The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Thursday, August 26, 2021

Seneca, Moral Letters 14.11


"What then? Can one who follows out this plan be safe in any case?" 

 

I cannot guarantee you this any more than I can guarantee good health in the case of a man who observes moderation; although, as a matter of fact, good health results from such moderation. 

 

Sometimes a vessel perishes in harbor; but what do you think happens on the open sea? And how much more beset with danger that man would be, who even in his leisure is not secure, if he were busily working at many things! 

 

Innocent persons sometimes perish; who would deny that? But the guilty perish more frequently. A soldier's skill is not at fault if he receives the deathblow through his armor.

 

And finally, the wise man regards the reason for all his actions, but not the results. The beginning is in our own power; Fortune decides the issue, but I do not allow her to pass sentence upon myself. 

 

You may say: "But she can inflict a measure of suffering and of trouble." 

 

The highwayman does not pass sentence when he slays.

 

I may still have a nagging feeling that I will never really be secure, that there will always be someone or something out there to threaten me. I want a guarantee, like that warranty they promised me with my new car, but I don’t want it to turn out like that warranty at all, where there was always a clever reason why the flaw or defect wasn’t actually covered. 

 

Some of us may still remember the tone of an earlier generation, when folks, for better or for worse, took pride in being a bit more resilient than they are now. If you complained to them that something wasn’t fair, they bluntly reminded you that life wasn’t fair. Must I begrudgingly accept this maxim? 

 

As with all sayings, it takes a moment of reflection to make proper sense of it. I can never expect that events will unfold as I prefer, or that other people will treat me with decency. At the same time, however, I can always be certain that I am able to find the benefit and blessing in anything for myself, because it depends only on my own choices. I don’t have to accept that begrudgingly at all. 

 

This is one the of the basic principles of Stoicism at work, that some things are within our power, while other things are quite beyond it. Attend to what is your own, and you will retain the security of your own character; make demands that the world must dance to your tune, and you will meet with constant disappointments. 

 

Whether or not I am safe from harm depends entirely on where I place the measure of my life. Nature can never guarantee me that the circumstances will be gratifying, but she has made sure that I can decide to make my character inviolable. What happens won’t always be fair, though what I do with what happens can always be fair. 

 

It is this context, therefore, that I think of Seneca’s advice on withdrawing from the world. No, don’t try to escape from it all. Engage, reach out, speak with integrity, act with respect; just don’t assume that the conditions will be as friendly, and don’t tempt fate by raising unnecessary obstacles to your happiness. The withdrawal is a sense of reliance on your own virtues instead of the fickle ways of Fortune. 

 

So no, there is no guarantee when it comes to property, reputation, or the satisfaction of the body, even as that does not give me an excuse for being careless or reckless about my body. There is no prudence in making it harder than it has to be; an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. 

 

I may get sick, but there is no point in getting sicker by eating poorly. My boat may sink, but there is no point in hastening its end by going out in a hurricane. Most importantly, a wicked man may abuse me, but there is no point in offering him any incentive by attracting his greedy attention. 

 

Have I prepared myself for whatever might come my way? Then I have done my job, and there is no shame in finally drawing the short straw. There is great shame, however, in the downfall of the wicked man, because his defeat follows so readily from his own chosen weakness, a slavery to whatever comes his way. 

 

I am especially grateful to Seneca for reminding me that my good is in how I am disposed toward things, not in how they are disposed toward me. I need to hear this daily, to gladly accept that Fortune will go about doing her thing, and Providence only asks that I, in turn, go about doing my thing with prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice.

 

Trouble may come, but the trouble has no control over me. Then I am secure where it counts. 

Written in 6/2012

IMAGE: Peter Paul Rubens, Allegory of Fortune and Virtue (c. 1620)



No comments:

Post a Comment