How To Do The Right Thing

HOW TO DO THE RIGHT THING
Ancient Wisdom for Modern Readers
For a full list of titles in the series, go to https://press.princeton.edu

/series/ancient-wisdom-for-modern-readers.
How to Do the Right T

hing: An Ancient Guide to Treating P
eople Fairly
by Seneca
How to Grieve: An Ancient Guide to the Lost Art of Consolation Inspired
by Marcus Tullius Cicero
How to Have a Life: An Ancient Guide to Using Our Time Wisely by Seneca
How to Say No: An Ancient Guide to the Art of Being a Cynic by Diogenes
and the Cynics
How to Tell a Story: An Ancient Guide for Aspiring Writers by Aristotle
How to Stop a Conspiracy: An Ancient Guide for Saving a Republic by Sallust
How to Be a Farmer: An Ancient Guide to Life on the Land by Many Hands
How to Innovate: An Ancient Guide to Creative Thinking by Aristotle
How to Tell a Joke: An Ancient Guide to the Art of Humor
How to Keep an Open Mind: An Ancient Guide to Thinking Like a Skeptic
by Sextus Empiricus
How to Be Content: An Ancient Poet’s Guide for an Age of Excess by Horace
How to Give: An Ancient Guide to Giving and Receiving by Seneca
How to Drink: A Classical Guide to the Art of Imbibing
by Vincent Obsopoeus
How to Be a Bad Emperor: An Ancient Guide to Truly Terrible Leaders
by Suetonius
How to Be a Leader: An Ancient Guide to Wise Leadership by Plutarch
How to Think about God: An Ancient Guide for Believers and Nonbelievers
How to Keep Your Cool: An Ancient Guide to Anger Management by Seneca
How to Think about War: An Ancient Guide to Foreign Policy by Thucydides
How to Be Free: An Ancient Guide to the Stoic Life by Epictetus
How to Be a Friend: An Ancient Guide to True Friendship
How to Die: An Ancient Guide to the End of Life by Seneca
How to Win an Argument: An Ancient Guide to the Art of Persuasion
HOW TO DO
THE RIGHT THING
An Ancient Guide to Treating P

eople Fairly
Seneca
Selected, translated, and introduced

by Robert A. Kaster
PRINCE T O N U N IV E RSIT Y P RE SS
PRINC E T O N AN D O X FO RD
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CONTENTS
Introduction vii
1. Striving for Magnanimity 3
2. Being Calm, Thinking Clearly 41
3. Judging Yourself Fairly 95
4. Doing Right by Others 143
5. Being Merciful 193
Notes
251
INTRODUCTION
“That’s not fair!”

I cannot now recall how old my two
children were when those familiar words
first passed their lips, but it was probably
somewhere in the mid-single digits. Though
I recall being a bit surprised the first time
around, I shouldn’t have been. The excla-
mation seems to emerge from a primal
human sense: you know how you deserve
to be treated, and you know that, just now,
you have not been treated that way—you’ve
been given a raw deal; y
ou’ve not been done
right by. That is the sense of fairness this
book explores—fairness at the everyday,
person-to-person level—taking as its source
vii
Introduction
the ethical writings of the Stoic philosopher

and Roman statesman Seneca.
Born near the end of the first c entury bce

or very early in the new era, to an Italian
family that had settled in southern Spain,
Seneca was educated in lit er
a
ture, rhe
t
oric, and philosophy in Rome. He lived
quietly and (from our vantage point) ob-
scurely, in Rome and for a time in Egypt,
until he began a career as a minor magistrate
and senator sometime in the 30s ce, a fter a
well-connected aunt pulled some strings.
But in 41 his comfortable way of life blew
up, as the emperor Claudius sent him into
exile for committing adultery with a sister
of Claudius’s predecessor, the psychopath
Caligula.
For eight years he lived in isolation on
Corsica—then one of the wildest, roughest
viii
Introduction
places in the Mediterranean—until Agrip-

pina, Claudius’s new wife, prevailed on
him to recall Seneca so that he could super-
vise the education of her son, the twelve-
year- old Nero. The association set the
course for the rest of Seneca’s life. When
Nero was a dopted by Claudius in 50 and
soon became the heir apparent, Seneca was
still his tutor. When Nero became emperor
in 54, Seneca became one of his chief advis-
ers. When Nero had his mother murdered
in 59, Seneca stood by him, drafting a
letter—a cover-up that fooled no one—for
Nero to send to the Senate. In 62, as Nero
was becoming ever more erratic and prox-
imity to him ever more dangerous, Seneca
formally requested permission to retire
and, when permission was not granted,
informally withdrew from court. And in
65, when a conspiracy to assassinate the
ix
Introduction
emperor was detected and its members

punished, Seneca was falsely implicated
and forced to commit suicide.
And throughout all that time—in fact,

starting under Caligula, before his exile—
Seneca was compiling a vast output of po-
etry and prose, much of which survives
today as the most diverse and influential
body of literature produced by a Roman
writer in the first c entury of our era. His
prose writings are largely devoted to ethics
and treat a g reat range of topics from a pre-
dominantly Stoic point of view. These texts
provide the raw material for our consider-
ation of everyday fair dealings between
ordinary people: for though that sense of
fairness is not the central topic in any of
Seneca’s ethical writings, princi ples and
x
Introduction
words of advice relevant to the virtue’s prac-

tice appear throughout them.
The excerpts that make up this book are
drawn from three different collections:1
• two works, On Benefits and On Mercy,

were transmitted together from antiq-
uity, presumably because they are both
concerned with forms of “giving”: the
first devotes seven books to ethical and
practical guidelines for dispensing and
repaying favors; the second urges Nero
to take a clement approach in dispensing
punishments;2
• ten essays written at various times on
disparate themes are collected u nder
the title Dialogues: for our purposes,
the essay On Anger, a meditation on the
dangers of rage in three books, is the
xi
Introduction
most substantial and most important;

excerpts are also drawn from the essays
On Tranquility of Mind, On the Happy
Life, and On the Consistency of the Wise;
• the most influential of these works, the
Moral Epistles, is a collection of over 120
letters written after Seneca’s withdrawal
from public life, all addressed to his
slightly younger friend Lucilius, as he
traces their attempt to make progress on
the journey t oward wisdom.
The passages chosen from these works are

organized in five chapters, and while each
chapter gives a different view of what fair
dealing demands—“Striving for Magnanim-
ity,” “Being Calm, Thinking Clearly,”
“Judging Yourself Fairly,” “Doing Right by
Others,” and “Being Merciful”—they are
all unified by the predominantly Stoic point
xii
Introduction
of view that Seneca favors. Some details of

that viewpoint will be explained as they be-
come relevant to our progress in the chap-
ters that follow, but it should be useful to set
out briefly here some of the Stoics’ key be-
liefs and premises.
The universe is everywhere pervaded by a
beneficent and providential God, which the
Stoics also called “nature” or “reason.” God
shaped the universe and set it in motion in
such a way that all living creatures are able
to flourish within it, and for all living crea-
tures, save one sort, that flourishing—the
final good that they instinctively seek—is
physical well-being: nourishment, shelter,
reproduction, and the rest. The exceptional
sort is the category consisting of human
beings, who are exceptional in two ways:
they alone have a share in the divine reason
that governs the universe, and b ecause of
xiii
Introduction
that share they alone cannot consider

physical well-being to be their final good.
For human beings, the final good is
virtue—for us, only “virtue” provides a
valid subject for the predicate “is a good
thing for me,” just as only “the absence of
virtue” is a valid subject of the predicate “is
a bad thing for me”—and virtue is one thing,
and one thing only, a unified whole: it is the
mind’s consistent and unceasing exercise of
reason, as it makes true judgments and right
choices in every circumstance. Individual
traits that we call “virtues”—like courage
and fidelity and, yes, fairness—are only the
actions of the rational mind making true
judgments and right choices in particular
circumstances.3
Living the best human life, the Stoics say,
consists of “living according to nature,” by
which they mean exercising to the full the
xiv
Introduction
capacities with which nature—the provi-

dential God who o rders the universe—
equipped us. Only in that way can we enjoy
the one good that is an end in itself, worthy
of being sought for its own sake. All things
external to the rational mind that are com-
monly labeled “good” or “bad”—health,
wealth, and power, or sickness, poverty, and
oppression—do not contribute to or detract
from the best human life: they are merely
“indifferent.” We can legitimately prefer to
have some of these “indifferents,” like good
health, and prefer not to have o thers, like
sickness, and we can legitimately seek the
former and try to avoid the latter—if and
only if we do not seek them as ends in
themselves or shun them as t hings that are
truly bad.
(And if you have read the preceding three
paragraphs with frank disbelief, know that
xv
Introduction
most or all of the good advice that follows

can be accepted and found helpful without
signing on to the premises I’ve described.)
So, yes, to say the least, it is an austere
doctrine (though not, as w e’ll see, a cold-or
stone-hearted one), and we can understand
why those who deserve to be called “wise”
according to the standard it sets—those who
have learned to live entirely “according to
nature”—are at most exceedingly rare. But
for the warmly human virtue that is the
topic of this book, we can also understand
why a Stoic would think that you cannot
be fair and do right by others unless you
sort yourself out first, and why for a Stoic
sorting yourself out begins and ends with
your mind. The wise are not born but
made. They make progress toward wis-
dom by cultivating a “large mind” (magnus
animus) and achieving “large-mindedness”
xvi
Introduction
or “magnanimity,” the quality that ensures

(among other things) that they always
give others exactly what they deserve—in
every way, from material goods to per-
sonal respect, and even punishment—and
are therefore always fair. This Stoic sense
of magnanimity—the goal we should all
strive to achieve, however often we fail—
is the subject of our first chapter.
A word on translation. I have tried both to
be faithful to the Latin texts and to provide
En glish versions that w ill strike con
temporary readers as at least clear and idi-
omatic. But there is one point on which my
translations slightly but consistently depart
from the Latin. When Seneca refers to a wise
person he writes either vir sapiens (“wise
man”), with the strongly gendered noun vir
(“adult male person”), or just the adjective,
sapiens, used as a substantive—and no doubt
xvii
Introduction
he and his readers took the adjective to be

grammatically masculine, implicitly refer-
ring to a vir. I chose not to follow him in this
regard, in part because of our contemporary
sensibilities, but most of all because exclu-
sive use of the masculine actually distorts
a distinctive aspect of Stoicism: for alone
among ancient philosophical sects, Stoicism
held that all adult h uman persons have the
potential to achieve wisdom thanks to the
way they are built by nature. “Wise per-
son” or the alternating use of “wise man”
and “wise w oman” might therefore be an
acceptable choice, though I think either
one would begin to sound a bit artificial
with repeated use. I therefore have consis-
tently written “the wise,” the plural idiom
common in English when a definite article
(which Latin lacks) combines with an adjec-
tive to denote a category of persons.4
xvii i
HOW TO DO THE RIGHT THING
1
STRIVING FOR MAGNANIMITY
Felix qui ad meliora hunc impetum dedit:

ponet se extra ius dicionemque fortunae;
secunda temperabit, adversa comminuet.
(Epistle 39.3)
Animi magnitudine, qui numquam maior
est quam ubi aliena seposuit et fecit sibi
pacem nihil timendo, fecit sibi divitias nihil
concupiscendo. (Epistle 87.3)
2
1
STRIVING FOR MAGNANIMITY
Happy are t hose who strive to reach the

good: they will have a place beyond
fortune’s jurisdiction, greeting success with
moderation, reducing adversity to insignifi-
cance. (Epistle 39.3)
The largeness of a mind that is never

greater than when it . . . has created peace
for itself by fearing nothing, wealth by
desiring nothing. (Epistle 87.3)
We can begin to understand the connection

between fair dealing and being “large-
minded”—and the reason why that trait is
3
S triving for Magnanimity
the subject of this book’s first chapter—by

starting from a trait that is its very opposite.
Most people reading this paragraph must
have known at least one person they could
describe as “small-minded.” Such a person’s
view of the world is severely limited by
their own experience and the lens of the
self (“Well, if I could do X, I don’t see
why [some disfavored person or group]
can’t do it too”); by their own opinions, to
which they cling stubbornly; and by their
own goals, which tend to be narrow and
self-interested. People like that—petty, fret-
ful, inflexible, intolerant, often vehemently
so— seem constitutionally incapable of
adopting another person’s point of view,
or at least pausing to consider it calmly
and clearly, and constitutionally incapable
of being either critical of themselves or gen-
erous toward o thers. And yet, as we will
5
see, Seneca took clear and calm thinking,

critical self-awareness, and generosity to be
absolutely central to treating o thers fairly.
That is where the opposite trait—“large-
mindedness,” or “magnanimity”—comes in,
for it incorporates the ability to be and do
all the things that right dealing and fairness
require. That is why it is worth getting a
clear view of what such “large-mindedness”
entails.1
According to a standard definition, En
glish “magnanimity” denotes “loftiness of
spirit enabling one to bear trouble calmly,
to disdain meanness and pettiness, and to
display a noble generosity” (Merriam-
Webster). That description certainly shares
a family relationship with ancient concep-
tions of “large-mindedness,” including that
of the Stoics, who believed that the largest
mind—the mind of God—pervaded e very
7
nook and cranny of the universe, giving it

its providential order, and that it was the
proper aim of h uman beings to try to ap-
proximate the God with whom—alone of
all creatures—they share the gift of reason.
With that aim in view, in fact, the Stoics
granted “magnanimity” a special standing
that the definition just quoted only begins
to touch. Suppose that you had a mind so
capacious and sharp that it always perceived
every circumstance with complete accuracy,
recognizing it for what it truly was, then
evaluated it thoroughly and correctly, de
cided unerringly what if anything to do
about it, planned perfectly whatever it was
that needed doing, and provided all the re-
solve needed to do it. You would indeed
have a “large mind,” a perfectly virtuous
mind—in fact, the mind of a wise person
9
that (as Seneca several times says) differs

from the mind of God only in being
mortal.2 Such a mind would provide the
grounding for all right behavior by providing
a sound view of the world and establishing a
sound set of priorities for action. Needless to
say, such a mind would always prompt us to
treat others fairly; also needless to say, it is a
condition of mind that (at most) very, very
few actual humans have achieved. So how
can we best imagine what it would be like
truly to achieve it?
Seneca uses several devices to answer that
question and make the all-but-impossible
graspable, for example by trying to sketch
“the fine and holy sight we’d see” if we
could look upon the mind of a wise and
good person, or by conjuring up some of
the very few historical persons who might
seem to have achieved the ideal. In this way
11
the passages that follow set a higher bar for

virtuous behavior than most of us can clear
but also point toward the reachable goals
that the subsequent chapters describe.
hese first two passages, both from the

T
Moral Epistles, stress qualities or principles
that recur time and again in all of Seneca’s
writings: the need to ignore the vagaries of
common opinion and look to the perma-
nent truth of nature; the contented and
self-contained tranquility that is the hall-
mark of virtue; the possibility of making
progress t oward virtue, and the freedom it
brings, if you put in the necessary work; and
the unity of virtue—the principle that if you
are loyal, brave, and pious you are necessar-
ily also generous, prudent, and fair—with
“magnanimity looming above all.”
13
(7) Dicam quomodo intellegas sanum: si se

ipse contentus est, si confidit sibi, si scit
omnia vota mortalium, omnia beneficia
quae dantur petunturque, nullum in beata
vita habere momentum. Nam cui aliquid
accedere potest, id inperfectum est; cui
aliquid abscedere potest, id inperpetuum
est: cuius perpetua futura laetitia est, is
suo gaudeat. . . . Sed haec quoque for-
tuita tunc delectant cum illa ratio tem-
peravit ac miscuit: haec est quae etiam
externa commendet, quorum avidis usus
ingratus est. (8) Solebat Attalus hac ima
gine uti:
Vidisti aliquando canem missa a do
mino frusta panis aut carnis aperto ore
captantem? quidquid recepit protinus
integrum devorat et semper ad spem
venturi hiat. Idem evenit nobis: quid-
quid expectantibus fortuna proiecit, id
14
(7) [You can] recognize a mind that is

sound if it is content and confident, if it
knows that all human desires, all favors
granted and sought, have no bearing on
the best human life. Whatever can be in-
creased is imperfect, whatever can be less-
ened is impermanent: a mind that w ill
know unending happiness should rejoice
in its own resources. . . . Yet even for-
tune’s gifts are pleasing when reason has
blended and balanced them:3 it is reason
that makes them agreeable, while the
greedy get no satisfaction from them.
(8) Attalus4 used to use this metaphor:
Have you ever seen a dog, jaws open
wide, trying to snatch a bit of bread or
meat its master has tossed? Whatever
it gets, it immediately swallows whole
and is always gaping hopefully for
more. We’re the same way: whatever
15
sine ulla voluptate demittimus statim,

ad rapinam alterius erecti et attoniti.
Hoc sapienti non evenit: plenus est;
etiam si quid obvenit, secure excipit ac
reponit; laetitia fruitur maxima, conti-
nua, sua. (Epistle 72.7–8)
(3) Si nobis animum boni viri liceret in-

spicere, o quam pulchram faciem, quam
sanctam, quam ex magnifico placidoque
fulgentem videremus, hinc iustitia, illinc
fortitudine, hinc temperantia prudenti-
aque lucentibus! Praeter has frugalitas et
continentia et tolerantia et liberalitas
bonum splendorem illi suum adfunde
rent. Tunc providentia cum elegantia et
ex istis magnanimitas eminentissima
16
fortune tosses us as we wait we imme-

diately swallow down without savor-
ing, frantically intent on snatching
more.
This does not happen to the wise: what
ever comes along they calmly take up
and set aside, enjoying a happiness that
is very great, unending, all their own.
(Epistle 72.7–8)
(3) What a fine and holy sight we’d see if

we could observe the mind of a good per-
son, its brilliance shining forth from a
place of tranquil splendor, with justice
and courage, moderation and prudence
gleaming on e very side, and thrift, too,
and self-control, fortitude, and generosity
casting their fair light upon it. What glory,
what weight and dignity, what gracious
authority foresight and scrupulousness
17
quantum, di boni, decoris illi, quantum

ponderis gravitatisque adderent! quanta
esset cum gratia auctoritas! Nemo illam
amabilem qui non simul venerabilem di-
ceret. (4) Si quis viderit hanc faciem al-
tiorem fulgentioremque quam cerni inter
humana consuevit, nonne velut numinis
occursu obstupefactus resistat et ut fas sit
vidisse tacitus precetur, tum evocante ipsa
vultus benignitate productus adoret ac
supplicet. . . . (5) Aderit levabitque, si co
lere eam voluerimus. Colitur autem non
taurorum opimis corporibus contrucida-
tis sed pia et recta voluntate. (6) Nemo,
inquam, non amore eius arderet si nobis
illam videre contingeret; nunc enim multa
obstrigillant et aciem nostram aut splen-
dore nimio repercutiunt aut obscuritate
retinent. Sed si, quemadmodum visus
oculorum quibusdam medicamentis acui
18
would add, and magnanimity looming

above all. Every voice would declare the
sight worthy of love and reverence. (4) Any
who saw it, loftier and more brilliant
than things human beings ordinarily see,
would surely stop, stunned as at the ap-
pearance of a god, and silently pray that
they had not transgressed in seeing it;5
then led on by the inviting benevolence
of its expression, they would bow in
worship. . . . (5) [This god] will assist
and raise us up, if we are devoted to it,
with our devotion expressed not by the
slaughtered bodies of choice bulls . . .
but by a dutiful and upright will. (6) No
one, as I said, would not burn with love,
if it w ere our lot to see it. Now in fact
there are many obstructions: our sight
is either blinded by too much brilliance
or frustrated by darkness. Yet as our
19
solet et repurgari, sic nos aciem animi

liberare inpedimentis voluerimus, po-
terimus perspicere virtutem. (Epistle
115.3–6)
20
eyesight is often sharpened and made

clear by certain medicines, if we will-
ingly free our mind’s vision from its im-
pediments, we will be able to see virtue
clearly. (Epistle 115.3–6)
Seneca knew—and frequently admitted—

that he was not wise: he was just one of
those trying to make progress t oward wis-
dom, an attempt that was worth making
even if the goal could not be reached. But
there were a few—vanishingly few—who
might be thought to have succeeded and so
serve as exemplars for the rest of us. Socra-
tes was probably the consensus choice: in-
sisting that his fellow Athenians question
their own beliefs and practices as search-
ingly as he questioned his own, he became
a martyr to the cause of intellectual and
moral independence. And for some Romans
21
(27) Si . . . exemplum desideratis, accipite

Socraten, perpessicium senem, per omnia
aspera iactatum, invictum tamen et
paupertate . . . et laboribus, quos militares
quoque pertulit. . . . †sivere† aut in bello
fuit aut in tyrannide aut in libertate bellis
ac tyrannis saeviore. (28) Viginti et sep-
tem annis pugnatum est; post finita arma
22
the younger Cato— a con temporary of

Cicero and a professed Stoic—was another
candidate:6 after the rivalry of Julius Caesar
and Pompey the Great led to the civil war
that ended the Republic and set the stage
for five centuries of autocratic rule, Cato
came to be regarded as a man who rejected
factionalism and cared only for freedom,
choosing suicide when he could live only by
accepting Caesar’s clemency and the subser-
vience he thought it implied.
(27) If you want a model, take Socrates,

that long-suffering old man, buffeted by
every sort of adversity, who was nonethe-
less unvanquished by poverty . . . and
toil, including ser vice endured u nder
arms. . . . [He lived] e ither in war or under
tyranny, or in a freedom crueler than
wars and tyrants.7 (28) The war lasted
23
triginta tyrannis noxae dedita est civitas,

ex quibus plerique inimici erant. Novis-
sime damnatio est sub gravissimis nomini-
bus impleta: obiecta est et religionum
violatio et iuventutis corruptela, quam
inmittere in deos, in patres, in rem publi-
cam dictus est. Post haec carcer et vene-
num. Haec usque eo animum Socratis
non moverant ut ne vultum quidem mo
verint. <O> illam mirabilem laudem et
singularem! usque ad extremum nec hila
riorem quisquam nec tristiorem Socraten
vidit; aequalis fuit in tanta inaequalitate
fortunae.
(29) Vis alterum exemplum? accipe hunc
M. Catonem recentiorem, cum quo et in-
festius fortuna egit et pertinacius. Cui
cum omnibus locis obstitisset, novissime
24
twenty-seven years; after it ended, the

state was surrendered like chattel to thirty
tyrants, most of them Socrates’s enemies.
Finally, there is his condemnation on the
most serious charges: he was accused of
violating religious norms and corrupt-
ing the youth, whom he supposedly
turned against the gods, their fathers,
and the civil community. Prison and poi-
son followed. All this was so far from
moving Socrates’s mind that it d idn’t
even alter his expression. What wonder-
ful and singular glory, that to the end no
one saw Socrates especially elated or
downcast: amid such vicissitudes of for-
tune he was unchanged.
(29) Do you want another model? Take
Cato the younger, whom fortune more
insistently treated with greater malice.
Though fortune had stymied him
25
et in morte, ostendit tamen virum for-

tem posse invita fortuna vivere, invita
mori. . . . (30) Nemo mutatum Catonem
totiens mutata re publica vidit; eundem se
in omni statu praestitit, in praetura, in re-
pulsa, in accusatione, in provincia, in
contione, in exercitu, in morte. Denique
in illa rei publicae trepidatione, cum illinc
Caesar esset decem legionibus pugnacis-
simis subnixus, totis exterarum gentium
praesidiis, hinc Cn. Pompeius, satis unus
adversus omnia, cum alii ad Caesarem in-
clinarent, alii ad Pompeium, solus Cato
fecit aliquas et rei publicae partes. . . . (33)
Vides posse homines laborem pati: per
medias Africae solitudines pedes duxit
exercitum. Vides posse tolerari sitim: in
26
everywhere—finally even in death—he

still showed that the brave can spite for-
tune by living and by dying.8 . . . (30) No
matter how often the Republic changed,
no one saw a change in Cato: he showed
himself to be the same in every circum-
stance, in high office or defeat, as pros-
ecutor or provincial commander, in the
assembly, in the army, in death. Finally,
amid the Republic’s upheaval— with
Caesar on one side, supported by ten
legions e ager for war and allied with all
foreign nations, Pompey on the other side,
one man ready to face all adversity—as
some supported Caesar, others Pompey,
Cato alone saw to it that the Republic,
too, had a partisan. . . . (33) You see that
human beings can endure travail: Cato,
on foot, led his army through the midst
of the African desert. You see that thirst
27
collibus arentibus sine ullis inpedimentis

victi exercitus reliquias trahens inopiam
umoris loricatus tulit et, quotiens aquae
fuerat occasio, novissimus bibit. Vides
honorem et notam posse contemni:
eodem quo repulsus est die in comitio
pila lusit. Vides posse non timeri poten-
tiam superiorum: et Pompeium et Cae-
sarem, quorum nemo alterum offendere
audebat nisi ut alterum demereretur,
simul provocavit. Vides tam mortem
posse contemni quam exilium: et exilium
sibi indixit et mortem et interim bellum.
(34) Possumus itaque adversus ista tan-
tum habere animi, libeat modo subdu
cere iugo collum. . . . Aurum et argentum
et quidquid aliud felices domos onerat
28
can be endured: dragging the remnant of

his army, vanquished and without sup-
plies, along the parched hills, he went
without w ater in heavy armor, and, when
the chance to drink arose, he drank last.
You see that office and distinction can be
despised: he played a game of ball on
the very day he lost his election.9 You see
that one need not fear t hose with greater
power: though all others dared to offend
the one only if doing so secured the
other’s favor, Cato challenged Pompey
and Caesar together. You see that death
can be despised as easily as exile: he im-
posed on himself both exile and death,
and in between them war.10 (34) So we can
face such adversities with just as much
spirit, once we shake the yoke from our
necks. . . . Leave behind gold and silver
and whatever e lse burdens prosperous
29
relinquatur: non potest gratis constare

libertas. Hanc si magno aestimas, omnia
parvo aestimanda sunt. (Epistle 104.27–
30, 33–34)
(7) Ad [Idomenea] Epicurus illam no

bilem sententiam scripsit qua hortatur
ut Pythoclea locupletem non publica
nec ancipiti via faciat. “Si vis” inquit
“Pythoclea divitem facere, non pecuniae
30
ouseholds: freedom cannot be had for

h
nothing. If you value freedom highly, all
else must be thought cheap. (Epistle

104.27–30, 33–34)
Now, few of us can hope to become para-

gons of wisdom, but figures such as Socra-
tes and Cato point to a goal that is actually
within reach: developing a good w ill—a will
that aims only at the good—which can be
achieved, as Seneca urges in these next pas-
sages, if we diminish our desires, understand
that a “good mind” is available to all p
eople,
and work every day to achieve it.
(7) Epicurus wrote this noble thought to

Idomeneus, urging him to make Pytho-
cles rich in no common or ambiguous
way:11 “If you want to make Pythocles
wealthy, don’t increase his funds, lessen
31
adiciendum sed cupiditati detrahendum

est.” (8) Et apertior ista sententia est
quam <ut> interpretanda sit, et disertior
quam ut adiuvanda. Hoc unum te admo-
neo, ne istud tantum existimes de divitîs
dictum: quocumque transtuleris, idem
poterit. Si vis Pythoclea honestum fa-
cere, non honoribus adiciendum est sed
cupiditatibus detrahendum; si vis Pytho-
clea esse in perpetua voluptate, non vo-
luptatibus adiciendum est sed cupidita
tibus detrahendum; si vis Pythoclea
senem facere et implere vitam, non annis
adiciendum est sed cupiditatibus detra-
hendum. (Epistle 21.7–8)
(1) Iterum tu mihi te pusillum facis et

dicis malignius tecum egisse naturam
prius, deinde fortunam, cum possis ex-
imere te vulgo et ad felicitatem hominum
32
his desires.” (8) The point is too clear to

need interpreting and too neat to need
embellishing. One t hing I do urge: d on’t
suppose that the saying applies only to
wealth. Change the frame of reference; its
force stays the same. If you want to make
Pythocles honorable, don’t increase his
honors, lessen his desires. If you want
Pythocles to enjoy unending pleasure,
don’t increase his pleasures, lessen his de-
sires. If you want Pythocles to reach old
age living a full life, d
on’t add to his years,
lessen his desires. (Epistle 21.7–8)
(1) Again you belittle yourself, saying

that first nature short-changed you, then
fortune, though you’re poised to escape
from the common run of men and reach
the pinnacle of human happiness [that
is, wisdom]. If philosophy is good for
33
maximam emergere. Si quid est aliud in

philosophia boni, hoc est, quod stemma
non inspicit; omnes, si ad originem pri-
mam revocantur, a dis sunt. (2) Eques
Romanus es, et ad hunc ordinem tua te
perduxit industria; at mehercules multis
quattuordecim clausa sunt, non omnes
curia admittit, castra quoque quos ad
laborem et periculum recipiant fastidiose
legunt: bona mens omnibus patet, omnes
ad hoc sumus nobiles. Nec reicit quem-
quam philosophia nec eligit: omnibus
lucet. (Epistle 44.1–2)
(5) Nemo difficulter ad naturam reduci-

tur nisi qui ab illa defecit: erubescimus
discere bonam mentem. At mehercules,
<si> turpe est magistrum huius rei quae
rere, illud desperandum est, posse nobis
casu tantum bonum influere: laborandum
34
anything, it is this: it d oesn’t look to

pedigree; everyone—traced back to their
beginnings— comes from the gods.
(2) You’re a Roman knight, and y ou’ve
raised yourself to that rank through your
own effort.12 But good grief, the first
fourteen rows are closed to many; the
Senate house doesn’t let everyone in; the
army camp is choosy about whom it ad-
mits to its toil and danger: a good mind
is available to all. We’re all nobles in that
regard. Philosophy neither rejects nor
selects: it shines for all. (Epistle 44.1–2)
(5) Only those who have left nature’s way

have a hard time being led back: learning
to have a good mind embarrasses us. But
for heaven’s sake, if shame forbids us to
seek a teacher for this purpose, there is no
hope at all that so g reat a good can just
35
est et, ut verum dicam, ne labor quidem

magnus est, si modo . . . ante animum
nostrum formare incipimus et recorrigere
quam indurescat pravitas eius. . . . (7) . . .
Non est quod te inpediat quominus de
nobis bene speres, quod malitia nos iam
tenet, quod diu in possessione nostri est:
ad neminem ante bona mens venit quam
mala; omnes praeoccupati sumus; virtutes
discere vitia dediscere <est>. (8) Sed eo
maiore animo ad emendationem nostri
debemus accedere quod semel traditi
nobis boni perpetua possessio est; non
dediscitur virtus. (Epistle 50.5, 7–8)
36
chance to sink in by itself. It takes work

and—to tell the truth—the work entailed
is not even considerable, if only . . . we
begin to shape and straighten our own
mind before wrongheadedness becomes
immoveable. . . . (7) . . . There is no rea-
son not to have hope just b ecause vice
holds us firmly and has done so for a long
time: one comes to have a good mind only
after having a bad one. Because vice came
to us first, unlearning it is the way to learn
virtue. (8) But we should approach our
self-correction all the more optimistically
because once good has been passed on to
us, possession of it is secure forever: there
is no unlearning virtue. (Epistle 50.5, 7–8)
And to reach the goal of a good will in a

large mind, we must cultivate two other
goods that are the source of every virtue:
37
(32) Cito hoc potest tradi et paucissimis

verbis: unum bonum esse virtutem, nul-
lum certe sine virtute, et ipsam virtutem
in parte nostri meliore, id est rationali,
positam. Quid erit haec virtus? iudicium
verum et inmotum; ab hoc enim impe-
tus venient mentis, ab hoc omnis spe-
cies quae impetum movet redigetur ad
liquidum. . . . (36) Instemus itaque et per-
severemus; plus quam profligavimus re-
stat, sed magna pars est profectus velle
proficere. Huius rei conscius mihi sum:
volo et mente tota volo. Te quoque in-
stinctum esse et magno ad pulcherrima
properare impetu video. Properemus.
(Epistle 71.32, 36)
38
clear thinking and true judgment, the sub-

jects of the next chapter.
(32) This lesson can be taught quickly, in

very few words: the only good is virtue,
there certainly is no good without virtue,
and virtue itself is placed in the better—
that is, rational—part of us. What w
ill this
virtue be? True and unshakeable judg-
ment: this will be the source of the mind’s
impulses; this will clarify every impres-
sion that stirs an impulse. . . . (36) So let’s
press on and persevere: what remains is
greater than what we’ve overcome, but a
great part of progress is the willingness to
progress. I know of myself that this is
true: I am willing, and willing with all my
mind. I see that you too have been roused
and press on energetically toward this
fairest goal. Let’s hurry. (Epistle 71.32, 36)
39
2
BEING CALM, THINKING CLEARLY
Sola sublimis et excelsa virtus est, nec

quicquam magnum est nisi quod simul
placidum. (On Anger 1.21.4)
40
2
BEING CALM, THINKING CLEARLY
Only virtue is lofty and exalted, nor is

anything great if it is not also calm.
(On Anger 1.21.4)
The wise always do right by o thers, the

Stoics held, just as they always act bravely
and speak truthfully, simply b ecause, being
wise, they can act and speak in no other way.
The rest of us—the nonwise—must expend
some effort to cultivate the clarity of mind
that is the essential precondition of all vir-
tues, fairness included.
41
B eing C alm , T hinking Clearly
To understand the importance that Sen-

eca and the Stoics placed on clear thinking,
consider their take on one of our ordinary
human emotions—say, fear. On their un-
derstanding (which I happen to accept)
my experiencing one run-of-the-mill sort
of fear—the fear of physical harm—is based
on my accepting as true two impressions or
beliefs: that physical harm is a bad t hing for
me, and that a source of physical harm—for
example, a massive, vicious dog intent on
tearing out my throat—is present or ap-
proaching. If I accept that each of these
premises is true, I will experience all the fa-
miliar physical and mental manifestations of
fear: a “sinking” feeling in my stomach, an
increased rate of breathing, a panicky agi-
tation that unsettles my thoughts, a trem-
bling or paralysis in my limbs, and so on.
And on the Stoic view, I w ill be absolutely
43
mistaken to experience any of that, because—

to set aside the massive dog for a moment—
Iw ill be absolutely mistaken to accept as
true the belief that physical harm is a bad
thing for me.
As we saw in the introduction, the pred-
icate “is a bad thing for me” can be true if
and only if its subject is “the absence of
virtue”—the moral and intellectual failure
caused by the mind’s falling away from rea-
son. The belief that physical harm is a bad
thing for me is no more true and acceptable
than the belief that physical well-being is
a good thing for me, b ecause harm and
well-being are neither good nor bad t hings.
They are “indifferents,” and while we would
be correct to prefer well-being over harm
and to seek the one while we avoid the
other, we would be wrong to think that
our true human good would be at stake in
45
the seeking or in the avoiding. And so—to

get back to the massive, vicious dog—the
truly wise, confronted with the impression
that the dog is about to attack, will experi-
ence “caution,” the “good” emotion that
corresponds to the nonwise person’s “fear.”
They will be calm, not agitated; their think-
ing will be clear, not panicky. As a result,
they might see that the dog is not as large
as the first impression suggested and is not
vicious but high- spirited; or if the dog
really does intend them harm, they
will
have the presence of mind that can allow
them to distract the dog, or soothe it, or
avoid the attack in some other way. And if
in the end the dog does pounce—well, that
really is no bad thing: the wise will be joy-
ful with the dog at their throat, just as they
would be on a torturer’s rack, because their
minds will be at one with the reason that
47
governs the universe, and they w ill recog-

nize that the dog is just a four-legged man-
ifestation of divine providence.
And yes, I agree, “magnanimity” of that
sort of is a lot to expect us to manage; and,
again, Seneca does not r eally expect us to
manage it. But he does encourage us to try—
to practice the clear thinking, for example,
that w ill allow us to see that an apparent
insult was no such thing, or to reject the
impression that an insult does us real
harm. And so he has a good deal to say
about the habits of mind that will help us to
make pro gress toward wisdom, starting
with the first step: be calm; avoid the rest-
lessness that besets us when (as Seneca puts
it) we “exert ourselves over trivialities.”
Above all, b ecause the influence of other
people’s opinions is the primary reason why
we fail to live “according to nature,” we
49
Being C alm , T hinking Clearly
(6) Omnes in eadem causa sunt, et hi

qui levitate uexantur ac taedio adsidu-
aque mutatione propositi, quibus sem-
per magis placet quod reliquerunt, et illi
qui marcent et oscitantur. Adice eos qui
non aliter quam quibus difficilis somnus
est versant se et hoc atque illo modo
componunt donec quietem lassitudine
50
should question t hose opinions and think

for ourselves. If we do, we w ill be one step
closer to thinking with a good will, intend-
ing to do what is right and attempting to put
that intention into effect.
Of course, keeping calm is easier said than

done, as Seneca well knew: here is a partial
catalogue of the psychic woes that block
our path and slow our progress, presented
near the start of his treatise on tranquility.
(6) Everyone is in the same fix, both the

feckless, troubled souls who constantly
change their goals out of boredom, only
to find that they prefer what they aban-
doned, and the apathetic types who yawn
their lives away. Then there are those
who toss and turn like insomniacs, ar-
ranging themselves this way and that u
ntil
51
inveniant: statum vitae suae reformando

subinde in eo novissime manent in quo
illos non mutandi odium sed senectus
ad novandum pigra deprendit. . . . (7)
Innumerabiles deinceps proprietates

sunt sed unus effectus vitii, sibi displi
cere. Hoc oritur ab intemperie animi et
cupiditatibus timidis aut parum pros-
peris, ubi aut non audent quantum con-
cupiscunt aut non consequuntur et in
spem toti prominent; semper instabiles
mobilesque sunt, quod necesse est acci-
dere pendentibus. . . . (8) Tunc illos et
paenitentia coepti tenet et incipiendi
timor subrepitque illa animi iactatio non
invenientis exitum, quia nec imperare
cupiditatibus suis nec obsequi pos-

sunt. . . . (10) Hinc illud est taedium et
displicentia sui et nusquam residentis
52
exhaustion brings them rest: repeatedly

refashioning their way of life, they’re fi
nally overtaken, not by distaste for
change, but by a senile lack of energy for
change. . . . (7) This vice has innumerable
traits but just one result: self-loathing. It
arises from a mind not well balanced and
from longings either too cautious or too
unprofitable, when people’s desire ex-
ceeds their daring or failure leaves them
grasping only at hope. T hey’re never
steady and still—inevitably, since t hey’re
always up in the air. . . . (8) Then regret
for what they’ve undertaken grips them
and fear of making a start; the agitation of
a mind that sees no way out comes over
them, incapable of either commanding or
obeying their desires. . . . (10) Hence that
boredom and self-loathing, the spinning
of a mind that is never at rest and the
53
animi volutatio et otii sui tristis atque

aegra patientia, utique ubi causas fateri
pudet et tormenta introsus egit verecun-
dia, in angusto inclusae cupiditates sine
exitu se ipsae strangulant; inde maeror
marcorque et mille fluctus mentis incer-
tae, quam spes inchoatae suspensam
habent, deploratae tristem. . . . (11) ex hac
deinde aversatione alienorum processuum
et suorum desperatione obirascens for-
tunae animus et de saeculo querens et in
angulos se retrahens et poenae incubans
suae, dum illum taedet sui pigetque. (On
Tranquility of Mind 2.6–8, 10–11)
54
morose and queasy sufferance of unfilled

time—how could it be otherwise, when
acknowledging the cause prompts a blush
and the torment is suppressed out of
shame, when unvented desires are stran-
gled by their close confinement. Grief
and wasting result; the mind, unresolved,
heaves on a thousand waves, anxious over
hopes only sketched, depressed at hopes
abandoned. . . . (11) Repelled by others’
successes, despairing of its own, the mind
grows furious with fortune, laments the
times, withdraws into its recesses, and
sulks at being punished, fed up and dis-
gusted with itself. (On Tranquility of
Mind 2.6–8, 10–11)
The feckless and the apathetic, the frantic

and the regretful, the hopeful and the
despairing—they all share one trait: a lack of
55
(2) Harpasten, uxoris meae fatuam, scis

hereditarium onus in domo mea reman-
sisse. Ipse enim aversissimus ab istis
prodigiis sum; si quando fatuo delectari
volo, non est mihi longe quaerendus:
me rideo. Haec fatua subito desiit vi
dere. Incredibilem rem tibi narro, sed
veram: nescit esse se caecam; subinde
56
self-knowledge. Even when they are aware

that all is not well, they do not know why:
whereas the wise know that they are wise,
and live contented, the nonwise do not
know that they are fools and so do not know
the cause of their malaise. Seneca illustrates
the point with an anecdote about one of the
enslaved members of his household, who
served his wife as a kind of jester:
(2) You know that Harpastê, my wife’s

fool, remains in our h
ousehold as an in-
herited burden. I myself want nothing at
1
all to do with such creatures: if I ever

want to be amused by a fool, I d
on’t have
far to look—I laugh at myself. After
suddenly becoming blind— the story is
unbelievable but true—this fool d oesn’t
realize that she is blind but repeatedly
57
paedagogum suum rogat ut migret, ait

domum tenebricosam esse. (3) Hoc quod
in illa ridemus omnibus nobis accidere
liqueat tibi: nemo se avarum esse intelle-
git, nemo cupidum. Caeci tamen ducem
quaerunt, nos sine duce erramus et dici-
mus, “non ego ambitiosus sum, sed nemo
aliter Romae potest vivere”; “non ego
sumptuosus sum, sed urbs ipsa magnas
inpensas exigit”; “non est meum vitium
quod iracundus sum, quod nondum con-
stitui certum genus vitae: adulescentia
haec facit.” (4) Quid nos decipimus? non
est extrinsecus malum nostrum: intra nos
est, in visceribus ipsis sedet, et ideo diffi-
culter ad sanitatem pervenimus quia nos
aegrotare nescimus. Si curari coeperi-
mus, quando tot morborum tantas vires
discutiemus? Nunc vero ne quaerimus
58
asks her attendant to move her, saying her

apartment is too dark. (3) It should be
clear to you that what makes us laugh in
her case happens to us all: no one sees that
he is greedy or grasping. Yet the blind
need a guide while we wander unattended
and say, “I am not ambitious—but it’s
impossible to live otherwise in Rome”;
“I am not a spendthrift—but the city de-
mands large outlays”; “I am inclined to
anger—but it’s not my fault, I h aven’t yet
settled on a stable sort of life, my youth’s
the cause.” (4) Why do we deceive our-
selves? The cause of distress lies not out-
side us but within; it is settled in our very
vitals, and because we do not know that
we are ailing it is hard to find relief. If we
do start on a cure, when will we shake off
the diseases—they are legion, and very
powerful? Yet now we do not even seek
59
quidem medicum, qui minus negotii ha-

beret si adhiberetur ad recens vitium;
sequerentur teneri et rudes animi recta
monstrantem. (Epistle 50.2–4)
12 (1) Proximum ab his erit ne aut in su-

pervacuis aut ex supervacuo laboremus,
id est ne quae aut non possumus conse-
qui concupiscamus aut adepti vanitatem
cupiditatium nostrarum sero post mul-
tum sudorem intellegamus, id est ne aut
labor inritus sit sine effectu aut effectus
60
a physician, who would have an easier

time if summoned to address a fresh fault:
our minds, pliant and unformed, would
follow directions to the right path.
(Epistle 50.2–4)
The road to tranquility begins with reflec-

tion: consider where your energy should be
directed, and why; pare away everything ir-
relevant to the peace of mind that is your
proper goal; and be prepared for the stroke
of bad luck that frustrates your aim.
12 (1) Next, we should not exert ourselves

over trivialities or from trivial motives:
let’s not desire what we cannot achieve
or—having achieved it—recognize too
late, after much sweat, that our desires
were empty. Let our efforts not fail to
produce results, let the results not be
61
labore indignus; fere enim ex his tristitia

sequitur, si aut non successit aut succes-
sus pudet. (2) Circumcidenda concursa-
tio, qualis est magnae parti hominum
domos et theatra et fora pererrantium:
alienis se negotiis offerunt, semper aliquid
agentibus similes. Horum si aliquem ex-
euntem e domo interrogaveris “quo tu?
quid cogitas?” respondebit tibi “non me-
hercules scio; sed aliquos videbo, aliquid
agam.” (3) Sine proposito vagantur quae
rentes negotia nec quae destinaverunt
agunt sed in quae incucurrerunt: incon-
sultus illis vanusque cursus est. . . . His
plerique similem vitam agunt, quorum
non inmerito quis inquietam inertiam
dixerit. (4) Quorundam quasi ad incen-
dium currentium misereberis: usque eo
62
unworthy of our efforts, for despondency

follows both from failure and from suc-
cess that brings disgrace. (2) We should be
less inclined to dash about, this way and
that, as most p eople do, wandering from
house to house, theater to theater, forum
to forum, volunteering to further o thers’
interests, like movers and shakers. If you
ask one of them as he is leaving home,
“Where to, what’s the plan?,” he w ill
reply, “God, I have no idea, but I’ll see
some people, make something happen.”
(3) They wander randomly, looking for
occupation, and do what comes their
way, not what they had in mind: they
are just on the run, thoughtlessly and
aimlessly. . . . Most people live that way—
fidgety indolence, one could call it.
(4) Pitiable, some of them are, like p eople
rushing to a fire, thrusting aside those
63
inpellunt obvios et se aliosque praecipi-

tant, cum interim cucurrerunt aut saluta
turi aliquem non resalutaturum aut funus
ignoti hominis prosecuturi. . . . Dein
domum cum supervacua redeuntes lassi-
tudine iurant nescire se ipsos quare exie
rint, ubi fuerint, postero die erraturi per
eadem illa vestigia. (5) Omnis itaque labor
aliquo referatur, aliquo respiciat. Non in-
dustria inquietos sed insanos falsae
rerum imagines agitant . . . : proritat illos
alicuius rei species, cuius vanitatem capta
mens non coarguit.
13 (2) Nam qui multa agit saepe fortunae
potestatem sui facit, quam tutissimum est
raro experiri, ceterum semper de illa cogi-
tare et nihil sibi de fide eius promittere:
“navigabo, nisi si quid inciderit” . . . et
64
they meet, sending themselves and others

headlong—meanwhile, they have run to
attend some stranger’s funeral or to call
on someone who will not return their
greeting. . . . Arriving back home, ex-
hausted and with nothing to show for
their effort, they swear they themselves
do not know why they left, where they
went—destined to wander over the same
track tomorrow. (5) So let all our effort be
directed at some goal. Diligence does not
make people restless, but phantoms drive
them crazy: some impression goads them
on, and their enslaved minds do not see
it for the empty thing it is.
13 (2) Someone active on many fronts
often submits to fortune, which is safest
when rarely tested but kept always in
mind and never reckoned reliable: “I w ill
sail—absent some chance occurrence” . . .
65
“negotiatio mihi respondebit, nisi si quid

intervenerit.” (3) Hoc est quare sapienti
nihil contra opinionem dicamus acci-
dere: non illum casibus hominum excer-
pimus sed erroribus nec illi omnia ut
voluit cedunt, sed ut cogitavit; in primis
autem cogitavit aliquid posse propositis
suis resistere. Necesse est autem levius
ad animum pervenire destitutae cupidi-
tatis dolorem cui successum non utique
promiseris. (On Tranquility of Mind
12.1–5, 13.2–3)
66
and “The deal w ill go my way—absent

some obstacle.” (3) This is why we say
that nothing unexpected happens to the
wise: we exempt them from humanity’s
common errors, not its misfortunes, and
everything turns out, not as they wished,
but as they expected—having expected
above all that something could oppose
their plans. Inevitably, the pain of disap-
pointed desire more lightly touches a
mind to which you haven’t promised suc-
cess. (On Tranquility of Mind 12.1–5,
13.2–3)
Above all— a point Seneca repeatedly

makes—we should remember that thanks to
the way we were built by nature, we have
from birth all that we need for a good life
and true happiness. We should resist the in-
fluence of opinions around us that make us
67
(6) Quam multa autem paramus quia alii

paraverunt! . . . Inter causas malorum
nostrorum est quod vivimus ad exempla,
nec ratione componimur sed consuetu-
dine abducimur. Quod si pauci facerent
nollemus imitari, cum plures facere coe
perunt, quasi honestius sit quia fre-
quentius, sequimur; et recti apud nos
locum tenet error ubi publicus factus est.
(7) Omnes iam sic peregrinantur ut illos
Numidarum praecurrat equitatus, ut
agmen cursorum antecedat: turpe est
nullos esse qui occurrentis via deiciant,
[ut] qui honestum hominem venire
68
edgy and unsettled by promoting false goals

and specious goods.
(6) We acquire so many things because

others have acquired them! . . . The fact
that we model our lives on o thers’ is one
source of our problems: we do not orga
nize our lives according to reason but are
led astray by fashion. Behavior we would
not willingly imitate if we saw it only in
a few we adopt when we see more people
behaving that way, as if greater currency
made it more honorable: once wrong be-
comes common it supplants right in our
minds. (7) So now everyone travels with
Numidian horsemen riding before them
and a column of runners in the vanguard:
it’s a disgrace not to have attendants to
sweep from the path those they meet and
raise a dust cloud to mark a bigshot’s
69
magno pulvere ostendant. Omnes iam

mulos habent qui crustallina et murrina et
caelata magnorum artificum manu por-
tent: turpe est videri eas te habere sarci-
nas solas quae tuto concuti possint. . . .
(8) Horum omnium sermo vitandus est:
hi sunt qui vitia tradunt et alio aliunde
transferunt. . . . Horum sermo multum
nocet; nam etiam si non statim proficit,
semina in animo relinquit sequiturque
nos etiam cum ab illis discessimus, resur-
recturum postea malum. (9) Quemad-
modum qui audierunt synphoniam ferunt
secum in auribus modulationem illam
ac dulcedinem cantuum, quae cogitationes
inpedit nec ad seria patitur intendi, sic adu-
latorum et prava laudantium sermo diutius
haeret quam auditur. Nec facile est animo
dulcem sonum excutere: prosequitur et
70
approach. Now everyone has mules to

carry cups of crystal and agate, embossed
in gold by g reat craftsmen: it’s a shame to
be seen to have only such baggage as
can safely take a beating. . . .
(8) Do not converse with all these
people: they are the ones who transmit
faults, passing them along from one to an-
other. . . . Their talk does a lot of harm,
for even if it does not have immediate
effect, it plants seeds in the mind and
pursues us when we have left their com
pany, an evil that w ill reassert itself later.
(9) As a concert’s audience carries away
in its ears the melody and sweet song,
impeding reflection and keeping thought
from taking a serious turn, so the cor-
rupt chatter of flatterers and sycophants
lingers after it’s heard. It is hard to ban-
ish the pleasing sound from one’s mind:
71
durat et ex intervallo recurrit. Ideo clu-

dendae sunt aures malis vocibus et quidem
primis. (Epistle 123.6–9)
(2) Ad summam sapiens eris, si cluseris

aures, quibus ceram parum est obdere:
firmiore spissamento opus est quam in
sociis usum Ulixem ferunt. Illa vox quae
timebatur erat blanda, non tamen pub
lica: at haec quae timenda est non ex
uno scopulo sed ex omni terrarum parte
circumsonat. . . . Surdum te amantissimis
tuis praesta: bono animo mala precantur.
Et si esse vis felix, deos ora ne quid tibi
ex his quae optantur eveniat. (3) Non
sunt ista bona quae in te isti volunt con-
geri: unum bonum est, quod beatae vitae
72
it follows along, it abides, it returns later

on. We must therefore shut our ears to
mischievous voices, right from the start.
(Epistle 123.6–9)
(2) In short, you w

ill be wise to shut your
ears, a job for which wax is not enough:
you need a sturdier plug than they say
Odysseus used on his companions.2 The
voice they feared was alluring, yet not all-
pervasive: the voice you should fear re-
sounds not from a single crag but from
every corner of the earth. . . . Turn a deaf
ear to your nearest and dearest: with
every good intention they pray for things
that would harm you. If you want to be
happy, beg the gods to frustrate all their
wishes. (3) The t hings they would have
heaped upon you are not good: t here is
only one good, the cause and guarantee
73
causa et firmamentum est, sibi fidere.

(Epistle 31.2–3)
1 (3) Nihil ergo magis praestandum est

quam ne pecorum ritu sequamur antece
dentium gregem, pergentes non quo eun-
dum est sed quo itur. Atqui nulla res nos
maioribus malis inplicat quam quod ad
rumorem componimur . . . quodque ex-
empla <nobis pro> bonis multa sunt nec
ad rationem sed ad similitudinem vivi-
mus. (4) . . . Quod in strage hominum
magna evenit, cum ipse se populus
premit—nemo ita cadit ut non et alium in
se adtrahat, primique exitio sequentibus
sunt—hoc in omni vita accidere videas
licet. Nemo sibi tantummodo errat, sed
alieni erroris et causa et auctor est. . . .
74
of the best human life—self-reliance.

(Epistle 31.2–3)
1 (3) The most important thing is this:

that we not, like c attle, just follow the
herd ahead of us, g oing where it happens
to go, not where we should go. And yet
nothing gets us into more trouble than
organizing our lives according to what
people say; . . . having many models, not
good ones; and living not according to
reason but by mimicry. (4) . . . When
people press against each other in a great
tumult, no one falls without dragging an-
other on top of him, the foremost bring-
ing destruction upon those behind—you
can see this happen in all our lives. No
one’s errors touch him alone, but they are
the cause and warrant of another’s.
75
2 (2) Quaeramus ergo quid optimum

factu sit, non quid usitatissimum, et quid
nos in possessione felicitatis aeternae con-
stituat, non quid vulgo, veritatis pessimo
interpreti, probatum sit. . . . Habeo me-
lius et certius lumen quo a falsis vera di
iudicem: animi bonum animus inveniat.
Hic, si umquam respirare illi et recedere
in se vacaverit, o quam sibi ipse verum
tortus a se fatebitur ac dicet: (3) “Quid-
quid feci adhuc infectum esse mallem,
quidquid dixi cum recogito, mutis in-
video. . . . Omnem operam dedi ut me
multitudini educerem et aliqua dote no-
tabilem facerem: quid aliud quam . . .
me . . . malevolentiae quod morderet os-
tendi? (4) . . . Quin potius quaero aliquod
usu bonum, quod sentiam, non quod
76
2 (2) Let’s ask, then, what it is best to do,

not what is most commonly done, and
what will make us happy forever, not
what is approved by the general public,
the truth’s worst interpreter. . . . I have a
better, more reliable light to use in distin-
guishing the true from the false: let the
mind discover the mind’s own good. If
ever the mind is f ree to catch its breath
and rely on its own resources, how it w ill
rack itself and confess the truth, saying,
(3) “Whatever I have done, I would wish
it was yet undone; when I recall all that I
have said, I envy the mute. . . . I have made
every effort to distinguish myself from the
many and make myself noteworthy
through some talent: what have I achieved
beyond exposing myself to a gnawing
malice? (4) . . . Why not rather seek some
good that I can actually experience, not
77
ostendam? Ista quae spectantur, ad quae

consistitur, quae alter alteri stupens mon-
strat, foris nitent, introrsus misera sunt.”
(On the Happy Life 1.3–4, 2.2–4)
(1) Quidni tu, mi Lucili, maximum putes

instrumentum vitae beatae hanc persua-
sionem unum bonum esse quod hones-
tum est? Nam qui alia bona iudicat in for-
tunae venit potestatem, alieni arbitrii fit:
78
hold out for show? The things that catch

the eye and draw a crowd, that one as-
tonished person points out to another—
they are glittering on the outside but are
wretched within.” (On the Happy Life
1.3–4, 2.2–4)
If we think for ourselves, using the reason

that nature gave us instead of aping the pref-
erences of o thers, we can more reliably
think clearly, more quickly come to see that
virtue is the only worthy goal, and more
surely direct our intentions t oward it:
(1) My dear Lucilius, why shouldn’t

you think that the best means to secure
the best human life is the conviction
that what is honorable is the only good?
For one who judges other things good
falls under fortune’s power, subject to
79
qui omne bonum honesto circumscripsit

intra se felix <est>. (2) Hic amissis liberis
maestus, hic sollicitus aegris, hic turpibus
et aliqua sparsis infamia tristis; illum
videbis alienae uxoris amore cruciari,
illum suae; non deerit quem repulsa
distorqueat; erunt quos ipse honor
vexet. . . . (4) Occurrent acti in exilium
et evoluti bonis; . . . occurrent naufragi
similiave naufragis passi, quos aut popu-
laris ira aut invidia . . . inopinantis secu-
rosque disiecit procellae more . . . aut
fulminis subiti ad cuius ictum etiam vicina
tremuerunt. Nam ut illic quisquis ab igne
80
another’s judgment: the one for whom

the good is indistinguishable from the
honorable has happiness within him-
self. (2) This person is grief stricken
when his children die, or troubled when
they are ill, or downcast if they are dis-
graced and stained by ill repute; that per-
son you will see tormented by love for
another’s wife, yet another by love for his
own; you will find some racked by elec-
toral loss, o
thers troubled by the very
office they won. . . . (4) You w ill come
upon men driven into exile, stripped of
their wealth, . . . others who have suf-
fered shipwreck, or something like it,
whom the people’s anger or envy unex-
pectedly struck down when they w ere
carefree, like a sudden squall . . . or a
lightning bolt at whose blast even the
neighboring regions tremble. For as in
81
propior stetit percusso similis obstipuit,

sic in his per aliquam vim accidentibus
unum calamitas opprimit, ceteros metus,
paremque passis tristitiam facit pati
posse. . . . (6) Quisquis se multum fortu-
itis dedit ingentem sibi materiam pertur-
bationis et inexplicabilem fecit: una haec
via est ad tuta vadenti, externa despicere
et honesto esse contentum. Nam qui ali
quid virtute melius putat aut ullum prae-
ter illam bonum, ad haec quae a fortuna
sparguntur sinum expandit et sollicitus
missilia eius expectat.
(7) Hanc enim imaginem animo tuo
propone, ludos facere Fortunam et in
hunc mortalium coetum honores, divi-
tias, gratiam excutere, quorum alia inter
82
the latter case whoever stands too close

to the blast is as stunned as the one
who was struck, so in these other chance
upheavals disaster overwhelms one per-
son, fear all others: the potential for suf-
fering makes them as distressed as those
who have actually suffered. . . . (6) Who-
ever surrenders to chance gives anxiety
much raw material to work with, mak-
ing it inescapable: disdaining external
things, being content with what is hon-
orable, is the one path to safety. For those
who reckon that there is some good
preferable to or other than virtue bare
their breasts to whatever fortune throws
at them: they uneasily await its darts.
(7) Set this image before your mind.
Fortune is holding games and scatters of-
fices, riches, influence among the gath-
ered mortals: some of these gifts are torn
83
diripientium manus scissa sunt, alia infida

societate divisa, alia magno detrimento
eorum in quos devenerant prensa. Ex
quibus quaedam aliud agentibus in-
ciderunt, quaedam, quia ni mis capta-
bantur, amissa . . . sunt: nulli vero, etiam
cui rapina feliciter cessit, gaudium rapti
duravit in posterum. Itaque prudentissi-
mus quisque, cum primum induci videt
munuscula, a theatro fugit et scit magno
parva constare. . . . (8) Idem in his evenit
quae fortuna desuper iactat: aestuamus
miseri, distringimur, multas habere cupi-
mus manus, modo in hanc partem, modo
in illam respicimus. . . . (9) . . . Gaudemus
si quid invasimus invadendique aliquos
spes vana delusit. . . . Secedamus itaque ab
84
to bits by the hands that clutch them,

others are divvied up in unreliable part-
nerships, o thers seized to the detriment of
those who caught them. Some land on
people whose attention is directed else-
where, others are lost by being snatched
too eagerly: no one—not even the one
who comes away with some loot—finds
a lasting joy in what they have grabbed.
So all the shrewdest people leave the the-
ater as soon as the gifts are spied, know-
ing that those trifles come at a heavy
cost. . . . (8) The same t hing happens with
the things that fortune rains upon us: in a
lather, wretched, we are pulled in differ
ent directions, wishing we had more than
two hands as we look now this way,
now that. . . . (9) . . . We rejoice when we
seize something and when o thers’ hopes
of doing so are mocked. . . . So let’s
85
istis ludis et demus raptoribus locum; illi

spectent bona ista pendentia et ipsi magis
pendeant. (10) Quicumque beatus esse
constituet, unum esse bonum putet, quod
honestum est. (Epistle 74.1–2, 4, 6–10)
86
withdraw from those games, yielding

our places to the eager snatchers: let
them look to the prizes dangled above
them, and let them be in still more sus-
pense themselves. (10) Whoever is re-
solved to live the best sort of life should
reckon that what is honorable is the only
good. (Epistle 74.1–2, 4, 6–10)
To illustrate the singular importance of

forming a good intention the Stoics often
used the example of an archer, whose skill
consists of knowing how to seat the arrow
properly, draw the bowstring to the right
degree of tension, and release it smoothly
and accurately toward the target. If the ar-
cher does all t hese t hings properly, he has
done everything that was needed to demon-
strate his skill, and he deserves to be con-
sidered a good archer: if a fter he releases the
87
(33) Ego . . . iudico nec artem gubernato-

ris deteriorem ulla tempestate fieri nec
ipsam administrationem artis. Guberna-
tor tibi non felicitatem promisit sed
88
bowstring a sudden gust of wind chances to

blow the arrow off course, that has no bear-
ing whatever on his skill and should have
no bearing on our judgment of him. And as
with archers, so with us. Having done what
was in our power to do, we can be content
with the outcome, whatever it happens to
be: because they proceed from our own will,
the intention and the attempt are the only
things that we can truly and wholly call our
own. Seneca makes much the same point
using the example of a skilled helmsman in
a storm:
(33) I judge . . . that no storm diminishes

either the helmsman’s skill or that skill’s
exercise. The helmsman promised you
not a successful voyage but the effort that
89
utilem operam et navis regendae scien-

tiam; haec eo magis apparet quo illi magis
aliqua fortuita vis obstitit. Qui hoc potuit
dicere, “Neptune, numquam hanc navem
nisi rectam,” arti satis fecit: tempestas non
opus gubernatoris inpedit sed successum.
(34) “Quid ergo?” inquit “non nocet gu-
bernatori ea res quae illum tenere portum
vetat, quae conatus eius inritos efficit,
quae aut refert illum aut detinet et exar-
mat?” Non tamquam gubernatori, sed
tamquam naviganti nocet. . . . Guberna-
toris artem adeo non inpedit ut ostendat;
tranquillo enim, ut aiunt, quilibet guber-
nator est. Navigio ista obsunt, non rectori
eius, qua rector est. (Epistle 85.33–34)
90
would be useful toward that end and

his knowledge of steering a ship, which
is made more manifest to the degree
that random violence presents a greater
challenge. The one who can say, “Nep-
tune, never this ship save upright” has
done what his expertise demands:3 the
storm hinders a successful outcome, not
the helmsman’s activity as helmsman.
(34) “What then?,” someone says, “is not
the helmsman harmed by the thing that
forbids him from making port?” It harms
him, not in his capacity as helmsman,
only as one making a voyage. . . . In fact
so far from hindering the helmsman’s
skill, it puts it on display: for as they say,
everyone is a helmsman on a flat sea. The
circumstances you describe impede the
ship, not the helmsman in his capacity as
a helmsman. (Epistle 85.33–34)
91
In the next two chapters we w ill see what

advice Seneca has for us once we are think-
ing clearly, decide that doing right by others
is a worthy goal, and form the firm inten-
tion of reaching it.
93
3
JUDGING YOURSELF FAIRLY
Regis quisque intra se animum habet,

ut licentiam sibi dari velit, in se nolit.
(On Anger 2.31.3)
94
3
JUDGING YOURSELF FAIRLY
There is the mind of a monarch within each

of us, wanting to be granted complete
freedom of action but not wanting it to be
turned against us. (On Anger 2.31.3)
Treating others fairly obviously depends on

one’s view of those others—the subject of
the next chapter—but it also depends, still
more fundamentally, on one’s view of one-
self: When you come right down to it,
how important are you, and to what does
that importance entitle you? What sort of
95
J udging Y ourself Fairly
person are you, and what sort of person do

you want to be?
Now it is clear from the ground we have
already covered that Stoicism places enor-
mous emphasis on the care of the self: the
mind is, after all, the unique source of the
true and final good for each and every one
of us, and it is only by clarifying the mind’s
workings, making them as powerful and
consistent as possible, that each of us can
advance on the road to wisdom. And yet,
somewhat paradoxically, for all the stress
that Stoicism places on the self, no ancient
philosophical system is more outward turn-
ing and other directed.
So the answer to the question “What
sort of person do you want to be?” largely
depends on the way each of us balances
the relation between self and other. And
that relation, in turn, is central to a key
97
Stoic tenet called oikeiosis (oy-kay-o-sis),

“making [something] one’s own” (literally,
“domesticating”). The term refers to the way
that human beings, from birth, develop a
sense of self-attachment and self-concern—
what we might think of as the “survival
instinct”—that causes us to seek what is good
for ourselves and to avoid what is bad. At
the earliest stages of our lives, we under-
stand what is “good” and what is “bad”
only in terms of what helps or hinders us
as living creatures: food, shelter, and the
like—the “creature comforts”—or their ab-
sence. But as we mature, ideally, we should
come to understand “good” and “bad” only
in terms of what helps or hinders us as ra-
tional creatures: wisdom, virtue, a mind
attuned to the providential order of the
universe—or their absence.
99
And as we come to this better under-

standing, the innate impulse to “make
something one’s own” should cause us to
regard ever-widening circles of o
thers as ob-
jects of a concern every bit as urgent as our
concern for ourselves: family, community,
country, and—finally, for the truly wise—
all humanity. The key thought here is not so
much “love thy neighbor as thyself,” but
rather “consider your neighbor’s good to be
as important as your own.”
But coming to better understanding is
hard work, and u nless we undertake it in
earnest, our innate self-attachment inclines
us to selfish behavior and arrogant ways of
thinking that are the opposite of “large-
minded.” As the statement at the head of
this chapter makes clear, Seneca was all too
aware that his main audience—Rome’s ed-
ucated elite, men who were, on average and
101
(11) Illud praecipue inpedit, quod cito

nobis placemus; si invenimus qui nos
bonos viros dicat, qui prudentes, qui
sanctos, adgnoscimus. Non sumus mo
dica laudatione contenti: quidquid in nos
102
to a remarkable degree, selfish and arrogant—

would need some coaching, coaxing, and
convincing.
So he urges on his readers several ways to

overcome this innate tendency to think one-
self the center of the universe, above all by
cultivating the habit of reflecting on our
dealings with others and practicing the frank
self-assessment that can moderate our sense
of entitlement, the better to avoid the sort
of complacent self-satisfaction that he de-
scribes in our first passage.
(11) Here’s a particular obstacle: we’re

quick to be pleased with ourselves. If we
find someone to say we’re good, shrewd,
righteous, we acknowledge the descrip-
tion’s truth. We’re not satisfied with
measured praise: however thick a flatterer
103
adulatio sine pudore congessit tamquam

debitum prendimus. Optimos nos esse,
sapientissimos adfirmantibus adsentimur,
cum sciamus illos saepe multa mentiri;
adeoque indulgemus nobis ut laudari
velimus in id cui contraria cum maxime
facimus. Mitissimum ille se in ipsis sup-
pliciis audit, in rapinis liberalissimum et
in ebrietatibus ac libidinibus temperan-
tissimum; sequitur itaque ut ideo mutari
nolimus quia nos optimos esse credidi-
mus. (12) Alexander cum iam in India
vagaretur et gentes ne finitimis quidem
satis notas bello vastaret, in obsidione
cuiusdam urbis, <dum> circumit muros
et inbecillissima moenium quaerit, sa-
gitta ictus diu persedere et incepta agere
104
shamelessly lays it on, we take it as our

due. We agree with t hose who say we’re
tip-top and oh-so-wise, though we know
they’re often terrible liars, and w
e’re so
self-indulgent that we want to be praised
for behaving in a way that is the opposite
of what we are doing at that very mo-
ment. Someone hears himself called
“most mild” as he metes out punish-
ment, “most generous” in the act of thiev-
ery, “most temperate” when he is drunk
and whoring: so it follows that we do not
want to change, because we believe we are
as good as can be. (12) When Alexander
was already wandering in India, laying
waste to tribes that not even their neigh-
bors knew well, he was circling the walls
of some city under siege, looking for the
weakest spot. Though struck by an arrow
he long pressed on with the siege, but
105
perseveravit. Deinde cum represso san-

guine sicci vulneris dolor cresceret et crus
suspensum equo paulatim obtorpuisset,
coactus absistere “omnes” inquit “iurant
esse me Iovis filium, sed vulnus hoc ho-
minem esse me clamat.” (13) Idem nos
faciamus. Pro sua quemque portione
adulatio infatuat: dicamus, “vos quidem
dicitis me prudentem esse, ego autem
video quam multa inutilia concupiscam,
nocitura optem. Ne hoc quidem intellego
quod animalibus satietas monstrat, quis
cibo debeat esse, quis potioni modus;
quantum capiam adhuc nescio.” (Epistle
59.11–13)
106
then, with the blood flow stanched, the

pain of the wound increased, and his leg
slowly became numb as it dangled from
his horse: forced to withdraw, he said,
“Everyone swears that I am the son of Ju-
piter, but this wound cries out that I am
human.” (13) Let’s do the same thing. As
flattery tries to make us as stupid as it can,
let’s say, “Sure, you say that I am shrewd,
but I know how many useless things I
lust for, how many harmful things I pray
for. I do not even grasp the limit to be
placed on food and drink, something
even animals sense when they are full. I
still do not know my own limits.” (Epis-
tle 59.11–13)
Misinterpreting other p eople’s motives

and intentions is among the most com-
mon causes of unfairness, especially when
107
(3) Ingenia natura infirma . . . inopia verae

iniuriae lascivientia his commoventur,
quorum pars maior constat vitio inter-
pretantis. Itaque nec prudentiae quic-
quam in se esse nec fiduciae ostendit qui
contumelia adficitur; non dubie enim
contemptum se iudicat, et hic morsus non
108
self-satisfaction and self-indulgence leave us

fundamentally uninterested in others or en-
courage us to think of them only so far as
they serve our own purposes. Cultivating
self-awareness counters the sort of “low-
mindedness” that sees insult where none is
intended and confuses what is merely offen-
sive with what is actually harmful: it is bet-
ter to model oneself on the wise, whose
magnanimity allows them to take in their
stride even the sorts of events typically con-
sidered major misfortunes:
(3) In the absence of a ctual injuries . . . a

naturally weak character is stirred by
imagined slights that mostly arise from an
error of interpretation. So those whom an
insult affects show that they lack good
sense and confidence: they judge that
they have been held in contempt, for sure,
109
sine quadam humilitate animi evenit sup-

primentis se ac descendentis. Sapiens
autem a nullo contemnitur, magnitudi-
nem suam novit nullique tantum de se
licere renuntiat sibi et omnis has, quas
non miserias animorum sed molestias
dixerim, non vincit sed ne sentit quidem.
(4) Alia sunt quae sapientem feriunt,
etiam si non pervertunt, ut dolor corporis
et debilitas aut amicorum liberorumque
amissio et patriae bello flagrantis calami-
tas: haec non nego sentire sapientem; nec
enim lapidis illi duritiam ferrive adseri-
mus. Nulla virtus est quae non sentias
perpeti. Quid ergo est? quosdam ictus
recipit, sed receptos evincit et sanat et
110
and this sting is accompanied by a kind of

low-mindedness, stifling and demeaning
one’s self. But no one holds the wise in
contempt: they know their own stature
and remind themselves that no one has
power over them; as for all life’s annoy-
ances (I w ouldn’t call them “troubles”),
they don’t overcome them—they d on’t
even notice them. (4) T here are other
things that strike the wise without over-
whelming them, like bodily pain and
weakness or the loss of friends and
children and the misfortune of a home-
land ablaze with war: I do not deny that
the wise feel these things, for we do not
claim that they are hard as rock or iron.
It is not a virtue to be impervious to what
you must bear. What then? The wise re-
ceive blows of a sort but having received
them, overcome, allay, and subdue them.
111
comprimit, haec vero minora ne sentit

quidem nec adversus ea solita illa virtute
utitur dura tolerandi, sed aut non adno-
tat aut digna risu putat. (On the Consis-
tency of the Wise 10.3–4)
(19) Non quidquid nos offendit et laedit;

sed ad rabiem cogunt pervenire deliciae,
ut quidquid non ex voluntate respondit
iram evocet. (20) Regum nobis induimus
animos; nam illi quoque obliti et suarum
virium et inbecillitatis alienae sic excan-
descunt, sic saeviunt, quasi iniuriam ac-
ceperint, a cuius rei periculo illos fortunae
suae magnitudo tutissimos praestat. Nec
hoc ignorant, sed occasionem nocendi
112
Lesser blows they do not even feel, nor

do they deploy against them the virtue
that consists of bearing up under hard-
ship: e ither they do not remark them or
they think them laughable. (On the Con-
sistency of the Wise 10.3–4)
(19) Not everything that offends us harms

us: it is our self-indulgence that drives us
wild, provoking rage at whatever does
not respond to our wishes. (20) We as-
sume the mindset of royalty, for they too
forget their own strength and o thers’
weakness, savagely raging as though they
have been injured, though their own
great good fortune protects them utterly
from the risk of injury. They know this,
but still they air their grievances, just
looking for the chance to do harm: they
113
captant querendo; acceperunt iniuriam ut

facerent. (Epistle 47.19–20)
(9) Facile est . . . occupationes evadere, si

occupationum pretia contempseris; illa
sunt quae nos morantur et detinent.
“Quid ergo? tam magnas spes relin-
quam? ab ipsa messe discedam? nudum
erit latus, incomitata lectica, atrium va
cuum?” Ab his ergo inviti homines rece-
dunt et mercedem miseriarum amant,
114
acknowledge an injury in order to cause

one. (Epistle 47.19–20)
ecause the self-involved aim only at their

B
own satisfaction, the prospect of empty re-
wards keeps them from understanding
where permanent value resides and so from
making right choices:
(9) It is easy . . . to escape the cares of

public office if you disdain its rewards:
those are the things that hold us back and
make us linger. “What, then, am I to aban-
don such g reat expectations, leave at the
very moment of harvest? No guard at my
side, no attendant at my litter, my recep-
tion hall empty?”1 People are unwilling
to withdraw from t hese trappings, which
they embrace as compensation for their
misery while cursing the misery itself.
115
ipsas execrantur. (10) Sic de ambitione

quomodo de amica queruntur, id est, si
verum adfectum eorum inspicias, non
oderunt sed litigant. Excute istos qui
quae cupiere deplorant et de earum
rerum loquuntur fuga quibus carere non
possunt: videbis voluntariam esse illis in
eo moram quod aegre ferre ipsos et misere
loquuntur. . . . (12) Sed si propter hoc
tergiversaris, ut circumaspicias quantum
feras tecum et quam magna pecunia in-
struas otium, numquam exitum invenies:
nemo cum sarcinis enatat. Emerge ad
meliorem vitam propitiis diis, sed non sic
quomodo istis propitii sunt quibus bono
ac benigno vultu mala magnifica tribue
runt, ob hoc unum excusati, quod ista
116
(10) So people complain about ambition

as though it were a mistress: if you could
see their true feeling, it is not hatred but
contrariness. Examine t hose who bemoan
what they have desired and talk about es-
caping the things they cannot do with-
out: you will see that they linger willingly
over what they say makes them wretched
and peevish. . . . (12) But if you equivo-
cate, to give yourself time to consider
how much cash you might take with you,
to provide for your retirement, you w ill
never get away: no one swims clear [of a
shipwreck] if he is towing his own bag-
gage. Escape to a better life with the gods’
favor—but not the favor they show to
those to whom they have given, with a
good and kindly countenance, splendid
miseries, gifts excused only by the fact
that t hese sources of pain and suffering
117
quae urunt, quae excruciant, optantibus

data sunt. (Epistle 22.9–10, 12)
(1) Hae sunt divitiae certae, in quacum-

que sortis humanae levitate uno loco
permansurae, quae quo maiores fuerint,
hoc minorem habebunt invidiam. Quid
tamquam tuo parcis? Procurator es.
(2) Omnia ista quae vos tumidos et supra
humana elatos oblivisci cogunt vestrae
fragilitatis, quae ferreis claustris custo-
ditis armati, quae ex alieno sanguine rapta
vestro defenditis, propter quae classes
cruentaturas maria deducitis, propter quae
quassatis urbes ignari quantum telorum
in aversos fortuna conparet: . . . non sunt
118
ere given in answer to a prayer. (Epistle

w
22.9–10, 12)
(1) [The favors one has freely given] are a

kind of wealth, secure, destined to remain
in place what ever the vicissitudes of
human fortune, the object of less envy the
greater they are.2 Why be stingy as though
they w ere your own possessions? You are
just the caretaker. (2) All the things that
make people forget their fragility, puffed
up and exalted beyond their mere hu-
manity; the t hings they guard under arms
in strongholds of iron, wrested from
another’s blood and defended with their
own; the things that make them launch
fleets to stain the sea with blood and
shatter cities, unaware of the armaments
that fortune readies while their backs
are turned: . . . these t hings are not truly
119
uestra. In depositi causa sunt iam iamque

ad alium dominum spectantia, aut hostis
illa aut hostilis animi successor invadet.
(3) Quaeris quomodo illa tua facias?
Dona dando. Consule igitur rebus tuis et
certam tibi earum atque inexpugnabilem
possessionem para honestiores illas non
solum tutiores facturus. (4) Istud quod
suspicis, quo te divitem ac potentem
putas, quam diu possides sub nomine
sordido iacet: domus est, servus est, nummi
sunt. Cum donasti, beneficium est.
(On Benefits 6.3.1–4)
120
theirs. They are on deposit and will pass

on, any minute now, to another master,
whether seized by an e nemy or by an heir
who thinks like one. (3) Do you ask how
to make them your own? Give them as
gifts. Take thought for your holdings and
render them secure and unassailable by
making them more honorable, not just
safer. (4) The t hings you hold in high re-
gard and reckon a source of wealth and
power are just lowly bearers of a vulgar
name—a house, some cash . . . —as long
as you hold onto them. When you give
them as gifts, they’re acts of kindness.
To overcome the excessive sensitivity to in-

jury and insult that self-centeredness breeds,
we have to take a step back, to gain the sort
of perspective that enables us to understand
121
(3) . . . Contemnere iniurias et, quas in

iuriarum umbras ac suspiciones dixerim,
contumelias, ad quas despiciendas non
sapiente opus est viro, sed tantum con-
sipiente, qui sibi possit dicere: “utrum
merito mihi ista accidunt an inmerito? Si
merito, non est contumelia, iudicium
est; si inmerito, illi qui iniusta facit eru-
bescendum est.” (4) Et quid est illud
quod contumelia dicitur? In capitis mei
levitatem iocatus est et in oculorum vale-
tudinem et in crurum gracilitatem et in
staturam: quae contumelia est quod ap-
paret audire? Coram uno aliquid dictum
122
ourselves and fairly judge the real force and

nature of the things that cause us to be out
of sorts:
(3) . . . It does not take a wise person to

disdain injuries and insults (the shadows
and hints of injuries, I call them) but only
someone in their right mind, able to say,
“Did that happen to me deservedly or un-
deservedly? If the former, it is not an
insult, it is a judgment; if the latter, the
person who behaves unjustly should be
ashamed.” (4) And what is it that is called
an “insult”? Someone made a joke about
my baldness, my poor eyesight, my
skinny legs, my lack of stature: what sort
of insult is it to hear described what’s
plain to see? We laugh at some remark
made before an audience of one; when it
is made before a larger audience, w e’re
123
ridemus, coram pluribus indignamur, et

eorum aliis libertatem non relinquimus
quae ipsi in nos dicere adsuevimus. (On
the Consistency of the Wise 16.3–4)
(9) “Initium est salutis notitia peccati.”

Egregie mihi hoc dixisse videtur Epicurus;
nam qui peccare se nescit corrigi non vult;
deprehendas te oportet antequam emendes.
(10) Quidam vitiis gloriantur: tu existimas
aliquid de remedio cogitare qui mala sua
virtutum loco numerant? Ideo quantum
124
indignant, and we do not grant o thers

the license to say the things w
e’re accus-
tomed to say about ourselves. (On the
Consistency of the Wise 16.3–4)
And so to develop that capacity for de-

tached reflection Seneca repeatedly urges
us to cultivate the habit of regular and sys-
tematic self-assessment:
(9) “Awareness of d oing wrong is the be-

ginning of well-being.” I think that is an
outstanding thing that Epicurus said.
Whoever does not acknowledge that they
have done wrong does not want to be
corrected: you must catch yourself out
before you make amends. (10) Some
people boast about their faults: do you
suppose that p eople who count their
wrongdoing as virtue spare a thought
125
potes te ipse coargue, inquire in te; accu-

satoris primum partibus fungere, deinde
iudicis, novissime deprecatoris; aliquando
te offende. (Epistle 28.9–10)
(6) Cum secesseris, non est hoc agendum,

ut de te homines loquantur, sed ut ipse
tecum loquaris. Quid autem loqueris?
quod homines de aliis libentissime faci-
unt, de te apud te male existima: ad-
suesces et dicere verum et audire. Id
autem maxime tracta quod in te esse in-
firmissimum senties. (7) Nota habet sui
quisque corporis vitia. Itaque alius vo
mitu levat stomachum, alius frequenti cibo
fulcit, alius interposito ieiunio corpus
126
about a remedy? Therefore convict your-

self of error, to the extent you can, and
look deep within yourself: first play the
part of an accuser, then of a judge, finally
of an intercessor. Sometimes, offend
yourself. (Epistle 28.9–10)
(6) When you have retired [from public

life], the aim is not that people should talk
about you, but that you should talk with
yourself. What w ill you say? What p eople
very happily say behind others’ backs—
judge yourself harshly, to your face. You
will get used to speaking and hearing the
truth. And address especially what you
take to be your weakest points. (7) Every
one knows their own bodies’ flaws. Ac-
cordingly one person relieves his stomach
by vomiting, another fortifies it with fre-
quent meals, another drains and cleanses
127
exhaurit et purgat; ii quorum pedes dolor

repetit aut vino aut balineo abstinent: in
cetera neglegentes huic a quo saepe infes-
tantur occurrunt. Sic in animo nostro
sunt quaedam quasi causariae partes qui-
bus adhibenda curatio est. (8) Quid in
otio facio? ulcus meum curo. Si osten-
derem tibi pedem turgidum, lividam
manum, aut contracti cruris aridos ner-
vos, permitteres mihi uno loco iacere et
fovere morbum meum: maius malum
est hoc, quod non possum tibi ostendere:
in pectore ipso collectio et vomica est.
(Epistle 68.6–8)
Faciam ergo quod iubes, et quid agam et

quo ordine libenter tibi scribam. Obser-
vabo me protinus et, quod est utilissi-
mum, diem meum recognoscam. Hoc
128
his body with fasting. P eople with recur-

rent gout abstain from wine or bathing:
though careless in other regards, they
counteract the thing that often attacks
them. So in our mind there are, so to
speak, diseased regions to which a course
of treatment must be applied. (8) What do
I do in retirement? I attend to my own
wound. If I were to show you a swollen
foot, a bruised hand, the shrunken sinews
of a withered leg, you’d allow me to lie in
one place and relieve my illness. This is a
greater woe, one I cannot show you: t here
is an abscess in my heart. (Epistle 68.6–8)
I will do, then, what you bid, and gladly

describe what I am doing and in what
order. I will keep a watch on myself
straightway and—the most useful step—
review my day. The fact that we do not
129
nos pessimos facit, quod nemo vitam

suam respicit; quid facturi simus cogita-
mus, et id raro, quid fecerimus non cogi-
tamus; atqui consilium futuri ex prae-
terito venit. (Epistle 83.2)
130
look back over our lives makes us worse.

We ponder—though rarely—what we are
to do, but we do not ponder at all what
we have done—and yet planning for the
future depends on the past. (Epistle 83.2)
Seneca in fact practiced what he preached,

as he tells us near the end of his treatise On
Anger, where he describes the minute end-
of-the-day review that he conducts when he
retires each night. He is particularly con-
cerned to root out the c auses of anger, but
the exercise can easily be broadened to in-
clude the causes of unfairness in speech and
action. Most of the circumstances he de-
scribes seem quite as current and familiar
as the folly of arguing with strangers on the
internet:
131
36 (2) Desinet ira et moderatior erit quae

sciet sibi cotidie ad iudicem esse venien-
dum. Quicquam ergo pulchrius hac
consuetudine excutiendi totum diem?
Qualis ille somnus post recognitionem sui
sequitur, quam tranquillus, quam altus
ac liber, cum aut laudatus est animus
aut admonitus et speculator sui cen-
sorque secretus cognovit de moribus suis!
(3) Vtor hac potestate et cotidie apud me
causam dico. Cum sublatum e conspectu
lumen est et conticuit uxor moris iam mei
conscia, totum diem meum scrutor fac-
taque ac dicta mea remetior; nihil mihi
ipse abscondo, nihil transeo. Quare enim
quicquam ex erroribus meis timeam, cum
132
36 (2) Your anger will cease and become

more controllable if it knows that e very
day it must come before a judge. Is there
anything finer, then, than this habit of
scrutinizing the entire day? What fine
sleep follows this self-examination—how
peaceful, how deep and free, when the
mind has been either praised or admon-
ished, when the sentinel and secret censor
of the self has conducted its inquiry into
one’s own character! (3) I exercise this ju-
risdiction daily and plead my case before
myself. When the light has been removed
and my wife has fallen s ilent, aware of
this habit that’s now mine, I examine my
entire day and go back over what I have
done and said, hiding nothing from my-
self, passing nothing by. For why should
I fear any consequence from my mistakes,
133
possim dicere: “vide ne istud amplius fa-

cias, nunc tibi ignosco.
(4) “In illa disputatione pugnacius lo-
cutus es: noli postea congredi cum im-
peritis; nolunt discere qui numquam
didicerunt. Illum liberius admonuisti quam
debebas, itaque non emendasti sed of-
fendisti: de cetero vide, [ne] non tantum
an verum sit quod dicis, sed an ille cui
dicitur veri patiens sit: admoneri bonus
gaudet, pessimus quisque rectorem asper-
rime patitur.
37 (1) “In convivio quorundam te sales
et in dolorem tuum iacta uerba teti-
gerunt: vitare vulgares convictus memento;
134
when I am able to say, “See that you do

not do it again—but now I forgive you.
(4) “In that discussion you spoke too
aggressively: from now on steer clear of
people who
don’t know what they’re
talking about. P eople who have never
learned do not want to learn. You admon-
ished that fellow more candidly than you
should, and as a result you d
idn’t correct
him, you offended him: in future con-
sider not just w hether what you say is
true but w hether the person you are
talking to can take the truth. A good
man delights in being admonished, but
the worst people have the hardest time
enduring correction.
37 (1) “At that banquet certain p
eople’s
witty remarks, and words bandied about
to bruise you, got under your skin, so re-
member to avoid unrefined gatherings:
135
s olutior est post vinum licentia, quia ne

sobriis quidem pudor est. (2) Iratum
vidisti amicum tuum ostiario causidici

alicuius aut divitis quod intrantem sum-
moverat, et ipse pro illo iratus extremo
mancipio fuisti: irasceris ergo catenario
cani? et hic, cum multum latravit, obiecto
cibo mansuescit. (3) Recede longius et
ride! Nunc iste se aliquem putat quod cus-
todit litigatorum turba limen obsessum;
nunc ille qui intra iacet felix fortuna-
tusque est et beati hominis iudicat ac po-
tentis indicium difficilem ianuam: nescit
136
ecause p
b eople in such places have no
sense of shame even when they are sober,
their idea of what is permissible is still
more relaxed after they have been drink-
ing. (2) You saw your friend become
angry with some lawyer’s or rich man’s
doorkeeper b ecause he thrust him aside as
he was entering, and you yourself were
angry with that utterly low creature on
his behalf: will you become angry, then,
with a chained dog? And a dog, a fter it
has had a good bark, becomes gentle
when you toss it a treat. (3) Stand back a
bit farther and laugh! That fellow thinks
he is someone now b ecause he keeps
watch over a threshold thronged by
people pursuing lawsuits; the man who
now reclines within prospers as fortune’s
favorite and thinks a door that is hard to
enter is the mark of a rich and powerful
137
durissimum esse ostium carceris. Prae-

sume animo multa tibi esse patienda:
numquis se hieme algere miratur, num-
quis in mari nausiare, in via concuti?
Fortis est animus ad quae praeparatus
venit. (4) Minus honorato loco positus
irasci coepisti convivatori, vocatori,
ipsi qui tibi praeferebatur: demens, quid
interest quam lecti premas partem? ho
nestiorem te aut turpiorem potest facere
pulvinus? (5) Non aequis quendam ocu-
lis vidisti, quia de ingenio tuo male lo-
cutus est: recipis hanc legem? Ergo te
Ennius, quo non delectaris, odisset et
138
fellow. He does not know that the hard-

est door is the prison door. Anticipate
that you must put up with many things:
no one is astonished that he is cold in
winter, is he? or seasick on the sea, or
shoved in the street? The mind faces
bravely the things it is prepared to en-
counter. (4) Assigned a place of less dis-
tinction you began to become angry with
your fellow guest, with the man who in-
vited you, and with the man who was
given preference over you:3 madman,
what difference does it make on what part
of the couch you plant your weight? Can
a pillow make you more honorable or
more shameful? (5) You gave someone a
dirty look because he spoke ill of your
talent: do you accept this as a principle of
behavior? Then Ennius, in whom you
take no pleasure, would have hated you,
139
Hortensius simultates tibi indiceret et

Cicero, si derideres carmina eius, in-
imicus esset.” (On Anger 3.36.2–37.5)
140
and Hortensius would quarrel with you,

and Cicero, were you to mock his poetry,
would be your enemy.”4 (On Anger
3.36.2–37.5)
Accurately assessing your behavior in this

way is obviously indispensable to answer-
ing the questions with which this chapter
began: what sort of person are you, and
what sort of person do you want to be? It
is also indispensable to answering the ques-
tion taken up in the next chapter: how can
you best be certain to do right by o
thers?
141
4
DOING RIGHT BY O THERS
Totum hoc quo continemur et unum est et

deus: et socii sumus eius et membra.
(Epistle 92.30)
142
4
DOING RIGHT BY O THERS
This totality by which we are embraced is a

single, constant whole, and it is God: we
are God’s comrades and God’s limbs.
(Epistle 92.30)
Two important aspects of Stoicism provide

a useful prelude to this chapter. The first is
hinted at by the quotation above: we are all
“God’s limbs.” The entire universe, the Sto-
ics held, is composed of matter, without
vacuum or void. Some of this m atter is large
and visible, while much of it is unimagin-
ably fine and invisible. One example of the
143
D oing R ight by O thers
latter sort of matter is the air we breathe;

another example—a finer sort of matter
still—is the divine reason that permeates the
universe, giving it its shape, order, and prov-
idential purpose and setting it in motion.1
And the infinitely fine m atter that consti-
tutes the divine reason—which the Stoics
also called “God”—is identical to and con-
tinuous with the matter that constitutes
the reason that human beings, alone of all
animals, share with God. Long story short,
all human beings are literally, physically,
materially connected with God and with
each other, as our fingers are connected to
our hands and our limbs are connected to
our bodies (the analogies are the Stoics’).
This view of the universe’s materiality, and
the interconnectedness of all being as “a sin-
gle, constant w
hole,” is the physical founda-
tion for the ethical doctrine of oikeiosis
145
encountered in the previous chapter: the

wise come to regard the good of all others
as indistinguishable from their own b ecause
they understand that we are in fact all
parts of an integrated whole.
The second point to bear in mind is this:
Stoicism always operates with a binocular
view of what it means to be human. On the
one hand, there is the core belief that we are
all built by nature to be capable of virtue
and to live the best sort of h uman life—in
fact, as we have seen, we are built by nature
to be capable of acting with the mind of a
god, minus the immortality. On the other
hand, there is the awareness that—because
our intellectual development is stunted, and
because we are distracted or corrupted by
the culture that surrounds us—just about all
of us, just about e very day, betray our natu
ral capacities and behave like fools. D oing
147
right by others requires us to act on the core

belief in guiding our own intentions and ac-
tions as we strive for virtue, while using the
latter awareness to calibrate our views of
others and, whenever possible, to cut them
some slack. Much of the advice we saw in
the last chapter, on getting a clear view of
ourselves, concerned our own striving for
virtue. Much of the advice that we will see
Seneca give in what follows falls u nder the
heading “cutting some slack.”
That we almost inevitably fall short of the

moral perfection that is naturally within our
grasp can give Stoicism a tragic tinge. But
Seneca urges us not to succumb to tragedy.
Instead, when we are confronted by h uman
foibles and failings, we should follow the
recommendation of the philosopher Dem-
ocritus: stand back and laugh.
149
(2) In hoc . . . flectendi sumus, ut omnia

vulgi vitia non invisa nobis sed ridicula
videantur et Democritum potius imitemur
quam Heraclitum. Hic enim, quotiens in
publicum processerat, flebat, ille ridebat,
huic omnia quae agimus miseriae, illi in-
eptiae videbantur. Elevanda ergo omnia
et facili animo ferenda: humanius est deri-
dere vitam quam deplorare. (3) Adice
quod de humano quoque genere melius
meretur qui ridet illud quam qui luget:
ille ei spei bonae aliquid relinquit, hic
autem stulte deflet quae corrigi posse
desperat; et universa contemplanti maio-
ris animi est qui risum non tenet quam
qui lacrimas, quando lenissimum adfec-
tum animi movet et nihil magnum, nihil
150
(2) We should bring ourselves to see that

all of humanity’s common faults are not
hateful but laughable, and to imitate
Democritus rather than Heraclitus.2
Whenever the latter went among the
people, he wept, seeing wretchedness in
all we do; the former laughed at the fool-
ishness he saw. We should make light of
it all and bear it indulgently: laughing at
the way we live is more humane than
lamenting. (3) Add that the person who
laughs serves the human race better than
the one who grieves: the one gives it rea-
son to hope, the other foolishly deplores
what he despairs of seeing made better.
And if one takes a general view, a person
who cannot restrain his laughter is more
large-minded than the one who cannot
restrain his tears, since laughter stirs the
mildest emotion and does not reckon that
151
severum, ne miserum quidem ex tanto

paratu putat. (On Tranquility of Mind
15.2–3)
6 (1) Cogitato, in hac civitate, in qua turba

per latissima itinera sine intermissione de-
fluens eliditur, quotiens aliquid obstitit,
quod cursum eius velut torrentis rapidi
moraretur, in qua tribus eodem tem-
pore theatris caveae postulantur, in qua
consumitur, quidquid terris omnibus ara-
tur, quanta solitudo ac vastitas futura
sit, si nihil relinquitur, nisi quod iudex
severus absolverit. (2) Quotus quisque ex
quaesitoribus est, qui non ex ipsa ea lege
152
anything consequential, serious, or even

unhappy derives from life’s g reat pageant.
(On Tranquility of Mind 15.2–3)
By understanding human weakness, we

come to understand that none of us is inno-
cent: we should therefore judge o thers as
we would want to be judged.
6 (1) In this community—where crowds

in ceaseless motion on the broadest
streets get jammed whenever an obstacle
slows their torrential flow, where access is
needed to three theaters at the same time,
where all the produce of the world’s farms
is consumed—imagine what a g reat and
lonely desolation there would be if there
remained only the fraction whom a strict
judge might acquit. (2) How rare is the
judge who would not be held liable by
153
teneatur, qua quaerit? quotus quisque

accusator vacat culpa? Et nescio, an nemo
ad dandam veniam difficilior sit, quam
qui illam petere saepius meruit. (3) Pec-
cavimus omnes, alii gravia, alii leviora, alii
ex destinato, alii forte inpulsi aut aliena
nequitia ablati; alii in bonis consiliis parum
fortiter stetimus et innocentiam inviti
ac retinentes perdidimus; nec deliqui-
mus tantum, sed usque ad extremum aevi
delinquemus. . . .
17 (1) Nullum animal morosius est, nul-
lum maiore arte tractandum quam
homo, nulli magis parcendum. Quid enim
est stultius quam in iumentis quidem et
154
the very court over which he presides?

How rare is the blameless accuser? And
probably no one is more resistant when
it comes to granting pardon than one who
has too often deserved to seek it. (3) We
have all done wrong, some more gravely,
others more trivially, some intentionally,
others acting on random impulse or led
astray by another’s wickedness; some of
us have been too little steadfast in stand-
ing by our good intentions and have lost
our innocence unwillingly and reluc-
tantly. And not only have we fallen short,
but we w ill continue to fall short to the
end of our days. . . .
17 (1) No animal is more cross-grained
or requires more skillful handling than a
human being, and none stands in greater
need of forbearance. For what could be
more foolish than to blush at becoming
155
canibus erubescere iras exercere, pessima

autem condicione sub <homine> homi-
nem esse? Morbis medemur nec irascimur;
atqui et hic morbus est animi; mollem
medicinam desiderat ipsumque medentem
minime infestum aegro. (On Mercy 1.6.1–
3, 17.1)
“Plus accipere debui, sed illi facile non fuit

plus dare, in multos dividenda liberalitas
erat.” “Hoc initium est, boni consulamus
et animum eius grate excipiendo evoce-
mus.” “Parum fecit sed saepius faciet.”
“Illum mihi praetulit—et me multis.” “Ille
156
angry at mules and dogs, but to want to

subject one human being to another on
the worst possible terms? We treat dis-
eases without anger, and yet this is a
disease of the mind, requiring not just
gentle treatment but also a healer who is
in no way hostile to the patient. (On
Mercy 1.6.1–3, 17.1)
Judging o thers fairly starts with trying to

understand their intentions and, in so doing,
giving them the benefit of the doubt:
“I deserved more— but he could not

easily give it, he had to apportion his
generosity among many.”3 “This is a
start—let’s be satisfied and by our grati-
tude encourage him to do more.” “It was
too little—but there w ill be more in-
stallments.” “He preferred that person
157
non est mihi par virtutibus nec officiis sed

habuit suam Venerem; querendo non
efficiam ut maioribus dignus sim sed ut
datis indignus.” “Plura illis hominibus tur
pissimis data sunt. Quid ad rem? Quam
raro fortuna iudicat!” (On Benefits 2.28.2)
(2) Nemo dicit sibi, “hoc propter quod

irascor aut feci aut fecisse potui”; nemo
animum facientis sed ipsum aestimat fac-
tum: atqui ille intuendus est, voluerit an
inciderit, coactus sit an deceptus, odium
secutus sit an praemium, sibi morem ges-
serit an manum alteri commodaverit.
Aliquid aetas peccantis facit, aliquid
158
to me—and me to many.” “I am a better

person and more dutiful—but [the one
he favored] has his own charm, and com-
plaining will make me unworthy of what
I got, not worthy of getting more.”
“More did go to those utterly shameful
characters— but so what? Luck very
rarely shows good judgment.” (On Ben-
efits 2.28.2)
(2) No one says to himself, “This t hing

that is making me angry—either I have
done it myself, or I could have.” No one
gauges the other’s intention, only the act
itself. Yet it’s the agent we ought to con-
sider: was his act voluntary or accidental,
was she compelled or deceived, was he
motivated by hatred or a reward, did
she gratify herself or serve another? The
wrongdoers’ age should be taken into
159
fortuna, ut ferre ac pati aut humanum sit

aut utile. (3) Eo nos loco constituamus
quo ille est cui irascimur: nunc facit nos
iracundos iniqua nostri aestimatio et
quae facere vellemus pati nolumus. (On
Anger 3.12.2–3)
(1) Num quid est iniquius homine qui

eum odit a quo in turba calcatus aut res-
persus aut quo nollet impulsus est? . . .
Quid est aliud quod illum querellae exi-
mat, cum in re sit iniuria, quam nescisse
quid faceret? (2) Eadem res efficit ne hic
beneficium dederit, ne ille iniuriam fe-
cerit: et amicum et inimicum voluntas
160
account, and also their fortune, making

forbearance a matter of e ither kindness or
expediency. (3) Let’s put ourselves in the
place of the person with whom we are
angry: from that perspective we see that
valuing ourselves unfairly makes us angry,
and that we are unwilling to tolerate an
act that we would willingly commit. (On
Anger 3.12.2–3)
(1) What is more unfair than hating some-

one who stepped on your foot in a
crowd, or splashed you or shoved you in
a direction you did not want to take? . . .
When an injury is at issue, the fact that
people did not know what they were
doing is the very thing that exculpates
them. (2) The same consideration nullifies
both a favor and an injury: it is the inten-
tion that makes one a friend or an e nemy.
161
facit. Quam multos militiae morbus eri-

puit! Quosdam ne ad ruinam domus suae
occurrerent inimicus vadimonio tenuit,
ne in piratarum ma nus pervenirent
quidam naufragio consecuti sunt: nec
huic tamen beneficium debemus, quia
extra sensum officii casus est, nec inimico
cuius nos lis servavit dum vexat ac deti-
net. (On Benefits 6.9.1–2)
Non vertit omnia in peius nec quaerit cui

inputet casum, et peccata hominum ad
fortunam potius refert. Non calumniatur
verba nec vultus; quidquid accidit be-
nigne interpretando levat. Non offensae
potius quam offici meminit; quantum
162
How many has sickness rescued from

military ser vice! Some p eople have
avoided being at home when their house
collapsed b
ecause an enemy forced them
to appear in court, while o
thers have es-
caped pirates by being shipwrecked: we
owe a favor neither to the wreck, since
acts of chance are not motivated by a
sense of duty, nor to the enemy whose
suit saved us with its delays and vexa-
tions. (On Benefits 6.9.1–2)
[The wise] do not take everything at its

worst or look for someone to blame; they
rather attribute people’s mistakes to mis-
fortune. They do not criticize words and
looks unfairly but mitigate whatever hap-
pens by interpreting it kindly. They do
not recall offensive behavior more tena-
ciously than the dutiful sort; to the extent
163
potest in priore ac meliore se memoria

detinet, nec mutat animum adversus bene
meritos nisi multum male facta praece-
dunt et manifestum etiam coniventi dis-
crimen est; tunc quoque in hoc dumtaxat,
ut talis sit post maiorem iniuriam qualis
ante beneficium. Nam cum beneficio par
est iniuria, aliquid in animo benivolentiae
remanet. (Epistle 81.25)
164
possible they dwell on prior, better be

havior and do not change their attitude
toward deserving p eople until many bad
acts intervene and the difference is clear
even to one turning a blind eye—and even
then their attitude is the same after being
wronged as it was before being benefited.
For when the wrong and the benefit are
of the same weight, some kindly feeling
abides. (Epistle 81.25)
Just as the fact that we have intentions ex-

pressible in words is a distinguishing trait of
human beings, so the fact that we can pre-
sume to understand the intentions of others,
even when not expressed in words, is a gift
that we owe to our shared humanity—a
bond on which we should, like the Stoics,
place the highest value.
165
Nefas est nocere patriae; ergo civi quo-

que, nam hic pars patriae est—sanctae
partes sunt, si universum venerabile est;
ergo et homini, nam hic in maiore tibi
urbe civis est. Quid si nocere velint ma
nus pedibus, manibus oculi? Vt omnia
inter se membra consentiunt quia singula
servari totius interest, ita homines singu-
lis parcent quia ad coetum geniti sunt,
salva autem esse societas nisi custodia et
amore partium non potest. (On Anger
2.31.7)
166
It is unspeakably wrong to harm one’s

homeland; therefore, it is unspeakably
wrong to harm fellow-citizens, too, for
they are part of the homeland—the parts
are sacrosanct if the whole is worthy of
our worship. Therefore it is unspeakably
wrong to harm human beings too, for
they are your fellow citizens in the cos-
mopolis.4 What if the hands wanted to
harm the feet, the eyes the hands? As all
our limbs are in harmony b ecause it is
best for the w hole that the individual
parts be protected, so human beings w ill
spare each individual because they have
been born to form a social u nion, and a
society cannot be sound save through
the affectionate protection of its parts.
(On Anger 2.31.7)
167
(3) “Ego terras omnis tamquam meas

videbo, meas tamquam omnium. Ego sic
vivam quasi sciam aliis esse me natum et
naturae rerum hoc nomine gratias agam:
quo enim melius genere negotium meum
agere potuit? unum me donavit omnibus,
uni mihi omnis. . . . (5) . . . Ero amicis iu-
cundus, inimicis mitis et facilis. Exorabor
antequam roger, et honestis precibus oc-
curram. Patriam meam esse mundum
sciam et praesides deos, hos supra me cir-
caque me stare factorum dictorumque
censores. Quandoque aut natura spiritum
repetet aut ratio dimittet, testatus exibo
bonam me conscientiam amasse, bona
studia, nullius per me libertatem deminu-
tam, minime meam”– qui haec facere
168
(3) “I will view all lands as my own, my

own as belonging to all. I will live as if
aware that I was born for o thers and
thank the universe on that account: how
could it have done better by me? It gave
me, one individual, as a gift to all p eople,
and all people to me. . . . (5) . . . My
friends will find me congenial, my ene-
mies mild and accommodating. I will be
won over before I am asked and hasten to
meet all honorable requests. I will know
that the world is my homeland, the gods
its guardians, standing above and around
me as judges of my words and deeds.
Whenever nature asks for my spirit back
or reason lets it go,5 I will depart with an
oath that I have loved a good conscience
and honorable pursuits, and that I dimin-
ished no one’s freedom, least of all my
own”: those who make this their goal,
169
proponet, volet, temptabit, ad deos iter

faciet.” (On the Happy Life 20.3, 5)
(2) Nec potest quisquam beate degere qui

se tantum intuetur, qui omnia ad utilitates
suas convertit: alteri vivas oportet, si vis
tibi vivere. (3) Haec societas diligenter et
sancte observata, quae nos homines
hominibus miscet et iudicat aliquod esse
commune ius generis humani. (Epistle
48.2–3)
170
their intention, the object of their striv-

ill journey to the gods. (On the
ing, w
Happy Life 20.3, 5)
(2) People who have regard only for

themselves and turn everything to their
own advantage cannot live the best human
life: you must live for o thers if you want
to live for yourself. (3) If maintained care-
fully and faithfully, this principle makes
us all each other’s partners and establishes
a shared standard of right for the h uman
race. (Epistle 48.2–3)
The Stoics held not just that virtue is its own

reward but that virtue is the only reward
worth seeking for its own sake, as an end in
itself. Just so, since treating o
thers fairly is a
virtue, it is worth practicing fairness for its
own sake, just with the aim of d oing right.
171
(1) Quid est quare grati velimus esse cum

morimur, quare singulorum perpenda-
mus officia, quare id agamus in omnem
vitam nostram memoria decurrente ne
cuius officii videamur obliti? Nihil iam
superest quo spes porrigatur, in illo tamen
cardine positi abire e rebus humanis quam
gratissimi volumus. (2) Est videlicet
magna in ipso opere merces rei et ad adli
ciendas mentes hominum ingens honesti
172
In these passages Seneca illustrates the point,

first through a central institution of Roman
life— making wills in which friends are
gratefully remembered—and then through
a metaphor—of playing ball— borrowed
from the great Stoic philosopher Chrysip-
pus (280?–207 bce):
(1) Why do we want to express our grat-

itude as we die? Why do we so carefully
weigh individuals’ dutiful behavior, let-
ting our memory traverse our lives’
whole course, lest we appear forgetful of
how we have been obliged? We hold out
no hope for further gain, yet when we’re
poised on that turning point we want to
pass from human concerns with the full-
est expression of our gratitude. (2) Plainly,
there is a reward in the very effort, and in
the vast power of honorable behavior to
173
potentia, cuius pulchritudo animos cir-

cumfundit et delenitos admiratione lu-
minis ac fulgoris sui rapit. (On Benefits
4.22.1–2)
(3) Volo Chrysippi nostri uti similitudine

de pilae lusu, quam cadere non est du-
bium aut mittentis vitio aut excipientis:
tum cursum suum servat ubi inter manus
utriusque apte ab utroque et iactata et ex-
cepta versatur; necesse est autem lusor
bonus aliter illam conlusori longo, aliter
brevi mittat. Eadem beneficii ratio est:
nisi utrique personae, dantis et accipien-
tis, aptatur, nec ab hoc exibit nec ad illum
perveniet ut debet. (4) Si cum exercitato
et docto negotium est, audacius pilam
174
win over people’s sentiments: its beauty

enfolds our minds and ravishes them as
they are soothed by the wonder of its
brilliant light. (On Benefits 4.22.1–2)
(3) I want to use Chrysippus’s metaphor

of a ball game, which, we know, is ended
when either server or receiver makes a
mistake:6 the ball maintains its proper
course when it goes back and forth from
one player to the other as it is put in play
and received. Inevitably, moreover, a
good player serves the ball one way to a
tall partner, another way to a short one.
A benefit follows the same princi ple:
unless it is attuned to the characters of the
benefactor and the recipient, it w ill not
pass from the one or reach the other as it
should. (4) If we are dealing with a skilled
and experienced player, we use a more
175
mittemus: utcumque enim venerit, manus

illam expedita et agilis repercutiet. Si cum
tirone et indocto, non tam rigide nec
tam excusse sed languidius et in ipsam
eius derigentes manum remissae occur-
remus. Idem faciendum est in beneficiis:
quosdam doceamus et satis iudicemus
si conantur, si audent, si volunt. (On
Benefits 2.17.3–4)
(31) Doce me quam sacra res sit iustitia

alienum bonum spectans, nihil ex se
176
spirited serve: however it arrives, it w ill

be patted back with a free and nimble
hand. If the other is an unskilled novice,
we will not meet the ball so briskly and
smartly when it is returned but guide it
back more g ently to the other’s very hand.
We should do the same in the case of
favors: we should teach some people and
judge it enough if they make the attempt
[to return] boldly and willingly. (On
Benefits 2.17.3–4)
In such common, everyday ways, we culti-

vate “the fairness that looks to another’s
good” and so try to treat others as we would
want the providential God to treat us.
(31) Teach me what a sacred t hing is the

fairness that looks to another’s good,
seeking only to be of service, having no
177
petens nisi usum sui. Nihil sit illi cum

ambitione famaque: sibi placeat. Hoc ante
omnia sibi quisque persuadeat: me iustum
esse gratis oportet. Parum est. Adhuc
illud persuadeat sibi: me in hanc pulcher-
rimam virtutem ultro etiam inpendere
iuvet; tota cogitatio a privatis commodis
quam longissime aversa sit. Non est quod
spectes quod sit iustae rei praemium:
maius in iusto est. (32) Illud adhuc tibi
adfige . . . nihil ad rem pertinere quam
multi aequitatem tuam noverint. Qui vir-
tutem suam publicari vult non virtuti
laborat sed gloriae. Non vis esse iustus
sine gloria? at mehercules saepe iustus
esse debebis cum infamia, et tunc, si sapis,
mala opinio bene parta delectet. (Epistle
113.31–32)
178
truck with ambition and fame, content

with itself. Let us each be convinced of
this above all: it is right to be fair with-
out reward. But that is too little: let us
each be further persuaded even to take
pleasure in this most beautiful virtue at a
cost to ourselves, with all our thoughts
removed as far as possible from personal
advantage. There is no reason to consider
what a fair reward for fair behavior might
be: the greater reward lies in fairness it-
self. (32) Keep fixed in your mind . . . that
it is irrelevant w hether many know of
your fairness. Those who want their vir-
tue publicized toil for glory’s sake, not
virtue’s. You do not want to be fair with-
out fame? Good grief, you w ill often have
to be fair at the cost of infamy—and then,
if you are wise, a bad name honorably
won will delight you. (Epistle 113.31–32)
179
(1) Quoniam deorum feci mentionem,

optime hoc exemplum principi consti-
tuam ad quod formetur, ut se talem esse
civibus quales sibi deos velit. Expedit
ergo habere inexorabilia peccatis atque
erroribus numina, expedit usque ad ulti-
mam infesta perniciem? Et quis regum
erit tutus? Cuius non membra haruspices
colligent? (2) Quod si di placabiles et
aequi delicta potentium non statim ful-
minibus persequuntur, quanto aequius
est hominem hominibus praepositum
miti animo exercere imperium et cogitare
uter mundi status gratior oculis pulchri-
orque sit, sereno et puro die, an cum
fragoribus crebris omnia quatiuntur et
180
(1) Since I’ve mentioned the gods, I might

best set down this model for a prince to
imitate:7 let him wish to treat his fellow
citizens as he wishes the gods to treat him.
Is it in our interest, then, for the powers
above to be implacable when we do
wrong and go astray, for their hostility to
extend to our utter destruction? Indeed,
what king will be safe; whose limbs would
the soothsayers not gather?8 (2) But if the
gods, fair and easily appeased as they are,
do not immediately punish misdeeds of
the powerful with lightning blasts, how
much fairer is it for the one human being
set in charge of the rest to exercise his
power mildly, and to ponder whether the
state of the world is more attractive and
pleasing when the sky is clear, the sun
shining, or when repeated peals of thun-
der shake all creation and lightning bolts
181
ignes hinc atque illinc micant! Atqui non

alia facies est quieti moratique imperii
quam sereni caeli et nitentis. (On Mercy
1.7.1–2)
Non est autem quod tardiores faciat ad

bene merendum turba ingratorum. . . .
Ne deos quidem inmortales ab hac tam
effusa nec cess<ante benign>itate sacrilegi
neglegentesque eorum deterrent: utuntur
natura sua et cuncta interque illa ipsos
munerum suorum malos interpretes
iuvant. Hos sequamur duces, quantum
humana inbecillitas patitur. (On Benefits
1.1.9)
182
blaze from e very quarter! Yet the calm

and deliberate exercise of power has ex-
actly the same appearance as a clear and
brilliant sky. (On Mercy 1.7.1–2)
here is, finally, no better model for doing

T
right by o thers than the God (or gods)9
whose goodwill is constant and complete,
and whose perfect beneficence Seneca tries
again and again to convey.
here is no reason why a throng of in-

T
grates should discourage us from being
of service. . . . Not even the immortal
gods are deterred from being extrava-
gantly and ceaselessly kind by people
who abuse or neglect them: they put their
own nature to work by aiding all the
world, including those who misinterpret
their gifts. (On Benefits 1.1.9)
183
(1) Propositum est nobis secundum rerum

naturam vivere et deorum exemplum
sequi. Di autem, quodcumque faciunt,
in eo quid praeter ipsam faciendi rationem
secuntur—nisi forte illos existimas fruc-
tum operum suorum ex fumo extorum et
turis odore percipere? (2) Vide quanta
cottidie moliantur, quanta distribuant,
quantis terras fructibus impleant. . . .
Omnia ista sine mercede, sine ullo ad ipsos
perveniente commodo faciunt. (3) Hoc
nostra quoque ratio, si ab exemplari suo
non aberrat, servet, ne ad res honestas
conducta veniat. Pudeat ullum venale
esse beneficium: gratuitos habemus deos.
(2) Ad illa itaque cogitationes tuas flecte:

“Non est relata mihi gratia: quid faciam?”
184
(1) It is our goal to live according to na-

ture and model ourselves on the gods. But
what rationale do the gods have for all
they do beyond the very d oing—unless
you suppose, perhaps, that they receive
the smoke of sacrifice and the whiff of in-
cense as a reward for their works?
(2) Consider all they do every day, all they
dispense, all the fruits with which they
stock the earth. . . . They do all this with-
out compensation, with no advantage
accruing. (3) If we do not stray from our
models, let h uman reason also preserve
this principle: honorable behavior is not
for hire. Any favor we do for a price
should be a cause of shame: we have the
gods for free. (On Benefits 4.25.1–3)
(2) Turn your thoughts to this matter too:

“I received no thanks: what am I to do?”
185
Quod di, omnium rerum optimi auctores,

qui beneficia ignorantibus dare incipi-
unt, ingratis perseverant. . . . (4) . . . More
optimorum parentium, qui maledictis
suorum infantium adrident, non cessant
di beneficia congerere de beneficiorum
auctore dubitantibus, sed aequali tenore
bona sua per gentes populosque dis-
tribuunt; unam potentiam, prodesse,
sortiti spargunt oportunis imbribus terras,
maria flatu movent, siderum cursu notant
tempora. . . . (5) Imitemur illos: demus
etiam si multa <in> inritum data sunt.
(On Benefits 7.31.2, 4–5)
(10) Parem autem te deo pecunia non fa-

ciet: deus nihil habet. Praetexta non faciet:
186
What the gods do—those best authors of

all things—who begin by benefiting those
who are unaware of them and continue
by benefiting the ungrateful. . . . (4) Like
the best parents, who smile when abused
by their small children, the gods cease-
lessly heap up benefits for people skep-
tical of the benefits’ source, distributing
their goods throughout nations and
peoples, their course unchanged. Allotted
one power only—that of d oing good—
they sprinkle the lands with well-timed
showers, stir the seas with the winds,
mark the seasons by the stars’ course. . . .
(5) We should imitate them: we should
give even if much is given in vain. (On
Benefits 7.31.2, 4–5)
(10) Money w
ill not make you equal to
God: God has none. Neither will a robe
187
deus nudus est. Fama non faciet nec osten-

tatio tui et in populos nominis dimissa
notitia: nemo novit deum, multi de illo
male existimant, et inpune. Non turba ser-
vorum lecticam tuam per itinera urbana ac
peregrina portantium: deus ille maximus
potentissimusque ipse vehit omnia. Ne
forma quidem et vires beatum te facere
possunt: nihil horum patitur vetustatem.
(11) Quaerendum est quod non fiat in dies
peius, cui non possit obstari. Quid hoc
est? animus, sed hic rectus, bonus, mag-
nus. Quid aliud voces hunc quam deum in
corpore humano hospitantem? Hic ani-
mus tam in equitem Romanum quam in
libertinum, quam in servum potest cadere.
Quid est enim eques Romanus aut liberti-
nus aut servus? nomina ex ambitione aut
188
of office:10 God is naked. Neither will

fame or self-display or far-flung notori-
ety: no one knows God; many judge God
unfairly, with impunity. A throng of por-
ters carrying your litter through Rome’s
byways or abroad will not do it: God, the
greatest and most powerful, carries all.
Not even beauty and strength can make
you live the best life: nothing of these
survives for long. (11) You must ask what
does not become worse each day, what
overcomes every obstacle. What is it? The
mind, provided it is upright, good, and
great. What else would you call this mind
save God at home in a human body. This
mind is as fitting for a Roman knight as
it is for a freedman or one enslaved. For
what are “knight” or “freedman” or
“slave” but labels deriving from ambition
or wrongdoing? It is possible to leap up
189
iniuria nata. Subsilire in caelum ex angulo

licet. (Epistle 31.10–11)
(14) Iuppiter omnia habet, sed nempe aliis

tradidit habenda: ad ipsum hic unus usus
pertinet, quod utendi omnibus causa est:
sapiens tam aequo animo omnia apud
alios videt contemnitque quam Iuppiter
et hoc se magis suspicit quod Iuppiter
uti illis non potest, sapiens non vult.
(15) Credamus itaque Sextio monstranti
pulcherrimum iter et clamanti “hac itur
ad astra, hac secundum frugalitatem, hac
secundum temperantiam, hac secundum
fortitudinem.” Non sunt dii fastidiosi,
non invidi: admittunt et ascendentibus
manum porrigunt. (Epistle 73.14–15)
190
to heaven from a lowly nook.11 (Epistle

31.10–11)
(14) Jupiter possesses all t hings, granted,

but he has passed them along for others
to possess: he himself uses them only in
causing all o
thers to use them. With the
equanimity of Jupiter, the wise see o thers
possess everything and care not; they es-
teem themselves the more because while
Jupiter is unable to use t hose t hings, they
have no desire to use them. (15) So let’s
trust in Sextius as he shows us the fairest
path and exclaims, “This is the way to the
stars, the way of thrift, of moderation, of
fortitude.”12 The gods are not disdainful
or begrudging: they open the door and
give a helping hand to those making the
ascent. (Epistle 73.14–15)
191
5
BEING MERCIFUL
Illud ante omnia cogita, foedam esse et

execrabilem vim nocendi et alienissimam
homini. (On Anger 2.31.6)
Clementia omnibus quidem hominibus

secundum naturam. (On Mercy 1.5.2)
192
5
BEING MERCIFUL
Consider this above all: the power to harm

is disgusting and detestable, and utterly
alien to a human being. (On Anger 2.31.6)
Mercy is natural for all human beings.

(On Mercy 1.5.2)
Taken literally, elements of both statements

just above might raise an eyebrow or two.
But in speaking of what is “alien” to h
umans
and what is “natural,” Seneca of course did
not mean that human beings lack the capac-
ity to do harm or that they practice mercy
in the same unthinking way in which they
193
B eing Merciful
breathe. He meant that being merciful is

in accordance with—and doing harm is
contrary to— the way that providential
Nature constructed us as human beings: a
person who behaved only and exactly as
Nature intended—which is to say, as God
intended—would never do harm and would
always be merciful, bestowing the h uman
good that Seneca explores in his essay On
Mercy, addressed to the eighteen-year-old
emperor Nero.1 Because it considers its sub-
ject from the point of view of an autocrat
with absolute power of life and death, much
of it does not bear on the relations among
friends, family members, coworkers, or
strangers. But several of its central concerns,
contained in the excerpts that follow, can
speak to p
eople like the author and the read-
ers of this book.
195
B eing Merciful
First it confronts an unfortunate fact:

while one important way of “doing right by
others” is making sure that they receive ex-
actly what they deserve, giving them what
they deserve sometimes means giving them
what they do not want—a rebuke, a scold-
ing, or some form of punishment. Beyond
considering the proper aims of punishment,
the essay also draws several important dis-
tinctions: between mercy and another Stoic
virtue, strictness (severitas); and between
mercy and two vices (as the Stoics saw them)
with which mercy might be confused, pity
and forgiveness. Finally, t here are two anec-
dotes that serve as case studies of mercy in
action: Seneca uses one of them to illustrate
the practical ends that mercy can serve, in
“making any h ouse it reaches happy and
calm”; the second shows the virtue being
pursued as an end in itself, as a form of
197
B eing Merciful
22 (1) In [iniuriis] vindicandis haec tria lex

secuta est, quae princeps quoque sequi
debet: aut ut eum, quem punit, emendet,
aut <ut> poena eius ceteros meliores red-
dat, aut ut sublatis malis securiores ceteri
vivant. Ipsos facilius emendabis minore
198
B eing Merciful
justice that “reins itself in short of what

could deservedly be ordained,” in terms
readily transferable to our everyday lives.
Seneca explains how Stoic mercy confronts

the necessity of punishment in a way that is
dispassionate and carefully calibrated: it
does not dwell on the past but looks to the
future, aiming not at retribution but at im-
proving the wrongdoer or the community
at large.
22 (1) In requiting injuries the law pur-

sues t hese three goals: correcting the per-
son punished, or making all o thers better
people by punishing him,2 or allowing
them to live more securely once bad ac-
tors have been removed from their midst.
You will more easily correct the wrong-
doer with a lesser penalty: people conduct
199
B eing Merciful
poena; diligentius enim vivit, cui aliquid

integri superest. Nemo dignitati perditae
parcit; inpunitatis genus est iam non ha-
bere poenae locum. (2) Civitatis autem
mores magis corrigit parcitas animad-
versionum; facit enim consuetudinem
peccandi multitudo peccantium, et minus
gravis nota est, quam turba damnatio-
num levat, et severitas, quod maximum
remedium habet, adsiduitate amittit
auctoritatem. . . . 23 (2) In qua civitate
raro homines puniuntur, in ea consensus
fit innocentiae et indulgetur velut publico
bono. Putet se innocentem esse civitas,
erit; magis irascetur a communi frugalitate
200
B eing Merciful
their lives more carefully when left some-

thing whole and unsullied, whereas no
one is chary of a self-respect that has been
utterly lost. Having nothing that pun-
ishment can affect is a kind of impunity.
(2) Moreover, a sparing use of punishment
does more to correct a community’s hab-
its, for a multitude of wrongdoers makes
wrongdoing a m atter of habit: condemna-
tions that come thick and fast lessen the
stigma of punishment, and strictness,
when unrelieved, loses its moral author-
ity, which is its most important healing
power. . . . 23 (2) In a community where
people are rarely punished,3 innocence
comes to enjoy general support and is
kindly regarded as a common good. Pro-
vided a community thinks of itself as
innocent, it will be; it will be more indig-
nant at those who depart from the general
201
B eing Merciful
desciscentibus, si paucos esse eos viderit.

(On Mercy 1.22.1–2, 23.2)
3 (1) Et ne forte decipiat nos speciosum

clementiae nomen aliquando et in con-
trarium abducat, videamus, quid sit cle
mentia qualisque sit et quos fines habeat.
Clementia est temperantia animi in
potestate ulciscendi vel lenitas superioris
adversus inferiorem in constituendis
202
B eing Merciful
standard of goodness if it sees that they

are few. (On Mercy 1.22.1–2, 23.2)
In the context of righteous punishment,

mercy emerges, on the one hand, as a ver-
sion of justice more lenient than the virtue
of “strictness,” which exacts the fullest form
of a deserved punishment, and, on the other
hand, as the opposite of cruelty.
3 (1) And lest the fair-seeming name of

mercy should at times deceive us and lead
us in the opposite direction [i.e., t oward
some form of vice], let’s see what mercy
is, what characteristics it has, and what its
boundaries are.
Clemency is “the mind’s moderation
when it has the power to take revenge,”
or “mildness in a superior toward an in-
ferior in determining punishment.” It’s
203
B eing Merciful
poenis. Plura proponere tutius est, ne

una finitio parum rem conprehendat. . . .
Itaque dici potest et inclinatio animi ad
lenitatem in poena exigenda. (2) Illa fini-
tio contradictiones inveniet, quamvis
maxime ad verum accedat, si dixerimus
clementiam esse moderationem aliquid ex
merita ac debita poena remittentem:
reclamabitur nullam virtutem cuiquam
minus debito facere. Atqui hoc omnes in-
tellegunt clementiam esse, quae se flectit
citra id, quod merito constitui posset.
4 (1) Quid ergo obponitur clementiae?
Crudelitas, quae nihil aliud est quam
atrocitas animi in exigendis poenis. . . .
(3) Illos ergo crudeles vocabo qui puniendi
causam habent, modum non habent, sicut
204
B eing Merciful
safer to advance several definitions, lest a

single definition fall short of covering the
matter. . . . Thus it can also be termed “the
mind’s inclination toward mildness in ex-
acting punishment.” (2) The following
definition will not cover e very case, but
it most closely approximates the truth, to
wit: “mercy is moderation that dimin-
ishes a due and deserved punishment to
some degree.” Expect an outcry: “No vir-
tue does for anyone less than what is
due!” Yet every one understands that
mercy reins itself in short of what could
deservedly be ordained.
4 (1) What, then, is the opposite of
mercy? Cruelty, which is nothing other
than a mind made savage in exacting
punishment. . . . (3) I will call “cruel,”
then, those who have grounds for punish-
ing but set no limit on the punishment, as
205
B eing Merciful
in Phalari, quem aiunt non quidem in ho-

mines innocentes sed super humanum ac
probabilem modum saevisse. Possumus
effugere cavillationem et ita finire ut sit
crudelitas inclinatio animi ad asperiora.
Hanc clementia repellit <et iubet> longius
stare a se, nam <cum> severitate illi con-
venit. (On Mercy 2.3.1–2, 4.1, 3)
206
B eing Merciful
in the case of Phalaris, who reportedly

exercised his savagery, not against inno-
cent men, to be sure, but beyond any
limit that a human being could approve.4
We can avoid quibbling and use this
definition: “cruelty is the mind’s inclina-
tion toward excessive harshness.” Clem-
ency rebuffs this quality and compels it
to stay far off; for it is with strictness that
mercy is in accord [sc. as a virtue]. (On
Mercy 2.3.1–2, 4.1, 3)
Mercy is also distinct from and superior to

pity (misericordia, literally “being unhappy
at heart”) and forgiveness (ignoscentia, lit-
erally “taking no notice of”). The latter is
unacceptable because it involves giving
people nothing of what they deserve. The
former is unacceptable because it is an emo-
tion that (on the Stoic view) arises from
207
B eing Merciful
4 (4) Ad rem pertinet quaerere hoc loco

quid sit misericordia, plerique enim ut
virtutem eam laudant et bonum hominem
vocant misericordem. Et haec vitium
animi est. Vtraque circa severitatem
circaque clementiam posita sunt, quae
vitare debemus; per speciem <enim seve
ritatis in crudelitatem incidimus, per
speciem> clementiae in misericordiam. In
hoc leviore periculo erratur, sed par error
est a vero recedentium. 5 (1) Ergo quem
admodum religio deos colit, superstitio
violat, ita clementiam mansuetudinemque
omnes boni viri praestabunt, misericor-
diam autem vitabunt; est enim vitium pu-
silli animi ad speciem alien<orum mal>o-
rum succidentis. . . . Misericordia non
208
B eing Merciful
muddled thought and does no more good

for its object than clear-eyed mercy.
4 (4) At this point it is relevant to ask

what pity is; for most people praise it as
a virtue and call someone prone to pity a
good man. This too is a vice of the mind.
Both vices, pity and cruelty, are close to
mercy and strictness, and we must avoid
them: b ecause it resembles <strictness, we
lapse into cruelty, and because it resem-
bles> mercy, we lapse into pity.5 Erring in
the direction of pity entails less risk, but
those who fall away from the truth err
equally in both cases. 5 (1) Just as religion
cherishes the gods, whereas superstition
wounds them, so all good p eople will dis-
play mercy and mildness but avoid pity;
for it is the fault of a paltry spirit that col-
lapses at the impression of other p eople’s
209
B eing Merciful
causam, sed fortunam spectat; clementia

rationi accedit.
(2) Scio male audire apud inperitos sec-
tam Stoicorum tamquam duram ni
mis . . . : obicitur illi, quod sapientem
negat misereri, negat ignoscere. Haec, si
per se ponantur, invisa sunt; videntur
enim nullam relinquere spem humanis er-
roribus, sed omnia delicta ad poenam de-
ducere. (3) . . . Sed nulla secta benignior
leniorque est, nulla amantior hominum et
communis boni adtentior, ut propositum
sit usui esse et auxilio nec sibi tantum,
sed universis singulisque consulere.
(4) Misericordia est aegritudo animi ob
210
B eing Merciful
<woes>. . . . Pity looks only at the state a

person is in, not its cause; mercy is in ac-
cord with reason.
(2) I know that the Stoics have a bad
reputation among the ignorant for being
too callous . . . : they’re charged with as-
serting that the wise man does not feel
pity and does not forgive. Taken by itself,
that assertion is invidious, for it implies
that the Stoics leave human error no hope,
but instead refer all shortcomings directly
to punishment. (3) . . . But no philo-
sophical school is kinder and gentler,
nor more loving of humankind and
more attentive to our common good, to
the degree that its very purpose is to be
useful, bring assistance, and consider the
interests not only of its own members
but of all people, individually and col-
lectively. (4) Pity is a distress caused by
211
B eing Merciful
alienarum miseriarum speciem aut tristi-

tia ex alienis malis contracta, quae acci-
dere inmerentibus credit; aegritudo autem
in sapientem virum non cadit; serena eius
mens est, nec quicquam incidere potest,
quod illam obducat. . . .
6 (1) . . . Tristitia inhabilis est ad dispi
ciendas res, utilia excogitanda, periculosa
vitanda, aequa aestimanda; ergo non
miseretur, quia id sine miseria animi non
fit. (2) Cetera omnia, quae, qui miseren-
tur, volo facere, libens et altus animo
faciet; succurret alienis lacrimis, non
accedet; dabit manum naufrago, exuli
hospitium, egenti stipem, . . . donabit
lacrimis maternis filium et catenas solvi
212
B eing Merciful
the impression of others’ unhappiness,

or a sadness brought on by the woes of
others who one believes are suffering

undeservedly.6 But distress does not visit
the wise, whose minds are cheerful, nor
can anything happen to them that would
bring on distress. . . .
6 (1) . . . Sadness is unsuited to seeing
to the heart of things, to figuring out what
is helpful, to avoiding risks, and to calcu-
lating what is fair. Therefore, the wise w ill
not commiserate, since that necessarily
entails the mind’s misery. (2) All the other
things I think people who feel pity should
do, the wise w ill do gladly and with mind
uplifted: they w ill bring succor to an-
other’s tears, not join in them; they will
give a hand to the shipwrecked, shelter to
the exile, a coin to the needy. . . . They
will release a son in answer to a m other’s
213
B eing Merciful
iubebit et ludo eximet et cadaver etiam

noxium sepeliet, sed faciet ista tranquilla
mente, voltu suo. (3) Ergo non miserebi-
tur sapiens, sed succurret, sed proderit, in
commune auxilium natus ac bonum pub-
licum, ex quo dabit cuique partem. . . .
Quotiens poterit, fortunae intercedet; ubi
enim opibus potius utetur aut viribus,
quam ad restituenda, quae casus inpulit?
Voltum quidem non deiciet nec animum
ob crus alicuius aridum aut pannosam
maciem et innixam baculo senectutem;
ceterum omnibus dignis proderit et
214
B eing Merciful
tears and bid his chains be undone; they

will free the gladiator from his training;
they will bury even a criminal’s corpse.
But they w ill do all those things with a
tranquil mind and unaltered expression.
(3) The wise, then, w ill not feel pity, but
they will give aid and be useful, having
been born to assist their fellows and add
to the common good, of which they w ill
give each person a share. . . . Whenever
possible, they will stand in misfortune’s
way: for when w ill they rather use their
strength and resources than in restoring
what misfortune has overthrown? Surely
their expressions will not be downcast,
nor their minds either, at the sight of
someone’s withered leg or p eople reduced
to rags and bone, supporting their old age
on a cane; but they w ill do good for all
215
B eing Merciful
deorum more calamitosos propitius

respiciet. . . .
7 (1) “At quare non ignoscet?” Agedum
constituamus nunc quoque, quid sit
venia, et sciemus dari illam a sapiente non
debere. Venia est poenae meritae remis-
sio. . . . Ei ignoscitur, qui puniri debuit;
sapiens autem nihil facit, quod non debet,
nihil praetermittit, quod debet; itaque
poenam, quam exigere debet, non donat.
(2) Sed illud, quod ex venia consequi vis,
honestiore tibi via tribuet; parcet enim sa-
piens, consulet et corriget. . . . Aliquem
verbis tantum admonebit, poena non
216
B eing Merciful
who are worthy and, like the gods, look

with kindness on those in distress. . . .
7 (1) A question: “But why w ill they
not grant forgiveness?” Very well, let’s
now also determine what “pardon” is,
and we will then understand that a wise
man ought not grant it. P ardon is “the re-
mission of a deserved punishment.” . . .
Forgiveness is granted to one who o ught
to be punished; the wise, however, neither
do anything they ought not do nor forgo
doing anything they o ught to do. Ac-
cordingly, they do not remit a punish-
ment that they o ught to exact. (2) But
what you want to gain from a p ardon
the wise w
ill grant you by a more honor-
able path: for they will spare you, take
thought for your real interests, and set
you straight.7 . . . They’ll give someone
only an admonition and not punish
217
B eing Merciful
adficiet aetatem eius emendabilem intu-

ens; aliquem invidia criminis manifeste
laborantem iubebit incolumem esse, quia
deceptus est, quia per vinum labsus;
hostes dimittet salvos, aliquando etiam
laudatos, si honestis causis pro fide, pro
foedere, pro libertate in bellum acciti
sunt.
(3) Haec omnia non veniae, sed clemen-
tiae opera sunt. Clementia liberum arbi-
trium habet; non sub formula, sed ex
aequo et bono iudicat; et absolvere illi
licet et, quanti vult, taxare litem. Nihil ex
his facit, tamquam iusto minus fecerit,
218
B eing Merciful
him, seeing that he is at a stage in life

where he is not yet incorrigible; someone
else, who is plainly distressed at the ill
will that his crime has incurred, they w ill
tell to depart unscathed, because he was
misled or because he slipped while tipsy;
they will release enemies unharmed,
sometimes even with words of praise, if
they were summoned forth to war in an
honorable cause, out of loyalty, or in
defense of a treaty or their freedom.
(3) All t hese actions are proper to mercy,
not pardon. Mercy exercises freedom of
judgment: it makes its determinations
not according to a fixed formula but ac-
cording to what is fair and good; it is free
to acquit, and free to assess the value of
a suit at the amount it wishes. It does all
these things, not as though it were d
oing
less than what is just, but as though the
219
B eing Merciful
sed tamquam id, quod constituit, iustis-

simum sit. Ignoscere autem est, quem
iudices puniendum, non punire; venia
debitae poenae remissio est. Clementia
hoc primum praestat, ut, quos dimittit,
nihil aliud illos pati debuisse pronuntiet;
plenior est quam venia, honestior est.
(On Mercy 2.4.4–5.4, 6.1–3, 7.1–3)
220
B eing Merciful
determination it reaches is the most

just.8 But to forgive is to forgo punishing
one whom you judge o ught to be pun-
ished, and pardon is the remission of a
deserved punishment. Clemency accom-
plishes this first and foremost: it declares
that those whom it lets go o ught not to
have suffered anything more. Its judg-
ment is more complete than pardon, and
more honorable. (On Mercy 2.4.4–5.4,
6.1–3, 7.1–3)
Addressing Nero and aiming to make the

notion of mercy appealing, Seneca empha-
sizes the prudential purposes that it can
serve, in making the ruler loved rather than
feared, and therefore safer on his throne.
He uses the example of Caesar Augustus
(63 bce–14 ce), who brought a generation of
civil war to an end and ruled Rome’s empire
221
B eing Merciful
9 (2) Delatum est ad [Augustum] indicium

L. Cinnam, stolidi ingenii virum, insidias
ei struere; dictum est, et ubi et quando et
quemadmodum adgredi vellet; unus ex
consciis deferebat. (3) Constituit se ab eo
vindicare . . . , nox illi inquieta erat, cum
cogitaret adulescentem nobilem, hoc
222
B eing Merciful
as its first autocrat for the last forty-five

years of his life. Early in his reign, when
some thought the idea of one-man rule a re-
pugnant novelty, he was repeatedly the tar-
get of would-be assassins, whom he pun-
ished when their plans were detected: here
Seneca tells the story of the last such at-
tempt on his life, and of the mercy that he
showed the culprit, very much to his own
advantage.
9 (2) [Augustus] received evidence that

Lucius Cinna, a man of no great intelli-
gence, was plotting against him: the
where, the when, and the how of the at-
ere spelled out by one of the con-
tack w
spirators. (3) He decided to take ven-
geance on Cinna . . . then spent an
uneasy night reflecting on the fact that he
had to condemn a young man of notable
223
B eing Merciful
detracto integrum, Cn. Pompei nepotem,

damnandum. . . . (4) Gemens subinde
voces varias emittebat et inter se contra
rias: “Quid ergo? ego percussorem meum
securum ambulare patiar me sollicito?
Ergo non dabit poenas, qui tot civilibus
bellis frustra petitum caput . . . , postquam
terra marique pax parata est, non occidere
constituat, sed inmolare?” (nam sacrifi-
cantem placuerat adoriri). (5) Rursus
silentio interposito maiore multo voce
sibi quam Cinnae irascebatur: “Quid vivis,
si perire te tam multorum interest? quis
finis erit suppliciorum? quis sanguinis? . . .
Non est tanti vita, si, ut ego non peream,
tam multa perdenda sunt.”
224
B eing Merciful
f amily who was thoroughly decent, save

for this one incident, and a grandson of
Gnaeus Pompey.9 . . . (4) With a groan he
began to muse out loud, his words in con-
flict with themselves: “What am I to do,
then? Am I to let my assassin stroll about
without a care while I am wracked by
anxiety? Will he not be punished, when
he has undertaken not just to kill me but
to offer me up as a blood sacrifice” (for
Cinna had decided to assail Augustus
when he was sacrificing) “after I’ve sur-
vived attacks in so many civil wars . . . ?”
(5) But then again, a fter falling s ilent, he
began to speak much more loudly and in
anger, more at himself than at Cinna:
“Why live, if so many have an interest in
your d ying? What end w ill there be to
punishment and to bloodshed? . . . Life is
not worth so great a price, if so much
225
B eing Merciful
(6) Interpellavit tandem illum Livia

uxor et: “Admittis” inquit “muliebre con-
silium? Fac, quod medici solent, qui, ubi
usitata remedia non procedunt, temp-
tant contraria. Severitate nihil adhuc
profecisti . . . Nunc tempta, quomodo
tibi cedat clementia; ignosce L. Cinnae.
Deprensus est; iam nocere tibi non potest,
prodesse famae tuae potest.”
(7) Gavisus, sibi quod advocatum in-
venerat, uxori quidem gratias egit, . . .
imperavit et Cinnam unum ad se accersit
dimissisque omnibus e cubiculo, cum al-
teram Cinnae poni cathedram iussis-
set: . . . (8) “Ego te, Cinna, cum in hos-
tium castris invenissem, non factum
226
B eing Merciful
destruction is required to prevent my

own destruction.”
(6) At last his wife, Livia, interrupted
him and said: “Will you take a w oman’s
advice? Do what doctors do when the
usual prescriptions have no effect: try the
opposite remedies. Strictness has gotten
you nowhere . . . [she then reels off a
string of e arlier attempts]. Now try and
see how far mercy gets you: let Lucius
Cinna go. He’s been caught and now can
do you no harm, though he can do your
reputation some good.”
(7) Delighted to have found a counselor,
Augustus thanked his wife heartily . . . and
summoned Cinna all by himself. Dis-
missing everyone else from his chamber
and ordering that another chair be pro-
vided for Cinna, he said: . . . (8) “Cinna,
though I found you in the camp of my
227
B eing Merciful
tantum mihi inimicum sed natum, ser-

vavi, patrimonium tibi omne concessi.
Hodie tam felix et tam dives es, ut victo
victores invideant. Sacerdotium tibi pe-
tenti praeteritis conpluribus, quorum pa
rentes mecum militaverant, dedi; cum sic
de te meruerim, occidere me constitu-
isti,” (9) . . . adiecit locum, socios, diem,
ordinem insidiarum, cui conmissum esset
ferrum. (10) Et cum defixum videret nec
ex conventione iam, sed ex conscientia
tacentem: “Quo” inquit “hoc animo
facis? ut ipse sis princeps? male mehercu-
les cum populo Romano agitur, si tibi ad
imperandum nihil praeter me obstat. . . .
228
B eing Merciful
foes, an e nemy born, not made, I let you

live and keep your family estate. T oday
you are so prosperous and wealthy that
the victors envy the vanquished. I
passed over many whose f athers fought
by my side to give you the priesthood
you sought. But though I deserved your
gratitude, you undertook to kill me,”
(9) . . . and he specified the place, his co-
conspirators, the arrangement of the am-
bush, and the person entrusted with the
weapon. (10) And when he saw that
Cinna was thunderstruck and s ilent . . .
from full awareness of what he’d done,
Augustus said: “What’s your aim in doing
this? Do you mean to be prince yourself?
My God, the Roman p eople really are in
a bad way if I’m the only t hing standing
between you and supreme authority! . . .
Really, nothing could be easier, you

229
B eing Merciful
Adeo nihil facilius potes quam contra

Caesarem advocare. Cedo, si spes tuas
solus inpedio, Paulusne te et Fabius Max-
imus et Cossi et Servilii ferent tantum-
que agmen nobilium non inania nomina
praeferentium, sed eorum, qui imagini-
bus suis decori sint?”
(11) Ne totam eius orationem [sc.
repeto] (diutius enim quam duabus horis
locutum esse constat, cum hanc poenam,
qua sola erat contentus futurus, exten-
deret): “Vitam” inquit “tibi, Cinna,
iterum do, prius hosti, nunc insidiatori
ac parricidae. Ex hodierno die inter nos
amicitia incipiat; contendamus, utrum
ego meliore fide tibi vitam dederim an tu
debeas.” (12) Post hoc . . . amicissimum
230
B eing Merciful
suppose, than to raise a hue and cry against

Caesar! Look: if I’m the only obstacle to
your hopes, w ill Paulus and Fabius Maxi-
mus and men like Cossus and Servilius10
put up with you—yes, and the whole great
troop of notable men, not the ones who
offer nothing but a name, but those who
bring honor to their ancestors?”
(11) Not to . . . repeat everything he
said (for it’s well known that he [scolded
Cinna] for more than two hours, drawing
out in this way the sole punishment with
which he was g oing to rest content):
“I give you your life, Cinna,” Augustus
said, “for the second time, formerly as my
enemy u nder arms, now as a conspirator
and parricide.11 From this day let our
friendship commence, and let us compete
to see who acts in better faith—I as your
savior, or you as my debtor.” (12) After
231
B eing Merciful
fidelissimumque habuit. . . . Nullis am

plius insidiis ab ullo petitus est. (On Mercy
1.9.2–12)
232
B eing Merciful
this . . . he had Cinna as his dearest and

most loyal friend. . . . Augustus was never
again the object of a conspiracy. (On
Mercy 1.9.2–12)
It must be said that this edifying story—in

which Augustus, following Livia’s advice,
dispenses mercy as a tactical move made to
gain an advantage—is not strictly in line
with the Stoic principle that though behav-
ing virtuously can be advantageous, one
should not choose to behave virtuously for
that reason. But Seneca tells another story
that very clearly shows the virtue of mercy
in action as a thing chosen for its own sake:
the story of Augustus, the rich man Tarius,
and Tarius’s son.
The story involves a core principle of
Roman life, and an important institution.
The principle is that of “the power of the
233
B eing Merciful
father” (patria potestas), which held that a

father held absolute power—the power of
life and death—over all those who were
members of his h ousehold and subject to his
authority: in this respect the h
ousehold’s en-
slaved members and its f ree members—the
father’s
children included— stood on an
equal footing. In this case, the son had been
revealed to be a would-be parricide and so
faced the gruesome traditional punishment:
being flogged, sewn up in a sack with a
rooster, snake, monkey, and dog, and
thrown into the sea. Whether he would suf-
fer that punishment would be determined
through a traditional institution, the domes-
tic trial: a hearing would be held in the
father’s home, before an advisory council
comprising a number of the father’s friends,
with the f ather presiding, and the outcome
would be determined by a vote of the
235
B eing Merciful
14 (1) [Boni patres] obiurgare liberos non

numquam blande, non numquam mina
citer solent, aliquando admonere etiam
verberibus. Numquid aliquis sanus filium
a prima offensa exheredat? Nisi magnae
et multae iniuriae patientiam evicerunt,
nisi plus est quod timet quam quod
damnat, non accedit ad decretorium sti-
lum. Multa ante temptat quibus dubiam
indolem et peiore iam loco positam re-
vocet; simul deploratum est, ultima expe
ritur. Nemo ad supplicia exigenda pervenit
236
B eing Merciful
council’s members, acting as a jury. In this

case, the father’s friends included Caesar
Augustus.
14 (1) [Good fathers] are accustomed to

reproving their children, sometimes
gently, sometimes menacingly, now and
again admonishing them even with blows.
No sane man disinherits a son at his first
offense, does he? No, he does not take up
the pen to draft that decree save when
grievous and repeated injuries have over-
come his patience, or when the behavior
he fears is worse than the behavior he
condemns. Before it comes to that he tries
many ways to recall a wavering character
from its present, regrettable condition;
the final steps are taken when hope is lost.
No one reaches the point of exacting pun-
ishment unless he has tried all possible
237
B eing Merciful
nisi qui remedia consumpsit. . . . (3) Tarde

sibi pater membra sua abscidat, etiam
cum absciderit reponi cupiat et in absci-
dendo gemat cunctatus multum diuque:
prope est enim ut libenter damnet qui
cito, prope est ut inique puniat qui nimis.
15 (2) Tarium, qui filium deprensum in
parricidii consilio damnavit causa cog-
nita, nemo non suspexit, quod contentus
exilio et exilio delicato Massiliae parrici-
dam continuit et annua illi praestitit,
quanta praestare integro solebat; haec
liberalitas effecit, ut, in qua civitate num-
quam deest patronus peioribus, nemo
238
B eing Merciful
cures. . . . (3) Let a f ather be slow to am-

putate his own limbs,12 let him even, once
he has done it, wish them put back in
place, and when a fter long delay he does
it, let him groan. For when a person is
quick to condemn, it is almost as though
he is glad to condemn; excessive punish-
ment is the next thing to unwarranted
punishment.13
15 (2) When Tarius discovered that his
son was planning his death and con-
demned him in a trial held in his own
house
hold, every one respected him be-
cause he was content to sentence the
young man to exile— and a pampered
exile at that, in Massilia, where he pro-
vided him with the same annual allowance
he used to give him before his disgrace.14
Because of this generous gesture everyone
239
B eing Merciful
dubitaret, quin reus merito damnatus

esset, quem is pater damnare potuisset,
qui odisse non poterat.
(3) Hoc ipso exemplo dabo, quem con-
pares bono patri, bonum principem.
Cogniturus de filio Tarius advocavit in
consilium Caesarem Augustum; venit in
privatos penates, adsedit, pars alieni con-
silii fuit, non dixit: “Immo in meam
domum veniat”; quod si factum esset,
Caesaris futura erat cognitio, non patris.
(4) Audita causa excussisque omnibus, et
his, quae adulescens pro se dixerat, et his,
quibus arguebatur, petit, ut sententiam
suam quisque scriberet, ne ea omnium
240
B eing Merciful
in Rome—where even scoundrels never

lack an advocate—believed that the young
man had been justly condemned, seeing
that a father incapable of hating him had
been able to condemn him.
(3) This very same episode also pro-
vides a model of the good prince for you
to compare with the good father. When
Tarius was going to conduct the trial he
asked Caesar Augustus to sit on his advi-
sory council; and so Augustus came to a
private home and sat at Tarius’s side as a
counselor—he did not say, “No, no, let
him come to my home,” for in that case
the trial would have been Caesar’s, not
the father’s. (4) When the case had been
heard and the evidence thoroughly
examined— both the points that the
young man made on his own behalf and
those that tended to convict him—

241
B eing Merciful
fieret, quae Caesaris fuisset; deinde, pri-

usquam aperirentur codicilli, iuravit se
Tarii, hominis locupletis, hereditatem non
aditurum. (5) Dicet aliquis: “Pusillo
animo timuit, ne videretur locum spei
suae aperire velle fili damnatione.” Ego
contra sentio; quilibet nostrum debuisset
adversus opiniones malignas satis fiduciae
habere in bona conscientia, principes
multa debent etiam famae dare. Iuravit se
non aditurum hereditatem. (6) Tarius
quidem eodem die et alterum heredem
perdidit, sed Caesar libertatem sententiae
suae redemit; et postquam adprobavit
242
B eing Merciful
Augustus asked that each man write

down his own judgment, lest everyone
make Caesar’s verdict his own. Then, be-
fore the tablets w
ere opened, he took an
oath that he had no intention of accept-
ing an inheritance from Tarius, who was
a wealthy man.15 (5) Someone will say,
“That was a petty concern, not wanting
to seem to make room for himself by vot-
ing to condemn the son.” Quite the op-
posite, I think: any of us ordinary folk
should have had sufficient confidence in
his own clear conscience to withstand
malicious talk, but princes must make
many concessions even to gossip. He
swore that he would not accept an inher-
itance. (6) And indeed on the same day
Tarius lost two heirs,16 but Caesar secured
his own freedom of judgment; and a fter
he proved that his own strictness was
243
B eing Merciful
gratuitam esse severitatem suam, quod

principi semper curandum est, dixit rele-
gandum, quo patri videretur. (7) Non
culleum, non serpentes, non carcerem de-
crevit memor, non de quo censeret, sed
cui in consilio esset; mollissimo genere
poenae contentum esse debere patrem
dixit in filio adulescentulo inpulso in id
scelus, in quo se, quod proximum erat ab
innocentia, timide gessisset; debere illum
ab urbe et a parentis oculis submoveri.
(On Mercy 1.14.1, 3, 15.2–7)
244
B eing Merciful
not self-interested—a prince’s constant

concern—he said that the son should be
banished, the location to be left to the
father’s discretion. (7) Mindful not of

the charge he was judging but of the man
he was advising, he decreed neither the
sack nor snakes nor a prison cell but made
plain that a father should be content with
the mildest punishment in the case of a
young son driven to a crime in which he
had shown himself, by his timid conduct,
only one step removed from innocence:
he should be removed from the city and
from his father’s sight. (On Mercy 1.14.1,
3, 15.2–7)
As Seneca tells it, the story presents a care-

fully choreographed display of virtue and
tact. Conscious of his authority, Augustus
requests a secret ballot, so that his authority
245
B eing Merciful
ill not distort the process. Conscious of

w
both his son’s intended crime and his prior
life, the father is bound to impose a pun-
ishment but mitigates it on rational
grounds that can be clearly stated— the
young man was “only one step removed
from innocence”—and Augustus concurs in
the decision. Both father and emperor arrive
at their decisions dispassionately, with their
judgment unclouded by the anger or vindic-
tiveness that attempted parricide might or-
dinarily inspire, but with a mild and humane
clarity of mind that makes careful calibra-
tion possible: had the son been slightly fur-
ther removed from innocence, we can infer,
the punishment would have been somewhat
less gentle, with a less generous allowance
supporting him in a less congenial setting.
Finally, the story illustrates and vindicates
the claim that we saw Seneca make when
247
B eing Merciful
distinguishing mercy from strictness on the

one hand and from pity or forgiveness on
the other:
Mercy exercises freedom of judgment: it

makes its determinations not according to
a set formula but according to what is fair
and good, . . . [and] not as though it were
doing less than what is just, but as though
the determination it reaches is the most
just.
249
NOTES
Introduction
1. A fourth collection, Natural Questions, is

primarily devoted not to ethics but to what
the ancient philosophers called “physics,”
an understanding of how the natural world
is constituted.
2. As we have it, On Mercy is incomplete,
either because it was damaged in transmis-
sion or because Seneca abandoned it, per-
haps because he recognized the project’s
futility.
3. In much the same way, the Romans’ vari
ous gods—of the sun, moon, wine, and
251
N otes
the rest—can be thought of as the differ

ent ways in which the providential God’s
beneficence is manifested in different cir-
cumstances (On Benefits 4.7–8). For the
most part Seneca uses the singular and
plural nouns interchangeably: where
“gods” stands in the translation of a given
passage, you are f ree to understand “God.”
4. The translations are based on the Latin
texts published by Oxford University
Press in the Oxford Classical Texts series:
for the Moral Epistles and Dialogues, the
editions of L. D. Reynolds, published in
1965 and 1977, respectively; for On Benefits
and On Mercy, my own edition, published
in 2022. The translations of passages from
On Anger and On Mercy published here
are adapted from my own translations pre-
viously published in Seneca: Anger, Mercy,
Revenge, translated by Robert A. Kaster
252
N otes
and Martha C. Nussbaum (Chicago: Uni-

versity of Chicago Press, © 2010). Repro-
duced with permission of the University
of Chicago Press.
1. Striving for Magnanimity
1. “Magnanimity” is derived from Latin mag-

nanimitas, the quality of having a “large
(magnus) mind (animus)”; in what follows
I use “large-mindedness” and “magnanim-
ity” interchangeably. The opposite of a
magnus animus is a pusillus animus (“teensy
mind”), the source of English “pusillanim-
ity,” which tends to be used more narrowly
(denoting “cowardice” and the like) than
the contrasting virtue.
2. Seneca does not take account of another
difference, one conditioned by our mortal-
ity: humans live in time, with knowledge
253
N otes
that is limited by time, whereas the mind of

God knows, at once, all that has been, is
now, and ever will be.
3. “Fortune’s gifts” are the “indifferents,” as
the Stoics called them, things external to
the mind that are not needed for the best
human life. Some (e.g., wealth, good health)
can be “preferred”; o thers (e.g., poverty,
illness) can be “dispreferred”; but all
should be regarded with detachment, and
none should be thought truly good or
bad: see the introduction.
4. A Stoic philosop her whom Seneca knew
and respected as a young man.
5. Because it was nefas—a sacrilege—for a
human being to look upon a divine being.
6. The epithet “younger” is commonly ap-
plied to this Cato to distinguish him from
his great-grandfather, Cato “the Elder” or
“the Censor,” one of the most influential
Romans of the early second c entury bce.
254
N otes
7. Socrates (469–399 bce) served as a hoplite

soldier in the early stages of the Pelopon-
nesian War between Athens and Sparta,
which began in 431 and ended with Ath-
ens’s surrender in April 404. An oligarchy
(the “Thirty Tyrants”) controlled the city
for a year after the defeat; negotiations led
to the restoration of a free democratic gov-
ernment in September 403. It was u nder the
democracy that Socrates was tried and ex-
ecuted, hence the reference to “a freedom
crueler than war and tyrants.”
8. Cato (born 95 bce) committed suicide in
Africa after his army’s defeat by Julius
Caesar in a key b attle of the civil war
(April 46); his death became the centerpiece
of his legend. Here he is said to have been
“stymied” in death b ecause his wound was
initially sewn up after he stabbed himself in
the abdomen; he subsequently tore open
the wound and drew out his entrails.
255
N otes
9. For the consulship, the Rome Republic’s

most important office, in 52 bce.
10. The reference to exile is unclear: Seneca
probably thinks of the commission Cato ac-
cepted to or ga
nize the new province of
Cyprus in 58–56 bce, time spent away from
the center of po liti
cal life in Rome that
Cicero— for complicated reasons of his
own—characterized as a period of “exile”
for Cato.
11. The philosopher Epicurus (341–270 bce)
founded the school of thought that bears his
name. Pythocles and Idomeneus were mem-
bers of his circle; he wrote a letter to the
latter urging him to withdraw from politics.
12. As in the other epistles, the “you” here is
Seneca’s friend Lucilius, who had risen to
the second rank of Rome’s elite, the
“knights,” wealthy men who did not pursue
a career in Rome’s Senate, though they com-
monly served in vari ous administrative
256
N otes
posts, as Lucilius did. They enjoyed certain

privileges, including access to the seats in
the first fourteen rows of the theater, to
which Seneca soon alludes.
2. Being Calm, Thinking Clearly
1. Seneca is speaking of a w
oman who accom-
panied his wife when she left her father’s
household and joined his.
2. Homer Odyssey 12.39–54, 158–200: after
the sorceress Circe warned Odysseus of
the Sirens, who lured sailors to destruction
with their song, he ordered his men to stop
their ears with softened wax and to bind
him to the mast, so that he could safely
hear them sing.
3. The quotation alludes to the boast of a ship
captain from Rhodes, to the effect that not
even the god of the sea could deflect him
from skillfully doing his duty.
257
N otes
3. Judging Yourself Fairly
1. “Reception hall”: a reference, especially, to

the morning greetings (salutatio) that a dis-
tinguished man’s friends and dependents
would come to deliver at his home, with the
gathering’s size providing visible proof of
his importance.
2. “Vicissitudes”: Seneca alludes to the princi
ple that whenever one person freely be-
stows a benefit on another, the true benefit
consists of the goodwill that prompts the
action, whatever the material form the ben-
efit happens to take: the latter can be lost
or destroyed, but the intention with which
the act was performed remains unchanged.
3. Seneca is thinking of a banquet, an occasion
when Romans dined reclining, three to a
couch: honor and prestige were encoded in
the details of who reclined where.
258
N otes
4. Ennius (239–169 bce) was the first Roman

poet to adopt the dactylic hexameter meter
used in Greek epic poetry from Homer on,
though by Seneca’s day his verse technique
was considered a bit unrefined. Hortensius
(114–50 bce) was displaced by Cicero
(106–43 bce) as the foremost orator of their
day: the former was known for a florid style
that presumably was not to Seneca’s liking,
while Cicero’s poetry was commonly held to
be as weak as his oratory was powerful.
4. Doing Right by Others
1. On the Stoic view, the fact that reason can

cause movement and action—when I am
faced with a closed door, my reasoning
causes me to extend my hand, then grasp
and turn the knob—demonstrated that it
must be a physical entity.
259
N otes
2. One of the founders of the atomic theory

of the universe, Democritus (born around
460 bce) argued that cultivating cheerful-
ness should be life’s goal. He perhaps
came to be contrasted with the earlier phi
losopher Heraclitus because the latter be-
lieved that most p eople understand very
little about life and their own place in the
world.
3. Seneca is suggesting ways of thinking that
we can adopt to avoid disappointment or
envy when a benefactor seems to have let
us down.
4. Literally, “the greater city,” alluding to the
distinction that Stoicism’s founder, Zeno
(335–263 bce), drew between the earthly
communities in which we live and the uni-
versal community that gods and human be-
ings share as rational beings.
5. Seneca alludes to the Stoic view, which he
embraced with special fervor, that there are
260
N otes
circumstances in which killing oneself is a

rational option.
6. Seneca has in mind a game like volleyball,
save that t here was no net, and the aim was
to pat the ball to the other player, not drive
it past him.
7. Seneca is addressing Nero: see the intro-
duction to chapter 5.
8. That is, a fter a wrongdoer has been pun-
ished by being blasted by lightning: such a
death placed the deceased beyond ordinary
human contact and required that he be

buried on the spot, attended to by a special
category of priest.
9. On the interchangeable singular and plural
forms, see the introduction, note 3.
10. Certain Roman magistrates wore a toga
with a purple border along its upper edge.
11. This is the core Stoic princi
ple that all
human beings are naturally endowed with
the capacity for wisdom; the “labels” that
261
N otes
denote differences of status are not the

products of nature.
12. One of Seneca’s teachers, Quintus Sextius
(late first c entury bce—early first century
ce) founded a short-lived school of thought
that blended Stoicism with ele ments of
other philosophical traditions and empha-
sized practical ethics.
5. Being Merciful
1. The Latin word clementia corresponds

closely to two English terms, “mercy” and
the word derived from the Latin, “clem-
ency.” I use the two interchangeably in this
chapter.
2. That is, punishing a bad actor to teach
others a morally improving lesson.
3. That is, rarely need to be punished.
262
N otes
4. Phalaris, tyrant of Acragas in Sicily (ruled

ca. 570–549 bce), roasted miscreants alive
in a massive bronze bull.
5. At some point a scribe’s eye jumped from
the first occurrence of the phrase “because it
resembles” (per speciem, literally “because of
[its] appearance”) to the second occurrence,
with the result that everything in between
was omitted. The words in angle brackets
here are a supplement first suggested in the
late nineteenth century, though the problem
was noticed, and corrections were attempted,
at least seven centuries earlier.
6. That is, someone feeling pity incorrectly ac-
cepts as valid the impression that another
person has undeservedly suffered something
bad—a loss, an injury, or the like—when in
fact the only t hing that is truly bad is the ab-
sence of virtue, for which no one but oneself
can be responsible.
263
N otes
7. This is the intended effect of the scolding

that Augustus administers to the would-be
assassin Cinna in the next excerpt.
8. This claim will be illustrated and justified
by the anecdote with which this chapter
ends.
9. Gnaeus Pompey (Pompey the Great) was
the enemy of Julius Caesar in the civil war
that ended the Roman Republic (49–45
bce); because Augustus was Caesar’s son
by adoption, he could regard Pompey as an
ancestral enemy, hence his remark further
on that this Cinna, whose mother was
Pompey’s daughter, was “an e nemy born,
not made.” As Augustus also subsequently
says, he had already pardoned Cinna once,
after he fought on the losing side in another
civil war, which ended with the b attle of
Actium (31 bce) and confirmed Augustus’s
autocratic position.
264
N otes
10. Aristocrats of the highest standing, as mem-

bers of patrician families who became con-
suls under Augustus.
11. “Parricide” because Augustus was regarded
as the “father of the homeland” (pater
patriae), a title formally bestowed on him
in 2 bce.
12. As “we are God’s limbs” (chapter 4, epi-
graph), children (according to the Roman
view) are their father’s.
13. Literally “next thing to unjust punishment”:
but since excessive punishment is itself un-
just, Seneca must mean punishment not
merited by the facts of the matter.
14. Massilia (modern Marseille), by ancient or-
igin a Greek colony and a place of wealth and
culture, was a frequent refuge of Romans
in exile.
15. “Tablets”: two small, thin rectangles of

wood were used, the face of one coated with
265
N otes
wax on which the verdict was inscribed with

a stylus before the tablets’ faces
were
brought together and sealed. “Inheritance”:
members of the Roman elite commonly
included legacies for the emperor in their
wills, as tokens of esteem and social inti-
macy; but as the next sentence shows,
Augustus’s participation in the hearing could
lead to a different, invidious interpretation
of his inclusion in Tarius’s will.
16. Seneca leaves it to be understood that how-
ever mildly the son was punished, he was
still disinherited.
266

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HOW TO DO THE RIGHT ­THING

Ancient Wisdom for Modern Readers

For a full list of titles in the series, go to https://­press​.­princeton​.­edu​

How to Do the Right T

An Ancient Guide to Treating P

Selected, translated, and introduced

1. Striving for Magnanimity ​3

2. Being Calm, Thinking Clearly ​41

3. Judging Yourself Fairly ​95

4. ­Doing Right by ­Others ​143

“That’s not fair!”

the ethical writings of the Stoic phi­los­o­pher

Born near the end of the first c­ entury bce

places in the Mediterranean—­until Agrip-

emperor was detected and its members

And throughout all that time—in fact,

words of advice relevant to the virtue’s prac-

• two works, On Benefits and On Mercy,

most substantial and most impor­tant;

The passages chosen from ­these works are

of view that Seneca ­favors. Some details of

that share they alone cannot consider

capacities with which nature—­the provi-

most or all of the good advice that follows

or “magnanimity,” the quality that ensures

he and his readers took the adjective to be

STRIVING FOR MAGNANIMITY

Felix qui ad meliora hunc impetum dedit:

STRIVING FOR MAGNANIMITY

Happy are t­ hose who strive to reach the

The largeness of a mind that is never

We can begin to understand the connection

the subject of this book’s first chapter—by

see, Seneca took clear and calm thinking,

nook and cranny of the universe, giving it

that (as Seneca several times says) differs

the passages that follow set a higher bar for

­ hese first two passages, both from the

(7) Dicam quomodo intellegas sanum: si se

(7) [You can] recognize a mind that is

sine ulla voluptate demittimus statim,

(3) Si nobis animum boni viri liceret in-

fortune tosses us as we wait we imme-

(3) What a fine and holy sight we’d see if

quantum, di boni, decoris illi, quantum

would add, and magnanimity looming

solet et repurgari, sic nos aciem animi

eyesight is often sharpened and made

Seneca knew—­and frequently admitted—­

(27) Si . . . ​exemplum desideratis, accipite

the younger Cato—­ a con­ temporary of

(27) If you want a model, take Socrates,

triginta tyrannis noxae dedita est civitas,

twenty-­seven years; a­fter it ended, the

et in morte, ostendit tamen virum for-

everywhere—­fi­nally even in death—he

collibus arentibus sine ullis inpedimentis

can be endured: dragging the remnant of

relinquatur: non potest gratis constare

(7) Ad [Idomenea] Epicurus illam no­

­ ouse­holds: freedom cannot be had for

Now, few of us can hope to become para-

(7) Epicurus wrote this noble thought to

For a full list of titles in the series, go to https://press.princeton.edu

1. Striving for Magnanimity 3

2. Being Calm, Thinking Clearly 41

3. Judging Yourself Fairly 95

4. Doing Right by Others 143

the ethical writings of the Stoic philosopher

Born near the end of the first c entury bce

places in the Mediterranean—until Agrip-

most substantial and most important;

The passages chosen from these works are

of view that Seneca favors. Some details of

capacities with which nature—the provi-

Happy are t hose who strive to reach the

hese first two passages, both from the

Seneca knew—and frequently admitted—

(27) Si . . . exemplum desideratis, accipite

the younger Cato— a con temporary of

twenty-seven years; after it ended, the

everywhere—finally even in death—he

(7) Ad [Idomenea] Epicurus illam no

ouseholds: freedom cannot be had for

anything, it is this: it d oesn’t look to

(5) Only those who have left nature’s way

est et, ut verum dicam, ne labor quidem

And to reach the goal of a good will in a

The wise always do right by o thers, the

mistaken to experience any of that, because—

governs the universe, and they w ill recog-

should question t hose opinions and think

(6) Everyone is in the same fix, both the

self-knowledge. Even when they are aware

they meet, sending themselves and others

and “The deal w ill go my way—absent

Above all— a point Seneca repeatedly

(6) We acquire so many things because

approach. Now everyone has mules to

it follows along, it abides, it returns later

of the best human life—self-reliance.

1 (3) The most important thing is this:

hold out for show? The things that catch

(1) My dear Lucilius, why shouldn’t