On Providence
De Providentia
Headnote
On Providence is the shortest of Seneca’s dialogues and, in the manuscript tradition, the first — the opening book of the collected Dialogi. It answers a single question, put by the same Lucilius who receives the Moral Letters and the Natural Questions: why, if the world is governed by providence, do so many evils befall good men? Seneca declines the large metaphysical proof that providence exists — he grants it as already conceded, since Lucilius “does not doubt providence, but complains of it” — and instead pleads the narrower brief he calls “the cause of the gods.” The work is usually dated to Seneca’s last years, around AD 62–64, in the retirement after his withdrawal from Nero’s court, and its argument that adversity is the training-ground of virtue reads against that biographical background; within two or three years its author would be ordered to take his own life.
The answer unfolds as a chain of Stoic theses. The apparent evils that strike good men are not evils at all: nothing truly bad can touch a good man, because the good is internal and invulnerable, and the sage “draws whatever happens into his own color.” Hardship is the divine father’s discipline, not a mother’s indulgence — god “does not keep the good man in soft pleasures; he tries him, hardens him, makes him ready for himself.” Adversity is the adversary virtue needs, as the athlete needs an opponent and the soldier a war; fortune, like a gladiator, disdains easy matches and “seeks the bravest as her matches.” The catalogue of exempla that follows is the heart of the piece: Mucius and his burned hand, Fabricius at his frugal hearth, Rutilius preferring exile to a tainted recall, Regulus on the cross, Socrates draining the hemlock, and above all Cato at Utica — “a spectacle worthy for god to look upon” — set against the luxurious wretchedness of a Maecenas. From these Seneca draws the further claims that suffering is for the sufferer’s own good (as the surgeon’s knife is), that it is fated and inseparable from a great nature, and that the wise man assents to fate freely rather than being dragged by it.
Two features mark the dialogue’s manner. The first is its diatribe structure: Seneca voices the objector’s complaints (“Why do many adversities befall good men?”) and answers them in turn, building to the long closing prosopopoeia in which god himself speaks, explaining that he has armed good men’s spirits against every blow and, above all, has made nothing easier than death — “the way out lies open.” That speech, with its serene insistence that the door is always open, is among the most quoted passages in Seneca and reads, in hindsight, as a rehearsal for his own end. The second is the use of quoted verse: at the climax Seneca cites Ovid’s account of Phaethon and the Sun-god’s chariot (Metamorphoses 2) to picture virtue’s perilous ascent — “it is for the lowly and the inert to follow what is safe: virtue goes by the heights.”
You have asked me, Lucilius, why, if the world is governed by providence, so many evils befall good men. This would be more conveniently answered within the connected fabric of a larger work, where we should prove that providence presides over the universe and that god is concerned with us; but since it pleases you to tear off a particular from the whole, and to resolve a single point of contention while the larger dispute stands untouched, I shall do an easy thing — I shall plead the cause of the gods.
Quaesisti a me, Lucili, quid ita, si prouidentia mundus ageretur, multa bonis uiris mala acciderent. Hoc commodius in contextu operis redderetur, cum praeesse uniuersis prouidentiam probaremus et interesse nobis deum; sed quoniam a toto particulam reuelli placet et unam contradictionem manente lite integra soluere, faciam rem non difficilem, causam deorum agam.
It is needless for the present to show that so great a work does not stand without some guardian; that this gathering and coursing of the stars is no impulse of chance; that what mere accident sets in motion is often thrown into confusion and quickly collides, whereas this unhindered speed proceeds under the command of an eternal law, bearing along so many things by land and sea, so many of the brightest luminaries shining out by appointed order; that this order is not the work of wandering matter, and that things which came together at random do not hang in such great art that the heaviest mass of the earth sits unmoved and watches the flight of a sky hurrying about it, that the seas poured into the valleys soften the lands and feel no increase from the rivers, that out of the smallest seeds vast things are born.
Superuacuum est in praesentia ostendere non sine aliquo custode tantum opus stare nec hunc siderum coetum discursumque fortuiti impetus esse, et quae casus incitat saepe turbari et cito arietare, hanc inoffensam uelocita tem procedere aeternae legis imperio tantum rerum terra marique gestantem, tantum clarissimorum luminum et ex disposito relucentium; non esse materiae errantis hunc ordinem nec quae temere coierunt tanta arte pendere ut terrarum grauissimum pondus sedeat inmotum et circa se properantis caeli fugam spectet, ut infusa uallibus maria molliant terras nec ullum incrementum fluminum sentiant, ut ex minimis seminibus nascantur ingentia.
Not even those things which seem confused and uncertain — I mean the rains and the clouds, the strokes of clashing thunderbolts, the fires poured out from the burst summits of mountains, the tremors of the slipping soil, and the rest that the tumultuous part of nature stirs about the earth — happen, however sudden they are, without reason; they too have their own causes, no less than the things that, seen in foreign places, are wondered at as miracles: hot waters in the midst of the waves, and the new expanses of islands leaping up in the vast sea.
Ne illa quidem quae uidentur confusa et incerta, pluuias dico nubesque et elisorum fulminum iactus et incendia ruptis montium uerticibus effusa, tremores labantis soli aliaque quae tumultuosa pars rerum circa terras mouet, sine ratione, quamuis subita sint, accidunt, sed suas et illa causas habent non minus quam quae alienis locis conspecta miraculo sunt, ut in mediis fluctibus calentes aquae et noua insularum in uasto exilientium mari spatia.
And indeed, if anyone observes the shores laid bare as the sea recedes into itself, and the same shores covered again within a brief time, he will believe that by some blind rolling the waves are now drawn in and driven inward, now burst forth and seek their seat again in a great rush — when all the while they grow by portions and, at their hour and day, come up larger and smaller, just as the lunar star has drawn them, at whose bidding the ocean overflows. But let these things be reserved for their own time — the more so because you do not doubt providence, but complain of it.
Iam uero si quis obseruauerit nudari litora pelago in se recedente eademque intra exiguum tempus operiri, credet caeca quadam uolutatione modo contrahi undas et introrsum agi, modo erumpere et magno cursu repetere sedem suam, cum interim illae portionibus crescunt et ad horam ac diem subeunt ampliores minoresque, prout illas lunare sidus elicuit, ad cuius arbitrium oceanus exundat. Suo ista tempori reseruentur, eo quidem magis quod tu non dubitas de prouidentia sed quereris.
I will bring you back into favor with the gods, who are best toward the best. For the nature of things does not suffer that good should ever harm the good: between good men and the gods there is a friendship, with virtue as the reconciler. Friendship, do I say? Rather a kinship and a likeness — since indeed a good man differs from god only in time, being his disciple and emulator and true offspring, whom that magnificent parent, no soft exactor of virtues, brings up the more harshly, after the manner of stern fathers.
In gratiam te reducam cum dis aduersus optimos optimis. Neque enim rerum natura patitur ut umquam bona bonis noceant; inter bonos uiros ac deos amicitia est conciliante uirtute. Amicitiam dico? immo etiam necessitudo et similitudo, quoniam quidem bonus tempore tantum a deo differt, discipulus eius aemulatorque et uera progenies, quam parens ille magnificus, uirtutum non lenis exactor, sicut seueri patres, durius educat.
And so when you see good men, dear to the gods, toiling, sweating, climbing the steep road, while the wicked run wanton and overflow with pleasures, reflect that we take delight in the modesty of our sons but in the license of the home-born slaves’ children; that the former are held in by a sterner discipline, while the others’ boldness is fed. Let the same be clear to you concerning god: he does not keep the good man in soft pleasures; he tries him, hardens him, makes him ready for himself.
Itaque cum uideris bonos uiros acceptosque dis laborare sudare, per arduum escendere, malos autem lasciuire et uoluptatibus fluere, cogita filiorum nos modestia delectari, uernularum licentia, illos disciplina tristiori contineri, horum ali audaciam. Idem tibi de deo liqueat: bonum uirum in deliciis non habet, experitur indurat, sibi illum parat.
“Why do many adversities befall good men?” Nothing evil can befall a good man: opposites do not mix. As so many rivers, so much rain hurled down from above, so great a force of medicinal springs do not change the savor of the sea, do not even dilute it, so the onset of adverse things does not turn the spirit of a brave man: he stays in his state, and whatever happens he draws into his own color; for he is mightier than all things outward.
’Quare multa bonis uiris aduersa eueniunt?’ Nihil accidere bono uiro mali potest: non miscentur contraria. Quemadmodum tot amnes, tantum superne deiectorum imbrium, tanta medicatorum uis fontium non mutant saporem maris, ne remittunt quidem, ita aduersarum impetus rerum uiri fortis non uertit animum: manet in statu et quidquid euenit in suum colorem trahit; est enim omnibus externis potentior.
Nor do I say that he does not feel them, but that he conquers them, and, otherwise quiet and calm, he rises up against whatever assails him. He counts all adversities as exercises. Who, that is a man and erect toward the honorable, is not eager for just labor and prompt to his duties even with danger? To what industrious man is leisure not a punishment?
Nec hoc dico, non sentit illa, sed uincit, et alioqui quietus placidusque contra incurrentia attollitur. Omnia aduersa exercitationes putat. Quis autem, uir modo et erectus ad honesta, non est laboris adpetens iusti et ad officia cum periculo promptus? Cui non industrio otium poena est?
We see athletes, whose care is for their strength, grappling with all the strongest, and demanding of those by whom they are prepared for the contest that they use their whole force against them; they suffer themselves to be struck and harassed, and, if they do not find single opponents to match them, they take on several at once.
Athletas uidemus, quibus uirium cura est, cum fortissimis quibusque confligere et exigere ab iis per quos certamini praeparantur ut totis contra ipsos uiribus utantur; caedi se uexarique patiuntur et, si non inueniunt singulos pares, pluribus simul obiciuntur.
Virtue withers without an adversary: then it appears how great it is and how much it avails, when it shows by endurance what it can do. Know that the same must be done by good men: that they should not shrink from hard and difficult things, nor complain of fate; that whatever happens, they take it for good and turn it to good. It is not what you bear but how you bear it that matters.
Marcet sine aduersario uirtus: tunc apparet quanta sit quantumque polleat, cum quid possit patientia ostendit. Scias licet idem uiris bonis esse faciendum, ut dura ac difficilia non reformident nec de fato querantur, quidquid accidit boni consulant, in bonum uertant; non quid sed quemadmodum feras interest.
Do you not see how differently fathers, how differently mothers, show their fondness? Fathers bid their children be roused early to go about their studies; even on holidays they do not suffer them to be idle, and wring sweat and sometimes tears from them. But mothers want to cherish them in their bosom, to keep them in the shade, never to be saddened, never to weep, never to toil.
Non uides quanto aliter patres, aliter matres indulgeant? illi excitari iubent liberos ad studia obeunda mature, feriatis quoque diebus non patiuntur esse otiosos, et sudorem illis et interdum lacrimas excutiunt; at matres fouere in sinu, continere in umbra uolunt, numquam contristari, numquam flere, numquam laborare.
God bears a father’s mind toward good men, and loves them strongly, and says: “Let them be harried by labors, pains, and losses, that they may gather true strength.” Fatted bodies grow sluggish through inaction, and fail not only under labor but under movement and the very weight of themselves. Unblemished happiness can bear no blow; but he who has had a constant brawl with his own troubles has grown a callus through injuries, and yields to no evil, but, even if he has fallen, fights on from his knee.
Patrium deus habet aduersus bonos uiros animum et illos fortiter amat et ’operibus’ inquit ’doloribus damnis exagitentur, ut uerum colligant robur.’ Languent per inertiam saginata nec labore tantum sed motu et ipso sui onere deficiunt. Non fert ullum ictum inlaesa felicitas; at cui adsidua fuit cum incommodis suis rixa, callum per iniurias duxit nec ulli malo cedit, sed etiam si cecidit de genu pugnat.
Do you wonder if that god, most loving of the good, who wishes them to be as good and excellent as possible, assigns them a fortune with which to be exercised? For my part I do not wonder if the gods sometimes take an impulse to watch great men struggling with some calamity.
Miraris tu, si deus ille bonorum amantissimus, qui illos quam optimos esse atque excellentissimos uult, fortunam illis cum qua exerceantur adsignat? Ego uero non miror, si aliquando impetum capiunt spectandi magnos uiros conluctantis cum aliqua calamitate.
To us there is sometimes a pleasure if a young man of steadfast spirit has met a charging beast with his hunting-spear, if undaunted he has borne the onset of a lion; and the spectacle is the more pleasing the more honorable the man who did it. These are not the things that could turn the gods’ gaze upon themselves — childish things, and the amusements of human frivolity:
Nobis interdum uoluptati est, si adulescens constantis animi inruentem feram uenabulo excepit, si leonis incursum interritus pertulit, tantoque hoc spectaculum est gratius quanto id honestior fecit. Non sunt ista quae possint deorum in se uultum conuertere, puerilia et humanae oblectamenta leuitatis:
behold a spectacle worthy for god to look upon, intent on his own work; behold a match worthy of god — a brave man matched against bad fortune, especially if he has also challenged it. I do not see, I say, what Jupiter has on earth more beautiful, if he should wish to turn his mind that way, than to watch Cato, after his party had more than once been broken, standing none the less upright amid the public ruins.
ecce spectaculum dignum ad quod respiciat intentus operi suo deus, ecce par deo dignum, uir fortis cum fortuna mala compositus, utique si et prouocauit. Non uideo, inquam, quid habeat in terris Iuppiter pulchrius, si ‹eo› conuertere animum uelit, quam ut spectet Catonem iam partibus non semel fractis stantem nihilo minus inter ruinas publicas rectum.
“Though all things,” he says, “have passed into the dominion of one man, though the lands are guarded by legions, the seas by fleets, though Caesar’s soldier besiege the gates, Cato has a way out: with one hand he will make a broad road to liberty. This sword, kept pure and harmless even in civil war, shall at last do good and noble service: the liberty it could not give to the country, it shall give to Cato. Set to, my soul, the work long pondered; tear yourself from human affairs. Already Petreius and Juba have run together and lie slain, each by the other’s hand — a brave and notable compact of fate, but one that would not befit our greatness: it is as base for Cato to ask death from any man as to ask life.”
’Licet’ inquit ’omnia in unius dicionem concesserint, custodiantur legionibus terrae, classibus maria, Caesarianus portas miles obsideat, Cato qua exeat habet: una manu latam libertati uiam faciet. Ferrum istud, etiam ciuili bello purum et innoxium, bonas tandem ac nobiles edet operas: libertatem quam patriae non potuit Catoni dabit. Aggredere, anime, diu meditatum opus, eripe te rebus humanis. Iam Petreius et Iuba concucurrerunt iacentque alter alterius manu caesi, fortis et egregia fati conuentio, sed quae non deceat magnitudinem nostram: tam turpe est Catoni mortem ab ullo petere quam uitam.’
It is clear to me that the gods watched with great joy while that man, the fiercest avenger of himself, took thought for the safety of others and arranged the escape of those departing; while he plied his studies even on his last night; while he drove the sword into his sacred breast; while he scattered his entrails and drew out with his hand that most holy soul, too worthy to be defiled by steel.
Liquet mihi cum magno spectasse gaudio deos, dum ille uir, acerrimus sui uindex, alienae saluti consulit et instruit discedentium fugam, dum studia etiam nocte ultima tractat, dum gladium sacro pectori infigit, dum uiscera spargit et illam sanctissimam animam indignamque quae ferro contaminaretur manu educit.
From this I should believe the wound was made too little sure and effective: it was not enough for the immortal gods to look upon Cato once; his virtue was held back and called again, that it might show itself in a harder part; for death is not entered upon with so great a spirit as it is sought again. Why should they not gladly watch their nursling making his exit by so bright and memorable an end? Death consecrates those whose exit even they who fear it praise.
Inde crediderim fuisse parum certum et efficax uulnus: non fuit dis inmortalibus satis spectare Catonem semel; retenta ac reuocata uirtus est ut in difficiliore parte se ostenderet; non enim tam magno animo mors initur quam repetitur. Quidni libenter spectarent alumnum suum tam claro ac memorabili exitu euadentem? mors illos consecrat quorum exitum et qui timent laudant.
But now, as my discourse advances, I shall show how the things that seem evils are not so. For the present I say this: that what you call harsh, what you call adverse and to be abhorred, is, first, for the good of the very men to whom it happens; next, for the good of all, of whom the gods have more care than of single men; after this, that it befalls the willing, and that they deserve the evil if they are unwilling. To these I will add that these things go so by fate, and befall the good by the same law by which they are good. I will then persuade you never to pity a good man; for he can be called wretched, he cannot be wretched.
Sed iam procedente oratione ostendam quam non sint quae uidentur mala: nunc illud dico, ista quae tu uocas aspera, quae aduersa et abominanda, primum pro ipsis esse quibus accidunt, deinde pro uniuersis, quorum maior dis cura quam singulorum est, post hoc uolentibus accidere ac dignos malo esse si nolint. His adiciam fato ista sic ire et eadem lege bonis euenire qua sunt boni. Persuadebo deinde tibi ne umquam boni uiri miserearis; potest enim miser dici, non potest esse.
Of all the points I have set out, the hardest seems the one I named first: that the things we shudder and tremble at are for the good of the very men to whom they come. “Is it for his good,” you say, “to be cast into exile, brought down to want, to bury children and wife, to be branded with disgrace, to be crippled?” If you wonder that these are for anyone’s good, you will wonder that some men are cured by knife and fire, and no less by hunger and thirst. But if you reflect that for the sake of a cure some men have their bones scraped and drawn out, their veins extracted, and certain limbs amputated that could not cling on without the ruin of the whole body, you will let this too be proved to you: that certain troubles are for the good of those to whom they come — just as, by Hercules, certain things that are praised and sought after are against those whom they have pleased, very like surfeits and drunkennesses and the rest of the things that kill through pleasure.
Difficillimum ex omnibus quae proposui uidetur quod primum dixi, pro ipsis esse quibus eueniunt ista quae horremus ac tremimus. ’Pro ipsis est’ inquis ’in exilium proici, in egestatem deduci, liberos coniugem ecferre, ignominia adfici, debilitari?’ Si miraris haec pro aliquo esse, miraberis quosdam ferro et igne curari, nec minus fame ac siti. Sed si cogitaueris tecum remedii causa quibusdam et radi ossa et legi et extrahi uenas et quaedam amputari membra quae sine totius pernicie corporis haerere non poterant, hoc quoque patieris probari tibi, quaedam incommoda pro iis esse quibus accidunt, tam mehercules quam quaedam quae laudantur atque adpetuntur contra eos esse quos delectauerunt, simillima cruditatibus ebrietatibusque et ceteris quae necant per uoluptatem.
Among the many splendid sayings of our Demetrius is this one too, which is fresh in me; it still sounds and vibrates in my ears: “Nothing,” he said, “seems to me more unhappy than the man to whom nothing adverse has ever happened.” For he has not been allowed to test himself. Though all things have flowed for him according to his wish — nay, before his wish — still the gods have judged ill of him: he was deemed unworthy ever to overcome fortune, which flees from every coward, as though it said: “What then? Shall I take this man for my adversary? At once he will lower his arms; against him my whole power is not needed, he will be driven off by a slight threat, he cannot bear the sight of my face. Let another be looked out with whom I may join hands: I am ashamed to engage with a man ready to be beaten.”
Inter multa magnifica Demetri nostri et haec uox est, a qua recens sum; sonat adhuc et uibrat in auribus meis: ’nihil’ inquit ’mihi uidetur infelicius eo cui nihil umquam euenit aduersi.’ Non licuit enim illi se experiri. Vt ex uoto illi fluxerint omnia, ut ante uotum, male tamen de illo di iudicauerunt: indignus uisus est a quo uinceretur aliquando fortuna, quae ignauissimum quemque refugit, quasi dicat: ’quid ergo? istum mihi aduersarium adsumam? Statim arma summittet; non opus est in illum tota potentia mea, leui comminatione pelletur, non potest sustinere uultum meum. Alius circumspiciatur cum quo conferre possimus manum: pudet congredi cum homine uinci parato.
A gladiator counts it a disgrace to be matched with an inferior, and knows that he is conquered without glory who is conquered without danger. Fortune does the same: she seeks the bravest as her matches, and passes some by in disdain. She attacks the most defiant and most upright, against whom she may strain her force: she tries fire on Mucius, poverty on Fabricius, exile on Rutilius, torture on Regulus, poison on Socrates, death on Cato. Only ill fortune finds a great example.
’ Ignominiam iudicat gladiator cum inferiore componi et scit eum sine gloria uinci qui sine periculo uincitur. Idem facit fortuna: fortissimos sibi pares quaerit, quosdam fastidio transit. Contumacissimum quemque et rectissimum adgreditur, aduersus quem uim suam intendat: ignem experitur in Mucio, paupertatem in Fabricio, exilium in Rutilio, tormenta in Regulo, uenenum in Socrate, mortem in Catone. Magnum exemplum nisi mala fortuna non inuenit.
Is Mucius unhappy because he grips the enemies’ fires with his right hand and exacts from himself the penalty of his own mistake? because, with a hand burned away, he routs the king whom armed he could not? What then? Would he be happier if he were warming his hand in a sweetheart’s bosom?
Infelix est Mucius quod dextra ignes hostium premit et ipse a se exigit erroris sui poenas, quod regem quem armata manu non potuit exusta fugat? Quid ergo? felicior esset, si in sinu amicae foueret manum?
Is Fabricius unhappy because he digs his own field whenever he is free from the commonwealth? because he wages war on riches as much as on Pyrrhus? because at his hearth he dines on those very roots and herbs which, an old triumphant general, he plucked in clearing his land? What then? Would he be happier if he were heaping into his belly the fish of a far-off shore and foreign fowl, if with the shellfish of the upper and the lower sea he were rousing the sluggishness of a nauseated stomach, if with a huge pile of fruit he were ringing about first-rate game taken at the cost of many a hunter’s slaughter?
Infelix est Fabricius quod rus suum, quantum a re publica uacauit, fodit? quod bellum tam cum Pyrrho quam cum diuitiis gerit? quod ad focum cenat illas ipsas radices et herbas quas in repurgando agro triumphalis senex uulsit? Quid ergo? felicior esset, si in uentrem suum longinqui litoris pisces et peregrina aucupia congereret, si conchyliis superi atque inferi maris pigritiam stomachi nausiantis erigeret, si ingenti pomorum strue cingeret primae formae feras, captas multa caede uenantium?
Is Rutilius unhappy because those who condemned him will plead their case to all the ages? because he bore being torn from his country with a more even mind than he bore his own exile? because he alone refused the dictator Sulla something, and, recalled, all but went backward and fled farther off? “Let those men see to it,” he says, “whom your good fortune has caught at Rome: let them see the lavish blood in the forum and, above the Servilian lake (for that is the stripping-place of the Sullan proscription), the heads of senators, and the herds of cutthroats wandering at large through the city, and the many thousands of Roman citizens butchered in one place after a pledge — nay, by the very pledge: let those see these things who cannot go into exile.”
Infelix est Rutilius quod qui illum damnauerunt cau sam dicent omnibus saeculis? quod aequiore animo passus est se patriae eripi quam sibi exilium? quod Sullae dictatori solus aliquid negauit et reuocatus tantum non retro cessit et longius fugit? ’Viderint’ inquit ’isti quos Romae deprehendit felicitas tua: uideant largum in foro sanguinem et supra Seruilianum lacum (id enim proscriptionis Sullanae spoliarium est) senatorum capita et passim uagantis per urbem percussorum greges et multa milia ciuium Romanorum uno loco post fidem, immo per ipsam fidem trucidata; uideant ista qui exulare non possunt.’
What then? Is Lucius Sulla happy because, when he goes down to the forum, a way is cleared for him with the sword; because he suffers the heads of consular men to be displayed to him, and counts out the price of the slaughter through his quaestor and the public registers? And all this is done by that man, that very man who carried the Cornelian law.
Quid ergo? felix est L. Sulla quod illi descendenti ad forum gladio summouetur, quod capita sibi consularium uirorum patitur ostendi et pretium caedis per quaestorem ac tabulas publicas numerat? Et haec omnia facit ille, ille qui legem Corneliam tulit.
Let us come to Regulus: what did fortune harm him by making him a document of fidelity, a document of endurance? Nails pierce his skin, and wherever he leans his wearied body, he lies upon a wound; his eyes are fixed open in perpetual sleeplessness: the more torment, the more glory there will be. Do you wish to know how little he repents of having valued virtue at this price? Free him from the cross and send him to the senate: he will pronounce the same opinion.
Veniamus ad Regulum: quid illi fortuna nocuit quod illum documentum fidei, documentum patientiae fecit? Figunt cutem claui et quocumque fatigatum corpus reclinauit, uulneri incumbit; in perpetuam uigiliam suspensa sunt lumina: quanto plus tormenti tanto plus erit gloriae. Vis scire quam non paeniteat hoc pretio aestimasse uirtutem? refige illum et mitte in senatum: eandem sententiam dicet.
Do you then think Maecenas happier, who, anxious in his loves and weeping over the daily divorces of a peevish wife, seeks sleep by the music of symphonies softly resounding from far off? Though he drug himself with unmixed wine, and divert himself with the noise of falling waters, and beguile his anxious mind with a thousand pleasures, he will lie as wakeful upon his down as that man upon his cross; but for the one there is the consolation of bearing hard things for the sake of the honorable, and he looks from his endurance to its cause, while the other, limp with pleasures and laboring under too much happiness, is vexed more by the cause of his suffering than by the things he suffers.
Feliciorem ergo tu Maecenatem putas, cui amoribus anxio et morosae uxoris cotidiana repudia deflenti somnus per symphoniarum cantum ex longinquo lene resonantium quaeritur? Mero se licet sopiat et aquarum fragoribus auocet et mille uoluptatibus mentem anxiam fallat, tam uigilabit in pluma quam ille in cruce; sed illi solacium est pro honesto dura tolerare et ad causam a patientia respicit, hunc uoluptatibus marcidum et felicitate nimia laborantem magis iis quae patitur uexat causa patiendi.
Vices have not so far come into possession of the human race that there is any doubt whether, if the choice of fate were given, more men would wish to be born Reguluses than Maecenases; or, if there be anyone who dares to say that he would rather be born Maecenas than Regulus, that same man, though he keep silent, would rather be born Terentia.
Non usque eo in possessionem generis humani uitia uenerunt ut dubium sit an electione fati data plures nasci Reguli quam Maecenates uelint; aut si quis fuerit qui audeat dicere Maecenatem se quam Regulum nasci maluisse, idem iste, taceat licet, nasci se Terentiam maluit.
Do you judge that Socrates was ill-used because he drank down that publicly mixed potion no otherwise than a draught of immortality, and disputed about death right up to death itself? Was he ill-dealt-with because his blood was frozen and, as the cold gradually crept on, the vigor of his veins came to a stop?
Male tractatum Socratem iudicas quod illam potionem publice mixtam non aliter quam medicamentum inmortalitatis obduxit et de morte disputauit usque ad ipsam? Male cum illo actum est quod gelatus est sanguis ac paulatim frigore inducto uenarum uigor constitit?
How much more is this man to be envied than those who are served in jewel-cups, for whom a catamite trained to endure anything, of cut or doubtful manhood, dilutes the snow hung in gold! These will measure back again whatever they have drunk by vomiting, glum and tasting their own bile, while he will drain the poison glad and willing.
Quanto magis huic inuidendum est quam illis quibus gemma ministratur, quibus exoletus omnia pati doctus exsectae uirilitatis aut dubiae suspensam auro niuem diluit! Hi quidquid biberunt uomitu remetientur tristes et bilem suam regustantes, at ille uenenum laetus et libens hauriet.
As for what concerns Cato, enough has been said, and the consent of mankind will confess that the highest happiness fell to him whom the nature of things chose for herself as the one with whom to dash the things to be feared. “The enmities of the powerful are heavy: let him be set at once against Pompey, Caesar, and Crassus. It is heavy to be outranked in honor by inferiors: let him be ranked below Vatinius. It is heavy to take part in civil wars: let him soldier through the whole world for a good cause, as unluckily as he is stubbornly. It is heavy to lay hands on oneself: let him do it. What shall I gain by these things? That all may know these are not evils, of which I judged Cato worthy.”
Quod ad Catonem pertinet, satis dictum est, summamque illi felicitatem contigisse consensus hominum fatebitur, quem sibi rerum natura delegit cum quo metuenda conlideret. ’Inimicitiae potentium graues sunt: opponatur simul Pompeio, Caesari, Crasso. Graue est a deterioribus honore anteiri: Vatinio postferatur. Graue est ciuilibus bellis interesse: toto terrarum orbe pro causa bona tam infeliciter quam pertinaciter militet. Graue est manus sibi adferre: faciat. Quid per haec consequar? ut omnes sciant non esse haec mala quibus ego dignum Catonem putaui.’
Prosperous things come even to the common people and to cheap natures; but to send under the yoke the calamities and terrors of mortals is the proper mark of a great man. To be always happy, however, and to pass through life without a bite to the spirit, is to be ignorant of the other half of the nature of things.
Prosperae res et in plebem ac uilia ingenia deueniunt; at calamitates terroresque mortalium sub iugum mittereproprium magni uiri est. Semper uero esse felicem et sine morsu animi transire uitam ignorare est rerum naturae alteram partem.
You are a great man: but how do I know it, if fortune gives you no opportunity of displaying your virtue? You have gone down to the Olympic games, but no one else has: you have the crown, you do not have the victory. I do not congratulate you as a brave man, but as one who has gained a consulship or a praetorship: you are increased in honor.
Magnus uir es: sed unde scio, si tibi fortuna non dat facultatem exhibendae uirtutis? Descendisti ad Olympia, sed nemo praeter te: coronam habes, uictoriam non habes; non gratulor tamquam uiro forti, sed tamquam consulatum praeturamue adepto: honore auctus es.
The same I can say to a good man, if a more difficult lot has given him no occasion in which to show the force of his spirit: “I judge you wretched, because you have never been wretched. You have passed through life without an adversary; no one will know what you could do, not even you yourself.” For to the knowledge of oneself there is need of a test; what each man could do, he has not learned except by trying. And so some men have offered themselves of their own accord to evils that hung back, and have sought an occasion for a virtue that was going to pass into obscurity, an occasion through which it might shine out.
Idem dicere et bono uiro possum, si illi nullam occasionem difficilior casus dedit in qua [una] uim animi sui ostenderet: ’miserum te iudico, quod numquam fuisti miser. Transisti sine aduersario uitam; nemo sciet quid potueris, ne tu quidem ipse.’ Opus est enim ad notitiam sui experimento; quid quisque posset nisi temptando non didicit. Itaque quidam ipsi ultro se cessantibus malis optulerunt et uirtuti iturae in obscurum occasionem per quam enitesceret quaesierunt.
Great men, I say, rejoice sometimes in adverse things, no otherwise than brave soldiers in war. I once heard a gladiator named Triumphus, under Tiberius Caesar, complaining of the scarcity of shows: “What a fine age,” he said, “is passing away!” Virtue is greedy of danger, and thinks of where it is going, not of what it is to suffer, since even what it is to suffer is a part of glory. Military men glory in their wounds, and joyfully display the blood that flows by the better chance: though they have done the same who return whole from the battle-line, the one who comes back wounded is more looked at.
Gaudent, inquam, magni uiri aliquando rebusaduersis, non aliter quam fortes milites bello; Triumphum ego murmillonem sub Ti. Caesare de raritate munerum audiui querentem: ’quam bella’ inquit ’aetas perit!’ Auida est periculi uirtus et quo tendat, non quid passura sit cogitat, quoniam etiam quod passura est gloriae pars est. Militares uiri gloriantur uulneribus, laeti fluentem meliori casu sanguinem ostentant: idem licet fecerint qui integri reuertuntur ex acie, magis spectatur qui saucius redit.
God himself, I say, takes thought for those whom he wishes to be as honorable as possible, as often as he gives them matter for doing something with spirit and bravery; and for this there is need of some difficulty of circumstance. You may judge the pilot in a storm, the soldier in the battle-line. Whence can I know how great a spirit you have against poverty, if you overflow with riches? Whence can I know how much steadfastness you have against disgrace and infamy and the people’s hatred, if you grow old amid applause, if a favor unconquerable and prone toward you by a certain bent of men’s minds attends you? Whence do I know with how even a mind you would bear the loss of children, if you see all whom you have begotten? I have heard you when you were consoling others: then I should have looked at you, if you had consoled yourself, if you had forbidden yourself to grieve.
Ipsis, inquam, deus consulit quos esse quam honestissimos cupit, quotiens illis materiam praebet aliquid animose fortiterque faciendi, ad quam rem opus est aliqua rerum difficultate: gubernatorem in tempestate, in acie militem intellegas. Vnde possum scire quantum aduersus paupertatem tibi animi sit, si diuitiis diffluis? Vnde possum scire quantum aduersus ignominiam et infamiam odiumque populare constantiae habeas, si inter plausus senescis, si te inexpugnabilis et inclinatione quadam mentium pronus fauor sequitur? Vnde scio quam aequo animo laturus sis orbitatem, si quoscumque sustulisti uides? Audiui te, cum alios consolareris: tunc conspexissem, si te ipse consolatus esses, si te ipse dolere uetuisses.
Do not, I beseech you, take fright at those things which the immortal gods apply to our spirits like goads: calamity is virtue’s occasion. Those a man might rightly call wretched who grow numb in too much happiness, whom, as in a sluggish sea, an idle calm holds fast: whatever befalls them will come as something new.
Nolite, obsecro uos, expauescere ista quae di inmortales uelut stimulos admouent animis: calamitas uirtutis occasio est. Illos merito quis dixerit miseros qui nimia felicitate torpescunt, quos uelut in mari lento tranquillitas iners detinet: quidquid illis inciderit, nouum ueniet.
Cruel things press harder on the inexperienced; the yoke is heavy on a tender neck; at the mere suspicion of a wound the recruit grows pale, while the veteran boldly looks upon his own blood, knowing that he has often conquered after bloodshed. So those whom god approves, whom he loves, he hardens, reviews, and exercises; but those to whom he seems to be indulgent, whom he seems to spare, he keeps soft for the evils to come. For you are mistaken if you judge anyone exempt: to him too, long happy, his portion will come; whoever seems to have been let go has been put off.
Magis urgent saeua inexpertos, graue est tenerae ceruici iugum; ad suspicionem uulneris tiro pallescit, audacter ueteranus cruorem suum spectat, qui scit se saepe uicisse post sanguinem. Hos itaque deus quos probat, quos amat, indurat recognoscit exercet; eos autem quibus indulgere uidetur, quibus parcere, molles uenturis malis seruat. Erratis enim si quem iudicatis exceptum: ueniet ‹et› ad illum diu felicem sua portio; quisquis uidetur dimissus esse dilatus est.
Why does god afflict every best man with either ill health or grief or other troubles? Because in the camp too the dangerous tasks are laid on the bravest: the general sends his most chosen men to attack the enemy by night-ambushes, or to scout the road, or to drive a garrison from its post. None of those who go out says, “The general has deserved ill of me,” but “He has judged well of me.” Let the same be said by all who are bidden to suffer things that to the timid and cowardly are lamentable: “We have been judged worthy by god to be those in whom he might test how much human nature can endure.”
Quare deus optimum quemque aut mala ualetudine aut luctu aut aliis incommodis adficit? quia in castris quoque periculosa fortissimis imperantur: dux lectissimos mittit qui nocturnis hostes adgrediantur insidiis aut explorent iter aut praesidium loco deiciant. Nemo eorum qui exeunt dicit ’male de me imperator meruit’, sed ’bene iudicauit’. Idem dicant quicumque iubentur pati timidis ignauisque flebilia: ’digni uisi sumus deo in quibus experiretur quantum humana natura posset pati.’
Flee delights, flee the enervating happiness by which spirits grow sodden, and, unless something intervenes to remind them of the human lot, go limp as if lulled by perpetual drunkenness. The man whom window-panes have always defended from a draught, whose feet have grown warm among fomentations changed time after time, whose dining-rooms a heat laid beneath and poured round the walls has tempered — this man a light breeze will brush, not without danger.
Fugite delicias, fugite eneruantem felicitatem qua animi permadescunt et, nisi aliquid interuenit quod humanae sortis admoneat, ‹marcent› uelut perpetua ebrietate sopiti. Quem specularia semper ab adflatu uindicaverunt, cuius pedes inter fomenta subinde mutata tepuerunt, cuius cenationes subditus et parietibus circumfusus calor temperauit, hunc leuis aura non sine periculo stringet.
While all things that have gone beyond measure do harm, the most dangerous is an intemperance of happiness: it stirs the brain, it calls the mind out into empty images, it pours much fog of the middle sort between the false and the true. Why is it not better to bear perpetual unhappiness, with virtue called to aid, than to be burst by boundless and immoderate goods? The death that comes from fasting is gentler; from surfeit men split apart.
Cum omnia quae excesserunt modum noceant, periculosissima felicitatis intemperantia est: mouet cerebrum, in uanas mentem imagines euocat, multum inter falsum ac uerum mediae caliginis fundit. Quidni satius sit perpetuam infelicitatem aduocata uirtute sustinere quam infinitis atque inmodicis bonis rumpi? lenior ieiunio mors est, cruditate dissiliunt.
This, then, is the reasoning the gods follow with good men, which teachers follow with their pupils, who demand more labor from those in whom the surer hope is. Do you suppose that the Lacedaemonians hate their own children, whose nature they test publicly by laying on the lash? Their very fathers exhort them to bear the strokes of the scourges bravely, and, torn and half-dead, beg them to persevere in offering wound to wound.
Hanc itaque rationem di sequuntur in bonis uiris quam in discipulis suis praeceptores, qui plus laboris ab iis exigunt in quibus certior spes est. Numquid tu inuisos esse Lacedaemoniis liberos suos credis, quorum experiuntur indolem publice uerberibus admotis? Ipsi illos patres adhortantur ut ictus flagellorum fortiter perferant, et laceros ac semianimes rogant, perseuerent uulnera praebere uulneribus.
What wonder if god tests noble spirits harshly? The proof of virtue is never soft. Fortune scourges and tears us: let us endure. It is not cruelty, it is a contest; and the oftener we go to it, the braver we shall be: the firmest part of the body is the one that frequent use has plied. We must be offered up to fortune, that against her we may be hardened by her very self: little by little she will make us her matches, and the constant exposure to danger will give a contempt of dangers.
Quid mirum, si dure generosos spiritus deus temptat? numquam uirtutis molle documentum est. Verberat nos et lacerat fortuna: patiamur. Non est saeuitia, certamen est, quod ‹quo› saepius adierimus, fortiores erimus: solidissima corporis pars est quam frequens usus agitauit. Praebendi fortunae sumus, ut contra illam ab ipsa duremur: paulatim nos sibi pares faciet, contemptum periculorum adsiduitas periclitandi dabit.
So sailors’ bodies are tough by enduring the sea, farmers’ hands are calloused, soldiers’ arms are strong to hurl weapons, runners’ limbs are nimble: in each man the firmest part is the one he has exercised. The spirit comes by endurance to the contempt of the endurance of evils; what this can effect in us you will know if you look at how much labor accomplishes for naked nations, made stronger by their want.
Sic sunt nauticis corpora ferendo mari dura, agricolis manus tritae, ad excutienda tela militares lacerti ualent, agilia sunt membra cursoribus: id in quoque solidissimum est quod exercuit. Ad contemnendam patientiam malorum animus patientia peruenit; quae quid in nobis efficere possit scies, si aspexeris quantum nationibus nudis et inopia fortioribus labor praestet.
Consider all the peoples among whom the Roman peace ends — I mean the Germans and whatever wandering tribes meet us about the Ister: a perpetual winter, a gloomy sky presses on them, the barren soil grudgingly sustains them; they fend off the rain with straw or leaves, they leap about over ponds hardened with ice, they hunt wild beasts for food.
Do they seem to you wretched? Nothing is wretched that habit has led into nature; for by degrees the things that began from necessity become a pleasure. They have no homes, no seats, save such as weariness has set down for the day; their food is cheap and to be sought by the hand; the inclemency of the sky is horrible, their bodies uncovered: this, which seems to you a calamity, is the life of so many nations.
Miseri tibi uidentur? nihil miserum est quod in naturam consuetudo perduxit; paulatim enim uoluptati sunt quae necessitate coeperunt. Nulla illis domicilia nullaeque sedes sunt nisi quas lassitudo in diem posuit; uilis et hic quaerendus manu uictus, horrenda iniquitas caeli, intecta corpora: hoc quod tibi calamitas uidetur tot gentium uita est.
Why do you wonder that good men are shaken, that they may be made firm? No tree is solid or strong but one that frequent wind assails; for by that very buffeting it is bound tighter and fixes its roots more surely: frail are those that have grown in a sunny valley. It is therefore for the good of good men themselves, that they may be able to be unafraid, to dwell much among things to be dreaded, and to bear with an even mind what are not evils except to one who bears them ill.
Quid miraris bonos uiros, ut confirmentur, concuti? non est arbor solida nec fortis nisi in quam frequens uentus incursat; ipsa enim uexatione constringitur et radices certius figit: fragiles sunt quae in aprica ualle creuerunt. Pro ipsis ergo bonis uiris est, ut esse interriti possint, multum inter formidolosa uersari et aequo animo ferre quae non sunt mala nisi male sustinenti.
Add now this, that it is best for all that each best man should, so to speak, serve as a soldier and render his labors. This is god’s purpose, the same as the wise man’s: to show that the things the crowd seeks and the things it dreads are neither goods nor evils. It will appear that they are goods, if he bestows them only on good men; and that they are evils, if he inflicts them only on the bad.
Adice nunc quod pro omnibus est optimum quemque, ut ita dicam, militare et edere operas. Hoc est propositum deo quod sapienti uiro, ostendere haec quae uulgus adpetit, quae reformidat, nec bona esse nec mala; apparebit autem bona esse, si illa non nisi bonis uiris tribuerit, et mala esse, si tantum malis inrogauerit.
Blindness will be detestable, if no one loses his eyes but the man who ought to have them gouged out; therefore let Appius and Metellus too lack the light. Riches are not a good; therefore let even Elius the pimp have them, so that men may see the money which they have consecrated in the temples also in a brothel. In no way can god better bring the things men covet into discredit than by conferring them on the basest and withholding them from the best.
Detestabilis erit caecitas, si nemo oculos perdiderit nisi cui eruendi sunt; itaque careant luce Appius et Metellus. Non sunt diuitiae bonum; itaque habeat illas et Elius leno, ut homines pecuniam, cum in templis consecrauerint, uideant et in fornice. Nullo modo magis potest deus concupita traducere quam si illa ad turpissimos defert, ab optimis abigit.
“But it is unjust that a good man should be crippled or pierced or bound, while the bad walk about sound of body, at large and pampered.” What of it? Is it not unjust that brave men should take up arms and pass the night in camp and stand before the rampart with their wounds bound up, while in the city the castrated and the professed in unchastity stroll secure? What of it? Is it not unjust that the noblest maidens should be roused in the night to perform the rites, while the defiled enjoy the deepest sleep?
’At iniquum est uirum bonum debilitari aut configi aut alligari, malos integris corporibus solutos ac delicatos incedere.’ Quid porro? non est iniquum fortes uiros arma sumere et in castris pernoctare et pro uallo obligatis stare uulneribus, interim in urbe securos esse praecisos et professos inpudicitiam? Quid porro? non est iniquum nobilissimas uirgines ad sacra facienda noctibus excitari, altissimo somno inquinatas frui?
Labor calls upon the best: the senate is often in session the whole day, while at that very time every cheapest fellow is either disporting his leisure in the Field, or skulking in a cookshop, or wearing away the time in some idle knot of loungers. The same happens in this great commonwealth: good men labor, spend, are spent — and willingly too; they are not dragged by fortune, they follow her and keep step; had they known the way, they would have gone ahead.
Labor optimos citat: senatus per totum diem saepe consulitur, cum illo tempore uilissimus quisque aut in campo otium suum oblectet aut in popina lateat aut tempus in aliquo circulo terat. Idem in hac magna re publica fit: boni uiri laborant, inpendunt, inpenduntur, et uolentes quidem; non trahuntur a fortuna, sequuntur illam et aequant gradus; si scissent, antecessissent.
This spirited saying too of the bravest man, Demetrius, I remember to have heard: “Of this one thing,” he said, “immortal gods, I can complain of you, that you did not make your will known to me sooner; for I should have come earlier to those things to which, now summoned, I am present. Do you wish to take my children? It was for you I reared them. Do you wish some part of my body? Take it: I promise no great thing; soon I shall leave the whole. Do you wish my breath? Why should I make any delay to your receiving back what you gave? Whatever you ask, you shall have from one who is willing. What then is it? I should have preferred to offer rather than to hand over. What need was there to take away? You could have received; but not even now will you take it away, since nothing is snatched except from one who holds it back.”
Hanc quoque animosam Demetri fortissimi uiri uocem audisse me memini: ’hoc unum’ inquit ’de uobis, di inmortales, queri possum, quod non ante mihi notam uoluntatem uestram fecistis; prior enim ad ista uenissem ad quae nunc uocatus adsum. Vultis liberos sumere? uobisillos sustuli. Vultis aliquam partem corporis? sumite: non magnam rem promitto, cito totum relinquam. Vultis spiritum? quidni nullam moram faciam quo minus recipiatis quod dedisti? A uolente feretis quidquid petieritis. Quid ergo est? maluissem offerre quam tradere. Quid opus fuit auferre? accipere potuistis; sed ne nunc quidem auferetis, quia nihil eripitur nisi retinenti.’
I am forced to nothing, I suffer nothing unwilling, nor do I serve god but assent to him — the more so because I know that all things run by a fixed law, pronounced for eternity.
Nihil cogor, nihil patior inuitus, nec seruio deo sed assentior, eo quidem magis quod scio omnia certa et in aeternum dicta lege decurrere.
The fates lead us, and the first hour of our birth has disposed how much time remains to each. Cause hangs upon cause; a long order of things draws on the private and the public alike. Therefore everything must be bravely endured, because things do not, as we suppose, fall out by chance, but come. Long ago it was determined what you should rejoice at, what you should weep at; and although the life of each man seems marked off by great variety, the sum comes to one thing: we receive things that will perish, and shall perish ourselves.
Fata nos ducunt et quantum cuique temporis restat prima nascentium hora disposuit. Causa pendet ex causa, priuata ac publica longus ordo rerum trahit: ideo fortiter omne patiendum est quia non, ut putamus, incidunt cuncta sed ueniunt. Olim constitutum est quid gaudeas, quid fleas, et quamuis magna uideatur uarietate singulorum uita distingui, summa in unum uenit: accipimus peritura perituri.
Why then do we feel indignation? why do we complain? For this we were made ready. Let nature use her own bodies as she will: let us, glad and brave for all things, reflect that nothing of ours perishes. What is the mark of a good man? To offer himself to fate. It is a great solace to be swept along with the universe; whatever it is that ordered us so to live, so to die, binds the gods also by the same necessity. An irrevocable course bears along things human and divine alike: that very founder and ruler of all wrote indeed the fates, but he follows them; he obeys always, he commanded once.
Quid itaque indignamur? quid querimur? ad hoc parati sumus. Vtatur ut uult suis natura corporibus: nos laeti ad omnia et fortes cogitemus nihil perire de nostro. Quid est boni uiri? praebere se fato. Grande solacium est cum uniuerso rapi; quidquid est quod nos sic uiuere, sic mori iussit, eadem necessitate et deos alligat. Inreuocabilis humana pariter ac diuina cursus uehit: ille ipse omnium conditor et rector scripsit quidem fata, sed sequitur; semper paret, semel iussit.
“Why, then, was god so unjust in the distribution of fate, that to good men he assigned poverty and wounds and bitter deaths?” The craftsman cannot change his material: this it has suffered. Certain things cannot be parted from certain others, they cohere, they are indivisible. Sluggish natures, bound for sleep or for a waking very like sleep, are woven of inert elements: to fashion a man who must be named with care, a stronger fate is needed. His road will not be level: he must go up and down, be tossed about, and steer his vessel in troubled water. He must hold his course against fortune; many hard, rough things will befall, but such as he himself may soften and smooth. Fire proves gold, misery proves brave men.
’Quare tamen deus tam iniquus in distributione fati fuit ut bonis uiris paupertatem et uulnera et acerba funera adscriberet?’ Non potest artifex mutare materiam: ~hoc passa est~. Quaedam separari a quibusdam non possunt, cohaerent, indiuidua sunt. Languida ingenia et in somnum itura aut in uigiliam somno simillimam inertibus nectuntur elementis: ut efficiatur uir cum cura dicendus, fortiore fato opus est. Non erit illi planum iter: sursum oportet ac deorsum eat, fluctuetur ac nauigium in turbido regat. Contra fortunam illi tenendus est cursus; multa accident dura, aspera, sed quae molliat et conplanet ipse. Ignis aurum probat, miseria fortes uiros.
See how high virtue must climb: you will know that it has no safe road to travel by — The first part of the way is steep, and one that the fresh horses scarcely struggle up at morning; in mid heaven it is highest, whence to look upon sea and land is often, even to me, a terror, and my breast trembles with quaking dread; the last part of the way runs downward and needs sure control; then even Tethys, who receives me in the waves spread beneath, is wont to fear that I be borne headlong.
Vide quam alte escendere debeat uirtus: scies illi non per secura uadendum. Ardua prima uia est et quam uix mane recentes enituntur equi; medio est altissima caelo, unde mare et terras ipsi mihi saepe uidere sit timor et pauida trepidet formidine pectus. ultima prona uia est et eget moderamine certo; tunc etiam quae me subiectis excipit undis, ne ferar in praeceps, Tethys solet ima uereri.
When that noble youth had heard these things, “The road,” he said, “pleases me; I climb; it is worth so much to go by these, even at the cost of falling.” His father does not cease to terrify the keen spirit with fear: And though you keep the way and are drawn off by no straying, still you shall go through the horns of the hostile Bull, the Haemonian bow, and the jaws of the violent Lion. After this he says: “Yoke the chariot you have given: by the very things by which you think to deter me, I am spurred on; I long to stand there where the Sun himself trembles.” It is for the lowly and the inert to follow what is safe: virtue goes by the heights.
Haec cum audisset ille generosus adulescens, ’placet’ inquit ’uia, escendo; est tanti per ista ire casuro.’ Non desinit acrem animum metu territare: utque uiam teneas nulloque errore traharis, per tamen aduersi gradieris cornua tauri Haemoniosque arcus uiolentique ora leonis. Post haec ait: ’iunge datos currus: his quibus deterreri me putas incitor; libet illic stare ubi ipse Sol trepidat.’ Humilis et inertis est tuta sectari: per alta uirtus it.
“Why, then, does god suffer any evil to be done to good men?” He does not in fact suffer it. He has removed from them all evils — crimes and outrages and base thoughts and greedy designs and blind lust and avarice that broods over another’s goods; he guards and vindicates them themselves: does anyone demand this too of god, that he keep watch even over good men’s baggage? They themselves remit to god this care: they despise externals.
’Quare tamen bonis uiris patitur aliquid mali deus fieri?’ Ille uero non patitur. Omnia mala ab illis remouit, scelera et flagitia et cogitationes inprobas et auida consilia et libidinem caecam et alieno imminentem auaritiam; ipsos tuetur ac uindicat: numquid hoc quoque aliquis a deo exigit, ut bonorum uirorum etiam sarcinas seruet? Remittunt ipsi hanc deo curam: externa contemnunt.
Democritus threw away his riches, judging them a burden to a good mind: why then do you wonder if god suffers that to befall a good man which a good man sometimes wishes to befall himself? Good men lose their sons: why not, since sometimes they even slay them? They are sent into exile: why not, since sometimes they themselves leave their country, never to return? They are killed: why not, since sometimes they lay hands upon themselves?
Democritus diuitias proiecit, onus illas bonae mentis existimans: quid ergo miraris, si id deus bono uiro accidere patitur quod uir bonus aliquando uult sibi accidere? Filios amittunt uiri boni: quidni, cum aliquando et occidant? In exilium mittuntur: quidni, cum aliquando ipsi patriam non repetituri relinquant? Occiduntur: quidni, cum aliquando ipsi sibi manus adferant?
Why do they suffer certain hard things? That they may teach others to suffer; they were born to be a pattern. Suppose, then, that god says: “What have you that you could complain of against me, you who have been pleased by what is right? Others I have surrounded with false goods, and have mocked their empty minds as with a long and deceiving dream: I have adorned them with gold and silver and ivory; within there is nothing good.
Quare quaedam dura patiuntur? ut alios pati doceant; nati sunt in exemplar. Puta itaque deum dicere: ’quid habetis quod de me queri possitis, uos quibus recta placuerunt? Aliis bona falsa circumdedi et animos inanes uelut longo fallacique somnio lusi: auro illos et argento et ebore adornaui, intus boni nihil est.
Those men whom you look upon as happy, if you see them not where they meet the eye but where they lie hidden, are wretched, foul, base, dressed up on the outside in the likeness of their own walls; that is not solid and genuine happiness: it is a crust, and a thin one at that. And so, while it is permitted them to stand and to be shown off at their own will, they shine and impose; when something falls out to disturb and uncover them, then it appears how much deep and true foulness another’s splendor had hidden.
Isti quos pro felicibus aspicis, si non qua occurrunt sed qua latent uideris, miseri sunt, sordidi turpes, ad similitudinem parietum suorum extrinsecus culti; non est ista solida et sincera felicitas: crusta est et quidem tenuis. Itaque dum illis licet stare et ad arbitrium suum ostendi, nitent et inponunt; cum aliquid incidit quod disturbet ac detegat, tunc apparet quantum altae ac uerae foeditatis alienus splendor absconderit.
To you I have given goods sure and lasting, which become the better and greater the more one turns and inspects them from every side; I have permitted you to despise things to be feared, to disdain desires; you do not glitter on the outside, your goods are turned inward. So has the world despised what lies outside, glad in the spectacle of itself. Within I have placed every good: not to need happiness is your happiness.
Vobis dedi bona certa mansura, quanto magis uersauerit aliquis et undique inspexerit, meliora maioraque; permisi uobis metuenda contemnere, cupiditates fastidire; non fulgetis extrinsecus, bona uestra introrsus obuersa sunt. Sic mundus exteriora contempsit spectaculo sui laetus. Intus omne posui bonum; non egere felicitate felicitas uestra est.
“But many sad, dreadful things befall, hard to endure.” Because I could not withdraw you from them, I have armed your spirits against them all: bear them bravely. By this you may outstrip god: he is outside the endurance of evils, you above it. Despise poverty: no one lives as poor as he was born. Despise pain: it will either be loosed or loose you. Despise death: it either ends you or transfers you. Despise fortune: I have given her no weapon with which to strike the spirit.
"At multa incidunt tristia horrenda, dura toleratu." Quia non poteram uos istis subducere, animos uestros aduersus omnia armaui: ferte fortiter. Hoc est quo deum antecedatis: ille extra patientiam malorum est, uos supra patientiam. Contemnite paupertatem: nemo tam pauper uiuit quam natus est. Contemnite dolorem: aut soluetur aut soluet. Contemnite mortem: quae uos aut finit aut transfert. Contemnite fortunam: nullum illi telum quo feriret animum dedi.
Before all things I have taken care that no one should hold you back against your will: the way out lies open. If you do not wish to fight, you may flee. Therefore of all the things I wished to be necessary for you, I have made nothing easier than dying. I have set the soul on a downward slope: it is drawn off — only attend, and you will see how short and how unimpeded is the road that leads to liberty. I have not laid as long delays in the going out as in the coming in; otherwise fortune would have held a great kingdom over you, if a man died as slowly as he is born.
Ante omnia caui ne quis uos teneret inuitos; patet exitus: si pugnare non uultis, licet fugere. Ideo ex omnibus rebus quas esse uobis necessarias uolui nihil feci facilius quam mori. Prono animam loco posui: ~trahitur~ adtendite modo et uidebitis quam breuis ad libertatem et quam expedita ducat uia. Non tam longas in exitu uobis quam intrantibus moras posui; alioqui magnum in uos regnum fortuna tenuisset, si homo tam tarde moreretur quam nascitur.
Let every time, every place teach you how easy it is to renounce nature and to fling back to her her own gift; among the very altars and the solemn rites of those who sacrifice, while life is prayed for, learn death. The fat bodies of bulls fall by a tiny wound, and a stroke of a human hand fells animals of great strength; by a slender blade the joint of the neck is severed, and when that joint which links head and neck is cut, all that mass crashes down.
Omne tempus, omnis uos locus doceat quam facile sit renuntiare naturae et munus illi suum inpingere; inter ipsa altaria et sollemnes sacrificantium ritus, dum optatur uita, mortem condiscite. Corpora opima taurorum exiguo concidunt uulnere et magnarum uirium animalia humanae manus ictus inpellit; tenui ferro commissura ceruicis abrumpitur, et cum articulus ille qui caput collumque committit incisus est, tanta illa moles corruit.
The breath does not lie deep, nor must it by all means be drawn out with steel; the vitals need not be probed with a wound pressed deep within: death is close at hand. I have not fixed a certain spot for these strokes: it is passable wherever you will. That very thing which is called dying, by which the soul departs from the body, is briefer than that so great a swiftness could be felt: whether a knot has crushed the throat, or water stopped the breathing, or the hardness of the ground beneath has broken the head of one fallen upon it, or a draught of fire cut short the course of the returning breath — whatever it is, it makes haste. Do you not blush? You fear long what is done so quickly!”
Non in alto latet spiritus nec utique ferro eruendus est; non sunt uulnere penitus inpresso scrutanda praecordia: in proximo mors est. Non certum ad hos ictus destinaui locum: quacumque uis peruium est. Ipsum illud quod uocatur mori, quo anima discedit a corpore, breuius est quam ut sentiri tanta uelocitas possit: siue fauces nodus elisit, siue spiramentum aqua praeclusit, siue in caput lapsos subiacentis soli duritia comminuit, siue haustus ignis cursum animae remeantis interscidit, quidquid est, properat. Ecquid erubescitis? quod tam cito fit timetis diu!’