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Thursday, March 11, 2021

Seneca, Moral Letters 8.1


Letter 8: On the philosopher’s seclusion

"Do you bid me," you say, "to shun the throng, and withdraw from men, and be content with my own conscience? Where are the counsels of your school, which order a man to die in the midst of active work?" 

 

As to the course which I seem to you to be urging on you now and then, my object in shutting myself up and locking the door is to be able to help a greater number. 

 

I never spend a day in idleness; I appropriate even a part of the night for study. I do not allow time for sleep but yield to it when I must, and when my eyes are wearied with waking and ready to fall shut, I keep them at their task. I have withdrawn not only from men, but from affairs, especially from my own affairs.

 

I am working for later generations, writing down some ideas that may be of assistance to them. There are certain wholesome counsels, which may be compared to prescriptions of useful drugs; these I am putting into writing; for I have found them helpful in ministering to my own sores, which, if not wholly cured, have at any rate ceased to spread.

 

Sometimes certain philosophical insights will at first appear like contradictions, as when Socrates said that he knew that he knew nothing. It can take a moment to ponder precisely how the terms are being used, and from this follows a wonderful sense of new awareness, of seeing the world, as well as oneself, from a broader and higher perspective. 

 

Along these lines, it may initially seem odd when a Stoic says that the best way to be of service to the world is to withdraw within oneself. This may even seem quite ridiculous in a society that places so much value on worldly engagement, on constantly being active, on making a point to see and to be seen. 

 

What can I possibly achieve, I may wonder, by doing nothing at all? If I just sit in my room, twiddling my thumbs and avoiding all the hustle and bustle out there, how can I say that I have been productive? 

 

The key lies in understanding that self-reliance is not in opposition to involvement with others, but rather a precondition for it. If I am not first capable of mastering myself, with no reliance on external conditions, then I will be of no use to anyone else. Put another way, when I have not already built up a goodness within my own soul, on my own merits, then there will not be anything of worth to share. 

 

Once I recognize that my happiness does not depend on anything that the world gives me, but on what I choose to make of the world, then so much of that insistence on always being occupied with external diversions falls away. I learn that being busy is not the same thing as being overwhelmed with busywork, that I do not have to put my name in lights to be of value. Prudent and humble activity should not be confused with inactivity. 

 

Since the Stoic always sees himself as bound to the whole, and therefore committed to the welfare of his fellows, he does not run away to hide, or wallow in solitary sloth. No, he rather helps the world by focusing on improving himself. Then, and only then, can his actions be sincere and caring, and he will not ask for recognition, or status, or any other reward than the satisfaction of following wisdom and virtue. 

 

We will all find our own distinct ways of living in the world, fitted to our particular dispositions and circumstances, but what they must surely all share in common is the ability to be content with ourselves, by ourselves, and without using the outside world as a crutch to prop ourselves up. The withdrawal is about a sense of priority, not an exclusion of anyone or anything. 

 

At this point in his life, as he grows older and has largely retired from the toil and intrigue of public life, Seneca is still helping, just not in a showy or hectic manner. I imagine he hopes that Lucilius can learn this important lesson about autonomy while he is still young. It can certainly save him from a life of trouble, by showing him that discipline and hard work are most fruitful without unnecessary entanglements. 

Written in 4/2012

IMAGE: Joseph Wright of Derby, A Philosopher by Lamplight (1769)



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