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Tuesday, March 7, 2023

Seneca, Moral Letters 44.3


Then who is well-born? He who is by nature well fitted for virtue. 
 
That is the one point to be considered; otherwise, if you hark back to antiquity, everyone traces back to a date before which there is nothing. From the earliest beginnings of the Universe to the present time, we have been led forward out of origins that were alternately illustrious and ignoble. 
 
A hall full of smoke-begrimed busts does not make the nobleman. No past life has been lived to lend us glory, and that which has existed before us is not ours; the soul alone renders us noble, and it may rise superior to Fortune out of any earlier condition, no matter what that condition has been. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 44 
 
We praise all sorts of attributes as desirable, and we speak of how important it is to “breed” them into society. Some wish for us to be physically strong, so we might conquer by force, while others stress intelligence, so we can outwit our opponents, while yet others claim that simply looking attractive enough will provide us with our wants. 
 
When the experts in “science” teach us that the purpose of life is survival and reproduction, is it any surprise that we limit human worth to feeding, fighting, and fornicating? 
 
If a man believes he is just an animal, he will listen only to his appetites. He must consciously reflect upon his reason and his will to recognize why he has been made to be so much more. 
 
Any other human qualities rise or fall with the presence or absence of wisdom and love. The best things that can happen to us, however pleasant or painful, and the worthiest pedigrees we can inherit, however genteel or common, are those that help us to grow in virtue. 
 
A strong arm must be directed by justice. Sharp wits are useless without a moral compass. The fairest form brings nothing but shame when temperance and modesty are lacking. Living longer is not the same as living better, just as passing on the genome is no substitute for nurturing a conscience. 
 
Back in Boston, I knew some blue bloods who looked down at others for not being descended from someone who happened to get rich a hundred years ago, but I also once met an old Austrian aristocrat who laughed at any ancestry that didn’t go back to before the Thirty Year’s War, and here in Oklahoma I now speak to folks who think they’re special for having gone to a certain church for a whole ten more years than the Mexican family down the street. 
 
As comforting as a legacy can be, and as much as it has set the stage, it does not bind me to being this or that. No one else can play my part for me. 

—Reflection written in 2/2013 

IMAGE: Francisco de Zurbaran, Allegory of Charity (c. 1655) 



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