Letter 46: On a new book by Lucilius
I received the book of yours which you promised me. I opened it hastily with the idea of glancing over it at leisure; for I meant only to taste the volume. But by its own charm the book coaxed me into traversing it more at length.
You may understand from this fact how eloquent it was; for it seemed to be written in the smooth style and yet did not resemble your handiwork or mine, but at first sight might have been ascribed to Titus Livius or to Epicurus.
Moreover, I was so impressed and carried along by its charm that I finished it without any postponement. The sunlight called to me, hunger warned, and clouds were lowering; but I absorbed the book from beginning to end.
I was not merely pleased; I rejoiced. So full of wit and spirit it was! I should have added "force," had the book contained moments of repose, or had it risen to energy only at intervals. But I found that there was no burst of force, but an even flow, a style that was vigorous and chaste.
Nevertheless, I noticed from time to time your sweetness, and here and there that mildness of yours. Your style is lofty and noble; I want you to keep to this manner and this direction. Your subject also contributed something; for this reason you should choose productive topics, which will lay hold of the mind and arouse it.
I shall discuss the book more fully after a second perusal; meantime, my judgment is somewhat unsettled, just as if I had heard it read aloud, and had not read it myself. You must allow me to examine it also.
You need not be afraid; you shall hear the truth. Lucky fellow, to offer a man no opportunity to tell you lies at such long range! Unless perhaps, even now, when excuses for lying are taken away, custom serves as an excuse for our telling each other lies! Farewell.
I received the book of yours which you promised me. I opened it hastily with the idea of glancing over it at leisure; for I meant only to taste the volume. But by its own charm the book coaxed me into traversing it more at length.
You may understand from this fact how eloquent it was; for it seemed to be written in the smooth style and yet did not resemble your handiwork or mine, but at first sight might have been ascribed to Titus Livius or to Epicurus.
Moreover, I was so impressed and carried along by its charm that I finished it without any postponement. The sunlight called to me, hunger warned, and clouds were lowering; but I absorbed the book from beginning to end.
I was not merely pleased; I rejoiced. So full of wit and spirit it was! I should have added "force," had the book contained moments of repose, or had it risen to energy only at intervals. But I found that there was no burst of force, but an even flow, a style that was vigorous and chaste.
Nevertheless, I noticed from time to time your sweetness, and here and there that mildness of yours. Your style is lofty and noble; I want you to keep to this manner and this direction. Your subject also contributed something; for this reason you should choose productive topics, which will lay hold of the mind and arouse it.
I shall discuss the book more fully after a second perusal; meantime, my judgment is somewhat unsettled, just as if I had heard it read aloud, and had not read it myself. You must allow me to examine it also.
You need not be afraid; you shall hear the truth. Lucky fellow, to offer a man no opportunity to tell you lies at such long range! Unless perhaps, even now, when excuses for lying are taken away, custom serves as an excuse for our telling each other lies! Farewell.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 46
This is a brief letter on Seneca’s receipt of a book Lucilius has written, and as such it could be overlooked as just a formal note of gratitude and encouragement.
Yet it brings to my mind many musings about the sort of human decency I wish was more common, to which the Stoic answer is, of course, to get to work at it myself.
I honestly can’t recall the last time someone sent me a cordial message, without the expectation of some sort of favor in return.
“How are you? It’s been too long!” is usually followed by a request for a job in the next paragraph.
Now I am happy to share whatever I have with you, but I do wish that what we call “friendship” didn’t have to be quite so mercenary.
So let me build the habit of showing a kindness out of the blue, in a way that shocks and confuses folks to no end. At first, I may do it kicking and screaming, but with time I make it a part of my routine to care for someone who can bring me absolutely no profit.
Indeed, what could Lucilius possibly “do” for Seneca? In the usual Stoic reversal of values, the old man does nothing but practice the virtues by helping the young man increase his own character. No strings attached, no flattery, no tit for tat.
Does Seneca like the book? Yes, and he immediately points out what is good, as is indicative of a true gentleman, while simultaneously using those very strengths to inspire Lucilius to further improvement. What might be wrong only makes sense in the context of what is right, just as you’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
I think of those rare and precious people who took an interest in my happiness, instead of merely going through the motions. Was I being forceful? They reminded me how to temper it with compassion. Was I being mild? They reminded me how to join it to conviction. Did I add something of use on the matter? Here are some ways to stay the course.
This is a brief letter on Seneca’s receipt of a book Lucilius has written, and as such it could be overlooked as just a formal note of gratitude and encouragement.
Yet it brings to my mind many musings about the sort of human decency I wish was more common, to which the Stoic answer is, of course, to get to work at it myself.
I honestly can’t recall the last time someone sent me a cordial message, without the expectation of some sort of favor in return.
“How are you? It’s been too long!” is usually followed by a request for a job in the next paragraph.
Now I am happy to share whatever I have with you, but I do wish that what we call “friendship” didn’t have to be quite so mercenary.
So let me build the habit of showing a kindness out of the blue, in a way that shocks and confuses folks to no end. At first, I may do it kicking and screaming, but with time I make it a part of my routine to care for someone who can bring me absolutely no profit.
Indeed, what could Lucilius possibly “do” for Seneca? In the usual Stoic reversal of values, the old man does nothing but practice the virtues by helping the young man increase his own character. No strings attached, no flattery, no tit for tat.
Does Seneca like the book? Yes, and he immediately points out what is good, as is indicative of a true gentleman, while simultaneously using those very strengths to inspire Lucilius to further improvement. What might be wrong only makes sense in the context of what is right, just as you’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
I think of those rare and precious people who took an interest in my happiness, instead of merely going through the motions. Was I being forceful? They reminded me how to temper it with compassion. Was I being mild? They reminded me how to join it to conviction. Did I add something of use on the matter? Here are some ways to stay the course.
We succumb to lying all to readily when we believe we can get away with it, or we perceive some slippery advantage, or we can justify it as the standard operating procedure. A friend has no need for any of it, because he understands how the good cannot admit of trickery, and love is inseparable from integrity.
—Reflection written in 2/2013
IMAGE: Domenico Fetti, Portrait of a Scholar (c. 1620)
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