- Source
- Seneca, Lucius Annaeus. Ad Lucilium Epistulae Morales, Vol 1-3. Gummere, Richard Mott, editor. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press; London: William Heinemann, Ltd., 1917-1925.
- Translation
- AI-generated (gemini-3.5-flash) — machine translation; may contain errors
- Languages
- 日本語 · English · 简体中文 · 한국어
- CTS URN
- urn:cts:latinLit:phi1017.phi015.humanitext-lat2:54.1-54.7
- Generated
- Humanitext Reader · reader.humanitext.ai · 2026-11-04
Seneca describes a sudden attack of his chronic illness (shortness of breath), which he calls a "rehearsal for death." He reflects that death is merely a state of non-existence identical to that before birth, and explains that a wise man does not fear death but willingly embraces necessity.
Longum mihi commeatum dederat mala valitudo; repente me invasit. "Quo genere? "inquis. Prorsus merito interrogas; adeo nullum mihi ignotum est. Uni tamen morbo quasi adsignatus sum,1 quem quare Graeco nomine appellem nescio; satis enim apte dici suspirium potest. Brevis autem valde et procellae similis est impetus; intra horam fere desinit.
Ill health had granted me a long furlough; suddenly it has assailed me. “In what form?” you ask. You have every right to ask; indeed, there is no illness unknown to me. Yet I have been assigned, as it were, to one disease in particular, though why I should call it by its Greek name I do not know; for it can be aptly enough termed “shortness of breath.” Its attack is extremely brief and like a storm; it usually ceases within an hour.
Quis enim diu exspirat? Omnia corporis aut incommoda aut pericula per me transierunt; nullum mihi videtur molestius. Quidni? Aliud enim quicquid est, aegrotare est, hoc animam egerere. Itaque medici hanc "meditationem mortis "vocant. Faciet enim aliquando spiritus ille, quod saepe conatus est.
For who can go on gasping for long? All bodily discomforts and dangers have passed through me, but none seems to me more troublesome. Why not? For anything else is merely being sick; this is gasping out one’s soul. Therefore, doctors call this “a rehearsal for death.” For that breath will eventually accomplish what it has often attempted.
Hilarem me putas haec tibi scribere, quia effugi? Tam ridicule facio, si hoc fine quasi bona valitudine delector, quam ille, quisquis vicisse se putat, cum vadimonium distulit.2 Ego vero et in ipsa suffocatione non desii cogitationibus laetis ac fortibus adquiescere.
Do you think I write this to you in high spirits because I have escaped? I would act as ridiculously, if I rejoiced in this end of the attack as if it were good health, as anyone who thinks he has won his case when he has only postponed his court appearance. But even in the midst of suffocation itself, I did not cease to find rest in cheerful and courageous thoughts.
" Quid hoc est? "inquam. "Tam saepe mors experitur me? Faciat; ego illam diu expertus sum." "Quando?" inquis. Antequam nascerer. Mors est non esse; id quale sit, iam scio. Hoc erit post me, quod ante me fuit. Si quid in hac re tormenti est, necesse est et fuisse, antequam prodiremus in lucem; atqui nullam sensimus tunc vexationem.
”What is this?” I said. “Does death try me so often? Let it try; I have tried it for a long time.” “When?” you ask. Before I was born. Death is not being; I already know what that is like. What comes after me will be the same as what was before me. If there is any torment in this matter, it must have existed also before we came forth into the light; yet we felt no vexation then.
Rogo, non stultissimum dicas, si quis existimet lucernae peius esse, cum extincta est, quam antequam accenditur? Nos quoque et extinguimur et accendimur; medio illo tempore aliquid patimur, utrimque vero alta securitas est. In hoc enim, mi Lucili, nisi fallor, erramus, quod mortem iudicamus sequi, cum illa et praecesserit et secutura sit. Quicquid ante nos fuit, mors est. Quid enim refert, non incipias an desinas, cum utriusque rei hic sit effectus, non esse?
I ask you, would you not call someone most foolish if he thought it was worse for a lamp when it is extinguished than before it is lit? We too are both extinguished and lit; in that intervening time we suffer something, but on both sides is deep peace. For in this, my Lucilius, unless I am mistaken, we err: we judge that death follows, although it both preceded and is to follow us. Whatever was before us is death. What does it matter whether you do not begin or whether you cease, since the effect of both things is the same, not being?
His et eiusmodi exhortationibus, tacitis scilicet, nam verbis locus non erat, adloqui me non desii. Deinde paulatim suspirium illud, quod esse iam anhelitus coeperat, intervalla maiora fecit et retardatum est ac remansit. Nec adhuc, quamvis desierit, ex natura fluit spiritus; sentio haesitationem quandam eius et moram. Quomodo volet, dummodo non ex animo suspirem.3
With these and suchlike exhortations, silent ones of course, for there was no room for words, I did not cease to address myself. Then gradually that shortness of breath, which had already begun to be a mere panting, made longer intervals, slowed down, and stopped. Nor does my breath flow naturally even now, although the attack has ceased; I feel a certain hesitation and delay in it. Let it go as it will, provided I do not sigh from my heart.
Hoc tibi de me recipe; non trepidabo ad extrema, iam praeparatus sum, nihil cogito de die toto. Illum tu lauda et imitare, quem non piget mori, cum iuvet vivere. Quae est enim virtus cum eiciaris exire? Tamen est et hic virtus; eicior quidem, sed tanquam exeam. Et ideo numquam eicitur sapiens, quia eici est inde expelli, unde invitus recedas; nihil invitus facit sapiens, necessitatem effugit, quia vult quod coactura est.4 VALE.
Receive this promise from me about myself: I shall not panic at the end; I am already prepared, and I do not worry about the whole day. Praise and imitate that man who does not regret dying even when it is a pleasure to live. For what virtue is there in leaving when you are thrown out? Yet even here there is virtue: I am indeed being thrown out, but as if I were leaving of my own accord. And for this reason, the wise man is never thrown out, because to be thrown out is to be expelled from a place from which you depart unwillingly; the wise man does nothing unwillingly; he escapes necessity because he wills what she is about to compel. FAREWELL.
- 54.1adsignatus sum
A metaphor from the legal term adsignare, meaning 'to assign' or 'allot' (as a slave to a master or property to an heir). Seneca uses it to describe his lifelong bound relationship with this particular chronic illness.
- 54.3cum vadimonium distulit
A reference to the postponement (distulit) of a defendant's bail or promise to appear in court (vadimonium). Seneca compares the foolishness of a litigant who thinks he has won his lawsuit (vicisse) merely because his court date has been delayed, with the mistake of treating temporary relief from a disease as true health.
- 54.6dummodo non ex animo suspirem
A wordplay on the physical symptom of 'shortness of breath' (suspirium) and the mental act of 'sighing out of grief' (suspirare). Connecting with the physical breath (spiritus) in the preceding sentence, it expresses a Stoic resolution: "Let my lungs do as they will, provided my mind (animus) does not sigh with grief."
- 54.7necessitatem effugit, quia vult quod coactura est
The future active participle coactura (with necessitas understood as the subject) means 'what (necessity) is about to compel.' It explains the Stoic definition of freedom: the wise man escapes the compulsion of fate (necessity) because he already wills of his own accord what necessity is going to force upon him anyway.