Moral Letters to Lucilius

​I shall tell you what things must be observed by you, so that you may live more safely. However, I think you should hear these precepts in the same way as if I were prescribing to you how you should maintain good health in your Ardean estate. Consider what things they are that instigate a man to the destruction of a man: you will find hope, envy, hatred, fear, and contempt.

​Out of all these, contempt is so very light that many have hidden themselves in it for the sake of a remedy. He whom one despises, one undoubtedly violates, but passes by; no one harms a despised man persistently, no one diligently. Even in the battle-line, he who lies down is passed over, while the fight is with him who stands.

​You will avoid the hope of the wicked if you have nothing that irritates another’s wicked desire, if you possess nothing remarkable. For even small things are coveted, if they are notable, if they are rare. You will escape envy if you do not thrust yourself into people’s eyes, if you do not boast of your goods, if you know how to rejoice in your bosom.

​Hatred is either from offense—this you will avoid by provoking no one—or gratuitous, from which common sense will protect you. This has been dangerous to many; some have had hatred without even an enemy. That you are not feared, this will be guaranteed to you both by the mediocrity of your fortune and the mildness of your disposition; let men know that you are such a person whom they can offend without danger; let your reconciliation be both easy and sure. But to be feared is as troublesome at home as abroad, as much by slaves as by free men. There is no one who does not have enough strength to do harm. Add now to this, that he who is feared, fears; no one could be terrible and secure at the same time.

​Contempt remains, the control of which is in the power of him who has attached it to himself, who is despised because he wished to be, not because he deserved to be. The inconvenience of this is dispelled both by good arts and by the friendships of those who are powerful with some powerful person, to whom it will be expedient to attach oneself, not to entangle oneself, lest the remedy cost more than the danger.

​Yet nothing will be of equal benefit as to keep quiet and talk very little with others, and very much with oneself. There is a certain sweetness of conversation that creeps in and flatters, and, no differently than drunkenness or love, draws out secrets. No one will keep silent about what he has heard. No one will speak only as much as he has heard. He who has not kept the matter silent will not keep the author silent. Everyone has someone whom he trusts as much as he himself was trusted. Even though he guards his talkativeness and is content with the ears of one person, he will create a crowd, if what was just now a secret is a rumor.

​A great portion of security is to do nothing unjustly. Those lacking self-control lead a confused and troubled life; they fear as much as they do harm, and are never at leisure. For they tremble when they have done it, and hesitate; conscience does not allow them to do anything else and constantly forces them to answer to themselves. Whoever expects punishment pays the penalty; and whoever has deserved it, expects it.

​In a bad conscience, some circumstance may guarantee safety, but nothing guarantees security; for a person thinks that, even if he is not caught, he can be caught. Even during sleep he is troubled, and as often as he speaks of someone else’s crime, he thinks of his own; it does not seem to him sufficiently effaced, not sufficiently covered. The guilty man has sometimes had the fortune of hiding, but never the security. FAREWELL.