Book 5, Chapter 1

1 This fifth day, Brutus, will bring our Tusculan Disputations to a close. On it we discussed the doctrine that you approve above all others. Both from the book you so carefully addressed to me and from many conversations with you, I have understood how firmly you hold that virtue is sufficient in itself for a happy life. Though the many and varied torments of fortune make this difficult to prove, it is a truth whose proof deserves every effort we can give it. Nothing in the whole field of philosophy can be expressed with greater weight or grandeur.

2 For the men who first devoted themselves to philosophy were moved to set everything else aside and give themselves wholly to discovering the best condition of life. Surely it was the hope of living happily that made them lavish such care and labor on that pursuit. If they discovered virtue and brought it to perfection, and if virtue offers sufficient protection for a happy life, who would not think that their work in philosophy was nobly undertaken, and that ours is too? But if virtue is subject to the shifting uncertainties of circumstance, a slave to fortune, and lacks the strength to defend itself, I fear that our hope of happiness must rest less on confidence in virtue than on prayers.

3 For my own part, when I reflect on the disasters through which fortune has so harshly tried me, I sometimes begin to lose faith in this belief and to dread the weakness and frailty of the human race. I fear that nature, having given us feeble bodies and added incurable diseases and intolerable pains, has also given us minds that both share in the body’s suffering and are independently entangled in anguish and troubles of their own.

4 Yet here I rebuke myself: I am judging the strength of virtue by the weakness of others, and perhaps of myself, rather than by virtue itself. For virtue—if indeed there is such a thing, a doubt your uncle, Brutus, has removed—holds beneath it everything that can befall a human being. Looking down on these things, it scorns the accidents of human life; free from every fault, it regards nothing beyond itself as its concern. We, however, magnify every adversity: fear enlarges it before it comes, sorrow when it is present. We prefer to condemn the nature of things rather than our own error.

1 Brutus, this fifth day will bring our discussions at Tusculum to an end. That day’s discussion was about the view you approve of most: virtue is enough, by itself, for a happy life. I’ve seen how strongly you support it, both in the book you wrote to me with such care and in many conversations with you. It’s hard to prove, given all the many different ways fortune can hurt us. Still, it’s a claim worth working hard to make easier to accept. Nothing in the whole field of philosophy could be said with greater weight or grandeur.

2 The first people to devote themselves to philosophy put everything else aside and gave their whole attention to finding the best way to live. That was what drove them. Surely it was the hope of living happily that made them put so much care and effort into their work. If they discovered virtue and brought it to perfection, and if virtue gives us enough protection to live happily, who wouldn’t think their work on philosophy was splendidly spent, and that ours is too? But suppose virtue is exposed to all sorts of unpredictable accidents and is a slave to fortune, without enough strength to defend itself. Then I’m afraid we may have to pin our hopes for happiness on prayers rather than confidence in virtue.

3 Sometimes, when I think over the misfortunes I’ve suffered and the harsh treatment fortune has given me, I begin to doubt this view. I grow afraid of how weak and easily broken human beings are. Nature gave us frail bodies, along with incurable diseases and unbearable pains. I worry that she also gave us minds that share our bodies’ pain and, quite apart from that, are caught in troubles and anxieties of their own.

4 But I correct myself here. I’m judging virtue’s strength from other people’s weakness, and perhaps my own, instead of from virtue itself. If virtue exists at all—and your uncle, Brutus, has put that doubt to rest—it rises above everything that can happen to a human being. It looks down on all of it and dismisses human misfortunes. Free of any fault, it thinks nothing but itself is its concern. We, on the other hand, make approaching troubles worse through fear and present troubles worse through grief. Then we’d rather blame the way things are than our own mistaken judgment.