the life that he received . . . 2 4 A nyth ing added would hav e been the same as wh at had20 ib, IV.3.3-9.21 De ira, . .3.2-5;4.1-2;5.1-4;6.1-2, XIII.1.4-7;2.1-3.22 De cons, sap.,1.2.9-10.23 Ep., LXXIV.26.5-7.24 Ep., XCIII.6.1-5;7.1-4;8.1-7. "Tell me", writes Seneca, "if a sonhas attained the wisdom of philosophy, and has transmitted itto his father, shall we still be able to argue about whether hegave something greater than he received, since the gift hereturned to his father was the happy life, and all he received

was life?". De . ben., II . II.4.9-13.22


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gone before . 2 5 Sucha man "has passed overat one leap into posterityand bequeathed himself to theguardianshipofmem ory." 2 6The happy life is a uni ty , for it is its essence, not its amount ,that establishes sucha lifeon thenoblest p l an e . 2 7 Thepointis how

nobly, not howlong,you live; besides it is often in not living longthat l iving well con sis ts . 2 8 Evenin the longest lifea very small parti s rea l l iv ing . 2 9 We should strive,not to live for a long time,but tolive aright, because toachieve the former all tha t youneed isFate,whereasfor thelat teryouneed thesoul.Alifeis really longif it is afull life. Fulness is not reached, however, till thesoul has renderedits proper goodto itself, t h a t is to say,unt i l it has assumed controlover itself.30"I entreat you, Lucilius", writes Seneca, "thatwe act in such away that our lives,aswith precious possessions,may not be of great

extent ,but of great weight."3 1 Thedifference, if youshould wan t toknow, betweenthe one man who is spirited (vegetum),whodespisesFortune and, having served in every campaign of the life that pertains to man, has advanced to the highest good, and the other inwhose case many years have passed, is tha t the one is alive evenafter he is dead, while the other is dead before he d i e s . 3 2 In whatwayisJupi ter thegood m an 's sup erior?He isgoodfor a longer time.Itis only time-wise that agoodman differs from God . . . Thevirtuewhich is more long lasting is not the g rea te r v i r tue . 3 3 Begin toreckon that man by his vir tues, not his years; he has (on tha treckoning) livedasufficiently long l if e . 3 4

Happinessis not, as people reckon, avariciousbut low-keyed,soit pales on nobody. What you have in mind you consider eminentbecauseyou are situated a longway off from it but it istruly of lowdegree.to the person who has reached it. . . That is a step on theladderand you supposeit to be the top. Now,ignorance of the t ruestate of affairs possesses all men to their undoing; hoodwinked by25 Ep. XCIII.8.8-9.26 ib,XCIII.5.7-8.27 ib,LXXX V.22.2-3.28 ib,CI.15.6-7.29 ib., XCIX.11.5;12.1.30 ib,XCIII .2.3-6;3.1.31 ib,XC III.4.7-9.32 ib,XCIII.4.10-15.33 ib,LXX III .13.1-4;14.1.34 AdMarc, XXIV.1.1-2.

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hearsay, they are borne along as if in the direction of what is good,then having gained it and put up with a great deal they see that it isevil or wo rthless or not so big as the y expected. W hat deceives peoplefor the m ost pa rt from an interv enin g d istance glamorizes them , andthe masses equate wh at is big with wh at is go o d. 3 5What applies to living also applies to taking leave of life,because it is not a question of dying earl ier or later bu t of dying wellor ill . . . Over the man who knows how to die Fortune has no power. . . How will a man, however, take thought for his own end, if hecraves thin gs witho ut end? 3 6

Close you r ears ag ain st those who love you best, Seneca counselsLucilius; who pray with good intentions but who pray for what isbad, and, if you would be happ y, supplica te th e gods th at none of th ethings they wish for come your way. There is one good thing self-confidence and it is the cause and support of the hap py l if e , 3 7 thesum and substance of which is unalloyed freedom from care, thesecret of such freedom being unshaken self-assurance, though menamass what causes worry and not only have burdens to bear butattract them to themselves, as they travel life 's treacherous road. 3 8Happiness is peace of mind and lasting tran qu illity w hich greatness of soul and the steadfastness that maintains a firm grip upongood judgment will bestow. How are these things achieved? If truthhas been clearly perceived in its entirety, if order, moderation, fitness, a will that is inocuous and benevolent, that focuses attentionupon reason and never departs from it, that is at the same timelovable and wo rthy of adm iration , are preserved in th e conduct ofa f f a i r s . 3 9 The happy life amounts to the same thing as livingaccording to Nature with which reason complies and from which sheseeks advice. We live according to Nature if we preserve our bodilyendowments and what is adapted to Nature, carefully and withoutanxiety, since it is granted for a day and cannot last; if we refrainfrom submitting to their service and if things at variance withN atu re do not ga in a hold on us, if w ha t affords plea sure and is oftransitory importance for the body occupies the same place with usthat auxiliaries and light-armed forces occupy in a military camp let them serve, not give commands. In this and in no other way are35 Ep., CXVIII.6.3-6a;7.36 ib.,LXX.6.1-2;7.6;17.5;18.1.37 ib., XXXI.2.8-10;3.1-4.38 ib., XLIV.7.4-7.39 ib.,XCII.3.1-7.24


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they of service to the mind. Let a man be uncorrupted and unconquerable by externals; let him admire himself alone, relying uponhis mind, ready for one fate or for another, the architect of his life;let not his assurance be devoid of knowledge, nor his knowledgedevoid of steadfastness; let what he has once resolved upon standsure, and let there be no erasure where his decisions are concerned.Such a man will have a proper disposition; he will be calm and wellcon t ro l led . 4 0The happy man is freed from fear as well as from desire becauseof the gift of reason. 4 1 The happy life contains within itself a goodwhich is perfect and which cannot be excelled. If a man has this goodin his possession, life is completely happy . . . Every happy life is,moreover, perfect, if the happy life has no need of anything.. . Haveyou any doubt that the happy life is the supreme good? asks Seneca.

If, then, it possesses the supreme good, it is supremely happy. Justas the supreme good does not admit of increase (for what will besuperior to that which is supreme?), so, too, the happy life whichdoes not exist apart from the supreme good does not admit ofincrease . . .The one or the other of these two things is incredible:Either that for the happy man something remains which he prefersto be other than it is; or that he does not prefer what is of greaterworth w ith regard to it. W hy, surely th e wiser he is the more he willexert himself with a view to what is best and wish by all means toa t ta in to i t . 4 2Unless a man is happy he has not achieved the supreme goodwhich on the ladder has no rung higher than itself, provided virtuehas its being in the man alluded to, if things of an adverse sort donot impair it, if it abides unharmed, even when the body has beenimpaired and it does so a b id e . 4 3Of course you are right, Seneca assures Lucilius, in deeming thechief means for attaining the happy life to consist in believing thatthe sole good lies in what is honourable. For he who considers otherthings to be good puts himself in Fortune's power and submits toanother's control; but he who has limited the good in its entirety to

the honourable is happy within himself.44The life that is happy has been founded on correct and trustwor-

40 De vita beata, VIII.1.6;2;3 partly paraphrased.4 1 i b , V . l . l - 2 .42 Ep., LXXXV.19.4-6;20.1-8;21.4-9.4 3 i b , L X X I .18.4-8.44 ib, LXXIV.1.4-8.

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thy judgment and i s unchangeable 4 5 . . . No man can be calledhappy if he is banished beyond the t r u t h . 4 6The only requ irem en t is th at one should guide his life instead ofbeing carried along past life, the fullest span of which consists in

living until one possesses wisdom which, though it may not be thefurthermost, is the most important goal. 4 7 We have a duty to sharewith others such wisdom as we possess. I should renounce wisdom,Seneca declares, if it were given me on condition of my keeping itsecret and not declaring i t . 4 8

45 De vita beata, V.3.1-3.46 ib ,V.2.5;3.1.47 Ep.,XCm.7.5-7;8.1-3.48 ib., VI.4.6-7.26


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Wisdom, the art of lifeThere is first of all a distinction to be drawn between wisdomand philosophy. Wisdom is the perfect good of the human mind,whereas philosophy is the love of wisdom and the endeavour toattain it or the attempt to reach the goal already reached by wisdom.It is evident why philosophy has acquired the name it bears, for byits title it acknowledges what it loves.Some have defined wisdom as the knowledge of things divine

and human; others define it as the knowledge of things divine andhuman and their causes. In Seneca's opinion this addition is superfluous since the causes of things divine and human are a part ofthings divine. Philosophy has been variously defined also as thestudy of virtue or the study pertaining to the correction of the mindor the quest of right reason. What is apparently agreed on is the factthat there is some distinction where philosophy and wisdom areconcerned; and, indeed, it is not possible that what is striven afterand what strives after it are the same. As avarice is the subject ofthe c raving an d we alth th e object th at it craves, so is it with philosophy and wisdom, the one being the outcome of the other and itsreward; philosophy is the vehicle, while wisdom is the destination atwhich philosophy a rr iv es . 4 9Wisdom is a large and spacious thing and needs an unrestrictedrange. We have to learn about things divine and human, about thepast and future, about the perishable and the eternal, about t ime;and consider how many investigations are conducted with regard tothis alone: Whether to begin with it has being as something initself;whether, in the second place, anything exists prior to or apart from

time; whether its beginning was co-eval with the world's or whetherit, too, existed (because there was something in existence) evenbefore the world. There are countless topics for investigation withregard to the soul alone: its origin, its nature, when it begins to be,and how long it exists; whether it migrates from one place toanother and changes its abode, after being cast in one or in anotherof the shapes of animals, or whether it is imprisoned only once androams the whole world when set free; whether or not it is a body;

49 ib,LXXXIX.4;5;6;7.1.27


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what its role is going to be when it ceases in any way to operatethro ug h us. . .whether it has no recollection of the p ast and begins toknow itself from the moment at which, separated from the body, ithas withdrawn on high. No matter what part of things human anddivine you make the object of your thought, you will be wearied bythe plenitude of m atte rs tha t have to be looked into and le a rn e d . 5 0W isdom reveals to us the n atu re of the gods and of wha t sort a rethe divinities of the lower world, the household deities and the protecting spirits (genii), the nature of the souls that, without interruption have been elevated to the category of divine beings, rankingsecond to the best; where they are; what they are doing; what theyhav e the a bility, and w hat they w ill, to do.These are wisdom's rites of initiation whereby is disclosed, notthe temple of a township, but the world itself, the great temple of allth e gods, the tru e a spects and a ppea rance of which she sets forth forcomprehension by our minds. For seeing is dim with regard to sightsso vast. She then turns her attention to the origins of things, to theeternal reason imparted to the whole and to the power that fitlyfashions the individual parts of all the elements (seminum). Thenshe begins to enqu ire ab out th e soul wh ere it came from and howlong it exists; into how many parts it has been divided. Then shepasses on from things corporeal to things incorporeal and enquiresinto truth and the proofs for it; next how are discerned matters of

un cert ain ty th at r elat e to life or speech, for wh at is false in both hasbeen mingled with what is tr u e . 5 1Wisdom is the condition of a mind made perfect, to use which isto be wise. How can th e use of thi s thin g not be a good, which, ap artfrom its use, is not a good? I ask you if wisdom should be desired.You admit that it should be. I ask you if the use of wisdom ought tobe desired. You admit that it ought to be, for you say you will notaccept it, if you are prohibited from making use of it. What isdesired is a good. Wisdom and the use of wisdom accordingly areg o o d s ; 5 2 but they are distinguished by the ir permanen ce in comparison with many of life's goods, so far as the person who possesses andthe exercise of wisdom are concerned. Take, for example, the possession of a field. The latter is owned by virtue of the law, can changehands and pass into new ownership. Wisdom is owned by virtue ofNa ture bu t its ownership never changes hands. 5 3

50 ib., LXXXVIII.33;34;35.1-3.51 ib., XC.28.5-12;29.52 ib., CXV II.16.8-10;17.53 ib.,CXVII.15.3-5.2 8


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There are many matters that l ie merely on wisdom's outskirts,but in wisdom herself should be our abiding place . . . We mayenquire into the nature of the gods, into what nourishes the starsand into the wanderings of the latter which present themselves sovariously to our view; whether what we do is activated with reference to their movements; whether, where the bodies and souls of allmen are concerned, an impulse issues from that source; whether thethings even which are called fortuitous have been bound by a fixedlaw and that nothing unexpected or unregulated takes place in thisworld. These matters have nowadays been relegated to the background so far as the shaping of character goes, yet they elevate themind and lift it up to the vastness of the very things with which itdeals. I appeal to you, w rites Seneca a postrophizing those who spendtheir efforts on pedantic niceties, are we frittering away in an activity which I am inclined to think is contrary to the truth, while it issurely of no a vail, the concern and it is so necessary which isowing to greater and better thing s? 5 4

This is wisdom, this is what is meant by being wise, not keepingup the game of such fatuous subtlety with petty disputes that arevalueless. Fortune has posed so many questions for you to investigate and you have not yet found the answers. Are you still bandyingwords? Tell me how no grief, how no fear disturbs the soul, how Imay rid myself of this burden of secret d e si re s. 5 5 With such a greatcalamity hanging over you, are you still taking such trouble to doand undo knots? Nature, so benign and generous, has not given ustime that we should dawdle and throw any of it away. 5 6 Why, then,take my time up with the names of wisdom rather than with herworks? Make me braver, make me more free from care, make me amatch for Fortune, make me her su pe rio r . 5 7

We have turned everything into a state of darkness. We fail todiscern what injures or profits us. We blunder along all through ourlives and for this reason neither halt nor tread more carefully. Yousee now what a mad thing rushing headlong in darkness is. Nay, byheaven, we behave in such a way that we require to be called back agreater distance and, though we have no idea where we are going,keep up our hurried efforts nevertheless toward the end we arestraining for.

Yet, if we exert our wills, there is a possibility that the light54 ib., CX VII.18.5-6;19;20.1-3.55 ib, CXVII.25.2-5,7-9.56 ib, CXVII.31.7-8;32.1-2.57 ib, CXVII.33.8-10.

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m ay begin to break . The possibility can come abou t, however, only inone way, if through knowledge we make acquaintance with thingshuman and divine, if it does not flow over but produces effects in us,if, although we know it, we go over the same ground and frequentlyreapp ly it to ourselves, if we enq uire into the n atu re of good and evil. . . , if we have investigated things honourable and base, if we havelooked into providence. The range of the human intellect is notrestricted to these bounds; it may extend its gaze, too, beyond theworld: whither it is borne, whence it has arisen, the end to which inall i ts vastness hastens Nature's swift moving course (tanta rerumvelocitas). From this celestial contemplation we have withdrawn thesoul and dragged it down to base and mean pursuits, to be thebondslave of avarice, so th at turn ing its back upon the u niverse an dits bounds, and with masters trained in every trickery, i t pries intothe earth and looks about to find what evil it might dig up therefrom, not being satisfied w ith wh at has been offered i t . 5 8

Wisdom is an art but differs from all the other arts in that, asthe art of life, it is mistress and ruler, the greatest of them all.Whereas the other arts render a slave's service to life, wisdom issuesthe commands; while they are life's tools for one purpose or another,wisdom has to do with the totality of life. Her function from thebeginning was and is, i t has been argued, that of inventing things,but inventions in time past were created by the same class of menwho create them nowadays. A clear distinction, however, must bemade regarding both the function performed by wisdom, namely,exercising control over the arts, and the course she sets herself,which is directed toward the state of happiness. She leads the soul tothe point at which it cannot be moved otherwise than in the direct ion of what is r i g h t , 5 9 infusing in us and communicating the courageous, exalted spirit of virtue young men of noble breeding oftenassume when they are so deeply stirred by the beauty of some honourable object as to despise the gifts of Chance. 6 0 Folly creepsupw ards toward wisdom, whereas wisdom does not revert to fo lly . 6 1No one who ever held fast to wisdom falls into u tter wickedness; toodeeply has he been infected with it for the possibility to arise of itsbeing washed away and taking on the hue of evi l . 6 2 Socrates

58 ib, CX.7.2-9;8;9.59 ib, XC.25-27 passim, XCIV.50.6-8.60 ib, LXXI.18.8-9;19.1-5.61 ib, LXXVI.19.7-8.62 De ben. , VII.XIX.6.5-8 and cf.5.6-7;6.1 ad loc. with reference tovirtue.3 0


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recalled all philosophy to ethics and declared that the height ofwisdom was distinguishing good from evil . 6 3 Spend your time withSocrates and Zeno, 6 4 advises Seneca. The former, if it be necessary,will show you how to die; the latter will show you how to die beforei t is necessary. Live with Chrysippus, 6 5 l ive wi th P os ido nius . 6 6They will acquaint you with things earthly and heavenly; they willtell you to busyyourself; not just to talk elegantly and throw wordsabout for the entertainment of an audience, but to toughen yourmind and raise i t above what threatens you. 6 7 For, though wisdoman d sh e alone can do so shows us how to avoid hatred and jealousy and scorn , 6 8 she bids us scorn Fortune's gifts. Leave off theinstruction, Seneca exhorts Lucilius, that by teaching fragmentsdebases and wearies the soul, and learn the precepts of the truephilosophers. Then you will become like the men who discoveredt h e m . 6 9

Wisdom will persuade us that the only good is that which ishonourab le 7 0 ; her kingdom is mighty and s ec ur e. 7 1 We should spendour time in study and among the masters of wisdom so as to learnwhat has been investigated, while investigating what has not beendiscovered yet. In this way the mind which must be loosed from itsutterly wretched bondage is set free. 7 2 There is but one really liberal study that which gives a man his liberty and this is thestudy of wisdom which is lofty, courageous and great-souled. 7 3 Noone can live a life that is happy or even supportable without thestudy of wisdom, a happy life being realized when one's wisdom isbrought to completion; and yet, a happy life is supportable evenwhen wisdom is incomplete. 7 4 W isdom's course is set for hap pin ess;she leads us and opens up pathways thither, shows us what is andwhat apparently is evil, divests our minds of vanity, bestows substantial greatness (Magnitudinem solidam) but represses what is63 Ep.,LXXI.7.1-3.64, 65, 66 Zeno, the founder; Chry sippus, the classifier; a nd Posi

donius, the m odernizer of the S toic philosophy.67 Ep., CIV.21.7-8;22.1-5.68 i b , XIV. 10.3-4 and co ntext.69 ib, LXXI.6.4-10 condensed and paraphrased.70 ib,LXXI.19.5-6.71 De ben., VII.X.6.5-6.72 Ep., CIV.16.1-4.73 ib, LXXXVIII.2.3-5.74 ib , X V I . l . l -4 .

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overblown and pretentious as the result of worthlessness and prevents our being igno rant of the difference between the g rea t and thepuffed u p . 7 5Instead of standing on the cliff-edge or the slippery terrain

where the opulent exist, a man should set his course for wisdom andseek her ways, ways of uncommon peace and plenty. Whatever inhuman affairs, no matter how petty it may be, has the appearance ofexaltedness, no matter how outstanding it seems to be comparedwith things of low degree, it is approached, nevertheless, by a hardand strenuous road. Rough is the path that leads to the pinnacle offame; but, if it please you to scale the height to which Fortune doesnot reach, you will surely see beneath you everything that isreckoned most exalted, yet you will gain the summit over levelg r o u n d . 7 6The real good does not perish; it is sure and durable; consistingof wisdom and virtue, it is the one immortal thing that falls to ourmorta l lo t . 7 7

75 ib.,XC.27.6;28.1-4.76 ib., LXXXIV. 12.3-7 par tly condensed and parap hrase d; 13.77 ib., XC VIII.9.5-6;10.1.32


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Virtue, thehighest good, and its attainabilityW isdom, it would seem, ha s not yet atta ined its goal. Philosophyof the scholastic sort has failed. The philosophers are a credulous setof peop le . 7 8 Who now attends their lectures? For lack of successorsthe many sects are dying out. The Academy, both old and new, hasnot one disciple left. W ho is th er e to set forth th e princip les of Pyrrho?ras cannot even f ind a master . 7 9 Y et, the dema nds upon philosophyare at the present time all the greater owing to the degeneracy ofthe age. In this situation doctrine is needed, something moredynamic than usual is desired to shake off long continued ills theapplication of major surgery to the conviction accepted by peoplewith regard to evil things. But, Seneca insists, we must bring precepts, consolations and encouragements to bear on doctrine, for byitself the latter cannot prevail. If we want folk bound over anddesire to tear them loose from the evils by which they are now heldfast, let them learn the nature of evil, let them learn the nature ofgood. Let them apprise themselves of the fact that everything exceptvirtue changes its name, becoming now good and now bad. As men'sfirst bond with the army is the oath of allegiance, their devotion tothe standards and the rule against desertion, then other things areexacted and enjoined when they have taken the oath, so is it in thecase of those whom you are guiding all the way to the happy life.First, the foundations mu st be laid and virtu e worked into them . Letthem be bound first by a sort of blind faith in it. This let them love.Let them be ready to live with it and relu ctan t to die without i t . 8 0

If we are to distinguish between one good and another, betweenwhich we should pray for and which we should avoid, let us go backto the first good and consider what its nature is. The soul that lookson tru th; th at setting its standard s of value according to Na ture, an dnot according to opinion, is skilled in what ought to be sought andwhat ought to be avoided; that penetrates the world in its entiretyand directs its contemplative gaze on all the world's phenomena,with strict attention to thoughts and deeds; the soul that is both78 NQ,VI.XXVI.2.13.79 ib, VII.XXXII.1.5-6;2.1-5.80 Ep. XCV.32.1-3;34;35.

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great and spirited, superior to hardships and to blandishments,yieldingto neither extreme of Fortune, rising above everything thatbefallsit oroccurs fortuitously; asoul th at ismost fairandperfectlyendowed with strength as well as grace; a soul that isheal thy andvigorous (siccus), unruffled and undismayed; that no hostile forcecan shatter andth at chance occurrences cannot elateor yet debase,sucha soulisvirtueitself. Tha tis how it looksif it should ever present itself toone's concentrated viewandonce show itself e n ti r e . 8 1

"Noman,however, isgoodbyaccident. Virtue is something thatmustbe learned . .."8 2 and th is means unlearn ing v ic e . 8 3 Toolsareof little value unless they are put to use; so is the virtuous desireifit lie torpid in the soul.As for those who lack training and experience,thereis nolimitto thedownhill course t ha t leadsto theboundless voidof which Epicurus speaks;8 4 if a man slackens in his zealand steadfast application in theslightest,he is certain to slip back;noone on the pa th of virtue can resume his progress at the pointwhere he left off.85 There are different levels different men havereached on virtue's road some hav egot so far but are still struggling in the toils of earthly entanglement . . . and some whohaveadvanced toward thehigher realmand raised themselvesto a loftierlevelare asgoodasfree,but notquite free as y e t . 8 6Philosophyandvirtue (as already stated)areinseparable8 7 andalike in having a contemplative or speculative and a practical or

active sideto them. Virtue isconcernedon its speculative side witht ru th ,and on its practical side with conduct. Training teaches contemplation and admonit ion teaches conduct .8 8 Virtue ispart t ra iningand part practice; onem ust first learn, th en by action reinforcewha t one has l e a r n e d .8 9 Here liberal studies are admissible, notbecause they are capable of bestowing virtue, but because they prepare the soul for receiving it; 9 0 and, like training in philosophy,theyareaidsto self-control .9 181 ib,L XVI.6.3-15;7.1-2.82 ib,CXXIII.16.2-3.83 ib,L.7.5.84 Deben., V.XXV.6.3-5,Ep. LXXII.9.5-6;10.1.85 Ep. LXXI.35.4-6.86 Devita beata, XVI.3.5-9,10-13.87 Ep. LXXXIX.8,X C.3.2-5.88 ib,XCV.10.4-5, XCIV.45.1-3.89 ib ,XC IV.47.4-6.90 ib,LX XXV III.20.1-8andcf.32.1-3.91 Decons,sap. XVII.3.6-9and seeprevious context.34


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"The highest good is a mind that. . .rejoices only in virtue," orthe mind's capacity to be unconquerable, wise from experience, calmin action, while showing great courtesy and consideration in itsintercourse wi th ot he rs . 9 2 It may also be defined by saying that thehappy man is the man who acknowledges no good and evil otherthan a good and evil mind, who cherishes honour, who is contentwith virtue. . .and whose life is characterized by the mental attitudethat counts virtue the only good and baseness the only evil. 9 3 Is itnot possible, it is asked of Seneca, that the happy life can beannulled? It cannot, he answ ers, even be relaxed, and t ha t is why, inand by itself, virtue suffices for it. 9 4 For the perfect man who hasacquired virtue is the clue to the idea of the happy life, a thingwholly und er its own control, flowing down its favoured c o u rs e . 9 5When you ask what it is, says Seneca, for the sake of which I

seek after virtue, you are making a mistake, for you are askingabout something that i s higher than the highes t . 9 6 "What shall Igain," you ask, "if I do something good?" "The gain of having doneit," Seneca replies. "That is your reward; you are promised nothingelse. Consider it an extra if any profit comes your way. The recompense for virtuous deeds lies in the deeds themselves. 9 7 Clearly thegreat reward for anything is in the thing itself."98 What is morebase than for anyone to calculate the price for which a man is good,seeing that virtue neither beckons us with gain nor scares us off onthe score of loss. . .We have to go to her with self-interest trampledunderfoot; wherever she has summoned us, wherever she sends us,we must go, no matter what the cost, even to the cost of our veryb l o o d . 9 9 The highest good consists in the choice of virtue itself, thevery attitude of a mind that has been made perfect. When, havingset its own bounds about itself, the mind has finished its course, thehighest good achieves its consummation and craves for nothinge l s e . 1 0 092 Seneca would appear to be quoting here without indicating hissource; or the quotation-marks may indicate his own directspeech.93 De vita beata, IV.2.5-7;3.3-4,6-7.94 Ep.,XCII.23.5-7.95 ib., CXX.11.8-9;12.1 and context.96 De vita beata, IX.4.1-3.97 De ben., IV .1.3.1-5.98 ib.,IV.XXII.2.1-2.99 ib.,IV.1.2.3-6,8-l l .

100 De vita beata, IX.3.1-5a.3 5


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W eare, adds Seneca, lacking in appreciation of heaven's gifts;theyare not, we say,always granted; theyare few;theyareinsecureand fleeting. On that accountwehavenot the will either to liveordie; are possessed by hatred of life and by the fear of death . Ourplansare all at sea andthere is noprosperity tha t isableto satisfyus, because we have not as yet attained that immeasurable andinsurmountable good whereour desires must calla halt, since thereisnoother place beyond wh at occupiestheh ighes t p l ac e . 1 0 1The highest good is immortal . . .has neither surfeit nor regret,for right reason could never alter nor does it loathe itself nor,compared with pleasure the nature of which is transitory, is it in anyway changed from lifeat itsb e s t . 1 0 2 The real good(asnoted)is theone immortal thing that falls to the lot ofm a n . 1 0 3 It isaccordinglythe best,not the most pleasant, life that the ancients have enjoined

onus top u r s u e .1 0 4

Let thehighest good, therefore, mo untup to theplace from which no power can drag it down, where there is noapproach for grief or hope or fear or for anything that can debasewhat belongsto it byright.Toth at place virtue onlycanascend; thissteep ascent mustbesurmountedby her stair. Shewill b ravely holdher ground and no matter what happens will endure it, not onlyresignedly,but even willingly; will know that every hardshipof thet imes is a decreeof Nature ,and, as the good soldier does, will bearup under her wounds, will tally up her scars and, as she falls,pierced through with missiles,shewill love him,her commander,onbehalf of whom she falls. She will be mindful of the well knownancient precept: Follow God. 1 0 5

For what safeguard would the mind have against sudden happenings, what expectation would it hold out to itself, if Fortuneshould turn out to be unerr ing vir tue 's loss? 1 0 6 If virtue alone isunperverted and alone holds to its uninterrupted way, it is alonegoodandnothingnow canhappen toprevent itsbeing s o . 1 0 7 Virtueitself doesnotdiminish or increase,but changes from oneaspecttoanother, having been fashioned to thenature ofwhat it is intendedto b r ing abou t . 1 0 8 It may range over a wide area, governing king-101 Ep. LXXIV.11;12.1.102 Devita beata, VII.4.1-7 condensed.103 Ep. XCVIII.9.5-6;10.1.104 Devita beata,VIII.1.3-4.105 ib,XV .5;6.1.106 Deben., III.XVIII.2.7-8;3.1.107 Ep. LXXVI.19.4-6.108 ib,L XV I.7.4,6-7;8.1.36


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doms, making laws, etc, or be retracted into quite restrictivebounds. Its size in consequence is, however, not affected; it is no lessgreat when it retires into itself and is hemmed in on every side, 1 0 9for, excess and defect being equally at fault, virtue is everywhere am e a n ; 1 1 0 i t i s nothing but r ight r e a so n . 1 1 1Every virtue and every work of virtue abides, according toNa t u re , unco r rup t ed . 1 1 2 A good can be lost only by chang ing in tow hat is bad. T hat a good should be lost by chan ging into w hat is badis contrary to Nature . Therefore virtue cannot be l o s t . 1 1 3

Fortune can snatch away only what she herself has given. Virtue, however, she does not give. She cannot, therefore, take it away.Virtu e is free, inviolable, unmoved . . . so steels herself ag ains tmisfortune that , far from being broken, she cannot even be bent. 1 1 4Virtue is i tself the stren gth an d source of everythin g that is g o o d . 1 1 5Good things are those with which virtue has been mingled, whilebase things are those connected with vice. 1 1 6 When virtue is addedto an yth ing , the latter tak es on a splendour it did no t possess before.We say th at a room is sunny , bu t it is not sunn y in the dar k. It is thesunshine that gives it light. It is the same as regards the manythings designated things indif ferent ; 1 1 7 wickedness gives them thenam e of evil; virtue gives th em the n am e of good. Nothing in its ownessence is, say, either hot or cold. The furnace makes it the one andcold water, when dropped into i t , the o t h e r . 1 1 8Virtue is sufficient unto itself; 1 1 9 it needs nothing to enhanceit. It is its own great glory and sanctifies th e body containing i t . 1 2 0It rejoices in w hat is present to it and does not covet wh at is n o t , 1 2 1

109 ib, LXXIV.28;29.1-3.110 De ben. II.XVI.2.3-5.111 Ep. LXVI.32.6-7.112 ib, LXXIV.24.4-5.113 ib, LXXIV.24.3-4.114 De cons.sap. V.4.9-12;5.1.115 Ep. LXXIV.25.3-4.116 i b , XX XI.5.6-7.117 Seneca's med iae t he Greek .118 Ep. LXXXII.13.3-4;14.1-9 somewhat condensed and paraphrased.119 De ira I.IX.1.2-3. Cf. E p , LXX IV.12.2.120 Ep. LXVI.2.4-5.121 ib,LXXIV.12.2-3.

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while it possesses the c apacity of filling th e place of w ha t is lost friends who have died and good children who give a father theanswer to his prayer, seeing that it was virtue that also made themg o o d . 1 2 2Those who suppose that there is anything better than, or any

thing that is good over and above virtue bare their breasts to whatF o r t u n e s c a t t e r s r o u n d a n d w a i t f o r h e r b o u q u e t s 1 2 3 a p prehensively. 1 2 4 We (Stoics) declare, emphasizes Seneca, that thethings furthered and brought about by virtue, that is to say, all herworks, are also good, but sheherself, for this reason, is the one andonly good, for without he r no good e x i s t s . 1 2 5What a fair and holy aspect would we see were we permitted tolook into the good man's soul, how radiant on account of its splendour and its peace, with justice, fortitude, temperance and soundjudgm ent shining on this side and on tha t Thrift, m oderation, con

stancy, generosity, affability and . . . love for his fellow-men wouldalso be shedding their glory on his soul; 1 2 6 because among all thevir tues a mutual fr iendship exis ts . 1 2 7Justice, integrity, good judgment, courage and temperance aregoods which are possessions of one mind. The pleasure that any ofthese ha s afforded you is the pleasu re the mind a ff o rd s. 1 2 8 Thevir tues are by nature equal , 1 2 9 being in harmony and none of thembetter or nobler than another, although certain virtues, according tocircumstances, are more suited to certain people. Magnanimity, forinstance, is the virtue which, irrespective of social status, is commonto all men. Yet, it has better scope with fortune in its favour and isseen to advantage better in a person of exalted than in one of humb l e r a n k . 1 3 0Some virtues need the spur, while others need the rein, according as they tend to follow the downward or upward path, as in thecase of patience, fortitude and perseverance that mount up, on the

122 i b , LXX IV.24.6-8;25,1.123 Presents thrown amongst the people by the Emperor.124 Ep.,L XXIV .6.4-6;7.1.125 ib,L XX VI.16.5-7;17.1.126 ib, CXV.3.1-8.127 ib,CIX.10.1-2.128 De ben., IV.VIII.3.7-10.129 Ep.,LXVI.29.1.130 De clem., I.V.3.3 8


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one hand, struggling against hardship and overcoming Fortune; andgenerosity, moderation and kindness, on the other. 1 3 1The memory of great virtues is held sacred, and more people

take pleasure in being good, if the esteem in which good men areheld does not die along with t h e m . 1 3 2What is the chief consideration so far as virtue is concerned? Tohave no need of the future and not count up its days. It brings thegood that lasts forever to fruition in the shortest time possible. 1 3 3 Ifyou seize hold of the greatest good which comprises the qualitiesthat derive from knowledge of the creation and from the art enabling us to understand things

tenets of stoicism - timothy

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