The second class is composed of those who have laid aside both the greatest ills of the mind and its passions, but yet are not in assured possession of immunity. For they can still slip back into their former state.
The third class are beyond the reach of many of the vices, and particularly of the great vices, but not beyond the reach of all.
They have escaped avarice, for example, but still feel anger; they no longer are troubled by lust, but are still troubled by ambition; they no longer have desire, but they still have fear. And just because they fear, although they are strong enough to withstand certain things, there are certain things to which they yield; they scorn death, but are in terror of pain.
Let us reflect a moment on this topic. It will be well with us if we are admitted to this class. The second stage is gained by great good fortune with regard to our natural gifts and by great and unceasing application to study.
But not even the third type is to be despised. Think of the host of evils which you see about you; behold how there is no crime that is not exemplified, how far wickedness advances every day, and how prevalent are sins in home and commonwealth.
You will see, therefore, that we are making a considerable gain, if we are not numbered among the basest.
The third class are beyond the reach of many of the vices, and particularly of the great vices, but not beyond the reach of all.
They have escaped avarice, for example, but still feel anger; they no longer are troubled by lust, but are still troubled by ambition; they no longer have desire, but they still have fear. And just because they fear, although they are strong enough to withstand certain things, there are certain things to which they yield; they scorn death, but are in terror of pain.
Let us reflect a moment on this topic. It will be well with us if we are admitted to this class. The second stage is gained by great good fortune with regard to our natural gifts and by great and unceasing application to study.
But not even the third type is to be despised. Think of the host of evils which you see about you; behold how there is no crime that is not exemplified, how far wickedness advances every day, and how prevalent are sins in home and commonwealth.
You will see, therefore, that we are making a considerable gain, if we are not numbered among the basest.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 75
Well, I would have liked to be in the first class, and I am certain it is not beyond my abilities, but there is still so much more work to be done. I constantly teeter on the edge.
Am I perhaps blessed to be in the second class? Are the worst of the vices behind me? While I would have thought so a decade ago, I now recognize that the most shocking vices are not necessarily the most harmful, for those that creep can be more deadly than those that roar. I believe my simmering resentment is currently my greatest foe, and it is not yet subdued.
I am a mixed bag, and so I recognize myself most in Seneca’s third class. The excesses of my youth have largely faded, thanks to small acts of daily reflection and self-discipline, even as far deeper defects remain. At least I have become acutely aware of them, conscious of how those shifty impulses will not deliver what they promise. I confront them anew every morning.
As helpful as it is to categorize, I sometimes catch myself getting caught up in the technicalities, losing sight of the greater goal. Catalogue it however you wish, but as long as progress is being made, however slow or faltering, I am living as Nature intends. I should not become smug, or rest on my laurels, and neither should I become cynical, or despair about my potential. The work being done is worthy, despite the absence of bells and whistles.
The pessimists will say that no man can be perfect, though I propose that they are working from the wrong standard. No, he cannot be twenty feet tall, with muscles made of steel, and with laser beams streaming from his eyes, and yet what he can surely do is to approach every circumstance with a collected understanding, and to treat every neighbor with a gentle respect.
If he makes an error of judgment, because he is not a god, and his capacities are finite, he will learn from it, and he will correct it. He now comprehends too much to regress. And there you have the virtuous man, fulfilling his natural vocation. The man of character is inspiring rather than stodgy, caring rather than cold.
Because they are made free, as creatures of judgment, people can be remerkably wicked. For this very same reason, they can also be remarkably honorable. Do not underestimate the power of virtue, for while it is subtle, it is also indomitable. The only obstacle to steady advancement is our own thinking.
Well, I would have liked to be in the first class, and I am certain it is not beyond my abilities, but there is still so much more work to be done. I constantly teeter on the edge.
Am I perhaps blessed to be in the second class? Are the worst of the vices behind me? While I would have thought so a decade ago, I now recognize that the most shocking vices are not necessarily the most harmful, for those that creep can be more deadly than those that roar. I believe my simmering resentment is currently my greatest foe, and it is not yet subdued.
I am a mixed bag, and so I recognize myself most in Seneca’s third class. The excesses of my youth have largely faded, thanks to small acts of daily reflection and self-discipline, even as far deeper defects remain. At least I have become acutely aware of them, conscious of how those shifty impulses will not deliver what they promise. I confront them anew every morning.
As helpful as it is to categorize, I sometimes catch myself getting caught up in the technicalities, losing sight of the greater goal. Catalogue it however you wish, but as long as progress is being made, however slow or faltering, I am living as Nature intends. I should not become smug, or rest on my laurels, and neither should I become cynical, or despair about my potential. The work being done is worthy, despite the absence of bells and whistles.
The pessimists will say that no man can be perfect, though I propose that they are working from the wrong standard. No, he cannot be twenty feet tall, with muscles made of steel, and with laser beams streaming from his eyes, and yet what he can surely do is to approach every circumstance with a collected understanding, and to treat every neighbor with a gentle respect.
If he makes an error of judgment, because he is not a god, and his capacities are finite, he will learn from it, and he will correct it. He now comprehends too much to regress. And there you have the virtuous man, fulfilling his natural vocation. The man of character is inspiring rather than stodgy, caring rather than cold.
Because they are made free, as creatures of judgment, people can be remerkably wicked. For this very same reason, they can also be remarkably honorable. Do not underestimate the power of virtue, for while it is subtle, it is also indomitable. The only obstacle to steady advancement is our own thinking.
—Reflection written in 10/2013
IMAGE: Henry Fuseli, Virtue Reclaiming Youth from the Arms of Vice (c. 1807)
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