Besides, no deed that a man does is honorable unless he has devoted himself thereto and attended to it with all his heart, rebelling against it with no portion of his being.
When, however, a man goes to face an evil, either through fear of worse evils or in the hope of goods whose attainment is of sufficient moment to him that he can swallow the one evil which he must endure—in that case the judgment of the agent is drawn in two directions.
On the one side is the motive which bids him carry out his purpose; on the other, the motive which restrains him and makes him flee from something which has aroused his apprehension or leads to danger.
Hence he is torn in different directions; and if this happens, the glory of his act is gone. For virtue accomplishes its plans only when the spirit is in harmony with itself. There is no element of fear in any of its actions.
“Yield not to evils, but, still braver, go
Where’er thy fortune shall allow.”
You cannot “still braver go,” if you are persuaded that those things are the real evils. Root out this idea from your soul; otherwise your apprehensions will remain undecided and will thus check the impulse to action. You will be pushed into that towards which you ought to advance like a soldier.
When, however, a man goes to face an evil, either through fear of worse evils or in the hope of goods whose attainment is of sufficient moment to him that he can swallow the one evil which he must endure—in that case the judgment of the agent is drawn in two directions.
On the one side is the motive which bids him carry out his purpose; on the other, the motive which restrains him and makes him flee from something which has aroused his apprehension or leads to danger.
Hence he is torn in different directions; and if this happens, the glory of his act is gone. For virtue accomplishes its plans only when the spirit is in harmony with itself. There is no element of fear in any of its actions.
“Yield not to evils, but, still braver, go
Where’er thy fortune shall allow.”
You cannot “still braver go,” if you are persuaded that those things are the real evils. Root out this idea from your soul; otherwise your apprehensions will remain undecided and will thus check the impulse to action. You will be pushed into that towards which you ought to advance like a soldier.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 82
When my heart isn’t really in it, it isn’t really to my credit.
I regularly hear angry old men railing against the plague of modern mediocrity, and I sometimes have to resist the urge to join in on the tirade, but it turns out that my concern is not about a lack of gung-ho patriotism, or a back-breaking work ethic, or the good breeding to wear a suit and tie to the office. No, when I’m having a bad day, I find myself discouraged by the fact that barely anyone I know has a moral backbone.
Despite what the angry old men might say, this is not a new problem. For a fellow to choose excellence, he must also have the option of being downright middling, and given that it is far easier to lounge about than to take a stand, it should hardly be a surprise that people in all times and places are inclined to settling for a sluggish conscience. I should know, for I still cringe at all the times I looked the other way.
And those times when I only did the right thing begrudgingly, grumbling and rolling my eyes, don’t count toward my character. I have not acted with conviction and integrity if I am motivated by fear or lust, and even if nobody else knows it, I still know it, so my list of noble works becomes short indeed.
Though I do not consider myself a Kantian, I can appreciate his point that the greatest proof of virtue is gladly doing my duty when it is the most harrowing and inconvenient. The joy is in the dignity of the deed itself.
Over the years, I have learned that there are many things I will never be good at, however hard I might try. I do not have the body to be an athlete, or the mind to be a mathematician, or the charm to be popular; I am barely competent at a few skills, and inept at very many others.
But before I start feeling sorry for myself, I can remember that there is one thing that is always within my power, and at which I can truly excel, if only I so decide: I can live with the virtues, and there is no one who can take that away from me. Prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice require neither brawn nor brains, just good will and dedication.
If I can do this, I have succeeded in the only way that matters: I have thrived as a human being, by fulfilling my very nature. The key to achieving this is to always be conscious of my true good as a creature made to understand and to love, thereby never needing to fear circumstances like poverty, illness, solitude, or even death itself. Though I might not be charging into battle every day, I will strive to be courageous in my decency. That is more than enough.
When my heart isn’t really in it, it isn’t really to my credit.
I regularly hear angry old men railing against the plague of modern mediocrity, and I sometimes have to resist the urge to join in on the tirade, but it turns out that my concern is not about a lack of gung-ho patriotism, or a back-breaking work ethic, or the good breeding to wear a suit and tie to the office. No, when I’m having a bad day, I find myself discouraged by the fact that barely anyone I know has a moral backbone.
Despite what the angry old men might say, this is not a new problem. For a fellow to choose excellence, he must also have the option of being downright middling, and given that it is far easier to lounge about than to take a stand, it should hardly be a surprise that people in all times and places are inclined to settling for a sluggish conscience. I should know, for I still cringe at all the times I looked the other way.
And those times when I only did the right thing begrudgingly, grumbling and rolling my eyes, don’t count toward my character. I have not acted with conviction and integrity if I am motivated by fear or lust, and even if nobody else knows it, I still know it, so my list of noble works becomes short indeed.
Though I do not consider myself a Kantian, I can appreciate his point that the greatest proof of virtue is gladly doing my duty when it is the most harrowing and inconvenient. The joy is in the dignity of the deed itself.
Over the years, I have learned that there are many things I will never be good at, however hard I might try. I do not have the body to be an athlete, or the mind to be a mathematician, or the charm to be popular; I am barely competent at a few skills, and inept at very many others.
But before I start feeling sorry for myself, I can remember that there is one thing that is always within my power, and at which I can truly excel, if only I so decide: I can live with the virtues, and there is no one who can take that away from me. Prudence, fortitude, temperance, and justice require neither brawn nor brains, just good will and dedication.
If I can do this, I have succeeded in the only way that matters: I have thrived as a human being, by fulfilling my very nature. The key to achieving this is to always be conscious of my true good as a creature made to understand and to love, thereby never needing to fear circumstances like poverty, illness, solitude, or even death itself. Though I might not be charging into battle every day, I will strive to be courageous in my decency. That is more than enough.
—Reflection written in 12/2013
IMAGE: Theodore Gericault, The Charging Chasseur (c. 1812)
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