The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Thursday, March 18, 2021

Seneca, Moral Letters 8.6


It is likely that you will ask me why I quote so many of Epicurus's noble words instead of words taken from our own school. 

 

But is there any reason why you should regard them as sayings of Epicurus and not common property? How many poets give forth ideas that have been uttered, or may be uttered, by philosophers! I need not touch upon the tragedians and our writers of national drama; for these last are also somewhat serious, and stand halfway between comedy and tragedy. What a quantity of sagacious verses lie buried in the mime! How many of Publilius's lines are worthy of being spoken by buskin-clad actors, as well as by wearers of the slipper! 

 

I shall quote one verse of his, which concerns philosophy, and particularly that phase of it which we were discussing a moment ago, wherein he says that the gifts of Chance are not to be regarded as part of our possessions:

 

“Still alien is whatever you have gained by coveting.

 

I recall that you yourself expressed this idea much more happily and concisely:

 

“What Chance has made yours is not really yours.

 

And a third, spoken by you still more happily, shall not be omitted:

 

“The good that could be given, can be removed.

 

I shall not charge this up to the expense account, because I have given it to you from your own stock. Farewell.

 

I always appreciate the fact that Seneca quotes thinkers from other traditions, as it serves to remind me not to get caught up in any sort of tribal ideology. I wasted too many years of my life following this or that “-ism”, sadly losing touch with what was shared by all of us in common. 

 

It matters far less who said it, than whether or not it happens to be true. Yes, the Stoics and the Epicureans had many points of difference, and yet when it came to where the deepest freedom could be found, they both saw, eye to eye, that any liberation follows from right awareness. 

 

Despite all of our cubbyholes and divisions, what is human remains human, and also what is Divine remains Divine. 

 

Look at your neighbor squarely in the face and you will, after setting aside the many petty resentments, see yourself. Look even more closely, and you will, after moving past all the diverting circumstances, see a unity of meaning and purpose. The particular names we may choose to give to the order of life matter less than the reality behind it all. 

 

I do my best not to dictate to anyone else, but I will, if anyone happens to be listening, always insist that our separation from one another is self-imposed, that Nature, however we may choose to describe it, is one and the same for all of us. Whenever I have failed in putting this into concrete practice, it was only my own stubbornness and vanity that held me back. 

 

There is truth, goodness, and beauty to be found, by whatever degree or distinction, in every sort of human expression, from philosophy and poetry to music and drama. Even a smile or a frown, a handshake or a clenched fist, will reveal something of worth. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, in this world from which a helpful lesson cannot somehow be learned; I need to respect what makes us the same before I consider what sets us apart. 

 

What can the Roman poet and actor, Publilius Syrus, tell us here about such a universal heritage? Much the same as what the Stoic would preach: Whenever I demand something above and beyond who I already am, and what I already possess, I have grown too big for my britches. 

 

How wonderful that Seneca also turns to some of the very things Lucilius had himself said, to teach the same lesson: Luck has nothing to do with my merit; if I have to supplement myself with it, it wasn’t mine to begin with. 

 

The philosopher does not seclude himself from the world, but from being enslaved to conditions instead of character. 

Written in 4/2012



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