Sunday, April 30, 2023
Saturday, April 29, 2023
Aesop's Fables 65
The Fox without A Tail
It happened that a Fox caught its tail in a trap, and in struggling to release himself lost all of it but the stump.
At first he was ashamed to show himself among his fellow foxes. But at last he determined to put a bolder face upon his misfortune, and summoned all the foxes to a general meeting to consider a proposal which he had to place before them.
When they had assembled together the Fox proposed that they should all do away with their tails. He pointed out how inconvenient a tail was when they were pursued by their enemies, the dogs, how much it was in the way when they desired to sit down and hold a friendly conversation with one another. He failed to see any advantage in carrying about such a useless encumbrance.
"That is all very well," said one of the older foxes; "but I do not think you would have recommended us to dispense with our chief ornament if you had not happened to lose it yourself."
Distrust interested advice.
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Sayings of Ramakrishna 206
A: When your egoism will vanish, and your self-will be merged in the Divinity.
Seneca, Moral Letters 47.7
"Do you mean to say," comes the retort, "that I must seat all my slaves at my own table?"
No, not any more than that you should invite all free men to it. You are mistaken if you think that I would bar from my table certain slaves whose duties are more humble, as, for example, yonder muleteer or yonder herdsman; I propose to value them according to their character, and not according to their duties. Each man acquires his character for himself, but accident assigns his duties.
Invite some to your table because they deserve the honor, and others that they may come to deserve it. For if there is any slavish quality in them as the result of their low associations, it will be shaken off by intercourse with men of gentler breeding.
You need not, my dear Lucilius, hunt for friends only in the forum or in the Senate house; if you are careful and attentive, you will find them at home also. Good material often stands idle for want of an artist; make the experiment, and you will find it so.
As he is a fool who, when purchasing a horse, does not consider the animal's points, but merely his saddle and bridle; so he is doubly a fool who values a man from his clothes or from his rank, which indeed is only a robe that clothes us.
No, not any more than that you should invite all free men to it. You are mistaken if you think that I would bar from my table certain slaves whose duties are more humble, as, for example, yonder muleteer or yonder herdsman; I propose to value them according to their character, and not according to their duties. Each man acquires his character for himself, but accident assigns his duties.
Invite some to your table because they deserve the honor, and others that they may come to deserve it. For if there is any slavish quality in them as the result of their low associations, it will be shaken off by intercourse with men of gentler breeding.
You need not, my dear Lucilius, hunt for friends only in the forum or in the Senate house; if you are careful and attentive, you will find them at home also. Good material often stands idle for want of an artist; make the experiment, and you will find it so.
As he is a fool who, when purchasing a horse, does not consider the animal's points, but merely his saddle and bridle; so he is doubly a fool who values a man from his clothes or from his rank, which indeed is only a robe that clothes us.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 47
We can grow quite fond of hierarchies, and while it is good to encourage order and complementarity, we do ourselves no favors by insisting on divisions for the sake of feeling more special.
Snobbery comes in all forms, not just that of the rich and the refined against the poor and the rough. Living in rural Oklahoma, for example, has taught me how redneck pride can be just as exclusive as blueblood conceit. I do not have to look down at another in order to elevate myself.
I should choose my companions at the table wisely, but that does not mean I should make my selections on account of pedigrees or pocketbooks. I will sit down with a man if he is good, or even if he just wishes to be good, and I have little interest in his breeding or his tribal affiliations. As in other aspects of life, the Stoic looks to who you choose to be over what you happen to have.
Once I rub away at the cosmetics or the grime, for there is really little difference between them, I will learn very quickly what a fellow is truly about.
When Seneca advises Lucilius to look for fellow travelers in the humbler places, I feel a pang of guilt, for I spent far too long being impressed by all the wrong people for all the wrong reasons, imagining there was worth where no genuine merit could be found. Beyond wasting my own time, I failed to stand with those who were actually deserving of support.
The best of friends can be found in the most unassuming of places, and the best friendships will transcend the trivialities of color, class, or creed. I care whether a man is honest or dishonest, not whether he was raised uptown or downtown.
We can grow quite fond of hierarchies, and while it is good to encourage order and complementarity, we do ourselves no favors by insisting on divisions for the sake of feeling more special.
Snobbery comes in all forms, not just that of the rich and the refined against the poor and the rough. Living in rural Oklahoma, for example, has taught me how redneck pride can be just as exclusive as blueblood conceit. I do not have to look down at another in order to elevate myself.
I should choose my companions at the table wisely, but that does not mean I should make my selections on account of pedigrees or pocketbooks. I will sit down with a man if he is good, or even if he just wishes to be good, and I have little interest in his breeding or his tribal affiliations. As in other aspects of life, the Stoic looks to who you choose to be over what you happen to have.
Once I rub away at the cosmetics or the grime, for there is really little difference between them, I will learn very quickly what a fellow is truly about.
When Seneca advises Lucilius to look for fellow travelers in the humbler places, I feel a pang of guilt, for I spent far too long being impressed by all the wrong people for all the wrong reasons, imagining there was worth where no genuine merit could be found. Beyond wasting my own time, I failed to stand with those who were actually deserving of support.
The best of friends can be found in the most unassuming of places, and the best friendships will transcend the trivialities of color, class, or creed. I care whether a man is honest or dishonest, not whether he was raised uptown or downtown.
—Reflection written in 3/2013
IMAGE: Pieter Bruegel, The Peasant Wedding (1567)
Friday, April 28, 2023
Stoic Snippets 194
He often acts unjustly who does not do a certain thing; not only he who does a certain thing.
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 9.5
Thursday, April 27, 2023
Stockdale on Stoicism 33
In theory a doctrine of pitiless perfectionism, Stoicism actually created men of courage, saintliness, and goodwill. Rhinelander singled out three examples: Cato the Younger, Emperor Marcus Aurelius, and Epictetus.
Cato was the great Roman Republican who pitted himself against Julius Caesar. He was the unmistakable hero of our own George Washington; scholars find quotations of Cato in Washington's Farewell Address—without quotation marks.
Emperor Marcus Aurelius took the Roman Empire to the pinnacle of its power and influence.
And Epictetus, the great teacher, played his part in changing the leadership of Rome from the swill he had known under Nero to the power and decency it knew under Marcus Aurelius.
—from James B. Stockdale, Master of My Fate: A Stoic Philosopher in a Hanoi Prison
IMAGES: Cato the Younger, Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus
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Dhammapada 308
Better it would be to swallow a heated iron ball, like flaring fire, than that a bad, unrestrained fellow should live on the charity of the land.
Seneca, Moral Letters 47.6
I do not wish to involve myself in too large a question, and to discuss the treatment of slaves, towards whom we Romans are excessively haughty, cruel, and insulting. But this is the kernel of my advice: Treat your inferiors as you would be treated by your betters. And as often as you reflect how much power you have over a slave, remember that your master has just as much power over you.
"But I have no master," you say. You are still young; perhaps you will have one. Do you not know at what age Hecuba entered captivity, or Croesus, or the mother of Darius, or Plato, or Diogenes?
Associate with your slave on kindly, even on affable, terms; let him talk with you, plan with you, live with you. I know that at this point all the exquisites will cry out against me in a body; they will say: "There is nothing more debasing, more disgraceful, than this." But these are the very persons whom I sometimes surprise kissing the hands of other men's slaves.
Do you not see even this—how our ancestors removed from masters everything invidious, and from slaves everything insulting? They called the master "father of the household," and the slaves "members of the household," a custom which still holds in the mime.
They established a holiday on which masters and slaves should eat together—not as the only day for this custom, but as obligatory on that day in any case. They allowed the slaves to attain honors in the household and to pronounce judgment; they held that a household was a miniature commonwealth.
"But I have no master," you say. You are still young; perhaps you will have one. Do you not know at what age Hecuba entered captivity, or Croesus, or the mother of Darius, or Plato, or Diogenes?
Associate with your slave on kindly, even on affable, terms; let him talk with you, plan with you, live with you. I know that at this point all the exquisites will cry out against me in a body; they will say: "There is nothing more debasing, more disgraceful, than this." But these are the very persons whom I sometimes surprise kissing the hands of other men's slaves.
Do you not see even this—how our ancestors removed from masters everything invidious, and from slaves everything insulting? They called the master "father of the household," and the slaves "members of the household," a custom which still holds in the mime.
They established a holiday on which masters and slaves should eat together—not as the only day for this custom, but as obligatory on that day in any case. They allowed the slaves to attain honors in the household and to pronounce judgment; they held that a household was a miniature commonwealth.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 47
When it comes to how those of superior social rank should behave toward those under their authority, Seneca suggest a variation of the classic Golden Rule. The beauty of such a maxim is that it cuts through all the clutter of the circumstances, and it asks quite simply whether I would wish to be treated in the same way I am treating my fellows. If I believe I deserve kindness and concern, why shouldn’t that be true for my brother, whatever his standing in life?
Some people snicker at the Golden Rule, but I should take note of how they usually struggle with the very concept of personal dignity to begin with, whether their own or that of others, and though they might get rich very quickly, they are always intensely bitter and lonely.
Some brush the Golden Rule aside as a merely religious sentiment, and while it is indeed common to all the great faiths of the world, it is also firmly grounded in reason. It flows from the logical principle of identity, such that what is necessarily true for the one instance of a type must also be true for the other. If you and I are both human, and we therefore share the same human good, there can be no differences in our fundamental responsibilities to one another.
If another has power over me, I hope he will exercise it for my benefit. Now what possible excuse can I have to expect otherwise when the roles are reversed? Strip away the accoutrements, and we are all the same underneath.
I will resist the temptation to dwell on any further metaphysical musings. Suffice it to say, on a purely practical level, a man who tries to squirm his way out of the Golden Rule is a man who wants to have it both ways. He believes he has a special dispensation because he will not accept himself as a part of the whole.
Can I perhaps escape such a duty by making certain that no one else ever has any power over me? I am then failing to understand how volatile Fortune will be, and why my own actions, however much they proceed from my own judgments, can never exist outside of a just relationship to what is greater, lesser, and equal to myself.
Once again, Seneca says that the Romans of the past were more capable of living with their slaves rather than lording over them. Now I do wonder why we would even tolerate the institution of slavery if our joined purpose should be one of cooperation instead of exploitation, and I suppose the trick to it would be that any legal theory, however entrenched in custom, could dissolve into a friendship of practice, as soon as we look at one another as people, not as things.
I have absolutely no desire to “own” a slave, yet our own contemporary practices do mean that I can become the “boss,” who has far-reaching powers over the welfare of others. If I find myself in that position, let me use the authority given to me as way to serve before I demand to be served.
I must have been seven or eight years old when I first saw Norman Rockwell’s Golden Rule, for that was a time when such values still commanded a certain respect. As with so many of his other works, it helped me to find comfort in a universal moral law.
A kind school librarian, who I will never forget, noticed my interest, and showed me a photograph of the notes Rockwell had used to help him with the painting.
When we cynically roll our eyes at Rockwell, or Fred Rogers, or classic Westerns like Gunsmoke, we run the risk of losing that critical sense of solidarity.
When it comes to how those of superior social rank should behave toward those under their authority, Seneca suggest a variation of the classic Golden Rule. The beauty of such a maxim is that it cuts through all the clutter of the circumstances, and it asks quite simply whether I would wish to be treated in the same way I am treating my fellows. If I believe I deserve kindness and concern, why shouldn’t that be true for my brother, whatever his standing in life?
Some people snicker at the Golden Rule, but I should take note of how they usually struggle with the very concept of personal dignity to begin with, whether their own or that of others, and though they might get rich very quickly, they are always intensely bitter and lonely.
Some brush the Golden Rule aside as a merely religious sentiment, and while it is indeed common to all the great faiths of the world, it is also firmly grounded in reason. It flows from the logical principle of identity, such that what is necessarily true for the one instance of a type must also be true for the other. If you and I are both human, and we therefore share the same human good, there can be no differences in our fundamental responsibilities to one another.
If another has power over me, I hope he will exercise it for my benefit. Now what possible excuse can I have to expect otherwise when the roles are reversed? Strip away the accoutrements, and we are all the same underneath.
I will resist the temptation to dwell on any further metaphysical musings. Suffice it to say, on a purely practical level, a man who tries to squirm his way out of the Golden Rule is a man who wants to have it both ways. He believes he has a special dispensation because he will not accept himself as a part of the whole.
Can I perhaps escape such a duty by making certain that no one else ever has any power over me? I am then failing to understand how volatile Fortune will be, and why my own actions, however much they proceed from my own judgments, can never exist outside of a just relationship to what is greater, lesser, and equal to myself.
Once again, Seneca says that the Romans of the past were more capable of living with their slaves rather than lording over them. Now I do wonder why we would even tolerate the institution of slavery if our joined purpose should be one of cooperation instead of exploitation, and I suppose the trick to it would be that any legal theory, however entrenched in custom, could dissolve into a friendship of practice, as soon as we look at one another as people, not as things.
I have absolutely no desire to “own” a slave, yet our own contemporary practices do mean that I can become the “boss,” who has far-reaching powers over the welfare of others. If I find myself in that position, let me use the authority given to me as way to serve before I demand to be served.
I must have been seven or eight years old when I first saw Norman Rockwell’s Golden Rule, for that was a time when such values still commanded a certain respect. As with so many of his other works, it helped me to find comfort in a universal moral law.
A kind school librarian, who I will never forget, noticed my interest, and showed me a photograph of the notes Rockwell had used to help him with the painting.
When we cynically roll our eyes at Rockwell, or Fred Rogers, or classic Westerns like Gunsmoke, we run the risk of losing that critical sense of solidarity.
—Reflection written in 3/2013
IMAGES: Norman Rockwell, Golden Rule (1961), together with his typed notes.
Wednesday, April 26, 2023
Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ 3.57
That a man must not be too much cast down when he falls into some faults
1. “My Son, patience and humility in adversities are more pleasing to Me than much comfort and devotion in prosperity. Why does a little thing spoken against you make you sad? If it had been more, you still ought not to be moved. But now suffer it to go by; it is not the first, it is not new, and it will not be the last, if you live long. You are brave enough, so long as no adversity meets you. You give good counsel also, and know how to strengthen others with your words; but when tribulation suddenly knocks at your own door, your counsel and strength fail. Consider your great frailty, which you do so often experience in trifling matters nevertheless, for your soul’s health these things are done when they and such like happen unto you.
2. “Put them away from your heart as well as you can, and if tribulation has touched you, yet let it not cast you down nor entangle you long. At the least, bear patiently, if you cannot joyfully. And although you be very unwilling to hear it, and feel indignation, yet check yourself, and suffer no unadvised word to come forth from your lips, whereby the little ones may be offended. Soon the storm which has been raised shall be stilled, and inward grief shall be sweetened by returning grace. I yet live, says the Lord, ready to help you, and to give you more than wonted consolation if you put your trust in Me, and call devoutly upon Me.
3. “Be you more calm of spirit, and gird yourself for greater endurance. All is not frustrated, though you find yourself very often afflicted or grievously tempted. You are man, not God; you are flesh, not an angel. How should you be able to remain alway in the same state of virtue, when an angel in heaven fell, and the first man in paradise? I am He who lifts up the mourners to deliverance, and those who know their own infirmity I raise up to my own nature.”
4. O Lord, blessed be Your word, sweeter to my mouth than honey and the honeycomb. What should I do in my so great tribulations and anxieties, unless You did comfort me with Your holy words? If only I may attain unto the haven of salvation, what matter is it what things or how many I suffer? Give me a good end, give me a happy passage out of this world. Remember me, O my God, and lead me by the right way unto Your Kingdom. Amen.
IMAGE: William-Adolphe Bouguereau, The Virgin of Consolation (1875)
Seneca, Moral Letters 47.5
But how many masters is he creating in these very men! I have seen standing in the line, before the door of Callistus, the former master, of Callistus; I have seen the master himself shut out while others were welcomed—the master who once fastened the "For Sale" ticket on Callistus and put him in the market along with the good-for-nothing slaves.
But he has been paid off by that slave who was shuffled into the first lot of those on whom the crier practices his lungs; the slave, too, in his turn has cut his name from the list and in his turn has adjudged him unfit to enter his house. The master sold Callistus, but how much has Callistus made his master pay for!
Kindly remember that he whom you call your slave sprang from the same stock, is smiled upon by the same skies, and on equal terms with yourself breathes, lives, and dies. It is just as possible for you to see in him a free-born man as for him to see in you a slave.
As a result of the massacres in Marius's day, many a man of distinguished birth, who was taking the first steps toward senatorial rank by service in the army, was humbled by fortune, one becoming a shepherd, another a caretaker of a country cottage. Despise, then, if you dare, those to whose estate you may at any time descend, even when you are despising them.
But he has been paid off by that slave who was shuffled into the first lot of those on whom the crier practices his lungs; the slave, too, in his turn has cut his name from the list and in his turn has adjudged him unfit to enter his house. The master sold Callistus, but how much has Callistus made his master pay for!
Kindly remember that he whom you call your slave sprang from the same stock, is smiled upon by the same skies, and on equal terms with yourself breathes, lives, and dies. It is just as possible for you to see in him a free-born man as for him to see in you a slave.
As a result of the massacres in Marius's day, many a man of distinguished birth, who was taking the first steps toward senatorial rank by service in the army, was humbled by fortune, one becoming a shepherd, another a caretaker of a country cottage. Despise, then, if you dare, those to whose estate you may at any time descend, even when you are despising them.
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 47
Whenever I find myself griping about how the world has gone to hell, I can always ground myself by turning to the wider perspective of history. This reminds me how human nature, despite its accidental differences of time and place, is essentially subject to the same brilliant highs and disgraceful lows.
A man who acts with Nature rises to the Divine. A man who goes contrary to Nature sinks lower than any beast. It was just as prevalent back then as it is right now. The difference is in each of our individual choices.
Due to its dramatic extremes, Roman history is particularly enlightening, and I might initially be forgiven for thinking it more like a plot from a soap opera than an expression of real life. There I can find all the thrilling examples I need, from profound inspirations to dire warnings.
The story of Callistus, for example, a former slave who maneuvered his way into the good favors of the Emperors Caligula and Claudius, tells me something about how quickly our circumstances can change, and how anxious and miserable we make ourselves by craving fame and fortune.
There had been a time when Callistus was the property of another man, ironically a fellow whose name no one now seems to remember. Sold off as being useless, Callistus had his revenge, for he found his way to civil freedom, and schemed his way into the Imperial household, amassing great influence and wealth in the process. Now he could treat his former master with the same contempt he had once received.
The lesson has two cautions wrapped into one. A former master who has been reduced to being no better than a groveling slave, and a former slave who nevertheless remains chained to his wickedness.
What use is the prominence when the soul inside is still twisted?
If that tale wasn’t enough, Seneca points to Gaius Marius’ purge of Rome in 87 BC, when he executed or exiled so many of his opponents. Marius had himself been banished to Africa, and now his vindictiveness would further prove how nothing in the world of politics is reliable or lasting.
It would be best if I thought of all people as free, as they are by nature, instead of looking to their worldly privileges, which are merely a matter of shallow appearances. I will save myself much trouble if I judge a man by his virtues, not by his position. True freedom or slavery are in the head and the heart, having nothing to do with the trappings of status.
As I think about it, the life of a shepherd, or a caretaker of a country cottage, hardly sounds so bad, since it would permit me to first focus, without diversions, on the task of treating all my neighbors with dignity. Let Callistus have his bribery, let Marius play with power—I seek peace of mind in my conscience.
Whenever I find myself griping about how the world has gone to hell, I can always ground myself by turning to the wider perspective of history. This reminds me how human nature, despite its accidental differences of time and place, is essentially subject to the same brilliant highs and disgraceful lows.
A man who acts with Nature rises to the Divine. A man who goes contrary to Nature sinks lower than any beast. It was just as prevalent back then as it is right now. The difference is in each of our individual choices.
Due to its dramatic extremes, Roman history is particularly enlightening, and I might initially be forgiven for thinking it more like a plot from a soap opera than an expression of real life. There I can find all the thrilling examples I need, from profound inspirations to dire warnings.
The story of Callistus, for example, a former slave who maneuvered his way into the good favors of the Emperors Caligula and Claudius, tells me something about how quickly our circumstances can change, and how anxious and miserable we make ourselves by craving fame and fortune.
There had been a time when Callistus was the property of another man, ironically a fellow whose name no one now seems to remember. Sold off as being useless, Callistus had his revenge, for he found his way to civil freedom, and schemed his way into the Imperial household, amassing great influence and wealth in the process. Now he could treat his former master with the same contempt he had once received.
The lesson has two cautions wrapped into one. A former master who has been reduced to being no better than a groveling slave, and a former slave who nevertheless remains chained to his wickedness.
What use is the prominence when the soul inside is still twisted?
If that tale wasn’t enough, Seneca points to Gaius Marius’ purge of Rome in 87 BC, when he executed or exiled so many of his opponents. Marius had himself been banished to Africa, and now his vindictiveness would further prove how nothing in the world of politics is reliable or lasting.
It would be best if I thought of all people as free, as they are by nature, instead of looking to their worldly privileges, which are merely a matter of shallow appearances. I will save myself much trouble if I judge a man by his virtues, not by his position. True freedom or slavery are in the head and the heart, having nothing to do with the trappings of status.
As I think about it, the life of a shepherd, or a caretaker of a country cottage, hardly sounds so bad, since it would permit me to first focus, without diversions, on the task of treating all my neighbors with dignity. Let Callistus have his bribery, let Marius play with power—I seek peace of mind in my conscience.
—Reflection written in 3/2013
IMAGE: Joseph Kremer, Exiled Gaius Marius Sitting Among the Ruins of Carthage (c. 1800)
Tuesday, April 25, 2023
Sayings of Periander
Yet he is perhaps the most problematic of the candidates for the Seven Sages, a man seemingly racked with contradictions. As such, there was some debate as to whether he was worthy of the title, or if the "wise" Periander might even have been a completely different man that the "tyrant" Periander.
Though known for his sense of justice, he was also said to have been a man with a fierce temper. I do not fret over this too much, since many of the best people I have known have also been those who struggled with the greatest vices. We all do wrong, sometimes catastrophically so, but only some of us learn from our mistakes to increase our virtues.
The story has it that Periander unintentionally killed his wife in a rage, and that this caused a permanent rift between him and his son. This may have led him to such despair that he chose to die anonymously, by means of an odd arrangement:
He did not wish the place where he was buried to be known, and to that end contrived the following device. He ordered two young men to go out at night by a certain road which he pointed out to them; they were to kill the man they met and bury him.
He afterwards ordered four more to go in pursuit of the two, kill them and bury them; again, he dispatched a larger number in pursuit of the four.
Having taken these measures, he himself encountered the first pair and was slain.
Diogenes Laërtius offers this tragic warning from the life of Periander:
Grieve not because thou hast not gained thine end,
But take with gladness all the gods may send;
Be warned by Periander's fate, who died
Of grief that one desire should be denied.
But take with gladness all the gods may send;
Be warned by Periander's fate, who died
Of grief that one desire should be denied.
Some sayings of Periander include:
Practice makes perfect.
Never do anything for money; leave gain to trades pursued for gain.
Those tyrants who intend to be safe should make loyalty their bodyguard, not arms.
When someone asked him why he was tyrant, he replied, "Because it is as dangerous to retire voluntarily as to be dispossessed."
Rest is beautiful.
Rashness has its perils.
Gain is ignoble.
Democracy is better than tyranny.
Pleasures are transient, honors are immortal.
Be moderate in prosperity, prudent in adversity.
Be the same to your friends, whether they are in prosperity or in adversity.
Whatever agreement you make, stick to it.
Betray no secret.
Correct not only the offenders but also those who are on the point of offending.
Maxims of Goethe 7
In the works of mankind, as in those of nature, it is really the motive which is chiefly worth attention.
IMAGE: Karl Bauer, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1920)
Seneca, Moral Letters 47.4
I shall pass over other cruel and inhuman conduct towards them; for we maltreat them, not as if they were men, but as if they were beasts of burden.
When we recline at a banquet, one slave mops up the disgorged food, another crouches beneath the table and gathers up the leftovers of the tipsy guests.
Another carves the priceless game birds; with unerring strokes and skilled hand he cuts choice morsels along the breast or the rump. Hapless fellow, to live only for the purpose of cutting fat capons correctly—unless, indeed, the other man is still more unhappy than he, who teaches this art for pleasure's sake, rather than he who learns it because he must.
Another, who serves the wine, must dress like a woman and wrestle with his advancing years; he cannot get away from his boyhood; he is dragged back to it; and though he has already acquired a soldier's figure, he is kept beardless by having his hair smoothed away or plucked out by the roots, and he must remain awake throughout the night, dividing his time between his master's drunkenness and his lust; in the chamber he must be a man, at the feast a boy.
Another, whose duty it is to put a valuation on the guests, must stick to his task, poor fellow, and watch to see whose flattery and whose immodesty, whether of appetite or of language, is to get them an invitation for tomorrow.
Think also of the poor purveyors of food, who note their masters' tastes with delicate skill, who know what special flavors will sharpen their appetite, what will please their eyes, what new combinations will rouse their cloyed stomachs, what food will excite their loathing through sheer satiety, and what will stir them to hunger on that particular day.
With slaves like these the master cannot bear to dine; he would think it beneath his dignity to associate with his slave at the same table! Heaven forfend!
When we recline at a banquet, one slave mops up the disgorged food, another crouches beneath the table and gathers up the leftovers of the tipsy guests.
Another carves the priceless game birds; with unerring strokes and skilled hand he cuts choice morsels along the breast or the rump. Hapless fellow, to live only for the purpose of cutting fat capons correctly—unless, indeed, the other man is still more unhappy than he, who teaches this art for pleasure's sake, rather than he who learns it because he must.
Another, who serves the wine, must dress like a woman and wrestle with his advancing years; he cannot get away from his boyhood; he is dragged back to it; and though he has already acquired a soldier's figure, he is kept beardless by having his hair smoothed away or plucked out by the roots, and he must remain awake throughout the night, dividing his time between his master's drunkenness and his lust; in the chamber he must be a man, at the feast a boy.
Another, whose duty it is to put a valuation on the guests, must stick to his task, poor fellow, and watch to see whose flattery and whose immodesty, whether of appetite or of language, is to get them an invitation for tomorrow.
Think also of the poor purveyors of food, who note their masters' tastes with delicate skill, who know what special flavors will sharpen their appetite, what will please their eyes, what new combinations will rouse their cloyed stomachs, what food will excite their loathing through sheer satiety, and what will stir them to hunger on that particular day.
With slaves like these the master cannot bear to dine; he would think it beneath his dignity to associate with his slave at the same table! Heaven forfend!
—from Seneca, Moral Letters 47
I appreciate how Seneca says he will not mention the terrible ways masters go about treating their slaves, and yet he can’t resist a litany of their perverse offenses.
I catch myself doing this all the time, and while I wish to avoid pointing fingers and complaining, which will just lead to a greater resentment, there can be something cleansing about getting my troubles off my chest.
As with so many other aspects of life, it’s mainly in the intentions, isn’t it? I should indeed examine a wrongdoing if I wish to learn from it about doing what is right, while I should stay clear of dwelling on the evil if I am inclined to increase the evil within myself.
I know full well which way I am leaning, and I only stumble when I delude myself about my purpose.
I hardly live in an environment of the worst depravity, and I am grateful to be spared so many the horrifying conditions I read about in the news. Nevertheless, a day does not pass where I do not find myself doubting the inherent good of the human condition.
It can have a gradually numbing effect, which, if I’m not careful, will ultimately result in an absolute despair.
How does that man sleep at night after treating his workers like garbage?
Why does that banker continually get away with the most grievous fraud, while the honest family down the street have lost their home?
How much longer must I listen to priests publicly preaching about chastity from the pulpit, while privately groping boys and girls in the confessional?
Those of us who are sensitive, and who attempt to improve themselves, will know that dismal feeling far too well. Those who settle for convenience, by looking the other way, will continue to make the usual excuses.
In order to break out of the cycle, I must reaffirm my commitment to the increase of my character above all else, not merely by brute willpower, but by the subtlety of understanding.
No, I won’t hide away from their vices, nor will I brood over them. I will take note, and I will decide to be a very different sort of person.
That is the calling Providence gave to me. When they do otherwise, Providence still makes use of their failures as opportunities for recovery. Nothing is ever forgotten, and nothing is ever wasted.
The Roman masters wanted their old slaves to look young, and their men to look like women. They wished to be satiated by food and drink at the table, and to be gratified by barren sex in the bedroom. Does that somehow sound familiar?
Whether at the table or in the bedroom, love will be my only law. Who knows, maybe it could catch on . . .
I appreciate how Seneca says he will not mention the terrible ways masters go about treating their slaves, and yet he can’t resist a litany of their perverse offenses.
I catch myself doing this all the time, and while I wish to avoid pointing fingers and complaining, which will just lead to a greater resentment, there can be something cleansing about getting my troubles off my chest.
As with so many other aspects of life, it’s mainly in the intentions, isn’t it? I should indeed examine a wrongdoing if I wish to learn from it about doing what is right, while I should stay clear of dwelling on the evil if I am inclined to increase the evil within myself.
I know full well which way I am leaning, and I only stumble when I delude myself about my purpose.
I hardly live in an environment of the worst depravity, and I am grateful to be spared so many the horrifying conditions I read about in the news. Nevertheless, a day does not pass where I do not find myself doubting the inherent good of the human condition.
It can have a gradually numbing effect, which, if I’m not careful, will ultimately result in an absolute despair.
How does that man sleep at night after treating his workers like garbage?
Why does that banker continually get away with the most grievous fraud, while the honest family down the street have lost their home?
How much longer must I listen to priests publicly preaching about chastity from the pulpit, while privately groping boys and girls in the confessional?
Those of us who are sensitive, and who attempt to improve themselves, will know that dismal feeling far too well. Those who settle for convenience, by looking the other way, will continue to make the usual excuses.
In order to break out of the cycle, I must reaffirm my commitment to the increase of my character above all else, not merely by brute willpower, but by the subtlety of understanding.
No, I won’t hide away from their vices, nor will I brood over them. I will take note, and I will decide to be a very different sort of person.
That is the calling Providence gave to me. When they do otherwise, Providence still makes use of their failures as opportunities for recovery. Nothing is ever forgotten, and nothing is ever wasted.
The Roman masters wanted their old slaves to look young, and their men to look like women. They wished to be satiated by food and drink at the table, and to be gratified by barren sex in the bedroom. Does that somehow sound familiar?
Whether at the table or in the bedroom, love will be my only law. Who knows, maybe it could catch on . . .
—Reflection written in 3/2013
Monday, April 24, 2023
Sunday, April 23, 2023
Saturday, April 22, 2023
Friday, April 21, 2023
Thursday, April 20, 2023
Delphic Maxims 18
Honor Providence
IMAGE: Jacques Boulbene, Providence, Honor, and Vigilance (1595)
The Dance of Death 7
Adrien Dauzats, The Dance of Death (1831)
The Abbey of La Chaise-Dieu in Auvergne has a wonderful fresco of the Dance of Death, dating from c. 1470, though time has not been kind to it, which is in itself another reminder of the fleeting nature to all things.
This 19th century copy, however, does a fine job of preserving some of its original power.
