Is it not true, therefore, that men did not discover him until after he had ceased to be? Has not his renown shone forth, for all that? Metrodorus also admits this fact in one of his letters: that Epicurus and he were not well-known to the public; but he declares that after the lifetime of Epicurus and himself any man who might wish to follow in their footsteps would win great and ready-made renown.
Virtue is never lost to view; and yet to have been lost to view is no loss. There will come a day which will reveal her, though hidden away or suppressed by the spite of her contemporaries. That man is born merely for a few, who thinks only of the people of his own generation.
Many thousands of years and many thousands of peoples will come after you; it is to these that you should have regard. Malice may have imposed silence upon the mouths of all who were alive in your day; but there will come men who will judge you without prejudice and without favor.
If there is any reward that virtue receives at the hands of fame, not even this can pass away. We ourselves, indeed, shall not be affected by the talk of posterity; nevertheless, posterity will cherish and celebrate us even though we are not conscious thereof.
Virtue has never failed to reward a man, both during his life and after his death, provided he has followed her loyally, provided he has not decked himself out or painted himself up, but has been always the same, whether he appeared before men’s eyes after being announced, or suddenly and without preparation.
Pretense accomplishes nothing. Few are deceived by a mask that is easily drawn over the face. Truth is the same in every part. Things which deceive us have no real substance. Lies are thin stuff; they are transparent, if you examine them with care. Farewell.
Virtue is never lost to view; and yet to have been lost to view is no loss. There will come a day which will reveal her, though hidden away or suppressed by the spite of her contemporaries. That man is born merely for a few, who thinks only of the people of his own generation.
Many thousands of years and many thousands of peoples will come after you; it is to these that you should have regard. Malice may have imposed silence upon the mouths of all who were alive in your day; but there will come men who will judge you without prejudice and without favor.
If there is any reward that virtue receives at the hands of fame, not even this can pass away. We ourselves, indeed, shall not be affected by the talk of posterity; nevertheless, posterity will cherish and celebrate us even though we are not conscious thereof.
Virtue has never failed to reward a man, both during his life and after his death, provided he has followed her loyally, provided he has not decked himself out or painted himself up, but has been always the same, whether he appeared before men’s eyes after being announced, or suddenly and without preparation.
Pretense accomplishes nothing. Few are deceived by a mask that is easily drawn over the face. Truth is the same in every part. Things which deceive us have no real substance. Lies are thin stuff; they are transparent, if you examine them with care. Farewell.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 79
If I wish to be happy by doing what is best, must I somehow be aware of others praising me?
If I wish to know that I have done my part, will it matter how or when my contribution is revealed?
If I wish to live with integrity, doesn’t it seem like a contradiction to put on some elaborate act?
Again, take note of whether a man defines his “honor” from the inside out, or from the outside in. As the term may seem outdated to some, much the same can be applied to the contemporary concept of “success”.
True fame, which is nothing but a fruit of virtue, is timeless and ever-present, and, by the handy Socratic formula, something is praised because it is good, not good because it is praised. As much as we might stubbornly choose to look away, it is never our fleeting approval that gives it glory; Nature operates on a much grander, and a far subtler, scale.
The Stoic exercise of putting all thing into perspective is a great aid in overcoming the desire to be idolized during this brief moment, in this piddling place, by these smug people. In contrast to the vastness of the whole, each part may now appear to be trivial, yet it acquires its very significance when it is understood through that very whole, as but one note within the harmony.
Only virtue is lasting, and so only the merit of the virtues is worthy of any prestige. Far more than a sentimental platitude, the hard proof of it is in recognizing why the perfection of any creature is in the perfection of its distinct nature, which, in turn, is an expression of the meaning and purpose to all of Nature. In the simplest of terms, to be fully human is enough to be celebrated, with absolutely no need for any window dressing.
The more I consider the plain truth of this, the more I am painfully aware of the vanity in our shallow schemes, the delusion that mere pretending can take the place of authentic living. The simulated speeches, the pompous titles, and the vulgar costumes are pretensions, diversions from our one calling.
Afraid of facing our pure selves, we strike a pose, grinning while straining, desperately praying that the others can’t see right through us, even as they are tortured by exactly the same dread. It may be that everyone knows it is a farce, but no one wants to admit it is a farce; what would we do with ourselves if the theatrical scenery suddenly came crashing down?
My biggest mistake was binding the value of my life to someone who was insincere. In an appropriately Stoic fashion, I now have the opportunity to learn from that blunder, to see right through the illusion with sharper eyes. Too much of what we do is wasted, because too much of what we do is devious busywork. Strip it away.
Prudence. Fortitude. Temperance. Justice. There is the glory of our nature, which can never be taken away. Nothing more.
If I wish to be happy by doing what is best, must I somehow be aware of others praising me?
If I wish to know that I have done my part, will it matter how or when my contribution is revealed?
If I wish to live with integrity, doesn’t it seem like a contradiction to put on some elaborate act?
Again, take note of whether a man defines his “honor” from the inside out, or from the outside in. As the term may seem outdated to some, much the same can be applied to the contemporary concept of “success”.
True fame, which is nothing but a fruit of virtue, is timeless and ever-present, and, by the handy Socratic formula, something is praised because it is good, not good because it is praised. As much as we might stubbornly choose to look away, it is never our fleeting approval that gives it glory; Nature operates on a much grander, and a far subtler, scale.
The Stoic exercise of putting all thing into perspective is a great aid in overcoming the desire to be idolized during this brief moment, in this piddling place, by these smug people. In contrast to the vastness of the whole, each part may now appear to be trivial, yet it acquires its very significance when it is understood through that very whole, as but one note within the harmony.
Only virtue is lasting, and so only the merit of the virtues is worthy of any prestige. Far more than a sentimental platitude, the hard proof of it is in recognizing why the perfection of any creature is in the perfection of its distinct nature, which, in turn, is an expression of the meaning and purpose to all of Nature. In the simplest of terms, to be fully human is enough to be celebrated, with absolutely no need for any window dressing.
The more I consider the plain truth of this, the more I am painfully aware of the vanity in our shallow schemes, the delusion that mere pretending can take the place of authentic living. The simulated speeches, the pompous titles, and the vulgar costumes are pretensions, diversions from our one calling.
Afraid of facing our pure selves, we strike a pose, grinning while straining, desperately praying that the others can’t see right through us, even as they are tortured by exactly the same dread. It may be that everyone knows it is a farce, but no one wants to admit it is a farce; what would we do with ourselves if the theatrical scenery suddenly came crashing down?
My biggest mistake was binding the value of my life to someone who was insincere. In an appropriately Stoic fashion, I now have the opportunity to learn from that blunder, to see right through the illusion with sharper eyes. Too much of what we do is wasted, because too much of what we do is devious busywork. Strip it away.
Prudence. Fortitude. Temperance. Justice. There is the glory of our nature, which can never be taken away. Nothing more.
—Reflection written in 11/2013
IMAGE: Anonymous Flemish, The Triumph of Fame (c. 1500)
"Thus the deeds of the Ancients were immortalized by Fame."
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