Seneca

ON THE HAPPY LIFE

c. 58 CE

These are excerpts from one of Seneca’s mature texts, written for his older brother, Gallio.
The main argument here is that the pursuit of happiness (eudaimonia) is inseparable from
the pursuit of reason, as only reason can lead to a truly fulfilling, flourishing life. The text
presents an elaboration of the Socratic concept of ‘virtue’, as well as a critique of the
Epicurean focus on pleasure and the Cynic focus on poverty.

It is the wish of all men, Gallio my brother, to live happily, but when it comes to seeing
clearly what it is that makes life happy, they grope for the light; indeed, a measure of the
difficulty of achieving the happy life is that the greater of a man’s energy in striving for it,
the further he goes away from it if he has taken a wrong turning on the road; once this
starts leading him in the opposite direction, his very swiftness separates him increasingly
from his goal.
And so we must first establish what it is that we seek to gain; then we must search for
the road to take us there most speedily, and during the journey itself, provided we are on
the correct path, we shall come to know how many miles we put behind us each day, and
how much closer we are to the goal our natural desire compels us to attain. Now, as long
as we wander at large, having no guide and following only the din and jarring cries of men
calling us in different directions, our life will be spent in making errors, a life of little enough
span even if we should work night and day for a sound understanding. So let us determine
both the goal and the road we will take, and let us have, besides, an experienced guide who
has reconnoitred the territory we are entering, since this journey will have different
conditions from those of most travel.
On such journeys you are prevented from going astray by some recognized road and by
questions put to local people, but on this one all the most well-trodden and frequented
paths prove the most deceptive. Accordingly, the most important point to stress is that we
should not, like sheep, follow the herd of creatures in front of us, making our way where
others go, not where we ought to go. And yet there is nothing that brings greater trouble
on us than the fact that we conform to rumour, thinking that what has won widespread
approval is best, and that, as we have so many [people] to follow as good, we live by the
principle, not of reason, but of imitation. What follows from this is that men are piled high,
one on top of another, as they rush to their ruin. Just as it happens that in a great crowd of
humanity that is crushed together, when the people jostle against each other, no one falls
without dragging someone else down with him, and the ones in front bring destruction on
the ones behind, so you may see the same thing happening throughout all of life. No one
who goes astray affects himself alone, but rather will be the cause and instigator of
someone else going astray; it is harmful to attach oneself to the people in front, and, so
long as each one of us prefers to trust someone else’s judgement rather than relying on his
own, we never exercise judgement in our lives but constantly resort to trust, and a mistake
that has been passed down from one hand to another takes us over and spins our ruin. It
is the example of others that destroys us: we will regain our health, if only we distance
ourselves from the crowd. But as things are, the people, defending their own wickedness,
set themselves against reason. And so the same thing happens as at election meetings,
when the very people who chose the praetors wonder that those men were chosen, once
the shifting breeze of public favour has changed direction: we show approval for something
one moment, then criticize it the next; every decision following the majority’s wishes ends
this way.

Human concerns are not so happily arranged that the majority favours the better things:
evidence of the worst choice is the crowd. So let us enquire what is the best, not what is
the most customary, thing to do, and what establishes our claim to unending happiness,
not what the rabble, that worst of truth’s exponents, has set its stamp of approval on. But
by rabble I mean grand people just as much as ordinary folk; for I have no regard for the
colour of clothing that adorns the body. In judging a man I do not trust my eyes, I have a
better and more reliable light by which to distinguish truth from falsehood: let the soul’s
goodness be discovered by the soul. If the soul ever has a moment to draw breath and to
withdraw into itself, ah, what self-torture it will know, how it will admit the truth to itself,
saying: ‘Whatever I have done before this hour, I would wish to be undone; when I recollect
all that I have spoken, I envy the dumb; all that I have prayed for I regard as my enemies’
curses; all that I have feared, you kindly gods, how much less a burden were they than the
weight of my cravings! I made enemies of many men, and returned from hatred to
friendship with them, assuming there can be any friendship between the wicked: to myself
I remain an enemy still. I took every care to withdraw from the masses and by means of
some bequest to make myself renowned; all I did was to expose myself to the shafts of
malice and show it where to wound me.

Let us seek something that is good not merely in outward appearance, something that is
solid, balanced, and more beautiful in that part which is more hidden; let this be what we
try to unearth; as it is, we pass by things that are near us, as though we are in darkness,
and stumble over the very objects of our desire.
But not wishing to haul you through circuitous details, I will pass over without comment
the opinions of other thinkers – for it would be a tedious business to number and refute
them all – and ask you to listen to my own. Bu when I say ‘my own’, I do not bind myself to
one particular member of the Stoic elite; I shall not attack a single one of the opinions of
my predecessors, and I will say [instead], ‘I have this further observation to make.’ In the
meantime, as is agreed among all Stoics, Nature is the guide I choose; wisdom lies in not
wandering from her path and in moulding oneself in accordance with her law and example.

2
 Accordingly, the happy life is the one that is in harmony with its own nature, and the
only way it can be achieved is if, first, the mind is sound and constantly in possession of its
sanity, and secondly, if it is adapting to every new situation, attentive to the body and to
all that affects it, but not in an anxious way, and, finally, if it concerns itself with all the
things that enhance life, without showing undue respect for any one of them, taking
advantage of Fortune’s gifts, but not becoming their slave.
You understand, even if I were not to make this further point, that, once the things that
either exasperate or scare us are banished, there follows a state of peace, of freedom, that
knows no end; for once pleasures and pains have been scorned, then, in place of those
things that are trivial and fragile and, because of their noxious effects, harmful, we
experience a great joy that is steadfast and constant, then peace and harmony of mind and
the greatness that goes with benevolence; for every impulse to cruelty is born from
weakness.

There is another way in which this good of ours can be defined, that is, the same notion
can be expressed in different words. It will, then, be the same thing, if I say, ‘The highest
good is a mind that despises the operations of chance, rejoicing in virtue,’ or ‘The power of
the mind resides in being unconquerable, experienced in life, calm in action, and possessed
of much kindness and concern for those with whom it has dealings.’ We may also offer the
following definition, that of calling that man happy who recognizes no good and evil apart
from a good and an evil mind, who holds honour dear and is content with virtue, who is not
the sort of person to let the workings of chance go to his head or crush his spirit, who does
not recognize any good greater than the one he alone can confer upon himself, and who
will find true pleasure in despising pleasures. It is also possible, should you wish to take a
wider view, to transfer the same notion to other, different forms of expression without
impairing or detracting from its meaning; for what prevents us from saying that the happy
life is to have a mind that is independent, elevated, fearless, and unshakeable, a mind that
exists beyond the reach of fear and of desire, that regards honour as the only good and
infamy as the only evil, and everything else as a trivial collection of things, which come and
go, neither subtracting anything from the happy life nor adding anything to it, and do not
increase or diminish the highest good? It is inevitable that a man with such a grounding,
whether he wills it or not, will be accompanied by continuous cheerfulness and a profound
happiness that comes from deep inside him, since he is one who takes pleasure in his won
resources and wishes for no joys greater than those of his own heart. Would he not be
justified in matching these joys against the petty and worthless and transitory sensations
of that thing, the body? That day a man triumphs over pleasure, he will triumph also over
pain; but you observe how wicked and harmful is the servitude to which a man will submit
when he is enslaved in turn by pleasures and pains, those tyrants who wield their powers
with such wilful cruelty: accordingly, we must escape to freedom. This is won only by
showing indifference to Fortune: then will arise that priceless blessing, the peace and
elevation of a mind that has found a secure anchorage, and, once all error has been driven
out, the great and unalterable joy that springs from discovering the truth, together with
benevolence and blitheness of spirit, and a man’s delight in all of these will come from
knowing, not that they are good, but that they derive from a good which is his own.

3
 Since I have begun to treat this topic somewhat freely, one may describe the happy man as
someone who is free from desire and fear thanks to the gift of reason, inasmuch as even
rocks are without fear and sadness, and no less are farm animals; however, this would not
be a reason for anyone to call these things ‘happy’, when they have no understanding of
happiness. Assign to the same category those people whose dull nature and lack of self-
awareness have brought them down to the level of beasts of the field and animals. There
is no difference between these people and those creatures, since the latter have no reason,
while the former have reason that is warped, and, because it expends its energy in the
wrong direction, detrimental to themselves; for no one can be called happy if he has been
cast beyond the border of truth. Accordingly, the happy life has been based on judgement
that is reliable and right, and it is not subject to change. For that is the time when the mind
is unclouded and released from all ills, as it has escaped not only serious wounds but even
scratches, and, determined to hold to the end whatever position it has taken, it will defend
its post, however angrily Fortune makes her assault. For as far as pleasure is concerned,
though it pours itself all around us and flows in through every channel, charming our minds
with its blandishments, and applying one means after another to captivate us wholly or
partly, who on earth, who has any trace of humanity left in him, would wish to have his
senses tickled day and night and, abandoning the mind, devote himself to the body?

‘But’, he [the imagined skeptic] says, ‘the mind, too, will have its own pleasures.’ Let it have
them by all means, and let it preside as a judge over luxury and pleasures; let it cram itself
with all the things that are accustomed to delight the senses, then let it look back to the
past and, recollecting vanishing pleasures, let it revel in experiences of the past and eagerly
anticipate now those to come, laying its plans, and, while the body lies supine from
cramming itself in the present, let it turn its thoughts to future indulgences: yet all this, it
seems to me, will bring the mind greater misery, since it is insanity to choose bad things
rather than good. And no one attains happiness who has lost his sanity, just as no one can
be sane if he sets his heart on future pleasures in preference of what is best. The happy
man, therefore, possesses sound judgement; the happy man is satisfied with his present
situation, no matter what it is, and eyes his fortune with contentment; the happy man is
the one who permits reason to evaluate every condition of his existence.

Even those who have stated that the highest good is located in the belly see in how
dishonourable a place they have placed it. Accordingly, they say that pleasure cannot be
separated from virtue, and they claim that no one can live honourably unless he also lives
pleasantly, or pleasantly unless he also lives honourably.1 I fail to see how things so
different from each other belong to the same potter’s wheel. Is your argument that, as
every good originates in virtue, even the things you love and aspire to spring from virtue’s
roots? But if these two were inseparable, we would not see certain things that are pleasant
but not honourable, and certain things that are indeed most honourable but fraught with
pain and only to be won through suffering. There is the further consideration that pleasure

1
This is a direct reference to Epicurus’ doctrine, with which Seneca disagrees.

4
makes its way into even the most disreputable life, whereas virtue does not permit a life to
be bad, and people exist who are unhappy, not without pleasure, but as a result of pleasure
itself; this could not happen if pleasure were an integral part of virtue, as virtue often lacks
pleasure, but never needs it. Why do you seek to join two things that are not alike, indeed
opposites? Virtue is something lofty, elevated, regal, unconquerable, and untiring; pleasure
is something lowly and slavish, weak and destructible, whose haunt and living-quarters are
brothels and taverns. Virtue you will find in a temple, in the forum, in the senate house,
standing in front of city walls; pleasure you will find more often lurking out of sight and
searching for darkness around the baths and sweating-rooms, soft and drained of strength,
soaked with wine and perfume, with features that are pale or painted and tricked out with
cosmetics like a corpse. The highest good is untouched by death, it knows no ending, it
tolerates neither excess nor regret; for the upright mind never turns from its course, or
succumbs to self-loathing or alters anything, being perfect. But pleasure is extinguished at
the very moment it gives delight.

There is also the fact that pleasure exists as much in the good as in the bad, and that
disreputable persons take no less pleasure in their disgrace than honourable ones do in
their fine reputation. And this is why men of earlier days have instructed us to follow, not
the most pleasant, but the best life, in order that pleasure should not guide but accompany
a right and worthy desire. For we must employ Nature as our guide; it is she whom reason
looks to, she whose counsel it takes. It is, therefore, one and the same thing, to live happily
and to live in accordance with Nature. What this is, I will now reveal: if we preserve with
care and bravery the body’s endowments and Nature’s requisites, regarding them as
transitory and given us only for a day, if we avoid becoming their slaves, and do not let
these alien things take possession of us, then and only then will these things be of benefit
to the mind. Let a man not be corrupted by externals, let him be invincible and shape his
own life; let his assurance not lack knowledge, and his knowledge not lack resolution; let
his decisions, once made, stand firm, and let there be no alteration in his decrees. It is
understood that such a man will be balanced and well ordered, and will exhibit a kindly
nature together with great dignity in all his actions. Let reason, prompted by the senses,
investigate external matters, and, while it derives first principles from these – for it has no
other means of making the attempt or launching its assault on the truth – let it have
recourse to itself. For God as well, the world that embraces all things and ruler of the
universe, reaches out to external things but nonetheless, disengaging from all sides, returns
into himself. Let our mind do the same: when it has followed the senses that do its bidding
and through them reached out to external things, let it be master both of them and of itself.
In this way a single energy will be created and a power that harmonizes with itself, and that
reliable reason which is not at variance with itself, nor doubtful in its opinions or
perceptions, or in its beliefs; and this reason, once it has ordered itself and reached
harmony among its parts, and is, so to speak, in tune, has achieved the highest good. For it
will do everything by its own authority and nothing will happen to it unexpectedly, but its
every action will have a good result, easily and readily, and without subterfuge on the
doer’s part; for unwillingness and hesitancy indicate conflict and a lack of resolution.

5
Accordingly, you may be bold in declaring that the highest good is harmony of the spirit;
for virtues must reside where harmony and unity exist: discord is attendant on the vices.

‘But even you,’ comes the objection, ‘practice virtue purely and simply because you hope
to derive some pleasure from it.’ In the first place, if virtue is sure to produce pleasure, that
is not the reason why we seek virtue; for it is not this, but something more than this, that
she provides, and it is not for this that she labours, bur her labour, despite having a different
goal, attains this also. The highest good is found in the very act of choosing it, and in the
condition of a mind that has been made perfect, and when the mind has finished its course
and surrounded itself by its own boundaries, the highest good has been perfected and it
requires nothing more; for nothing can exist beyond the complete form. Consequently you
are mistaken when you ask what my reason is for seeking virtue; for you are seeking
something beyond what is in its highest form. You ask what I seek from virtue? Virtue
herself.

‘You are distorting what I am saying,’ comes the reply; ‘for my point is that no one can live
pleasantly if he does not at the same time live honourably as well, which is an impossibility
for dumb animals and for those who measure their own good simply by food.’ And yet who
does not know that those who cram themselves with your kind of pleasure are all the
greatest of fools, and that wickedness teems with enjoyments, and that the mind itself
provides many vicious kinds of pleasure? In the vanguard of these are arrogance and an
excessive opinion of one’s own merits, a swollen pride that looks down on others, a blind
and thoughtless devotion to one’s own interests, exorbitant delight springing from trivial
and childish causes, and, in addition, a caustic tongue and haughty manner that takes
pleasure in insults, idleness, and the decadence of a slothful mind that is enervated by
luxury and falls asleep over itself.

When I say that I do nothing for the sake of pleasure, I am speaking of the ideal wise man,
to whom alone we grant pleasure. But I do not call any man wise who is subservient to
anything, still less to pleasure.

The pleasures of wise men are relaxed, moderate, virtually lacking in energy, and subdued,
of such a kind that they come unsummoned, and, despite drawing near of their own accord,
they are not held in any honour or received with any joy on the part of those who
experience them; for they allow them only occasionally to mix with their life, as we do
amusements and jokes with matters of consequence.
The man who has poured himself into pleasures, constantly belching in his drunken
state, imagines he lives also with virtue (for he hears that pleasure cannot be separated
from virtue); then he gives to his own vices the name of wisdom and publicly displays what
should be hidden from view. And so Epicurus has not driven them to this dissolute
behaviour, rather their addiction to vice makes them cloak their profligacy in the garb of
philosophy, and they rush as one to the place where they may hear pleasure’s praises being
sung. And they have no idea of how sober and self-denying the ‘pleasure’ of Epicurus is, for
so, I am entirely convinced, it is, but they fly to the name itself, seeking a measure of

6
justification and concealment for their base urges. Therefore, they lose the single good that
remained to them in their wicked state, a sense of shame at doing wrong; for they praise
what used to make them blush with embarrassment, and they exult in their vicious ways;
and for this reason they may not even rediscover their youthful aspirations, once their
disgraceful idleness has found an honourable name. the reason why the praise you bestow
on pleasure is ruinous is this: the decent part of the teaching you embrace lies hidden
within, the part that corrupts is plain to see.

My own view – I shall state it, though it may give offence to members of our school – is that
the teachings of Epicurus are holy and upright, and, if examined closely, rigorous; for his
well-known doctrine of pleasure is reduced to small and slender proportions, and the rule
that we prescribe for virtue he prescribes for pleasure. He bids it obey Nature; but little
enough luxury is enough to satisfy Nature. So where does the truth lie? Whoever applies
the term ‘happiness’ to slothful inactivity and to the gratification of gluttony followed by
that of lust, is looking for a good sponsor for his wicked conduct, and when he comes along
with that persuasive name he has found attractive, he pursues the pleasure he has brought,
not the one he has been taught, and, once he begins to think his vices resemble his
teacher’s instruction, he shows no fear or shame in indulging them, but from that time on
he actually revels in them in full view of men’s eyes. I will not, then, follow most of my
school in saying that the sect of Epicurus teaches men to practice vice, but this I do say: it
has a bad name, it is disreputable. Its very exterior gives scope for slander and prompts
debased hopes.
Come, then, let virtue lead the way and pleasure attend her, hovering around the body
like its shadow.

Let virtue go first: we will nonetheless have pleasure, but we shall be her master and control
her; sometimes we will accede to her entreaty, never to her compulsion. But those who
have yielded first place to pleasure lack both; for they lose virtue, and yet they do not
posses pleasure but are themselves possessed by pleasure, being tortured by the lack of it
or choked by its excess, miserable if it abandons them, more miserable if it overwhelms
them. But this is the result of an excessive lack of self-control and blind love for some
commodity; for when a man seeks bad things instead of good it is dangerous for him to
attain his ambition.

‘But’, comes the reply,’ what is to prevent virtue and pleasure blending into one, and the
highest good being achieved in such a way that what is honourable and what is delightful
may be the same thing?’ I respond that what is honourable can have no part that is not
honourable, and that the highest good will not preserve its state of purity if it discerns in
itself something that differs from its better part. Not even the joy that springs from virtue,
although it is good, is still part of the absolute good, any more than are gladness and
tranquility, despite deriving from the noblest origins; for they may be goods, but they
merely attend on the highest good, and do not bring it to perfection. But if a man forms an
alliance between virtue and pleasure, and one that is not even equal, he dulls whatever
strength the one good has by the weakness of the other, and sends under the yoke that

7
freedom which stays invincible only so long as it finds nothing more valuable than itself.
For it begins to need Fortune, and there is no greater servitude than this; there follows a
life that is anxious, suspicious, and alarmed, that dreads misfortune and frets at the
changes life brings.
How can a man like this obey God and accept with cheerful heart whatever happens, not
complaining about fate but interpreting in a genial spirit his own misfortunes, if he is
disconcerted by the tiny pinpricks of pleasure and pain? But he is not even a good protector
or champion of his homeland, or a defender of his friends, if he inclines towards pleasures.
Accordingly, let the highest good ascend to a place from which no power can drag it down,
where there can be no access for pain or hope or fear, or for anything which can diminish
the authority of the highest good; but only Virtue is able to make the ascent to that place.
It is her steps we must follow if that ascent is to be mastered; she will stand bravely and
endure whatever happens, not only with patience but also with good cheer, knowing that
every difficulty that time brings proceeds from a law of Nature, and, like a good soldier, she
will bear her wounds, count her scars, and, as she dies, pierced by weapons, she will keep
in mind that old precept: follow God.
Whatever we have to suffer as a result of the way the universe is framed, let it be
endured with great fortitude; this is the solemn obligation to which we have sworn, that
we will submit to our mortal lot and not be confounded by those things it is not in our
power to avoid: obedience to God is our liberty.

True happiness, therefore, resides in virtue. What counsel will you be offered by this virtue?
That you should not consider anything either good or an evil that will not proceed from
either virtue or vice; then that you should remain unmoved, whether you face evil or enjoy
good, so that, as far as is permitted, you may represent God in your own person. What does
she promise you in return for this enterprise? Great blessings, equal to those the gods
enjoy: no constraint will bind you, nothing will you lack, freedom will be yourself, together
with safety and exemption from harm; no attempt you make will be in vain, no course of
action will be barred to you; everything will befall you as you would wish, nothing hostile
will happen, nothing contrary to your expectation and desire. For if a man has put himself
beyond the reach of all desires, what can he lack? What need does he have of anything
external, if he has concentrated all that he possesses in himself? But when a man is still
journeying towards virtue, even if he has made considerable progress, he requires Fortune
to show him some kindness as he continues his struggle in the net of human life, until he
has untied that knot and all his mortal bonds.

If, therefore, one of those who bark against philosophy like dogs should put their usual
question: ‘Why, then, do you speak more bravely than you live? Why do you resort to
submissive language before a superior and consider money a necessary accoutrement, why
are you moved by a loss, shedding tears at the death of your wife or a friends, and why do
you have regard for your reputation and let yourself be troubled by spiteful tongues? Why
do you farm more extensively than your natural need requires? Why do you flout your own
prescriptions when you have dinner? Why do you own furniture of some refinement? Why
do you and your guests drink wine of greater years than yourself? Why is your tableware

8
of gold? Why does your wife wear in her ears the income of a wealthy house? Why are your
young servants dressed in expensive garments, and why is there a professional to carve
your dishes?’ Make, if you wish, the further point: ‘Why do you own property overseas?
Why more than you have set eyes on?’
I give you this reply: I am not wise, and, to feed your spite, I shall never be so. And so
demand of me, not that I should be equal to the best, but that I should be better than the
wicked: I am satisfied if each day I make some reduction in the number of my vices and find
fault with my mistakes. I have not arrived at perfect health, nor indeed shall I. I do not say
these things on my own behalf – for I am sunk in vices of every kind – but on behalf of the
man who actually has some achievement to his credit.

‘Philosophers do not practice what they preach.’ But they do practise much of what they
preach, of what their honourable minds devise. How I wish their words were always
matched by their actions: their happiness would then be supreme! Meanwhile there is no
reason for you to be scornful of noble words and hearts filled with noble thoughts: it is
praiseworthy to pursue wholesome studies even if they lead to no practical outcome. Is it
so remarkable if those who attempt to scale the heights do not attain the summit? But if
you are a man, look up with admiration at those who attempt great things, even if they fall.
This is the sign of a noble heart – to aim at high things, measuring one’s effort, not by one’s
own strength, but by the strength of one’s nature, and to envisage enterprises beyond the
accomplishment even of those equipped with heroic courage.
For my part, I shall undergo all hardships, however great they may be, supporting my
body by means of my mind. I will hold riches in contempt, no less when they are mine to
enjoy than when they are not, feeling no more dejected if they lie elsewhere, and no more
emboldened if they shine around me. I will be indifferent to Fortune, whether she flows
towards me or ebbs away. I shall view all lands as my own, and my own as belonging to
others. For my part, I shall live as if I knew I was born to benefit others, thanking Nature on
this account: for in what way could my business prosper better? She has made a gift of me,
the individual, to all men, and of all men to me, the individual. Whatever I possess, I shall
not guard it in a miserly fashion, or squander it like a spendthrift; nothing shall seem to me
to be truer possessions than those gifts I have made wisely. Nothing shall I do because of
what others think, everything because of my conscience. Whatever I do with only myself
as witness I shall regard as being done before the eyes of the people of Rome. The purpose
of eating and drinking for me shall be to satisfy the desires of Nature, not to fill and empty
my belly. I shall give pleasure to my friends, and treat my enemies with forbearance and
indulgence. I shall be won over to mercy before it is asked of me, and be swift to accede to
all decent appeals. I shall know that my homeland is the world, and that its rulers are the
gods, and that they are the ones who stand above all around me, examining my acts and
words with a severe eye. And whenever my breath of life is demanded back by Nature or
released by my own reason, I shall take my leave, having shown to all that I have loved a
good conscience and noble aspirations, and that by no action of mine has any man’s
freedom been impaired, least of all my own – the man who shall resolve, shall wish, and
shall attempt to do these things will be travelling the road that leads to the gods, yes, and
such a man, even if he does not complete his journey,

9
 Yet fails in no weak enterprise.2

‘Why is that man so devoted to philosophy and yet lives a life of wealth?3 Why does he say
that riches should be despised and yet possesses them, why does he think that life should
be despised and yet lives it, that health should be despised and yet guards it with the
greatest care and prefers it to be excellent?’ He says such things should be despised, not to
stop himself having them, but to avoid worry when he does have them; he does not drive
them away, but accompanies them to the door, if they leave him, as an untroubled host.
And where indeed will Fortune find a safer place to store wealth than with someone who
will give it back without complaint when she asks for its return? For the wise man does not
consider himself unworthy of any gifts from Fortune’s hands: he does not love wealth but
he would rather have it; he does not admit it into his heart but into his home, and what
wealth is his he does not reject but keeps, wishing it to supply greater scope for him to
practice his virtue.

What doubt can there be that the wise man has greater scope for displaying his powers if
he is rich than if he is poor, since in the case of poverty only one kind of virtue exists –
refusal to be bowed down and crushed – but wealth allows a spacious field to moderation,
generosity, diligence, good organization, and magnanimity? The wise man will not despise
himself, even if his stature is that of a dwarf, but nonetheless he will want to be tall. Again,
who among wise men – I speak of our own school of thinkers, who consider virtue to be
the only good – denies that even the things we call ‘indifferent’ possess some inherent
value, and that some are more to be prized than others? Some of these win from us a
measure of honour, others a great deal; therefore, be under no illusion, wealth is one of
the more valuable possessions. Do you wish to know how differently we view it? In my case
if wealth slips away, it will deprive me only of itself, but you will be struck dumb, you will
think you have been deserted by your own self, if it leaves you; in my eyes wealth has a
certain place, in yours it is centre-stage; to sum up, my wealth belongs to me, you belong
to yours.

Enough, therefore, of your banning philosophers from possessing money: no one has
condemned wisdom to poverty. The philosopher shall have considerable wealth, but it will
not have been prised from any man’s hands, and it will not be stained with another man’s
blood, but won without doing any man wrong or engaging in low profiteering, and there
will be as much honour in its outlay as its acquisition. The wise man will allow not a penny
that enters dishonestly to cross his threshold; likewise he will not reject or refuse access to
great wealth that is the gift of Fortune and the reward of virtue. Therefore he will posses
wealth but he will not allow it to become burdensome to himself or to any other person.
He will bestow it – either on good men or on those he can make good, and, choosing with
the most careful judgement the most deserving cases, he will bestow it as one who

2
Ovid, Metamorphoses 2:328.
3
Seneca is probably defending himself here on account of his own accumulation of wealth.

10
remembers that he must account for his expenses no less than his receipts; he will bestow
it only for a proper and justifiable reason, for it counts as a shameful waste when the
recipient is not worth the gift.

Nature prompts me to benefit all men. What difference does it make whether they are
slaves or free men, freeborn or freedmen, owing their freedom to the laws or to a gift made
in the presence of friends? Wherever there is a human being, there exists the opportunity
for an act of kindness. One can, accordingly, be lavish with money even inside one’s own
house and find scope there for liberality, which is so called, not because it is owed to those
who enjoy liberty, but because it proceeds from a mind at liberty. In the case of a wise man
this is never thrown at underserving men of low character.
And take note above all of this point: I say that wealth is not a good; for if it was, it would
make them good; as it is, since something that is found among wicked men cannot be called
a good, I deny it this name. But that it is desirable, that is useful and confers great benefits
on life, I do admit.

Put me in the most sumptuous of mansions, put me in a place where gold and silver plate
are used by one and all: I shall not think myself important because of those accoutrements
which, though they are part of my house, are no part of me. Take me off to the Sublician
Bridge and throw me among the beggars there: I shall still not find any reason for despising
myself because I sit among those who stretch out their hands for charity.
And what is my point? I would rather display the state of my soul wearing a toga and
shoes than having naked shoulders and cuts on my bare feet. I will scorn the entire domain
of Fortune, but I shall select the better part of it, if a choice be given me. Whatever happens
to me shall become a good, but I would rather that my experience should be of things more
agreeable and pleasant and less awkward to manage. For while there is no reason for you
to suppose that any virtue is gained with effort, there are certain virtues that require the
spur, certain ones the bridle. Just as the body must be held back on a downward slope, or
forced up a steep one, so certain virtues are on a downward path, while certain others
labour uphill.
And what is my conclusion? Is it not equally clear that generosity, moderation, and
kindness find themselves on a downward path? In their case we impose a check on the soul
in case it should slip, but where the others are concerned, we urge and spur it on like the
most vigorous of horsemen. Accordingly, in the case of poverty we shall apply those more
robust virtues that know how to fight, but in that of wealth those more circumspect ones
that proceed on tiptoe and yet do not lose their balance. As this difference between them
exists, my preference is to have recourse to the virtue that can be practiced relatively
peacefully rather than to those that draw blood and sweat from the man who engages
them.

‘What difference is there, accordingly, between me, the fool, and you, the wise man, if both
of us wish to have wealth?’ A very great one: for the wise man regards wealth as a slave,
the fool as a master; the wise man accords no importance to wealth, but in your eyes
wealth is everything; you make yourself accustomed to it and cling to it, as though someone

11
 had promised that you would possess it for all time, but the wise man never gives more
thought to poverty than when he finds himself surrounded by wealth. You take ease amid
your possessions without a thought for all the misfortunes that threaten it on every side,
poised any moment now to carry off the valuable spoils. But in the case of the wise man, if
anyone steals his wealth, he will still leave to him all that he truly possesses; for he lives
happy in the present and untroubled by what the future holds.
‘There is nothing,’ says a Socrates, or any other [wise man] who has the same authority
and the same capacity for dealing with human affairs, ‘I am so determined on as my resolve
not to let your views alter the course of my life. You do no harm to me, but neither do these
men do any harm to the gods when they overturn their altars. This is a point you fail to
understand, and indeed, you are just like the numerous men who sit idly in the circus or a
theatre, while their home is already a scene of mourning and they have not yet heard the
terrible news. But I, gazing from on high, see the storms that threaten and in a short while
from now will burst in torrents upon you, or, already near at hand, have advanced closer
still, to sweep both you and yours away. Though you little realize it, are not your minds
even now whirled and spun about by some hurricane, as they flee and seek the same
objects, at one moment raised up to highest heaven, at another dashed to the lowest
abyss…’4

Seneca. Dialogues and Essays. Trans. John Davie. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press,
2008, pp. 85-111.

Abbreviated, with additional footnotes, by David Koloszyc

4
The text is not preserved in its entirety.

12