Letter 16

It is clear to you, Lucilius, I know, that no one can live happily, nor even tolerably, without the pursuit of wisdom; and that the happy life is brought about by perfected wisdom, but a tolerable one even by wisdom begun. But this, which is clear, must be made firm and driven deeper by daily meditation; there is more labour in keeping your resolutions than in resolving upon what is honourable. You must persevere and add strength by unremitting study, until that which is good will becomes a good disposition of mind.

And so there is no need of more words with me, or of long assurance: I understand that you have made much progress. I know whence the things you write come; they are not feigned nor coloured. Yet I will tell you what I feel: I have hope of you already, but not yet confidence. And I would have you do the same; there is no reason why you should believe in yourself quickly and easily. Sift yourself, scrutinize yourself in various ways, observe yourself; above all, see whether you have made progress in philosophy or in life itself.

Philosophy is no popular craft, nor got up for display. It lies not in words, but in deeds. Nor is it applied to this end, that the day may be spent with some amusement, that the tedium of leisure may be taken away. It moulds and shapes the mind, orders life, governs our actions, points out what is to be done and what left undone, sits at the helm and steers the course of those who waver amid perilous straits. Without it no one can live undaunted, no one secure. Countless things happen every hour that demand counsel, which must be sought from her.

Someone will say: "What good does philosophy do me, if there is fate? What good, if a god is ruler? What good, if chance holds sway? For things that are fixed cannot be changed, and nothing can be made ready against the uncertain; either a god has forestalled my counsel and has decreed what I should do, or Fortune permits nothing to my counsel."

Whichever of these it is, Lucilius, or even if they all are so, we must philosophize. Whether the fates bind us fast by an inexorable law, or a god as arbiter of the universe has arranged all things, or chance drives and tosses human affairs without order, philosophy must protect us. She will exhort us to obey God gladly, and Fortune defiantly; she will teach you to follow God, to bear with chance.

But this is not the moment to pass over into the discussion of what is within our own right, if providence is in command, or if a chain of fates drags us bound along, or if sudden and unforeseen things hold sway. I now return to this, to admonish and exhort you not to let the impulse of your mind slip down and grow cold. Hold it fast and steady it, so that what is now an impulse may become a settled habit of mind.

Already from the start, if I know you well, you will be looking round to see what little gift this letter has brought. Shake it out, and you will find one. There is no reason why you should marvel at my generosity; thus far I am liberal with what belongs to another. But why did I say "another's"? Whatever has been well said by anyone is mine. This too was said by Epicurus: "If you live according to Nature, you will never be poor; if according to opinion, you will never be rich."

Nature desires but little, opinion an immeasurable amount. Let there be heaped upon you whatever many rich men have possessed; let Fortune carry you beyond the bounds of private wealth, cover you with gold, clothe you in purple, bring you to such a height of luxuries and riches that you hide the earth with marbles—let it be granted you not only to have riches, but to trample upon them. Let there be added statues and paintings and whatever any art has wrought for luxury; from these you will learn only to crave greater things.

Natural desires are bounded; those born of false opinion have no place at which to stop. For the false has no boundary. To one walking along a road there is some end; but error is immeasurable. Draw yourself back, then, from vain things; and when you wish to know whether what you seek has a natural or a blind desire behind it, consider whether it can come to rest anywhere. If, when you have gone far, something always remains farther off, know that it is not natural. Farewell.