Seneca, Moral Letters 30.3

I know that all this has often been said and should be often repeated; but neither when I read them were such precepts so effective with me, nor when I heard them from the lips of those who were at a safe distance from the fear of the things which they declared were not to be feared. But this old man had the greatest weight with me when he discussed death and death was near. 

For I must tell you what I myself think: I hold that one is braver at the very moment of death than when one is approaching death. For death, when it stands near us, gives even to inexperienced men the courage not to seek to avoid the inevitable. 

So the gladiator, who throughout the fight has been no matter how faint-hearted, offers his throat to his opponent and directs the wavering blade to the vital spot. 

But an end that is near at hand, and is bound to come, calls for tenacious courage of soul; this is a rarer thing, and none but the wise man can manifest it. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 30 

 

It’s encouraging to learn when I’ve been getting it right, yet it's far more helpful to learn when I’ve been getting it wrong. Despite the temporary displeasure, a course correction is always better at forming my character than a gratifying nudge. 

 

And so I am grateful for a section like this one, where one thing I know is confirmed, and then another thing I had never considered throws me for a loop. Even if the progress is by baby steps, it remains progress. 

 

At the risk of becoming too suspicious, I am careful to note whether the man talking the talk is also walking the walk; I am more inclined to listen to his advice when I can see that he is firmly in the fight, not preaching from the sidelines. I am not yet a pessimist, however, as I will still find myself deeply moved when the courage is sincere because the threat is real. 

 

Considering myself, I see too many instances where I praised the virtues if the going was easy, and then grew silent if the going got tough. Nevertheless, can’t I also find some comfort in the times when I did manage to keep it together at moments of extreme danger? After all, even the wife will thank me for being the sort of fellow who comes through in a crisis. 

 

Let me be mindful. Seneca here offers a further distinction that is readily overlooked: don’t confuse a desperate bravery at the very moment of impact with a disciplined bravery as the impact approaches. In other words, when I believe there is nothing left to lose, fortitude comes easier than when I still believe that something can be salvaged; inevitability has a way of making us say “why not?” instead of asking “why?” 

 

Now of the occasions where I claim I have been daring, how many of those actually had more to do with distress than they did with deliberate choice? Oh dear . . . 

 

A courage like that of an Aufidius Bassus comes from a calm reflection, not from a hopeless panic. The image of the gladiator violently gasping his last breath may seem very noble, but I should pay closer

attention to the example of composed reason in an old man quite content to be drifting away. 

—Reflection written in 11/2012 

IMAGE: Jean-Leon Gerome, Pollice Verso (1872)