The law of resolve and constancy does not solely require us to protect ourselves, as far as we are able, from the evils and inconveniences that beset us, nor, consequently, to be afraid that they will take us by surprise. On the contrary, all honest means of protecting ourselves from harm are not only permitted, but praiseworthy. And the game of constancy is played mainly by patiently bearing inconveniences, where there is no remedy.
No suppleness of body, nor movement of arms, can be considered bad. Our movements serve to protect us from blows aimed at us. Several very warlike nations used flight as their main military advantage and showed their backs to the enemy more dangerously than their faces. The Turks have retained this tactic. And Plato’s Socrates, mocking Laches who had defined fortitude as standing firm in one’s rank against the enemies, said: “What, he asked, would it be, then, cowardice to beat them by giving them room?” Socrates cites Homer, who praises Aeneas’s skill in fleeing. And because Lachez, reconsidering, attributes this behavior to the Scythians, and generally to cavalrymen, he also cites the example of the Lacedaemonians, a nation above all others skilled in fighting on foot, who on the day of Plataea, unable to break through the Persian phalanx, decided to spread out and fall back, so that their flight would disperse this mass through their pursuit, which led to the Lacedaemonians’ victory.
Concerning the Scythians, when Darius went to subjugate them, he made many reproaches to their King for always retreating and twisting the mêlée. To which Indathyrsez replied that it was not from fear of him or of any other living man, but that it was the way of his nation, having neither cultivated land, nor city, nor house to defend, and fearing that the enemy might profit therefrom. But if he were so eager to bite that he approached to see the place of their ancient graves, there he would find someone to talk to.
However, regarding cannonades, since they are planted as a target, as is often the case in war, it is unwise to break out because of the threat of the shot: especially since we consider it inevitable due to its violence and speed. And there is one who, by having either raised his hand or bowed his head, has at least made his companions laugh.
During the campaign Emperor Charles V led against the French in Provence, the Marquis de Guast performed reconnaissance on the town of Arles, and having blown the cover of a windmill, which he had approached, he was spotted by the Lords of Bonneval and Seneschald’Agenois, who were strolling on the arena stage. The latter, having shown it to the Lord of Villiers, Commissioner of Artillery, he so aptly aimed a culverin that, had it not been for the aforementioned Marquis, seeing the fuse lit, springing out of the way, he almost certainly would have been hit in the body.
And in the same way a few years earlier, Laurens de Médicis, Duke of Urbino, father of the Queen, mother of the King, besieging Mondolphe, a place in Italy, in the lands known as the Vicariate, seeing a piece of ordnance aimed at him, did well to duck. For otherwise the shot, which only scalped the top of his head, would undoubtedly have hit him in the stomach.
To tell the truth, I don’t believe that these movements were rational, for what judgment can you make of the high or low aim in something so suddenly? It is much more likely that fortune favored their fright, and in another time, the correct strategy could turn out to be throwing oneself into the shot instead of avoiding it. I cannot help but shudder if the deafening sound of a musket shot should unexpectedly reach my ears in a place where I should not expect it: this has happened to others who are better than I.
Nor do the Stoics expect that the soul of their sage can resist the first visions and fancies that come to him: they allow him to yield to the great noise of the sky, or of a ruin, for example, to the point of palor and contraction. Likewise with other passions, provided that his opinions remain rational and that the basis of his decision making does not suffer any damage or alteration whatsoever, and that he does not consent to fear and suffering. The same is true of the unwise man in the first part, but quite differently in the second. For the impression of the passions does not remain superficial in him, but penetrates to the seat of his reason, infecting and corrupting it. He judges according to them and conforms to them. See well and clearly the state of the wise Stoic:
The mind remains unmoved, the tears roll empty. (Virgil)
The wise Peripatetic does not exempt himself from disturbances, but he moderates them.