You need not think that none but great men have had the strength to burst the bonds of human servitude; you need not believe that this cannot be done except by a Cato—Cato, who with his hand dragged forth the spirit which he had not succeeded in freeing by the sword.
Nay, men of the meanest lot in life have by a mighty impulse escaped to safety, and when they were not allowed to die at their own convenience, or to suit themselves in their choice of the instruments of death, they have snatched up whatever was lying ready to hand, and by sheer strength have turned objects which were by nature harmless into weapons of their own.
For example, there was lately in a training-school for wild-beast gladiators a German, who was making ready for the morning exhibition; he withdrew in order to relieve himself—the only thing which he was allowed to do in secret and without the presence of a guard.
While so engaged, he seized the stick of wood, tipped with a sponge, which was devoted to the vilest uses, and stuffed it, just as it was, down his throat; thus he blocked up his windpipe, and choked the breath from his body. That was truly to insult death!
Yes, indeed; it was not a very elegant or becoming way to die; but what is more foolish than to be over-nice about dying? What a brave fellow! He surely deserved to be allowed to choose his fate! How bravely he would have wielded a sword! With what courage he would have hurled himself into the depths of the sea, or down a precipice!
Cut off from resources on every hand, he yet found a way to furnish himself with death, and with a weapon for death. Hence you can understand that nothing but the will need postpone death. Let each man judge the deed of this most zealous fellow as he likes, provided we agree on this point—that the foulest death is preferable to the fairest slavery.
Nay, men of the meanest lot in life have by a mighty impulse escaped to safety, and when they were not allowed to die at their own convenience, or to suit themselves in their choice of the instruments of death, they have snatched up whatever was lying ready to hand, and by sheer strength have turned objects which were by nature harmless into weapons of their own.
For example, there was lately in a training-school for wild-beast gladiators a German, who was making ready for the morning exhibition; he withdrew in order to relieve himself—the only thing which he was allowed to do in secret and without the presence of a guard.
While so engaged, he seized the stick of wood, tipped with a sponge, which was devoted to the vilest uses, and stuffed it, just as it was, down his throat; thus he blocked up his windpipe, and choked the breath from his body. That was truly to insult death!
Yes, indeed; it was not a very elegant or becoming way to die; but what is more foolish than to be over-nice about dying? What a brave fellow! He surely deserved to be allowed to choose his fate! How bravely he would have wielded a sword! With what courage he would have hurled himself into the depths of the sea, or down a precipice!
Cut off from resources on every hand, he yet found a way to furnish himself with death, and with a weapon for death. Hence you can understand that nothing but the will need postpone death. Let each man judge the deed of this most zealous fellow as he likes, provided we agree on this point—that the foulest death is preferable to the fairest slavery.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 70
You need not have a squeamish disposition to find this tale disturbing, and yet Seneca presents it as a triumph of the highest order. I admit I had to think the matter through for quite some time before I could even begin to appreciate the courage of this nameless gladiator. As always with anything Stoic, it only becomes possible when the priorities are flipped.
The context is important, for the German’s unsung act is meant to contrast with the celebrated martyrdom of Cato. We may gasp with admiration when we hear of “great men” doing extraordinary deeds, but we believe it impossible for the everyman to be so noble, and perhaps even condemn his brutish ways, while still praising the renowned hero. If Cato fills me with awe, why not this barbarian? If any slave can do it, what is keeping me from being extraordinary in all my ordinariness?
Recall that when Cato pierced his own belly, the wound was not fatal, and so he had to rip out his entrails with his hands. The standing of the man should not be the question, though I am not yet convinced that anyone ever needs to take this path of extreme violence. Might it have been better for Cato, or for the German, to endure humiliation as a captive for the sake of the virtues?
It then occurred to me why it is one thing to bear an evil, and then another to cooperate with an evil, however indirectly. If a self-appointed tyrant, by the sheer exercise of force, commands me to surrender my judgment and to engage in base practices, I am fairly certain I should refuse; the liberty of my conscience is at stake, not just the liberty of my body. Assuming no other option remains open to me, I am free to lose my life before I lose my integrity.
I should not assume that a self-sacrifice is the same as a “suicide”, or that it is necessarily a consequence of fear, or of despair, or even of spite—it can also be a final statement of conviction. To do the right thing, it is better to abandon something lesser for the sake of something greater. Both Cato and the German slave affirmed their ultimate mastery over themselves by firmly denying it to their would-be conquerors.
You need not have a squeamish disposition to find this tale disturbing, and yet Seneca presents it as a triumph of the highest order. I admit I had to think the matter through for quite some time before I could even begin to appreciate the courage of this nameless gladiator. As always with anything Stoic, it only becomes possible when the priorities are flipped.
The context is important, for the German’s unsung act is meant to contrast with the celebrated martyrdom of Cato. We may gasp with admiration when we hear of “great men” doing extraordinary deeds, but we believe it impossible for the everyman to be so noble, and perhaps even condemn his brutish ways, while still praising the renowned hero. If Cato fills me with awe, why not this barbarian? If any slave can do it, what is keeping me from being extraordinary in all my ordinariness?
Recall that when Cato pierced his own belly, the wound was not fatal, and so he had to rip out his entrails with his hands. The standing of the man should not be the question, though I am not yet convinced that anyone ever needs to take this path of extreme violence. Might it have been better for Cato, or for the German, to endure humiliation as a captive for the sake of the virtues?
It then occurred to me why it is one thing to bear an evil, and then another to cooperate with an evil, however indirectly. If a self-appointed tyrant, by the sheer exercise of force, commands me to surrender my judgment and to engage in base practices, I am fairly certain I should refuse; the liberty of my conscience is at stake, not just the liberty of my body. Assuming no other option remains open to me, I am free to lose my life before I lose my integrity.
I should not assume that a self-sacrifice is the same as a “suicide”, or that it is necessarily a consequence of fear, or of despair, or even of spite—it can also be a final statement of conviction. To do the right thing, it is better to abandon something lesser for the sake of something greater. Both Cato and the German slave affirmed their ultimate mastery over themselves by firmly denying it to their would-be conquerors.
—Reflection written in 8/2013
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