The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Saturday, April 23, 2022

Seneca, Moral Letters 24.2


If you lose this case, can anything more severe happen to you than being sent into exile or led to prison? 

 

Is there a worse fate that any man may fear than being burned or being killed? 

 

Name such penalties one by one, and mention the men who have scorned them; one does not need to hunt for them—it is simply a matter of selection.

 

Sentence of conviction was borne by Rutilius as if the injustice of the decision were the only thing which annoyed him. 

 

Exile was endured by Metellus with courage, by Rutilius even with gladness; for the former consented to come back only because his country called him; the latter refused to return when Sulla summoned him—and nobody in those days said "No" to Sulla! 

 

Socrates in prison discoursed, and declined to flee when certain persons gave him the opportunity; he remained there, in order to free mankind from the fear of two most grievous things, death and imprisonment.

 

Mucius put his hand into the fire. It is painful to be burned; but how much more painful to inflict such suffering upon oneself! Here was a man of no learning, not primed to face death and pain by any words of wisdom, and equipped only with the courage of a soldier, who punished himself for his fruitless daring; he stood and watched his own right hand falling away piecemeal on the enemy's brazier, nor did he withdraw the dissolving limb, with its uncovered bones, until his foe removed the fire. He might have accomplished something more successful in that camp, but never anything more brave. 

 

See how much keener a brave man is to lay hold of danger than a cruel man is to inflict it: Porsenna was more ready to pardon Mucius for wishing to slay him than Mucius to pardon himself for failing to slay Porsenna! 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 24

 

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

I’ve been asked this regularly, by people who mean well, and yet they are only trying to dismiss the intensity of the pain. They are not getting to the root, to the management of the pain. 

 

Seneca is taking a further step here, as he does not try to disregard the suffering at all, describing it quite vividly, but rather encourages us to place it within a context of meaning and purpose. 

 

We can examine how bad it may feel, and then contrast the degree of that loss to what can be gained by acting upon it with moral conviction. The only way fear and pain can be conquered is to place them beneath to the magnificence of wisdom and virtue, the sources of our happiness. 

 

“This will just sting a bit,” the doctors say, and I have learned to no longer believe them. 

 

And then one day I needed to have a broken bone set, and a thoughtful nurse gave it to me straight. “Now this is going to hurt like hell, but just for a moment, and I know you can get through it.”

 

That wasn’t just a good bedside manner, that was brilliant philosophy. 

 

The loneliness of being cast out from home? The despair of being locked away in a cell? The agony of burned flesh? The terror and panic of gasping one’s last breath? If I choose to define myself only by my passions, such strain could be unbearable, for those feelings would be all I have. 

 

Yet whatever the experts of the hour would like to dictate to us, I am not merely an appetitive animal. I am also a rational animal, endowed with an intellect and a will. By those means I am able to rise above the distress, to know what is true and to love what is good. I possess the freedom to transform the many ordeals into joy. 

 

If cynicism creeps in, I just have to look around me, where there is always some neighbor, whatever his background or standing, who proves the resilience of the human spirit by sticking to his principles. Seneca offers some epic heroes as inspiration, though the brave man, who must ultimately be a man of conscience, also thrives in the humblest of conditions. 

 

Rutilius and Metellus were sent into exile by power-hungry politicians, and yet they chose to endure their hardships with dignity, concerned only with a respect for the law and the good of their countrymen. 

 

Socrates refused to run away from his death sentence, and he approached his end with a cheerful spirit, confident that the good man cannot be harmed, either in life or in death. 

 

Mucius set out to kill Rome’s enemy, King Porsenna. He failed, however, and when captured he chastised himself, and denied his foes the first chance to punish him, by thrusting his own hand into a sacrificial fire. It is said he did not even cry out, and Porsenna was so impressed by the young man’s fortitude that he both released Mucius and sued for peace with the Romans. 

 

Wasn’t this letter originally about dealing with anxiety about a lawsuit? Yes, but when it comes to making sense of suffering, we see the whole picture best when we reflect on the most extreme cases. If I can face the inevitability of my own extinction, being at the mercy of lawyers is a walk in the park. 

—Reflection written in 10/2012

IMAGES: 

Matthias Stom, Mucius Scaevola in the Presence of Lars Porsenna (c. 1640)

Louis-Pierre Deseine, Mucius Scaevola (1791)




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