Seneca, Moral Letters 24.4

I am not now heaping up these illustrations for the purpose of exercising my wit, but for the purpose of encouraging you to face that which is thought to be most terrible. 

 

And I shall encourage you all the more easily by showing that not only resolute men have despised that moment when the soul breathes its last, but that certain persons, who were craven in other respects, have equaled in this regard the courage of the bravest. 

 

Take, for example, Scipio, the father-in-law of Gnaeus Pompeius: he was driven back upon the African coast by a headwind and saw his ship in the power of the enemy. He therefore pierced his body with a sword; and when they asked where the commander was, he replied: "All is well with the commander."

 

These words brought him up to the level of his ancestors and suffered not the glory which fate gave to the Scipios in Africa to lose its continuity. It was a great deed to conquer Carthage, but a greater deed to conquer death. 

 

"All is well with the commander!" Ought a general to die otherwise, especially one of Cato's generals?

 

I shall not refer you to history, or collect examples of those men who throughout the ages have despised death; for they are very many. Consider these times of ours, whose enervation and over-refinement call forth our complaints; they nevertheless will include men of every rank, of every lot in life, and of every age, who have cut short their misfortunes by death. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 24

 

There is, however, a grave danger of twisting a respect for the man we observe doing right into a worship of the man we believe can do no wrong. 

 

As creatures of reason and will, we are ruled by our own judgments, and so it is always within our power either to choose well or to choose poorly. There is good and bad in all of us, where even the sage is not without his vices, and even the scoundrel is not without his virtues. 

 

I search in vain for the flawless hero, and I only diminish myself by condemning another as an irredeemable villain. 

 

So when I am seeking a moral example, I must always appreciate the context, and come to accept how one thing will have diverse aspects, and one person will contain many qualities. For all his greatness, Cato was deficient; for all his weakness, Caesar was strong. Take the good, leave the rest. 

 

The courage to despise death, or to endure any degree of hardship, is hardly a rare occurrence. Sometimes the best of us stumble, and sometimes the worst of us rise to the occasion, but human nature cannot thrive without fortitude. The least likely prospects will often amaze us by suddenly taking a stand, and the most unassuming fellows will prove how bravery has nothing to do with putting on the flashiest show. 

 

Metellus Scipio came from a long line of noble Romans, and yet most accounts paint a very poor picture of him. It seems he was sadly a combination of a crooked politician, an incompetent general, and an intemperate bounder. Upon losing the Battle of Thapsus to Julius Caesar, however, he broke with all his previous habits by taking death before dishonor. 

 

Now he could certainly have turned this into a dramatic effort, as would be fitting for a self-serving schemer, but he instead took a modest and light-hearted turn, suitable to the best of Stoics. 

 

“All is well with the commander!” Indeed it was, perhaps for the first in the man’s life, because he was finally looking to Nature over Fortune! That makes it no less admirable, and perhaps even more so, for there is joy in Heaven over one sinner who repents. 

 

Beyond any of his other failings, I can remember this triumph of Scipio Metellus, and so by his own progress he is now helping me with my own progress, many centuries later. His ancestor, Scipio Africanus, defeated Carthage, while Scipio Metellus eventually defeated himself. 

 

Despite their accidents, the virtues are ultimately alike in their essence. Like many romantics, I may try to convince myself that I live in the worst of times, nostalgically looking back to what I insist were the best of times, though I know that is only my melancholy talking. Any time or place has very many Scipios, and a very few Catos, and all of them have the capacity for excellence. 

—Reflection written in 10/2012 

IMAGE: Andrea Palladio, Scheme of the Battle of Thapsus (1619)