Death the Leveller

"Death the Leveller" 

James Shirley (1596-1666) 

The glories of our blood and state

Are shadows, not substantial things;

There is no armor against fate;

Death lays his icy hand on kings:

Sceptre and Crown

Must tumble down,

And in the dust be equal made

With the poor crooked scythe and spade. 

Some men with swords may reap the field,

And plant fresh laurels where they kill:

But their strong nerves at last must yield;

They tame but one another still:

Early or late

They stoop to fate,

And must give up their murmuring breath

When they, pale captives, creep to death. 

The garlands wither on your brow,

Then boast no more your mighty deeds!

Upon Death's purple altar now

See where the victor-victim bleeds.

Your heads must come

To the cold tomb:

Only the actions of the just

Smell sweet and blossom in their dust. 

IMAGE: Clement Auguste Andrieux, Allegory of Death (c. 1860) 

Allegory of Chastity

Lorenzo Lotto, Allegory of Chastity (c. 1505) 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 128

When Providence favors, you can make a safe voyage on a twig. 

Vanitas 76

Johann Friedrich Gruber, Vanitas Still Life with Musical Instruments (c. 1661) 

Seneca, Moral Letters 58.3

For the present, however, we are seeking the primary idea of genus, on which the others, the different species, depend, which is the source of all classification, the term under which universal ideas are embraced. And the idea of genus will be reached if we begin to reckon back from particulars; for in this way we shall be conducted back to the primary notion.
 
Now "man" is a species, as Aristotle says; so is "horse," or "dog." We must therefore discover some common bond for all these terms, one which embraces them and holds them subordinate to itself. And what is this? It is "animal." And so there begins to be agenus "animal," including all these terms, "man," "horse," and "dog."
 
But there are certain things which have life (anima) and yet are not "animals." For it is agreed that plants and trees possess life, and that is why we speak of them as living and dying. Therefore, the term "living things" will occupy a still higher place, because both animals and plants are included in this category. 
 
Certain objects, however, lack life—such as rocks. There will therefore be another term to take precedence over "living things," and that is "substance." I shall classify "substance" by saying that all substances are either animate or inanimate.
 
But there is still something superior to "substance"; for we speak of certain things as possessing substance, and certain things as lacking substance. What, then, will be the term from which these things are derived? It is that to which we lately gave an inappropriate name, "that which exists." For by using this term they will be divided into species, so that we can say: that which exists either possesses, or lacks, substance. 
 
This, therefore, is what genus is—the primary, original, and (to play upon the word) "general." Of course, there are the othergenera: but they are "special" genera: "man" being, for example, a genus. For "man" comprises species: by nations—Greek, Roman, Parthian; by colors—white, black, yellow. The term comprises individuals also: Cato, Cicero, Lucretius. 
 
So "man" falls into the category genus, in so far as it includes many kinds; but in so far as it is subordinate to another term, it falls into the category species. But the genus "that which exists" is general, and has no term superior to it. It is the first term in the classification of things, and all things are included under it. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 58 
 
Yet before Seneca presents the Platonic distinctions, he speaks of classification as a whole, and employs terms that most students of philosophy will be familiar with from the writings of Aristotle: the relationship of genus and species. 
 
Yet again, I could go on for pages and pages about the “five predicables”, and all the logical details about how higher and lower classes relate to one another, but it is sufficient to at least begin with the awareness that we have it within our power to group things according to an orderly hierarchy. For all the variations in the way Aristotle, or Seneca, or the Scholastics employ the language, that basic rule remains the same. 
 
Whenever I find something essentially in common between many different individual instances, I have formed an abstract idea of what is shared. This is the remarkable capacity of the mind, so immediate to our nature while also so deeply profound: to “draw out” the universal identity from a diversity of particulars. 
 
I soon find that this is a sort of sliding scale, in that the breadth of my definitions can be broader or narrower, in which one category will include lesser ones, and it, in turn, will be subsumed into a greater one. On the simplest level, a genus has a wider inclusion, and a species has a more limited inclusion. 
 
Each species is a part of a genus, and that genus is itself a species to a higher genus, and so on. It only stops at either extreme end, when we have reached the most comprehensive category, or we have descended to the most selective category. 
 
Examples, like the ones Seneca offers, always help to make this clearer: 
 
Take the species “man”, or “human being” if you prefer that name. It is part of the larger genus of “animal”, of which “dog” or “cat” are also a species. 
 
“Animals” are then a species of the larger genus “living things”, of which “plants” are also a species.
 
“Living things” are then a species of the larger genus “substances”, of which “stones” are also a species.
 
We can go even further, for “substances” are then a species of the larger genus “being” or “that which exists”, of which things which lack a concrete presence are also a species.
 
When a fine old professor first introduced me to this model in the form of what is called the Tree of Porphyry, it was as if the scales had fallen from my eyes. I had always somehow known that the Universe worked in harmony, while this now aided me in seeing how the parts fit within the whole, how the many branches were joined together by the trunk. 
 
In my own head, I also sometimes imagine it in the form of expanding concentric circles or spheres. We could say that at the center or at the “bottom” are the simplest of particles, and then reaching outward to infinity or at the “top” is the fullness of Being itself, which some of us choose to call God. 
 
It is the role of the understanding to discover purpose in the world, and the Universe is happy to reveal her design, if only we look with clarity and consistency. 

—Reflection written in 5/2013 

IMAGES: examples of the Tree of Porphyry 

The Doings of Death 12

William Strang, The Doings of Death 12: Death the Mourner (1901) 

The Doings of Death 11

William Strang, The Doings of Death 11: Death the Comforter (1901) 

The Doings of Death 10

William Strang, The Doings of Death 10: Death and the Lover (1901) 

The Doings of Death 9

William Strang, The Doings of Death 9: Death and the Artist (1901) 

The Doings of Death 8

William Strang, The Doings of Death 8: Death on the Barricades (1901) 

The Doings of Death 7

William Strang, The Doings of Death 7: Death the Leech (1901) 

The Doings of Death 6

William Strang, The Doings of Death 6: Death and the Robber (1901) 

 

The Doings of Death 5

William Strang, The Doings of Death 5: Death and the Husbandman (1901) 

The Doings of Death 4

William Strang, The Doings of Death 4: Death and the Dancers (1901) 

The Doings of Death 3

William Strang, The Doings of Death 3: Death the Judge (1901) 

The Doings of Death 2

William Strang, The Doings of Death 2: Death the King (1901) 

The Doings of Death 1

William Strang, The Doings of Death 1: Death and the Children (1901) 

The Last Conqueror

"The Last Conqueror" 

James Shirley (1596-1666) 

Victorious men of earth, no more 

Proclaim how wide your empires are; 

Though you bind-in every shore 

And your triumphs reach as far 

As night and day, 

Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey 

And mingle with forgotten ashes, when 

Death calls ye to the crowd of common men. 

Devouring Famine, Plague, and War, 

Each able to undo mankind, 

Death's servile emissaries are; 

Nor to these alone confined, 

He hath at will 

More quaint and subtle ways to kill; 

A smile or kiss, as he will use the art, 

Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart. 

IMAGE: Pieter Bruegel the Elder, The Triumph of Death (c. 1562) 

Maxims of Goethe 26

Piety is not an end, but a means: a means of attaining the highest culture by the purest tranquillity of soul. 

 
Hence it may be observed that those who set up piety as an end and object are mostly hypocrites. 

IMAGE: Giovanni di Paolo, The Sermon of the Hypocritical Priest (c. 1450) 

Chuang Tzu 4.9

When Confucius went to Khû, Khieh-yû, the madman of Khû, as he was wandering about, passed by his door, and said, "0 Phoenix, 0 Phoenix, how is your virtue degenerated! The future is not to be waited for; the past is not to be sought again! When good order prevails in the world, the sage tries to accomplish all his service; when disorder prevails, he may preserve his life; at the present time, it is enough if he simply escape being punished. 

"Happiness is lighter than a feather, but no one knows how to support it; calamity is heavier than the earth, and yet no one knows how to avoid it. 

"Give over! Give over approaching men with the lessons of your virtue! You are in peril! You are in peril, hurrying on where you have marked out the ground against your advance! 

"I avoid publicity, I avoid publicity, that my path may not be injured. I pursue my course, now going backwards, now crookedly, that my feet may not be hurt. 

"The mountain by its trees weakens itself. The grease which ministers to the fire fries itself. The cinnamon tree can be eaten, and therefore it is cut down. The varnish tree is useful, and therefore incisions are made in it. All men know the advantage of being useful, but no one knows the advantage of being useless." 

Seneca, Moral Letters 58.2

It is not in my purpose to show, by this array of examples, how much time I have wasted on the study of language; I merely wish you to understand how many words, that were current in the works of Ennius and Accius, have become moldy with age; while even in the case of Vergil, whose works are explored daily, some of his words have been filched away from us.
 
You will say, I suppose: "What is the purpose and meaning of this preamble?" 
 
I shall not keep you in the dark; I desire, if possible, to say the word essentia to you and obtain a favorable hearing. If I cannot do this, I shall risk it even though it put you out of humor. I have Cicero, as authority for the use of this word, and I regard him as a powerful authority. If you desire testimony of a later date, I shall cite Fabianus, careful of speech, cultivated, and so polished in style that he will suit even our nice tastes. 
 
For what can we do, my dear Lucilius? How otherwise can we find a word for that which the Greeks call οὐσία, something that is indispensable, something that is the natural substratum of everything? I beg you accordingly to allow me to use this word essentia. I shall nevertheless take pains to exercise the privilege, which you have granted me, with as sparing a hand as possible; perhaps I shall be content with the mere right.
 
Yet what good will your indulgence do me, if, lo and behold, I can in no wise express in Latin the meaning of the word which gave me the opportunity to rail at the poverty of our language? And you will condemn our narrow Roman limits even more, when you find out that there is a word of one syllable which I cannot translate. 
 
"What is this?" you ask. It is the word ὄν. You think me lacking in facility; you believe that the word is ready to hand, that it might be translated by quod est. I notice, however, a great difference; you are forcing me to render a noun by a verb. But if I must do so, I shall render it by quod est. 
 
There are six ways in which Plato expresses this idea, according to a friend of ours, a man of great learning, who mentioned the fact today. And I shall explain all of them to you, if I may first point out that there is something called genus and something called species. 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 58 
 
Words can and do fade away, and while this is sometimes just a natural consequence of changing usage, at other times it may reveal that we have also lost hold of the very meanings behind them. If I choose not to think about it, I will also forget how to speak about it. 
 
Within this context, a philosophical term can be quite the double-edged sword. On the one hand, it might appear so abstract and irrelevant to daily life, and on the other hand we still desperately need to address the meaning it seeks. Few things manage to turn people away from philosophy more than the grueling technicalities, and yet without a firm grasp of ideas there can never be a serenity of living. 
 
In other words, I may not wish to slave over the best words for who or what I am, while reflecting upon my own identity remains an absolute requirement for my happiness. Is it possible to be a genuine philosopher without getting caught up in the academic posturing? There’s the rub. 
 
I would suggest that the Stoics, as one movement within what I call a larger Wisdom Tradition, take up the noble challenge of joining sound reasoning to virtuous action. Yes, there will indeed be times when a problem requires intellectual precision, but it will always be intended to aid in the increase of character. 
 
Take, for example, this very letter by Seneca. While the next few paragraphs focus on the nuances of how we can define different aspects of existence, it all eventually leads back to a lesson about learning to master ourselves in everyday circumstances. Indeed, what use would there be to study if it did not make us kinder and better human beings? It sounds so obvious when I say it now, but in the frenzy of false pride it is all too easy to divorce the theory from the practice. 
 
In asking about the term essence, Seneca encourages us to get to the very root of our identity, the foundation of what is real. Without such first principles, however they might be expressed, we have nothing to build on, and so all our later judgments will lack a proper grounding. The conclusion proceeds from the premises, and the premises rely on the clarity of the terms. 
 
Now Seneca introduces a number of concepts here all at once, and the difficulty is that their meanings can be rather specific, and they may change due to the context, and they are often used by different philosophers in markedly different ways. I will resist the temptation to treat this reflection like a formal paper or an involved class discussion, and simply point out that all of them are attempts at isolating the core of something’s being, the true nature of what it is. 
 
When academics use οὐσία, they usually translate it as “substance”, or possibly as “essence”, and when they use ὄν they will usually translate it is “being” or “reality”. We might already find ourselves confused. Having been trained in Aristotle and Aquinas, I am inclined to distinguish between a substance, that which is in in itself and not in another, and the principles of essence, what the thing is, and its actual existence, that the thing is. 
 
The language can get convoluted, and even after all the distinctions, we are still likely to find the words insufficient to get our ideas across. When Seneca proposes the Latin quod est, “what is” or “that which is”, as the closest approximation to what he is looking for, I am content to accept that he is aiming at the basic definition of how and why a thing exists. 
 
Enough of that. Have you ever pondered, whether in a poetic or in a scientific way, what ultimately stands behind any of the “objects” in this world, and what makes them be the way they must be? That is, I believe, what Seneca is pursuing, and it is what any dedicated philosopher must eventually do if he is to be even slightly worthy of the name. 
 
Seneca’s concern is, therefore, how six different senses of existence in Plato’s thought can help us to approach the nature of reality. Yes, it’s rather theoretical for the moment, but the result will also be an insight that can further help us to act with greater virtue. That promise has always been what keeps me going when philosophy feels too abstruse. 

—Reflection written in 5/2013 

IMAGE: Raphael, detail of Plato and Aristotle from The School of Athens (1511) 

The Liberal Arts 16

Jan Sadeler, The Seven Liberal Arts: Astronomy (c. 1570)

 

The Liberal Arts 15

Jan Sadeler, The Seven Liberal Arts: Music (c. 1570)

The Liberal Arts 14

Jan Sadeler, The Seven Liberal Arts: Geometry (c. 1570)

The Liberal Arts 13

Jan Sadeler, The Seven Liberal Arts: Arithmetic (c. 1570)

The Liberal Arts 12

Jan Sadeler, The Seven Liberal Arts: Rhetoric (c. 1570)

The Liberal Arts 11

Jan Sadeler, The Seven Liberal Arts: Dialectic (c. 1570)

The Liberal Arts 10

Jan Sadeler, The Seven Liberal Arts: Grammar (c. 1570)

Delphic Maxims 37

Φίλῳ χαρίζου 

Do a favor for a friend 

IMAGE: Robert Gemmell Hutchison, A Helping Hand (c. 1910) 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 225

As the rainwater from the top of a house may be discharged through pipes having their mouthpieces shaped like the head of a tiger, a cow or a bull, and so forth, although the water does not belong to these pipes, but comes from the heaven above, so are the holy Sâdhus through whose mouths eternal and heavenly truths are discharged into this world by the Almighty. 

Wisdom from the Bhagavad Gita 64

50. Learn from Me in brief, O son of Kunti, how reaching such perfection, he attains to Brahman, that supreme consummation of knowledge. 

51. Endued with a pure intellect, subduing the body and the senses with fortitude, relinquishing sound and such other sense objects, abandoning attraction and hatred; 

52. Resorting to a sequestered spot, eating but little, body, speech and mind controlled, ever engaged in meditation and concentration, possessed of dispassion; 

53. Forsaking egoism, power, pride, lust, wrath and property, freed from the notion of "mine," and tranquil, he is fit for becoming Brahman. 

54. Brahman-become, tranquil-minded, he neither grieves nor desires; the same to all beings, he attains to supreme devotion unto Me. 

55. By devotion he knows Me in reality, what and who I am; then having known Me in reality, he forthwith enters into Me. 

56. Even doing all actions always, taking refuge in Me—by My grace he attains to the eternal, immutable State. 

57. Resigning mentally all deeds to Me, having Me as the highest goal, resorting to Buddhi-Yoga do you ever fix your mind on Me. 

58. Fixing your mind on Me, you shall, by My grace, overcome all obstacles; but if from self-conceit you will not hear Me, you shall perish. 

59. If filled with self-conceit you think, "I will not fight," vain is this your resolve; your Prakriti will constrain you. 

60. Fettered, O son of Kunti, by your own Karma, born of your own nature, what you, from delusion, desire not to do, you shall have to do in spite of yourself. 

—Bhagavad Gita, 18:50-60 

Seneca, Moral Letters 58.1

Letter 58: On being
 
How scant of words our language is, nay, how poverty-stricken, I have not fully understood until today. We happened to be speaking of Plato, and a thousand subjects came up for discussion, which needed names and yet possessed none; and there were certain others which once possessed, but have since lost, their words because we were too nice about their use. But who can endure to be nice in the midst of poverty? 
 
There is an insect, called by the Greeks oestrus, which drives cattle wild and scatters them all over their pasturing grounds; it used to be called asilus in our language, as you may believe on the authority of Vergil—
 
“Near Silarus groves, and eke Alburnus' shades 
Of green-clad oak trees flits an insect, named 
Asilus by the Romans; in the Greek 
The word is rendered oestrus. With a rough 
And strident sound it buzzes and drives wild
The terror-stricken herds throughout the woods.” 
 
By which I infer that the word has gone out of use. And, not to keep you waiting too long, there were certain uncompounded words current, like cernere ferro inter se, as will be proved again by Vergil—
 
“Great heroes, born in various lands, had come 
To settle matters mutually with the sword.” 
 
This "settling matters" we now express by decernere. The plain word has become obsolete.
 
The ancients used to say iusso, instead of iussero, in conditional clauses. You need not take my word, but you may turn again to Vergil—
 
“The other soldiers shall conduct the fight 
With me, where I shall bid." 

—from Seneca, Moral Letters 58 

 
This is surely one of the most philosophically technical letters by Seneca, and while I myself appreciate such subtleties, I can understand why the everyday reader might feel discouraged. Isn’t this precisely the sort of nitpicking and sophistry the Stoic is supposed to avoid? What possible good can come from endlessly debating the minutiae of how we use certain words? 
 
Distinguish. The details do matter, and we will only run into problems if we dwell upon such means at the expense of the proper end. I am interested in the nuances of words as a way to finally become a better man, and I thankfully have little interest in being a professional academic who likes to impress his colleagues with his cleverness. 
 
Surely, we all know that feeling where we have a brilliant idea we wish to share, and yet we can’t find quite the right words to express ourselves properly? In such a case, working on the language is a tool for working on the comprehension, and the comprehension is, in turn, an opportunity to live with integrity and conviction. 
 
Yes, I did immediately look up those terms Seneca discussed, and it took me quite a bit of time to make some sense of them, though I hardly think that time was wasted. Any exercise in the clarity of thought is a boon to working on daily problems, for a good habit prepares us for hardship, and there is no greater preparation for any circumstance than the honing of the mind. 
 
No, I will not share those involved musings; when I am gone, you are welcome to rifle through my messy notes, if the topic truly interests you! 
 
Instead, for the sake of these brief reflections, I choose to focus on the manner in which language is an aid for isolating distinctions, and why distinctions are so necessary for the good life. 
 
When my son started speaking, he regularly ran into the frustration of being unable to get his intentions across. “Use your words, take your time!” his mother would tell him. That is sound advice. 
 
In my own experience, I have noticed a peculiar tendency among intellectuals to believe that they have the right to forcibly modify speech in order to impose their demands. Needless to say, I am not a fan. Language does indeed evolve, but it should do so organically, and never within the limitations of the scientist’s laboratory. We lose our very humanity when we become tyrants about words and thoughts. 
 
Vergil was not a great poet because he submitted to the whims of any fashions, just as Plato was not a great philosopher because he toed the party line. A man should have the chance to think for himself, and so also to speak for himself. 
 
In order to do that well, however, he is obliged to think and to speak with clarity and precision. In what sense do you mean this? How broad or narrow is the definition? How does the particular instance relate to the universal meaning? 
 
Words do indeed matter, in all their complexity and finesse, for they are a mirror of our souls—and souls are meant to embrace the truth by their own slow but steady discovery. 

—Reflection written in 5/2013 

IMAGE: Roman mosaic, Vergil with the Muses Clio and Melpomene (3rd century BC)