Subito nobis hodie Alexandrinae naves apparuerunt, quae praemitti solent et nuntiare secuturae classis adventum: tabellarias vocant. Gratus illarum Campaniae aspectus est: omnis in pilis Puteolorum turba consistit et ex ipso genere velorum Alexandrinas quamvis in magna turba navium intellegit; solis enim licet siparum intendere, quod in alto omnes habent naves.  Nulla enim res aeque adiuvat cursum quam summa pars veli; illinc maxime navis urgetur. Itaque quotiens ventus increbruit maiorque est quam expedit, antemna summittitur: minus habet virium flatus ex humili. Cum intravere Capreas et promunturium ex quo
alta procelloso speculatur vertice Pallas,
 In hoc omnium discursu properantium ad litus magnam ex pigritia mea sensi voluptatem, quod epistulas meorum accepturus non properavi scire quis illic esset rerum mearum status, quid adferrent: olim iam nec perit quicquam mihi nec adquiritur. Hoc, etiam si senex non essem, fuerat sentiendum, nunc vero multo magis: quantulumcumque haberem, tamen plus iam mihi superesset viatici quam viae, praesertim cum eam viam simus ingressi quam peragere non est necesse.  Iter inperfectum erit si in media parte aut citra petitum locum steteris: vita non est inperfecta si honesta est; ubicumque desines, si bene desines, tota est. Saepe autem et fortiter desinendum est et non ex maximis causis; nam nec eae maximae sunt quae nos tenent.
 Tullius Marcellinus, quem optime noveras, adulescens quietus et cito senex, morbo et non insanabili correptus sed longo et molesto et multa imperante, coepit deliberare de morte. Convocavit complures amicos. Unusquisque aut, quia timidus erat, id illi suadebat quod sibi suasisset, aut, quia adulator et blandus, id consilium dabat quod deliberanti gratius fore suspicabatur.  Amicus noster Stoicus, homo egregius et, ut verbis illum quibus laudari dignus est laudem, vir fortis ac strenuus, videtur mihi optime illum cohortatus. Sic enim coepit: 'noli, mi Marcelline, torqueri tamquam de re magna deliberes. Non est res magna vivere: omnes servi tui vivunt, omnia animalia: magnum est honeste mori, prudenter, fortiter. Cogita quamdiu iam idem facias: cibus, somnus, libido -- per hunc circulum curritur; mori velle non tantum prudens aut fortis aut miser, etiam fastidiosus potest.'  Non opus erat suasore illi sed adiutore: servi parere nolebant. Primum detraxit illis metum et indicavit tunc familiam periculum adire cum incertum esset an mors domini voluntaria fuisset; alioqui tam mali exempli esse occidere dominum quam prohibere.  Deinde ipsum Marcellinum admonuit non esse inhumanum, quemadmodum cena peracta reliquiae circumstantibus dividantur, sic peracta vita aliquid porrigi iis qui totius vitae ministri fuissent. Erat Marcellinus facilis animi et liberalis etiam cum de suo fieret; minutas itaque summulas distribuit flentibus servis et illos ultro consolatus est.  Non fuit illi opus ferro, non sanguine: triduo abstinuit et in ipso cubiculo poni tabernaculum iussit. Solium deinde inlatum est, in quo diu iacuit et calda subinde suffusa paulatim defecit, ut aiebat, non sine quadam voluptate, quam adferre solet lenis dissolutio non inexperta nobis, quos aliquando liquit animus.
 In fabellam excessi non ingratam tibi; exitum enim amici tui cognosces non difficilem nec miserum. Quamvis enim mortem sibi consciverit, tamen mollissime excessit et vita elapsus est. Sed ne inutilis quidem haec fabella fuerit; saepe enim talia exempla necessitas exigit. Saepe debemus mori nec volumus, morimur nec volumus.  Nemo tam inperitus est ut nesciat quandoque moriendum; tamen cum prope accessit, tergiversatur, tremit, plorat. Nonne tibi videtur stultissimus omnium qui flevit quod ante annos mille non vixerat? aeque stultus est qui flet quod post annos mille non vivet. Haec paria sunt: non eris nec fuisti; utrumque tempus alienum est.  In hoc punctum coniectus es, quod ut extendas, quousque extendes? Quid fles? quid optas? perdis operam.
Desine fata deum flecti sperare precando.
Rata et fixa sunt et magna atque aeterna necessitate ducuntur: eo ibis quo omnia eunt. Quid tibi novi est? Ad hanc legem natus es; hoc patri tuo accidit, hoc matri, hoc maioribus, hoc omnibus ante te, hoc omnibus post te. Series invicta et nulla mutabilis ope inligavit ac trahit cuncta.  Quantus te populus moriturorum sequetur, quantus comitabitur! Fortior, ut opinor, esses, si multa milia tibi commorerentur; atqui multa milia et hominum et animalium hoc ipso momento quo tu mori dubitas animam variis generibus emittunt. Tu autem non putabas te aliquando ad id perventurum ad quod semper ibas? Nullum sine exitu iter est.
 Exempla nunc magnorum virorum me tibi iudicas relaturum? puerorum referam. Lacon ille memoriae traditur, inpubis adhuc, qui captus clamabat 'non serviam' sua illa Dorica lingua, et verbis fidem inposuit: ut primum iussus est fungi servili et contumelioso ministerio (adferre enim vas obscenum iubebatur), inlisum parieti caput rupit.  Tam prope libertas est: et servit aliquis? Ita non sic perire filium tuum malles quam per inertiam senem fieri? Quid ergo est cur perturberis, si mori fortiter etiam puerile est? Puta nolle te sequi: duceris. Fac tui iuris quod alieni est. Non sumes pueri spiritum, ut dicas 'non servio'? Infelix, servis hominibus, servis rebus, servis vitae; nam vita, si moriendi virtus abest, servitus est.  Ecquid habes propter quod expectes? voluptates ipsas quae te morantur ac retinent consumpsisti: nulla tibi nova est, nulla non iam odiosa ipsa satietate. Quis sit vini, quis mulsi sapor scis: nihil interest centum per vesicam tuam an mille amphorae transeant: saccus es. Quid sapiat ostreum, quid mullus optime nosti: nihil tibi luxuria tua in futuros annos intactum reservavit. Atqui haec sunt a quibus invitus divelleris.  Quid est aliud quod tibi eripi doleas? Amicos? Scis enim amicus esse? Patriam? tanti enim illam putas ut tardius cenes? Solem? quem, si posses, extingueres: quid enim umquam fecisti luce dignum? Confitere non curiae te, non fori, non ipsius rerum naturae desiderio tardiorem ad moriendum fieri: invitus relinquis macellum, in quo nihil reliquisti.  Mortem times: at quomodo illam media boletatione contemnis! Vivere vis: scis enim? Mori times: quid porro? ista vita non mors est? C. Caesar, cum illum transeuntem per Latinam viam unus ex custodiarum agmine demissa usque in pectus vetere barba rogaret mortem, 'nunc enim' inquit 'vivis?' Hoc istis respondendum est quibus succursura mors est: 'mori times: nunc enim vivis?'  'Sed ego' inquit 'vivere volo, qui multa honeste facio; invitus relinquo officia vitae, quibus fideliter et industrie fungor.' Quid? tu nescis unum esse ex vitae officiis et mori? Nullum officium relinquis; non enim certus numerus quem debeas explere finitur.  Nulla vita est non brevis; nam si ad naturam rerum respexeris, etiam Nestoris et Sattiae brevis est, quae inscribi monumento suo iussit annis se nonaginta novem vixisse. Vides aliquem gloriari senectute longa: quis illam ferre potuisset si contigisset centesimum implere? Quomodo fabula, sic vita: non quam diu, sed quam bene acta sit, refert. Nihil ad rem pertinet quo loco desinas. Quocumque voles desine: tantum bonam clausulam inpone. Vale.
“1. Suddenly there came into our view to-day the “Alexandrian” ships, – I mean those which are usually sent ahead to announce the coming of the fleet; they are called “mail-boats.” The Campanians are glad to see them; all the rabble of Puteoli stand on the docks, and can recognize the “Alexandrian” boats, no matter how great the crowd of vessels, by the very trim of their sails. For they alone may keep spread their topsails, which all ships use when out at sea, 2. because nothing sends a ship along so well as its upper canvas; that is where most of the speed is obtained. So when the breeze has stiffened and becomes stronger than is comfortable, they set their yards lower; for the wind has less force near the surface of the water. Accordingly, when they have made Capreae and the headland whence
Tall Pallas watches on the stormy peak,
all other vessels are bidden to be content with the mainsail, and the topsail stands out conspicuously on the “Alexandrian” mail-boats.
3. While everybody was bustling about and hurrying to the water-front, I felt great pleasure in my laziness, because, although I was soon to receive letters from my friends, I was in no hurry to know how my affairs were progressing abroad, or what news the letters were bringing; for some time now I have had no losses, nor gains either. Even if I were not an old man, I could not have helped feeling pleasure at this; but as it is, my pleasure was far greater. For, however small my possessions might be, I should still have left over more travelling-money than journey to travel, especially since this journey upon which we have set out is one which need not be followed to the end. 4. An expedition will be incomplete if one stops half-way, or anywhere on this side of one’s destination; but life is not incomplete if it is honourable. At whatever point you leave off living, provided you leave off nobly, your life is a whole. Often, however, one must leave off bravely, and our reasons therefore need not be momentous; for neither are the reasons momentous which hold us here.
5. Tullius Marcellinus, a man whom you knew very well, who in youth was a quiet soul and became old prematurely, fell ill of a disease which was by no means hopeless; but it was protracted and troublesome, and it demanded much attention; hence he began to think about dying. He called many of his friends together. Each one of them gave Marcellinus advice, – the timid friend urging him to do what he had made up his mind to do; the flattering and wheedling friend giving counsel which he supposed would be more pleasing to Marcellinus when he came to think the matter over; 6. but our Stoic friend, a rare man, and, to praise him in language which he deserves, a man of courage and vigour admonished him best of all, as it seems to me. For he began as follows: “Do not torment yourself, my dear Marcellinus, as if the question which you are weighing were a matter of importance. It is not an important matter to live; all your slaves live, and so do all animals; but it is important to die honourably, sensibly, bravely. Reflect how long you have been doing the same thing: food, sleep, lust, – this is one’s daily round. The desire to die may be felt, not only by the sensible man or the brave or unhappy man, but even by the man who is merely surfeited.”
7. Marcellinus did not need someone to urge him, but rather someone to help him; his slaves refused to do his bidding. The Stoic therefore removed their fears, showing them that there was no risk involved for the household except when it was uncertain whether the master’s death was self-sought or not; besides, it was as bad a practice to kill one’s master as it was to prevent him forcibly from killing himself. 8. Then he suggested to Marcellinus himself that it would be a kindly act to distribute gifts to those who had attended him throughout his whole life, when that life was finished, just as, when a banquet is finished, the remaining portion is divided among the attendants who stand about the table. Marcellinus was of a compliant and generous disposition, even when it was a question of his own property; so he distributed little sums among his sorrowing slaves, and comforted them besides. 9. No need had he of sword or of bloodshed; for three days he fasted and had a tent put up in his very bedroom.Then a tub was brought in; he lay in it for a long time, and, as the hot water was continually poured over him, he gradually passed away, not without a feeling of pleasure, as he himself remarked, – such a feeling as a slow dissolution is wont to give. Those of us who have ever fainted know from experience what this feeling is.
10. This little anecdote into which I have digressed will not be displeasing to you. For you will see that your friend departed neither with difficulty nor with suffering. Though he committed suicide, yet he withdrew most gently, gliding out of life. The anecdote may also be of some use; for often a crisis demands just such examples. There are times when we ought to die and are unwilling; sometimes we die and are unwilling. 11. No one is so ignorant as not to know that we must at some time die; nevertheless, when one draws near death, one turns to flight, trembles, and laments. Would you not think him an utter fool who wept because he was not alive a thousand years ago? And is he not just as much of a fool who weeps because he will not be alive a thousand years from now? It is all the same; you will not be, and you were not. Neither of these periods of time belongs to you. 12. You have been cast upon this point of time; if you would make it longer, how much longer shall you make it? Why weep? Why pray? You are taking pains to no purpose.
Give over thinking that your prayers can bend/Divine decrees from their predestined end.
These decrees are unalterable and fixed; they are governed by a mighty and everlasting compulsion. Your goal will be the goal of all things. What is there strange in this to you? You were born to be subject to this law; this fate befell your father, your mother, your ancestors, all who came before you; and it will befall all who shall come after you. A sequence which cannot be broken or altered by any power binds all things together and draws all things in its course. 13. Think of the multitudes of men doomed to death who will come after you, of the multitudes who will go with you! You would die more bravely, I suppose, in the company of many thousands; and yet there are many thousands, both of men and of animals, who at this very moment, while you are irresolute about death, are breathing their last, in their several ways. But you, – did you believe that you would not some day reach the goal towards which you have always been travelling? No journey but has its end.
14. You think, I suppose, that it is now in order for me to cite some examples of great men. No, I shall cite rather the case of a boy. The story of the Spartan lad has been preserved: taken captive while still a stripling, he kept crying in his Doric dialect, “I will not be a slave!” and he made good his word; for the very first time he was ordered to perform a menial and degrading service, – and the command was to fetch a chamber-pot, – he dashed out his brains against the wall. 15. So near at hand is freedom, and is anyone still a slave? Would you not rather have your own son die thus than reach old age by weakly yielding? Why therefore are you distressed, when even a boy can die so bravely? Suppose that you refuse to follow him; you will be led. Take into your own control that which is now under the control of another. Will you not borrow that boy’s courage, and say: “I am no slave!”? Unhappy fellow, you are a slave to men, you are a slave to your business, you are a slave to life. For life, if courage to die be lacking, is slavery.
16. Have you anything worth waiting for? Your very pleasures, which cause you to tarry and hold you back, have already been exhausted by you. None of them is a novelty to you, and there is none that has not already become hateful because you are cloyed with it. You know the taste of wine and cordials. It makes no difference whether a hundred or a thousand measures pass through your bladder; you are nothing but a wine-strainer. You are a connoisseur in the flavour of the oyster and of the mullet; your luxury has not left you anything untasted for the years that are to come; and yet these are the things from which you are torn away unwillingly. 17. What else is there which you would regret to have taken from you? Friends? But who can be a friend to you? Country? What? Do you think enough of your country to be late to dinner? The light of the sun? You would extinguish it, if you could; for what have you ever done that was fit to be seen in the light? Confess the truth; it is not because you long for the senate chamber or the forum, or even for the world of nature, that you would fain put off dying; it is because you are loth to leave the fish-market, though you have exhausted its stores.
18. You are afraid of death; but how can you scorn it in the midst of a mushroom supper? You wish to live; well, do you know how lo live? You are afraid to die. But come now: is this life of yours anything but death? Gaius Caesar was passing along the Via Latina, when a man stepped out from the ranks of the prisoners, his grey beard hanging down even to his breast, and begged to be put to death. “What!” said Caesar, “are you alive now?” That is the answer which should be given to men to whom death would come as a relief. “You are afraid to die; what! are you alive now?” 19. “But,” says one, “I wish to live, for I am engaged in many honourable pursuits. I am loth to leave life’s duties, which I am fulfilling with loyalty and zeal.” Surely you are aware that dying is also one of life’s duties? You are deserting no duty; for there is no definite number established which you are bound to complete. 20. There is no life that is not short. Compared with the world of nature, even Nestor’s life was a short one, or Sattia’s, the woman who bade carve on her tombstone that she had lived ninety and nine years. Some persons, you see, boast of their long lives; but who could have endured the old lady if she had had the luck to complete her hundredth year? It is with life as it is with a play, – it matters not how long the action is spun out, but how good the acting is. It makes no difference at what point you stop. Stop whenever you choose; only see to it that the closing period is well turned. Farewell.