My thoughts have been with the people of Eastern Tennessee this week, as they process the aftermath of the terrifying fire that tore through Gatlinburg. You may have seen this horrifying video of two men who narrowly escaped the hellscape with their lives:
As often happens after disasters of this kind, some Tennessee natives appeared in the online Stoic community asking if the ancients might have had anything specific to say that could be helpful in times like this. It just so turns out that they did:
Our friend Liberalis is now downcast; for he has just heard of the fire which has wiped out the colony of Lyons. Such a calamity might upset anyone at all, not to speak of a man who dearly loves his country. But this incident has served to make him inquire about the strength of his own character, which he has trained, I suppose, just to meet situations that he thought might cause him fear. I do not wonder, however, that he was free from apprehension touching an evil so unexpected and practically unheard of as this, since it is without precedent. For fire has damaged many a city, but has annihilated none. Even when fire has been hurled against the walls by the hand of a foe, the flame dies out in many places, and although continually renewed, rarely devours so wholly as to leave nothing for the sword. Even an earthquake has scarcely ever been so violent and destructive as to overthrow whole cities. Finally, no conflagration has ever before blazed forth so savagely in any town that nothing was left for a second. So many beautiful buildings, any single one of which would make a single town famous, were wrecked in one night. In time of such deep peace an event has taken place worse than men can possibly fear even in time of war. Who can believe it? When weapons are everywhere at rest and when peace prevails throughout the world, Lyons, the pride of Gaul, is missing!
—Seneca, Letters to Lucilius, 91.
You can read the rest of the letter here.