. . . "Who can know this without
having been admitted to its inner mysteries?" Its very outside gives
opportunity for scandal, and encourages men's baser desires. It is like a brave
man dressed in a woman's gown: your chastity is assured, your manhood is safe,
your body is submitted to nothing disgraceful, but your hand holds a drum, like
a priest of Cybele.
Choose, then, some honorable
superscription for your school, some writing which shall in itself arouses the
mind. That which at present stands over your door has been invented by the
vices. He who ranges himself on the side of virtue gives thereby a proof of a
noble disposition. He who follows pleasure appears to be weakly, worn out,
degrading his manhood, likely to fall into infamous vices unless someone
discriminates his pleasures for him, so that he may know which remain within
the bounds of natural desire, which are frantic and boundless, and become all
the more insatiable the more they are satisfied.
But come! Let virtue lead the way! Then
every step will be safe. Too much pleasure is hurtful, but with virtue we need
fear no excess of any kind, because moderation is contained in virtue herself.
That which is injured by its own extent cannot be a good thing: besides, what
better guide can there be than reason for beings endowed with a reasoning
nature?
So if this combination pleases you, if
you are willing to proceed to a happy life thus accompanied, let virtue lead
the way, let pleasure follow and hang about the body like a shadow. It is the
part of a mind incapable of great things to hand over virtue, the highest of
all qualities, as a handmaid to pleasure.
—Seneca
the Younger, On the happy life,
Chapter 13 (tr Stewart)
Even if
the Epicureans had some hidden doctrines that might explain more about their
teachings, a trait that was common to many Greek and Roman schools, Seneca insists
that the outward appearance itself has already done the harm. It has been the
draw of pleasure alone that has attracted followers. It will make little
difference if some virtue on the inside is cloaked in a vice on the outside.
The
analogy of the Galli, the eunuch
priests of Cybele, refers to men who appeared in public like women. This reference
may seem insensitive to our current cultural norms about gender, but a Roman
reader would surely have seen that Seneca was pointing to the contrast between
the external and the internal.
Seneca
summarizes his entire core argument nicely here. Happiness must be something
good in itself, and nothing good in itself would ever do us harm. But pleasure
can do us great harm, and it can therefore never be the end of happiness. Only
moderation can give balance and meaning to our pleasures, and moderation, in
turn, is a part of virtue.
How can we
come to this virtue? It is through the exercise of reason, which can perceive
what is good by understanding the very nature of things themselves. Reason is
the guide, and the passions should follow. Each is a necessary aspect of who we
are, but they are aspects in a proper order.
The very
fact that we are able to reflect upon the meaning of our existence, the nature
of the good life, or the path to happiness is an immediate indication of our distinct
human nature. I am a being with a body, with instincts and feelings, acting and
being acted upon by the world around me. Yet what remains constant and at the
core of that human experience is the power to think and to decide, to not
merely be moved by other things, but to move my own actions through awareness.
We live
in a very appetitive age, with so much of our attention directed at feelings
and images. These are indeed part of our existence, but they are hardly the
whole, and they are hardly the most vital part. A feeling must be measured by right to
be good, and an image must be judged by truth to be understood.
This is
the role of virtue, of excellence in action, which is the fulfillment of a
being with a rational nature. It highlights the critical difference between a
man who defines himself by how good he feels, and a man who defines himself by
how well he acts.
Written in 8/2011
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