Seneca, On Peace of Mind 14.4

Julius Canius, a man of peculiar greatness, whom even the fact of his having been born in this century does not prevent our admiring, had a long dispute with Gaius, and when as he was going away that Phalaris of a man said to him, "That you may not delude yourself with any foolish hopes, I have ordered you to be executed."

He answered, "I thank you, most excellent prince."

I am not sure what he meant, for many ways of explaining his conduct occur to me. Did he wish to be reproachful, and to show him how great his cruelty must be if death became a kindness?

Or did he upbraid him with his accustomed insanity? for even those whose children were put to. death, and whose goods were confiscated, used to thank him.

Or was it that he willingly received death, regarding it as freedom?

I wish I could learn more about Julius Canius, or Kanus, than the little snippets I have managed to come across from time to time. Boethius mentions him in the Consolation of Philosophy, one of my favorite texts, and Seneca’s account here is the most thorough I have found.

I need more examples like Canius in my life, because one of my greatest struggles is still about coming to terms with so much of the heartlessness I see around me.

Sometimes it takes on the form of horrible violence and brutality, and sometimes it takes on the form of cunning manipulation and deception, and sometimes it takes on the form of cold indifference and rejection.

What it all shares in common is a willingness to treat others as mere things, as objects to be moved about for profit or gratification, to be used and then discarded.

If Canius could face it with such calm conviction, and also with such good cheer, then it is hardly beyond human means to confront injustice without resentment. If he could do it, it is still possible that I can learn to do it. Perhaps I can manage to do the right thing, and not end up being all bent out of shape by it?

Both a statesman and a Stoic, Julius Canius was just one of many others who found himself on the wrong side of Gaius Caesar Augustus, otherwise known as Caligula, or “Little Boots”. The new emperor was no longer that cute boy running about the army camp, and he quickly became a sadistic tyrant. He saw plots against him everywhere, and it was probably inevitable that Canius would be accused of scheming to overthrow him.

We have all known people like that, who consider themselves the center of the Universe, who take any difference as a personal offense, and who will find the greatest pleasure in watching you suffer. Some are emperors, but others just manage the local office. Some decide the fate of nations, but others just break your heart.

Now I have never had anyone seriously threaten to kill me yet, but I have been told that my career would now be over, that I would lose all of my friends, and that I would soon be begging on the street.

In each case, I always did my best to maintain my own character above all else, and yet I still grumbled, and complained, and protested. Not once, at least not to this point, have I been able to say: “Thank you for treating me like your trash; you have only made yourself worse, and you have given me the opportunity to become better.”

I have thought it, I have even believed it, but I have still not been able to say it with all sincerity, without a glimmer of malice accompanying all of it.

Canius did it, and what a wonderful model that can be. Socrates did much the same many years earlier, when his last words to his friends were that he owed a sacrifice to Asclepius, a god of healing. They claim something similar about the martyr St. Lawrence, who was roasted alive, and still asked his tormentors to turn him over, as he was already well done on one side.

I think of what the legend of Phalaris says, that he had a bronze bull made, in which he cooked his enemies over a fire, and was satisfied by hearing the screams of his victims like the roar of the great beast. My problem is that I still boil with a rage like that of Phalaris.

How is my anger and hatred any different than his? If I am full of spite, what will keep me from doing the same to my enemies one day, if only I have the power to do so? It is too easy a line to cross.

Remove the will for revenge by removing the judgment that anyone needs to be hurt at all. It is easy to say “I love you” when everything is coming up roses, but it tests my worth when I am being crammed into a bronze bull, either literally or figuratively.

Still, if love is the law, and truth applies across the board, then I must treat my enemy with the same respect as I treat my friend. No, I should correct myself: more properly, I must treat no one as an enemy at all, and everyone as my friend.

Was Canius just trying to shame Caligula, or to call him out for his perversions? Perhaps that was a perfectly reasonable part of it, but on a deeper level he could only have acted as he did if he already understood something far more profound.

He knew where the real value of his own life lay, and so he was not troubled by death. He knew what mattered the most, and so he could not be bothered by less. He knew that he was not the victim at all, but that Caligula had made himself the victim.

Written in 12/2011

IMAGE: The Bronze Bull of Phalaris