When one endures torture bravely, one is using all the virtues.
Endurance may perhaps be the only virtue that is on view and most manifest; but bravery is there too, and endurance and resignation and long-suffering are its branches.
There, too, is foresight; for without foresight no plan can be undertaken; it is foresight that advises one to bear as bravely as possible the things one cannot avoid.
There also is steadfastness, which cannot be dislodged from its position, which the wrench of no force can cause to abandon its purpose.
There is the whole inseparable company of virtues; every honorable act is the work of one single virtue, but it is in accordance with the judgment of the whole council. And that which is approved by all the virtues, even though it seems to be the work of one alone, is desirable.
Endurance may perhaps be the only virtue that is on view and most manifest; but bravery is there too, and endurance and resignation and long-suffering are its branches.
There, too, is foresight; for without foresight no plan can be undertaken; it is foresight that advises one to bear as bravely as possible the things one cannot avoid.
There also is steadfastness, which cannot be dislodged from its position, which the wrench of no force can cause to abandon its purpose.
There is the whole inseparable company of virtues; every honorable act is the work of one single virtue, but it is in accordance with the judgment of the whole council. And that which is approved by all the virtues, even though it seems to be the work of one alone, is desirable.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 67
I sometimes catch myself sifting and separating the virtues, in the hope that I might more fully comprehend them, and yet I then fail to put them all back together again. This is a weakness that stems from both too much love of abstraction and too little confidence in my own capacities, for I quickly admire the order of the thinking at the expense of a commitment to the doing.
If I am working on my courage, for example, I will get nowhere without the guidance of wisdom, or if I am trying to practice justice, I must also learn to become a master of my own temperance. The functioning of the whole is in the harmony of all its parts, not merely attending to some, and thus one virtue rightly reflects the integrity of all the virtues.
Now some aspects of virtue may be more noticeable on the outside, even as they are quietly supported by others on the inside. The sort of strength that impresses us, complete with the appearance of clenched fists and gritted teeth, is of little significance, and usually ends up being no more than a show, if it is not an expression of a thorough devotion within the soul. This is sadly why we often confuse an allegiance to principle with the brutality of anger.
What matters far more than taking a stand is what I am willing to bear, and why I am willing to bear it: hence endurance without prudence is more akin to recklessness than it is to fortitude, to stubbornness than it is to constancy. Like the ridiculous bodybuilder who has been so busy developing his massive biceps while neglecting his spindly legs, I am well advised to view my character as a totality.
There is no solution to a conflict with another when I am first in conflict with myself. I do not trust the man who rushes the barricades during the day while cheating on his wife at night, since he is sorely confused about what it means to be steadfast across the board.
I sometimes catch myself sifting and separating the virtues, in the hope that I might more fully comprehend them, and yet I then fail to put them all back together again. This is a weakness that stems from both too much love of abstraction and too little confidence in my own capacities, for I quickly admire the order of the thinking at the expense of a commitment to the doing.
If I am working on my courage, for example, I will get nowhere without the guidance of wisdom, or if I am trying to practice justice, I must also learn to become a master of my own temperance. The functioning of the whole is in the harmony of all its parts, not merely attending to some, and thus one virtue rightly reflects the integrity of all the virtues.
Now some aspects of virtue may be more noticeable on the outside, even as they are quietly supported by others on the inside. The sort of strength that impresses us, complete with the appearance of clenched fists and gritted teeth, is of little significance, and usually ends up being no more than a show, if it is not an expression of a thorough devotion within the soul. This is sadly why we often confuse an allegiance to principle with the brutality of anger.
What matters far more than taking a stand is what I am willing to bear, and why I am willing to bear it: hence endurance without prudence is more akin to recklessness than it is to fortitude, to stubbornness than it is to constancy. Like the ridiculous bodybuilder who has been so busy developing his massive biceps while neglecting his spindly legs, I am well advised to view my character as a totality.
There is no solution to a conflict with another when I am first in conflict with myself. I do not trust the man who rushes the barricades during the day while cheating on his wife at night, since he is sorely confused about what it means to be steadfast across the board.
—Reflection written in 8/2013
IMAGE: Hans Burgkmair, Fortitude (c. 1510)
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