Why is no good greater than any other good? It is because nothing can be more fitting than that which is fitting, and nothing more level than that which is level. You cannot say that one thing is more equal to a given object than another thing; hence also nothing is more honorable than that which is honorable. Accordingly, if all the virtues are by nature equal, the three varieties of goods are equal.
This is what I mean: there is an equality between feeling joy with self-control and suffering pain with self-control. The joy in the one case does not surpass in the other the steadfastness of soul that gulps down the groan when the victim is in the clutches of the torturer; goods of the first kind are desirable, while those of the second are worthy of admiration; and in each case they are none the less equal, because whatever inconvenience attaches to the latter is compensated by the qualities of the good, which is so much greater.
Any man who believes them to be unequal is turning his gaze away from the virtues themselves and is surveying mere externals; true goods have the same weight and the same width. The spurious sort contain much emptiness; hence, when they are weighed in the balance, they are found wanting, although they look imposing and grand to the gaze.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 66
At a number of times during my life, when I was convinced that things weren’t going as they should, I was offered some variation of this saying: “There is always someone better off than you, and there is always someone worse off than you.”
I appreciate how there can be great value in such an observation, for it is pointless to define myself by the degrees of my particular circumstances. Do I believe I am the best, just because I happen to have a big house? Look at that fellow over there, whose house makes mine look like a garden shed. Do I believe I am the worst, just because my boss makes it impossible for me to pay for health insurance? Look at that fellow over there, who can’t find any work at all, and whose child has cancer.
At the same time, however, I must be careful not to take the expression the wrong way. Should I even be speaking of conditions being “better” or “worse”, when they are properly matters of indifference, subject only to preference? What is good or bad in me, after all, does not proceed from the lay of the land; if I feel I can be better, I can start doing that right away, as it is relies only upon the integrity of my judgments.
The meaning might be subtly implied, but once I compare myself to another by means of the worldly accidents, I am overlooking the essence of my nature. It is a form of self-imposed ignorance, and it can easily lead to envy of those who “have” more and disdain for those who “have” less. Why am I at all concerned with being better than anyone else, when each and every one of us can choose to be the best at ruling ourselves? This isn’t a competition.
Since virtue is already the perfection of the rational animal, it is vanity to attempt any further addition—the very act of looking elsewhere would turn away from its superiority, and thereby throw us into a misery of diversions. I must resist the temptation to think of my merit as greater or lesser depending on the presence or absence of comfort and convenience.
Where the good of character resides, happiness follows, and its variety or category makes no difference. I am called to self-control through temperance if I am at a banquet, and I am called to self-control through fortitude if I am on the rack. Whether pleasure or pain are the objects of the experience, the disposition of the subject is the root cause of the excellence.
At a number of times during my life, when I was convinced that things weren’t going as they should, I was offered some variation of this saying: “There is always someone better off than you, and there is always someone worse off than you.”
I appreciate how there can be great value in such an observation, for it is pointless to define myself by the degrees of my particular circumstances. Do I believe I am the best, just because I happen to have a big house? Look at that fellow over there, whose house makes mine look like a garden shed. Do I believe I am the worst, just because my boss makes it impossible for me to pay for health insurance? Look at that fellow over there, who can’t find any work at all, and whose child has cancer.
At the same time, however, I must be careful not to take the expression the wrong way. Should I even be speaking of conditions being “better” or “worse”, when they are properly matters of indifference, subject only to preference? What is good or bad in me, after all, does not proceed from the lay of the land; if I feel I can be better, I can start doing that right away, as it is relies only upon the integrity of my judgments.
The meaning might be subtly implied, but once I compare myself to another by means of the worldly accidents, I am overlooking the essence of my nature. It is a form of self-imposed ignorance, and it can easily lead to envy of those who “have” more and disdain for those who “have” less. Why am I at all concerned with being better than anyone else, when each and every one of us can choose to be the best at ruling ourselves? This isn’t a competition.
Since virtue is already the perfection of the rational animal, it is vanity to attempt any further addition—the very act of looking elsewhere would turn away from its superiority, and thereby throw us into a misery of diversions. I must resist the temptation to think of my merit as greater or lesser depending on the presence or absence of comfort and convenience.
Where the good of character resides, happiness follows, and its variety or category makes no difference. I am called to self-control through temperance if I am at a banquet, and I am called to self-control through fortitude if I am on the rack. Whether pleasure or pain are the objects of the experience, the disposition of the subject is the root cause of the excellence.
—Reflection written in 7/2013
IMAGE: Joachim von Sandrart, Minerva and Saturn Protect Art and Science from Envy and Falsehood (1644)
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