Are philosophers troublemakers who scorn those in power? Seneca, writing under the emperor Nero, argues the opposite: the person who uses peace well owes the most gratitude for it. But this letter is really about gratitude for what we share with everyone, the sun, the seasons, peace and liberty, and about how ambition never looks back at what it already has. It ends with one of Seneca’s most beautiful lines: God comes into human beings, and divine seeds grow in us if we tend them well.
From Seneca to Lucilius
I think it’s a mistake to believe that people who have loyally devoted themselves to philosophy are stubborn rebels who look down on magistrates, kings, or those who run public affairs. On the contrary, no one is more welcome to the philosopher than the ruler, and rightly so, because rulers give no one a greater privilege than those who are allowed to enjoy peace and leisure.
The Ingratitude of Wanting More
So those who gain so much from the security of the state, for their purpose of living rightly, are bound to cherish the source of this good like a father. Much more so, at any rate, than those restless people who are always in the public eye, who owe the ruler a great deal but also expect a great deal from him, and who are never loaded with favors so generously that their cravings, which grow by being fed, are fully satisfied. And yet whoever is thinking about benefits to come has forgotten the benefits already received; there is no worse evil in greed than its ingratitude.
Besides, no one in public life thinks about the many people he has passed; he thinks about those who have passed him. Such people find it less pleasing to see many behind them than annoying to see anyone ahead of them. That’s the trouble with every kind of ambition: it doesn’t look back. And it isn’t only ambition that’s restless, but every kind of craving, because it always begins where it ought to end.
The Grateful Philosopher
But the other kind of person, upright and pure, who has left the senate, the courts, and all affairs of state to devote himself to nobler work, cherishes those who have made it possible for him to do this safely. He’s the only one who thanks them freely, the only one who owes them a great debt without their even knowing. Just as a person honors and reveres the teachers who helped free him from his early wanderings, so the wise person honors those under whose protection he can put his good principles into practice.
But you answer: “Other people are protected by a king’s power too.” Quite true. But think of several people who have all benefited from the same stretch of calm weather at sea. The one whose cargo was larger and more valuable feels he owes more to Neptune. The merchant pays his vow more willingly than the passenger. And among merchants themselves, the trader in spices, purple cloth, and goods worth their weight in gold gives heartier thanks than the one who has loaded cheap goods that serve as little more than ballast. In the same way, the benefits of this peace, which reaches everyone, are most deeply valued by those who make good use of it.
Peace Wasted
For there are many of our citizens in their togas to whom peace brings more trouble than war. Or do you think that those who spend their peace in drunkenness, lust, or other vices that would be worth a war to interrupt owe as much for it as we do? Not unless you think the wise person is so unfair as to believe that, as an individual, he owes nothing for the advantages he enjoys along with everyone else.
What We Share Is Truly Ours
I owe a great debt to the sun and the moon, and yet they don’t rise for me alone. I’m personally indebted to the seasons and to the god who governs them, though they weren’t arranged for my benefit in any way. The foolish greed of mortals makes a distinction between possessing and owning, and believes it owns nothing in which the public has a share. But our philosopher considers nothing more truly his own than what he shares in partnership with all humankind. These things wouldn’t be common property, as they are, unless each person had his portion; even a joint interest based on the smallest share makes someone a partner.
Besides, the great and true goods aren’t divided so that each person has only a small stake; each belongs entirely to every individual. At a grain distribution, people receive only the amount promised to each. The public banquet, the handout of meat, anything a person can carry away, is divided into portions. But these goods can’t be divided, I mean peace and liberty, and they belong entirely to all people just as much as they belong to each individual.
Thanks to the Helmsman
So the philosopher thinks of the one who makes it possible for him to use and enjoy these things, the one who spares him when the state’s urgent need calls people to arms, to guard duty, to the defense of the walls, and to the many demands of war. And he gives thanks to the helmsman of his state. This is what philosophy teaches above all: to acknowledge honorably the benefits we’ve received, and to repay them honorably; sometimes, though, the acknowledgment itself is the payment.
Our philosopher, then, will admit that he owes a great debt to the ruler whose management and foresight make it possible for him to enjoy rich leisure, control of his own time, and a calm not interrupted by public duties.
Shepherd, a god has given me this leisure;
He’ll always be a god to me.
Leisure Spent Among the Gods
And if even the leisure of our poet owes a great debt to its giver, though its greatest gift is this:
As you can see,
He let my cattle wander out to graze,
And let me play whatever tune I pleased on my shepherd’s pipe;
how highly should we value the leisure of the philosopher, which is spent among the gods and makes us gods? Yes, that’s what I mean, Lucilius, and I invite you to heaven by a shortcut.
The Good Person and Jupiter
Sextius used to say that Jupiter has no more power than a good person. Of course, Jupiter has more gifts to offer humanity. But when you’re choosing between two good people, the richer isn’t necessarily the better, any more than you’d call one of two pilots, equally skilled at the helm, the better one because his ship is bigger and grander.
In what way is Jupiter superior to our good person? His goodness lasts longer. But the wise person doesn’t value himself any less just because his virtues are confined to a shorter span. Or take two wise people: the one who died older isn’t happier than the one whose virtue was limited to fewer years. In the same way, a god has no advantage over a wise person in happiness, even if he has the advantage in years. Virtue that lasts longer isn’t greater virtue.
Jupiter possesses all things, but he has surely handed over their possession to others. The only use of them that belongs to him is this: he makes them useful to everyone. The wise person surveys and looks down on all the possessions of others as calmly as Jupiter does, and he thinks more highly of himself because, while Jupiter can’t use them, he, the wise person, doesn’t want to.
The Way to the Stars
So let’s believe Sextius when he shows us the path of perfect beauty and cries: “This is ‘the way to the stars’; this is the way: by thrift, self-control, and courage!”
The gods aren’t scornful or jealous; they open the door to you; they lend a hand as you climb. Are you amazed that human beings go to the gods? God comes to human beings; no, he comes closer still: he comes into human beings. No mind is good without God. Divine seeds are scattered through our mortal bodies. If a good farmer receives them, they spring up in the likeness of their source and equal to the seeds they came from. But if the farmer is bad, like barren or marshy soil, he kills the seeds and makes weeds grow instead of wheat.
Farewell.
Breaking It Down: A Modern Take on Letter 73
On the surface, this is Seneca defending philosophers as loyal citizens, written while he served at Nero’s court, and his praise of rulers reflects a world without democratic choice. Today we’d add that gratitude for good government belongs to the people and institutions that protect everyone, and doesn’t mean silence about abuses. But the heart of the letter reaches well past politics: it’s about gratitude, the restlessness of ambition, and the shared goods that belong fully to every one of us.
1. Cravings grow by being fed
The more favors ambitious people receive, the more they want, because their cravings “grow by being fed.” Satisfaction rarely comes from getting more; it comes from wanting less.
2. Greed forgets
“There is no worse evil in greed than its ingratitude.” When our eyes are on the next thing, we stop seeing what we’ve already been given.
3. Ambition doesn’t look back
“That’s the trouble with every kind of ambition: it doesn’t look back.” We count the people ahead of us and forget the many behind. Looking back now and then is an easy cure for envy.
4. Craving starts where it should end
Every craving “always begins where it ought to end.” The moment we reach a goal is the moment desire sets a new one. Noticing this pattern helps us step off the treadmill.
5. Those who use a gift well value it most
“The benefits of this peace, which reaches everyone, are most deeply valued by those who make good use of it.” Safety, freedom, and quiet hours are worth more to us when we spend them on something good.
6. Gratitude for shared gifts
“I owe a great debt to the sun and the moon, and yet they don’t rise for me alone.” Clean air, public parks, libraries, and the work of strangers keep us alive. We can be personally grateful for things given to all.
7. What we share is truly ours
“Our philosopher considers nothing more truly his own than what he shares in partnership with all humankind.” This is a deeply democratic idea: the best goods aren’t diminished by being shared.
8. Peace and liberty belong to everyone
Seneca names peace and liberty as goods that belong entirely to all and to each. That’s a vision worth protecting for every person, not just the comfortable few.
9. Say thank you
“This is what philosophy teaches above all: to acknowledge honorably the benefits we’ve received, and to repay them honorably.” Sometimes simply saying thanks is the repayment. It costs nothing and means a great deal.
10. Length isn’t greatness
“Virtue that lasts longer isn’t greater virtue.” A good life cut short is still a complete good life. What matters is how we live, not how long.
11. The door is open
“The gods aren’t scornful or jealous; they open the door to you; they lend a hand as you climb.” Seneca pictures goodness not as an exclusive club but as an open invitation with help along the way.
12. Tend the divine seeds
God “comes into human beings,” and divine seeds grow in us if we tend them like good farmers. Whatever your beliefs, it’s a hopeful picture: goodness is already planted in each of us, waiting to be cared for.
Key Takeaways from Letter 73
- Cravings grow when fed. More rarely brings satisfaction.
- Greed makes us ungrateful. It forgets what it already has.
- Ambition never looks back. Count the blessings behind you, not the rivals ahead.
- Use peace well. Those who use a gift wisely value it most.
- Be grateful for shared gifts. The sun rises for everyone and still for you.
- Shared goods are truly ours. Peace and liberty belong fully to all.
- Acknowledge kindness. Sometimes thanks is the payment.
- A short good life is complete. Virtue isn’t measured in years.
- Thrift, self-control, and courage lead upward. That’s the way to the stars.
- Goodness is planted in us. Tend it like a careful farmer.
“I owe a great debt to the sun and the moon, and yet they don’t rise for me alone.”
— Seneca, Letter 73
Keep Seneca With You
If this letter spoke to you
Marcus Aurelius’s private notebook, in Gregory Hays’s readable translation.
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Next up: Letter 74 — On Virtue as a Refuge from Worldly Distractions
