Edward Burne-Jones, The Flower Book: Love in a Tangle (1905)
The Death of Marcus Aurelius
Saturday, August 31, 2024
Friday, August 30, 2024
Thursday, August 29, 2024
The Flower Book 1
I have long been an admirer of Edward Burne-Jones (1833-1898), and I am always eager to share his beautiful work with others. He speaks to the romantic in all of us, while firmly grounding his art in a deeper philosophical context. There is something remarkably English to his style, which tugs at my heart and stirs up my head.
Toward the end of his life, he worked steadily on a series of small watercolors, intended only for his private enjoyment, which were based on the names of common flowers. Instead of just picturing the plants themselves, he began only with the name, and then depicted a scene to offer a meaning to that name.
The themes are sometimes references to mythology, or to the Bible, or to earlier works by the artist. In some cases, they are quite mysterious, but they all immediately inspire a sense of reflection and of wonder. I always walk away from them a slightly better man, having learned a bit more about Nature and the human condition.
His widow, Georgiana, later published a limited run of facsimiles for all 38 paintings. They are presented here without any commentary—whatever an "expert" has to say may well ruin the pure enjoyment of the images.
—5/2017
Edward Burne-Jones, The Flower Book: Love in a Mist (1905)
Wednesday, August 28, 2024
Dio Chrysostom, On Kingship 1.5
"So with these considerations in mind he despatched Hermes, after instructing him as to what he should do. Hermes therefore came to Thebes, where the lad Heracles was being reared, and told him who he was and who had sent him. Then, taking him in charge, he led him over a secret path untrodden of man till he came to a conspicuous and very lofty mountain-peak whose sides were dreadfully steep with sheer precipices and with the deep gorge of a river that encompassed it, whence issued a mighty rumbling and roaring.
"Now to anyone looking up from below the crest above seemed single; but it was in fact double, rising from a single base; and the two peaks were far indeed from each other. The one of them bore the name Peak Royal and was sacred to Zeus the King; the other, Peak Tyrannous, was named after the giant Typhon. There were two approaches to them from without, each having one. The path that led to Peak Royal was safe and broad, so that a person mounted on a car might enter thereby without peril or mishap, if he had the permission of the greatest of the gods. The other was narrow, crooked, and difficult, so that most of those who attempted it were lost over the cliffs and in the flood below, the reason being, methinks, that they transgressed justice in taking that path.
"Now, as I have said, to most persons the two peaks appear to be practically one and undivided, inasmuch as they see them from a distance; but in fact Peak Royal towers so high above the other that it stands above the clouds in the pure and serene ether itself, whereas the other is much lower, lying in the very thick of the clouds, wrapped in darkness and fog.
"Hermes then explained the nature of the place to Heracles as he led him thither. But when Heracles, ambitious youth that he was, longed to see what was within, he said, 'Follow, then, that you may see with your own eyes the difference in all other respects also, things hidden from the foolish.'
"Hermes then explained the nature of the place to Heracles as he led him thither. But when Heracles, ambitious youth that he was, longed to see what was within, he said, 'Follow, then, that you may see with your own eyes the difference in all other respects also, things hidden from the foolish.'
"He therefore took him first to the loftier peak and showed him a woman seated upon a resplendent throne. She was beautiful and stately, clothed in white raiment, and held in her hand a scepter, not of gold or silver, but of a different substance, pure and much brighter—a figure for all the world like the pictures of Hera. Her countenance was at once radiant and full of dignity, so that all the good could behold it without fear, but no evil person could gaze upon it any more than a man with weak eyes can look up at the orb of the sun; composed and steadfast was her mien, and her glance did not waver. A profound stillness and unbroken quiet pervaded the place; everywhere were fruits in abundance and thriving animals of every species. And immense heaps of gold and silver were there, and of bronze and iron; yet she heeded not at all the gold, nor did she take delight in it, but rather in the fruits and living creatures.
"Now when Heracles beheld the woman, he was abashed and blushes mantled his cheeks, for he felt that respect and reverence for her which a good son feels for a noble mother. Then he asked Hermes which of the deities she was, and he replied, 'Lo, that is the blessed Lady Royalty, child of King Zeus.'
"Now when Heracles beheld the woman, he was abashed and blushes mantled his cheeks, for he felt that respect and reverence for her which a good son feels for a noble mother. Then he asked Hermes which of the deities she was, and he replied, 'Lo, that is the blessed Lady Royalty, child of King Zeus.'
"And Heracles rejoiced and took courage in her presence. And again he asked about the women who were with her. 'Who are they?' said he; 'how decorous and stately, like men in countenance!'
"'Behold,' he replied, 'she who sits there at her right hand, whose glance is both fierce and gentle, is Justice, aglow with a surpassing and resplendent beauty. Beside her sits Civic Order, who is very much like her and differs but slightly in appearance. On the other side is a woman exceeding beautiful, daintily attired, and smiling benignly; they call her Peace. But he who stands near Royalty, just beside the scepter and somewhat in front of it, a strong man, grey-haired and proud, has the name of Law; but he has also been called Right Reason, Counsellor, Coadjutor, without whom these women are not permitted to take any action or even to purpose one.'
"With all that he heard and saw Heracles was delighted, and he paid close attention, determined never to forget it. But when they had come down from the higher peak and were at the entrance to Tyranny, Hermes said, 'Look this way and behold the other woman. It is with her that the majority of men are infatuated and to win her they give themselves much trouble of every kind, committing murder, wretches that they are, son often conspiring against father, father against son, and brother against brother, since they covet and count as felicity that which is the greatest evil—power conjoined with folly.'
"He then began by showing Heracles the nature of the entrance, explaining that whereas only one pathway appeared to view, that being about as described above—perilous and skirting the very edge of the precipice—yet there were many unseen and hidden corridors, and that the entire region was undermined on every side and tunneled, no doubt up to the very throne, and that all the passages and bypaths were smeared with blood and strewn with corpses. Through none, however, of these passages did Hermes lead him, but along the outside one that was less befouled, because, I think, Heracles was to be a mere observer.
"When they entered, they discovered Tyranny seated aloft, of set purpose counterfeiting and making herself like to Royalty, but, as she imagined, on a far loftier and more splendid throne, since it was not only adorned with innumerable carvings, but embellished besides with inlaid patterns of gold, ivory, amber, ebony, and substances of every color. Her throne, however, was not secure upon its foundation nor firmly settled, but shook and slouched upon its legs. And in general things were in disorder, everything suggesting vainglory, ostentation, and luxury—many scepters, many tiaras and diadems for the head.
"When they entered, they discovered Tyranny seated aloft, of set purpose counterfeiting and making herself like to Royalty, but, as she imagined, on a far loftier and more splendid throne, since it was not only adorned with innumerable carvings, but embellished besides with inlaid patterns of gold, ivory, amber, ebony, and substances of every color. Her throne, however, was not secure upon its foundation nor firmly settled, but shook and slouched upon its legs. And in general things were in disorder, everything suggesting vainglory, ostentation, and luxury—many scepters, many tiaras and diadems for the head.
"Furthermore, in her zeal to imitate the character of the other woman, instead of the friendly smile Tyranny wore a leer of false humility, and instead of a glance of dignity she had an ugly and forbidding scowl. But in order to assume the appearance of pride, she would not glance at those whom came into her presence but looked over their heads disdainfully. And so everybody hated her, and she herself ignored everybody. She was unable to sit with composure, but would cast her eyes incessantly in every direction, frequently springing up from her throne. She hugged her gold to her bosom in a disgusting manner and then in terror would fling it from her in a heap, then she would forthwith snatch at whatever any passer-by might have, were it never so little.
"Her raiment was of many colors, purple, scarlet and saffron, with patches of white, too, showing here and there from her skirts, since her cloak was torn in many places. From her countenance glowed all manners of colors according to whether she felt terror or anguish or suspicion or anger; while at one moment she seemed prostrate with grief, at another she appeared to be in an exaltation of joy. At one time a quite wanton smile would come over her face, but at the next moment she would be in tears.
"There was also a throng of women about her, but they resembled in no respect those whom I have described as in attendance upon Royalty. These were Cruelty, Insolence, Lawlessness, and Faction, all of whom were bent upon corrupting her and bringing her to ignoble ruin. And instead of Friendship, Flattery was there, servile and avaricious and no less ready for treachery than any of the others, nay rather, zealous above all things to destroy.
"Now when Heracles had viewed all this also to his heart's content, Hermes asked him which of the two scenes pleased him and which of the two women.
"Now when Heracles had viewed all this also to his heart's content, Hermes asked him which of the two scenes pleased him and which of the two women.
"'Why, it is the other one,' said he, 'whom I admire and love, and she seems to me a veritable goddess, enviable and worthy to be accounted blest; this second woman, on the other hand, I consider so utterly odious and abominable that I would gladly thrust her down from this peak and thus put an end to her.'
"Whereupon Hermes commended Heracles for this utterance and repeated it to Zeus, who entrusted him with the kingship over all mankind as he considered him equal to the trust. And so wherever Heracles discovered a tyranny and a tyrant, he chastised and destroyed them, among Greeks and barbarians alike; but wherever he found a kingdom and a king, he would give honor and protection."
This, she maintained, was what made him Deliverer of the earth and of the human race, not the fact that he defended them from the savage beasts—for how little damage could a lion or a wild bear inflict?—nay, it was the fact that he chastised savage and wicked men, and crushed and destroyed the power of overweening tyrants. And even to this day Heracles continues this work and you have in him a helper and protector of your government as long as it is vouchsafed you to reign.
Tuesday, August 27, 2024
Dio Chrysostom, On Kingship 1.4
"Demanding crusts, not caldrons fine or swords."
At last I arrived in the Peloponnesus, and keeping quite aloof from the cities, spent my time in the country, as being quite well worth study, mingling with herdsmen and hunters, an honest folk of simple habits. As I walked along the Alpheus on my way from Heraea to Pisa, I succeeded in finding the road for some distance, but all at once I got into some wood land and rough country, where a number of trails led to sundry herds and flocks, without meeting anybody or being able to inquire my way. So I lost my direction, and at high noon was quite astray.
But noticing on a high knoll a clump of oaks that looked like a sacred grove, I made my way thither in the hope of discovering from it some roadway or house. There I found blocks of stone set roughly together, hanging pelts of animals that had been sacrificed, and a number of clubs and staves—all evidently being dedications of herdsmen. At a little distance I saw a woman sitting, strong and tall though rather advanced in years, dressed like a rustic and with some braids of grey hair falling about her shoulders.
Of her I made full inquiry about the place, and she most graciously and kindly, speaking in the Dorian dialect, informed me that it was sacred to Heracles and, regarding herself, that she had a son, a shepherd, whose sheep she often tendered herself. She also said that the Mother of the Gods had given her the gift of divination and that all the herdsmen and farmers round about consulted her on the raising and preservation of their crops and cattle.
"And you too," she continued, "have come into this place by no mere human chance, for I shall not let you depart unblest."
Thereupon she at once began to prophesy, saying that the period of my wandering and tribulation would not be long, nay, nor that of mankind at large. The manner of her prophesying was not that of most men and women who are said to be inspired; she did not gasp for breath, whirl her head about, or try to terrify with her glances, but spoke with entire self-control and moderation.
"Someday," she said, "you will meet a mighty man, the ruler of very many lands and peoples. Do not hesitate to tell him this tale of mine even if there be those who will ridicule you for a prating vagabond. For the words of men and all their subtleties are as naught in comparison with the inspiration and speech due to the promptings of the gods. Indeed, of all the words of wisdom and truth current among men about the gods and the Universe, none have ever found lodgment in the souls of men except by the will and ordering of heaven and through the lips of the prophets and holy men of old.
"For instance, they say there once lived in Thrace a certain Orpheus, a Muse's son; and on a certain mountain of Boeotia another, a shepherd who heard the voices of the Muses themselves. Those teachers, on the other hand, who without divine possession and inspiration have circulated as true stories born of their own imaginings are presumptuous and wicked.
"Hear, therefore, the following tale and listen with vigilance and attention that you may remember it clearly and pass it on to that man whom I say you will meet. It has to do with this god in whose presence we now are.
"Hear, therefore, the following tale and listen with vigilance and attention that you may remember it clearly and pass it on to that man whom I say you will meet. It has to do with this god in whose presence we now are.
"Heracles was, as all men agree, the son of Zeus and Alcmene, and he was king not only of Argos but of all Greece. (Most people, however, do not know that Heracles was continually absent from Argos because he was engaged in making expeditions and defending his kingdom, but they assert that Eurystheus was king at this time. These, however, are but their idle tales.) And he was not only king of Greece, but also held empire over every land from the rising of the sun to the setting thereof, aye, over all peoples where are found shrines of Heracles. He had a simple education too, with none of the elaboration and superfluity devised by the unscrupulous cleverness of contemptible men.
"This, also, is told of Heracles: that he went unclothed and unarmed except for a lion's skin and a club, and they add that he did not set great store by gold or silver or fine raiment, but considered all such things worth nothing save to be given away and bestowed upon others. At any rate he made presents to many men, not only of money without limit and lands and herds of horses and cattle, but also of whole kingdoms and cities. For he fully believed that everything belonged to him exclusively and that gifts bestowed would call out the good-will of the recipients.
"This, also, is told of Heracles: that he went unclothed and unarmed except for a lion's skin and a club, and they add that he did not set great store by gold or silver or fine raiment, but considered all such things worth nothing save to be given away and bestowed upon others. At any rate he made presents to many men, not only of money without limit and lands and herds of horses and cattle, but also of whole kingdoms and cities. For he fully believed that everything belonged to him exclusively and that gifts bestowed would call out the good-will of the recipients.
"Another story which men tell is untrue: that he actually went about alone without an army. For it is not possible to overturn cities, cast down tyrants, and to dictate to the whole world without armed forces. It is only because, being self-reliant, zealous of soul, and competent in body, he surpassed all men in labor, that the story arose that he travelled alone and accomplished single-handed whatsoever he desired.
"Moreover, his father took great pains with him, implanting in him noble impulses and bringing him into the fellowship of good men. He would also give him guidance for each and every enterprise through birds and burnt offerings and every other kind of divination.
"And when he saw that the lad wished to be a ruler, not through desire for pleasure and personal gain, which leads most men to love power, but that he might be able to do the greatest good to the greatest number, he recognized that his son was naturally of noble parts, and yet suspected how much in him was mortal and thought of the many baneful examples of luxurious and licentious living among mankind, and of the many men there were to entice a youth of fine natural qualities away from his true nature and his principles even against his will."
Monday, August 26, 2024
Dio Chrysostom, On Kingship 1.3
Indeed, this is Homer's reason for calling true kings "Zeus-nurtured" and "like Zeus in counsel"; and Minos, who had the greatest name for righteousness, he declared was a companion of Zeus. In fact, it stands to reason that practically all the kings among Greeks or barbarians who have proved themselves not unworthy of this title have been disciples and emulators of this god.
For Zeus alone of the gods has the epithets of "Father" and "King," "Protector of Cities," "Lord of Friends and Comrades," "Guardian of the Race," and also "Protector of Suppliants," "God of Refuge," and "God of Hospitality," these and his countless other titles signifying goodness and the fount of goodness.
He is addressed as "King" because of his dominion and power; as "Father," I ween, on account of his solicitude and gentleness; as "Protector of Cities" in that he upholds the law and the commonweal; as "Guardian of the Race" on account of the tie of kinship which unites gods and men; as "Lord of Friends and Comrades" because he brings all men together and wills that they be friendly to one another and never enemy or foe; as "Protector of Suppliants" since he inclines his ear and is gracious to men when they pray; as "God of Refuge" because he gives refuge from evil; as "God of Hospitality" because it is the very beginning of friendship not to be unmindful of strangers or to regard any human being as an alien; and as "God of Wealth and Increase" since he causes all fruitage and is the giver of wealth and substance, not of poverty and want. For all these functions must at the outset be inherent in the royal function and title.
I might well speak next of the administration of the Universe and tell how the world—the very embodiment of bliss and wisdom—ever sweeps along through infinite time in infinite cycles without cessation, guided by good fortune and a like power divine, and by foreknowledge and a governing purpose most righteous and perfect, and renders us like itself since, in consequence of the mutual kinship of ourselves and it, we are marshaled in order under one ordinance and law and partake of the same polity.
He who honors and upholds this polity and does not oppose it in any way is law-abiding, devout and orderly; he, however, who disturbs it, as far as that is possible to him, and violates it or does not know it, is lawless and disorderly, whether he be called a private citizen or a ruler, although the offense on the part of the ruler is far greater and more evident to all.
Therefore, just as among generals and commanders of legions, cities or provinces, he who most closely imitates your ways and shows the greatest possible conformity with your habits would be by far your dearest comrade and friend, while he who showed antagonism or lacked conformity would justly incur censure and disgrace and, being speedily removed from his office as well, would give way to better men better qualified to govern; so too among kings, since they, I ween, derive their powers and their stewardship from Zeus; the one who, keeping his eyes upon Zeus, orders and governs his people with justice and equity in accordance with the laws and ordinances of Zeus, enjoys a happy lot and a fortunate end, while he who goes astray and dishonors him who entrusted him with his stewardship or gave him this gift, receives no other reward from his great authority and power than merely this: that he has shown himself to all men of his own time and to posterity to be a wicked and undisciplined man, illustrating the storied end of Phaethon, who mounted a mighty chariot of heaven in defiance of his lot but proved himself a feeble charioteer.
In somewhat this wise Homer too speaks when he says:
"Whoso bears
A cruel heart, devising cruel things,
On him men call down evil from gods
While living, and pursue him, when he dies,
With scoffs. But whoso is of generous heart
And harbors generous aims, his guests proclaim
His praises far and wide to all mankind,
And numberless are they who call him good."
A cruel heart, devising cruel things,
On him men call down evil from gods
While living, and pursue him, when he dies,
With scoffs. But whoso is of generous heart
And harbors generous aims, his guests proclaim
His praises far and wide to all mankind,
And numberless are they who call him good."
For my part, I should be most happy and eager, as I have said, to speak on this subject—on Zeus and the nature of the Universe. But since it is altogether too vast a theme for the time now at my command and requires a somewhat careful demonstration, perhaps in the future there may be leisure for its presentation.
But if you would like to hear a myth, or rather a sacred and withal edifying parable told under the guise of a myth, perhaps a story which I once heard an old woman of Elis or Arcadia relate about Heracles will not appear to you out of place, either now or hereafter when you come to ponder it alone.
Sunday, August 25, 2024
Dio Chrysostom, On Kingship 1.2
Homer, too, in agreement with all other wise and truthful men, says that no wicked or licentious or avaricious person can ever become a competent ruler or master either of himself or of anybody else, nor will such a man ever be a king even though all the world, both Greeks and barbarians, men and women, affirm the contrary, yea, though not only men admire and obey him, but the birds of the air and the wild beasts on the mountains no less than men submit to him and do his bidding.
Let me speak, then, of the king as Homer conceives him, of him who is in very truth a king; for this discourse of mine, delivered in all simplicity without any flattery or abuse, of itself discerns the king that is like the good one, and commends him in so far as he is like him, while the one who is unlike him it exposes and rebukes.
Let me speak, then, of the king as Homer conceives him, of him who is in very truth a king; for this discourse of mine, delivered in all simplicity without any flattery or abuse, of itself discerns the king that is like the good one, and commends him in so far as he is like him, while the one who is unlike him it exposes and rebukes.
Such a king is, in the first place, regardful of the gods and holds the divine in honor. For it is impossible that the just and good man should repose greater confidence in any other being than in the supremely just and good—the gods. He, however, who, being wicked, imagines that he at any time pleases the gods, in that very assumption lacks piety, for he has assumed that the deity is either foolish or evil.
Next after the gods the good king has regard for his fellow-men; he honors and loves the good, yet extends his care to all. Now who takes better care of a herd of cattle than does the herdsman? Who is more helpful and better to flocks of sheep than a shepherd? Who is a truer lover of horses than he who controls the greatest number of horses and derives the greatest benefit from horses? And so who is presumably as great a lover of his fellow-man as he who exercises authority over the greatest number of men and enjoys the highest admiration of men?
For it would be strange if men governing beasts, wild and of another blood than theirs, prove more kindly to these their dependents than a monarch to civilized men who are of the same flesh and blood as himself. And further, cattle love their keepers best and are most submissive to them; the same is true of horses and their drivers; hunters are protected and loved by their dogs, and in the same way other subject creatures love their masters.
How then would it be conceivable that, while beings devoid of intelligence and reason recognize and love those who care for them, that creature which is by far the most intelligent and best understands how to repay kindness with gratitude should fail to recognize, nay, should even plot against, its friends? No indeed! For of necessity the kindly and humane king is not only beloved but even adored by his fellow-men. And because he knows this and is by nature so inclined, he displays a soul benignant and gentle towards all, inasmuch as he regards all as loyal and as his friends.
The good king also believes it to be due to his position to have the larger portion, not of wealth or of pleasures, but of painstaking care and anxieties; hence he is actually more fond of toil than many others are of pleasure or of wealth. For he knows that pleasure, in addition to the general harm it does to those who constantly indulge therein, also quickly renders them incapable of pleasure, whereas toil, besides conferring other benefits, continually increases a man's capacity for toil.
He alone, therefore, may call his soldiers "fellow-soldiers" and his associates "friends" without making mockery of the word friendship; and not only may he be called by the title "Father" of his people and his subjects, but he may justify the title by his deeds. In the title "master," however, he can take no delight, nay, not even in relation to his slaves, much less to his free subjects; for he looks upon himself as being king, not for the sake of his individual self, but for the sake of all men.
Therefore he finds greater pleasure in conferring benefits than those benefited do in receiving them, and in this one pleasure he is insatiable. For the other functions of royalty he regards as obligatory; that of benefaction alone he considers both voluntary and blessed. Blessings he dispenses with the most lavish hand, as though the supply were inexhaustible; but of anything hurtful, on the contrary, he can no more be the cause than the sun can be the cause of darkness.
Therefore he finds greater pleasure in conferring benefits than those benefited do in receiving them, and in this one pleasure he is insatiable. For the other functions of royalty he regards as obligatory; that of benefaction alone he considers both voluntary and blessed. Blessings he dispenses with the most lavish hand, as though the supply were inexhaustible; but of anything hurtful, on the contrary, he can no more be the cause than the sun can be the cause of darkness.
Men who have seen and associated with him are loath to leave him, while those who know him only by hearsay are more eager to see him than children are to find their unknown fathers. His enemies fear him, and no one acknowledges himself his foe; but his friends are full of courage, and those exceeding near unto him deem themselves of all men most secure. They who come into his presence and behold him feel neither terror nor fear; but into their hearts creeps a feeling of profound respect, something much stronger and more powerful than fear. For those who fear must inevitably hate and want to escape; those who feel respect must linger and admire.
He holds that sincerity and truthfulness are qualities befitting a king and a prudent man, while unscrupulousness and deceit are for the fool and the slave, for he observes that among the wild beasts also it is the most cowardly and ignoble which surpass all the rest in lying and deceiving.
Though naturally covetous of honor, and knowing that it is the good that men are prone to honor, he has less hope of winning honor from the unwilling than he has of gaining the friendship of those who hate him.
He is warlike to the extent that the making of war rests with him, and peaceful to the extent that there is nothing left worth his fighting for. For assuredly he is well aware that they who are best prepared for war have it most in their power to live in peace.
He is also by nature fond of his companions, fellow-citizens, and soldiers in like measure; for a ruler who is suspicious of the military and has never or rarely seen those who face peril and hardship in support of his kingdom, but continually flatters the unprofitable and unarmed masses, is like a shepherd who does not know those who help him to keep guard, never proffers them food, and never shares the watch with them; for such a man tempts not only the wild beasts, but even his own dogs, to prey upon the fold.
He holds that sincerity and truthfulness are qualities befitting a king and a prudent man, while unscrupulousness and deceit are for the fool and the slave, for he observes that among the wild beasts also it is the most cowardly and ignoble which surpass all the rest in lying and deceiving.
Though naturally covetous of honor, and knowing that it is the good that men are prone to honor, he has less hope of winning honor from the unwilling than he has of gaining the friendship of those who hate him.
He is warlike to the extent that the making of war rests with him, and peaceful to the extent that there is nothing left worth his fighting for. For assuredly he is well aware that they who are best prepared for war have it most in their power to live in peace.
He is also by nature fond of his companions, fellow-citizens, and soldiers in like measure; for a ruler who is suspicious of the military and has never or rarely seen those who face peril and hardship in support of his kingdom, but continually flatters the unprofitable and unarmed masses, is like a shepherd who does not know those who help him to keep guard, never proffers them food, and never shares the watch with them; for such a man tempts not only the wild beasts, but even his own dogs, to prey upon the fold.
He, on the contrary, who pampers his soldiers by not drilling them or encouraging them to work hard and, at the same time, evinces no concern for the people at large, is like a ship-captain who demoralizes his crew with surfeit of food and noonday sleep and takes no thought for his passengers or for his ship as it goes to ruin. And yet if one is above reproach in these two matters, but fails to honor those who are close to him and are called his friends, and does not see to it that they are looked upon by all men as blessed and objects of envy, he becomes a traitor to himself and his kingdom ere he is aware by disheartening those who are his friends and suffering nobody else to covet his friendship and by robbing himself of that noblest and most profitable possession: friendship.
For who is more indefatigable in toil, when there is occasion for toil, than a friend? Who is readier to rejoice in one's good fortune? Whose praise is sweeter than that of friends? From whose lips does one learn the truth with less pain? What fortress, what bulwarks, what arms are more steadfast or better than the protection of loyal hearts? For whatever is the number of comrades one has acquired, so many are the eyes with which he can see what he wishes, so many the ears with which he can hear what he needs to hear, so many the minds with which he can take thought concerning his welfare. Indeed, it is exactly as if a god had given him, along with his one body, a multitude of souls all full of concern in his behalf.
But I will pass over most of the details and give the clearest mark of a true king: he is one whom all good men can praise without compunction not only during his life but even afterwards. And yet, even so, he does not himself covet the praise of the vulgar and the loungers about the marketplace, but only that of the free-born and noble, men who would prefer to die rather than be guilty of falsehood.
But I will pass over most of the details and give the clearest mark of a true king: he is one whom all good men can praise without compunction not only during his life but even afterwards. And yet, even so, he does not himself covet the praise of the vulgar and the loungers about the marketplace, but only that of the free-born and noble, men who would prefer to die rather than be guilty of falsehood.
Who, therefore, would not account such a man and such a life blessed? From what remote lands would men not come to see him and to profit from his honorable and upright character? What spectacle is more impressive than that of a noble and diligent king? What can give greater pleasure than a gentle and kindly ruler who desires to serve all and has it in his power so to do? What is more profitable than an equitable and just king? Whose life is safer than his whom all alike protect, whose is happier than his who esteems no man an enemy, and whose is freer from vexation than his who has no cause to blame himself? Who is more fortunate, too, than that man whose goodness is known of all?
In plain and simple language I have described the good king. If any of his attributes seem to belong to you, happy are you in your gracious and excellent nature, and happy are we who share its blessings with you.
In plain and simple language I have described the good king. If any of his attributes seem to belong to you, happy are you in your gracious and excellent nature, and happy are we who share its blessings with you.
Saturday, August 24, 2024
Dio Chrysostom, On Kingship 1.1
They say, too, that Alexander at once bounded to his feet and ran for his arms like one possessed, such was the exaltation produced in him by the tones of the music and the rhythmic beat of the rendering. The reason why he was so affected was not so much the power of the music as the temperament of the king, which was high-strung and passionate.
Sardanapallus, for example, would never have been aroused to leave his chamber and the company of his women even by Marsyas himself or by Olympus, much less by Timotheus or any other of the later artists; nay, I believe that had even Athena herself—were such a thing possible—performed for him her own measure, that king would never have laid hand to arms, but would have been much more likely to leap up and dance a fling or else take to his heels; to so depraved a condition had unlimited power and indulgence brought him.
In like manner it may fairly be demanded of me that I should show myself as skillful in my province as a master flautist may be in his, and that I should find words which shall be no whit less potent than his notes to inspire courage and high-mindedness—words, moreover, not set to a single mood but at once vigorous and gentle, challenging to war yet also speaking of peace, obedience to law, and true kingliness, inasmuch as they are addressed to one who is disposed, methinks, to be not only a brave but also a law-abiding ruler, one who needs not only high courage but high sense of right also.
In like manner it may fairly be demanded of me that I should show myself as skillful in my province as a master flautist may be in his, and that I should find words which shall be no whit less potent than his notes to inspire courage and high-mindedness—words, moreover, not set to a single mood but at once vigorous and gentle, challenging to war yet also speaking of peace, obedience to law, and true kingliness, inasmuch as they are addressed to one who is disposed, methinks, to be not only a brave but also a law-abiding ruler, one who needs not only high courage but high sense of right also.
If, for instance, the skill which Timotheus possessed in performing a warlike strain had been matched by the knowledge of such a composition as could make the soul just and prudent and temperate and humane, and could arouse a man not merely to take up arms but also to follow peace and concord, to honor the gods and to have consideration for men, it would have been a priceless boon to Alexander to have that man live with him as a companion, and to play for him, not only when he sacrificed but at other times also: when, for example, he would give way to unreasoning grief regardless of propriety and decorum, or would punish more severely than custom or fairness allowed, or would rage fiercely at his own friends and comrades or disdain his mortal and real parents.
But unfortunately, skill and proficiency in music cannot provide perfect healing and complete relief for defect of character. No indeed! To quote the poet:
"E'en to Asclepius' sons granted not god this boon."
Nay, it is only the spoken word of the wise and prudent, such as were most men of earlier times, that can prove a competent and perfect guide and helper of a man endowed with a tractable and virtuous nature, and can lead it toward all excellence by fitting encouragement and direction.
What subject, then, will clearly be appropriate and worthy of a man of your earnestness, and where shall I find words so nearly perfect, mere wanderer that I am and self-taught philosopher, who find what happiness I can in toil and labor for the most part and employ eloquence only for the encouragement of myself and such others as I meet from time to time? My case is like that of men who in moving or shifting a heavy load beguile their labor by softly chanting or singing a tune—mere toilers that they are and not bards or poets of song.
What subject, then, will clearly be appropriate and worthy of a man of your earnestness, and where shall I find words so nearly perfect, mere wanderer that I am and self-taught philosopher, who find what happiness I can in toil and labor for the most part and employ eloquence only for the encouragement of myself and such others as I meet from time to time? My case is like that of men who in moving or shifting a heavy load beguile their labor by softly chanting or singing a tune—mere toilers that they are and not bards or poets of song.
Many, however, are the themes of philosophy, and all are worth hearing and marvelously profitable for any who listen with more than casual attention; but since we have found as our hearer one who is near at hand and ready eagerly to grasp our words, we must summon to our aid Persuasion, the Muses, and Apollo, and pursue our task with the greatest possible devotion.
Let me state, then, what are the characteristics and disposition of the ideal king, summarizing them as briefly as possible—the king
"to whom the son
Of Saturn gives the scepter, making him
The lawgiver, that he may rule the rest."
The lawgiver, that he may rule the rest."
—all of these passages are taken from the translations of Dio Chrysostom's Discourses by J. W. Cohoon and H. Lamar Crosby (1932-1951).
IMAGE: The Emperor Trajan, to whom Dio Chrysostom presented this Discourse
Friday, August 23, 2024
Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 4.23
M. We ought to hold all things here in contempt; death is to be looked on with indifference; pains and labors must be considered as easily supportable. And when these sentiments are established on judgment and conviction, then will that stout and firm courage take place; unless you attribute to anger whatever is done with vehemence, alacrity, and spirit.
To me, indeed, that very Scipio who was chief priest, that favorer of the saying of the Stoics, “That no private man could be a wise man,” does not seem to be angry with Tiberius Gracchus, even when he left the consul in a hesitating frame of mind, and, though a private man himself, commanded, with the authority of a consul, that all who meant well to the republic should follow him.
I do not know whether I have done anything in the republic that has the appearance of courage; but if I have, I certainly did not do it in wrath. Does anything come nearer madness than anger? And indeed, Ennius has well defined it as the beginning of madness. The changing color, the alteration of our voice, the look of our eyes, our manner of fetching our breath, the little command we have over our words and actions, how little do all these things indicate a sound mind!
What can make a worse appearance than Homer’s Achilles, or Agamemnon, during the quarrel? And as to Ajax, anger drove him into downright madness, and was the occasion of his death.
Courage, therefore, does not want the assistance of anger; it is sufficiently provided, armed, and prepared of itself. We may as well say that drunkenness or madness is of service to courage, because those who are mad or drunk often do a great many things with unusual vehemence. Ajax was always brave; but still he was most brave when he was in that state of frenzy:
“The greatest feat that Ajax e’er achieved
Was, when his single arm the Greeks relieved.
Quitting the field; urged on by rising rage,
Forced the declining troops again t’engage.”
Shall we say, then, that madness has its use?
To me, indeed, that very Scipio who was chief priest, that favorer of the saying of the Stoics, “That no private man could be a wise man,” does not seem to be angry with Tiberius Gracchus, even when he left the consul in a hesitating frame of mind, and, though a private man himself, commanded, with the authority of a consul, that all who meant well to the republic should follow him.
I do not know whether I have done anything in the republic that has the appearance of courage; but if I have, I certainly did not do it in wrath. Does anything come nearer madness than anger? And indeed, Ennius has well defined it as the beginning of madness. The changing color, the alteration of our voice, the look of our eyes, our manner of fetching our breath, the little command we have over our words and actions, how little do all these things indicate a sound mind!
What can make a worse appearance than Homer’s Achilles, or Agamemnon, during the quarrel? And as to Ajax, anger drove him into downright madness, and was the occasion of his death.
Courage, therefore, does not want the assistance of anger; it is sufficiently provided, armed, and prepared of itself. We may as well say that drunkenness or madness is of service to courage, because those who are mad or drunk often do a great many things with unusual vehemence. Ajax was always brave; but still he was most brave when he was in that state of frenzy:
“The greatest feat that Ajax e’er achieved
Was, when his single arm the Greeks relieved.
Quitting the field; urged on by rising rage,
Forced the declining troops again t’engage.”
Shall we say, then, that madness has its use?
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 4.23
As much as I may be tempted to believe that courage involves lashing out, in an uproar at everything in my path, the truth is that it requires reining in, the tempering of my extreme desires. Once I have put my worldly circumstances in their proper place, caring less about whether I live or I die, and more about whether I act with virtue or with vice, I am finally able to rest in a purity of conviction. The loss of my property or my fame will be as nothing compared to the content of my character.
If this still sounds impossible, recognize how only an attachment to lesser things is what keeps us from exercising a greater confidence. A man will gladly give everything else for whatever he values above anything else. If that something is hateful vengeance, we are no longer speaking of bravery, but of madness.
Though I now read far more Roman history than I ever did, I do not know enough about the confrontation between Scipio Nasica and Tiberius Gracchus to judge if anyone was enraged, but I do think of the story from the Apology, when Socrates was ordered by the Thirty Tyrants to arrest Leon of Salamis. Instead of sheepishly submitting to their command, or giving some indignant speech, he simply chose to go home: there was no need to add any show of resentment to his firm refusal.
If Ajax did fight with anger when he saved the Greek fleet, was it actually his anger that caused him to be brave? His agitation certainly did not help him later, when he took his own life, in despair at being denied the armor of Achilles in favor of Odysseus. Let us not attribute excellence to all the wrong sources.
I have now often seen men permit themselves to be swept away by their frustrations, quick to swing their fists, and then insisting that what they did was a noble calling of courage. It is surely no accident that they act almost as if they are drunk, and indeed, we all know how dangerous it is to combine malice with alcohol.
While I would like to claim that politicians have become angrier over the years, I suspect it is rather that my own tolerance for ideological tantrums has gradually decreased. Perhaps you happen to have stumbled upon a truth, and yet I can give you no credit when your disposition is so vulgar, and your motives are so spiteful. A ruler ought first to rule himself.
As much as I may be tempted to believe that courage involves lashing out, in an uproar at everything in my path, the truth is that it requires reining in, the tempering of my extreme desires. Once I have put my worldly circumstances in their proper place, caring less about whether I live or I die, and more about whether I act with virtue or with vice, I am finally able to rest in a purity of conviction. The loss of my property or my fame will be as nothing compared to the content of my character.
If this still sounds impossible, recognize how only an attachment to lesser things is what keeps us from exercising a greater confidence. A man will gladly give everything else for whatever he values above anything else. If that something is hateful vengeance, we are no longer speaking of bravery, but of madness.
Though I now read far more Roman history than I ever did, I do not know enough about the confrontation between Scipio Nasica and Tiberius Gracchus to judge if anyone was enraged, but I do think of the story from the Apology, when Socrates was ordered by the Thirty Tyrants to arrest Leon of Salamis. Instead of sheepishly submitting to their command, or giving some indignant speech, he simply chose to go home: there was no need to add any show of resentment to his firm refusal.
If Ajax did fight with anger when he saved the Greek fleet, was it actually his anger that caused him to be brave? His agitation certainly did not help him later, when he took his own life, in despair at being denied the armor of Achilles in favor of Odysseus. Let us not attribute excellence to all the wrong sources.
I have now often seen men permit themselves to be swept away by their frustrations, quick to swing their fists, and then insisting that what they did was a noble calling of courage. It is surely no accident that they act almost as if they are drunk, and indeed, we all know how dangerous it is to combine malice with alcohol.
While I would like to claim that politicians have become angrier over the years, I suspect it is rather that my own tolerance for ideological tantrums has gradually decreased. Perhaps you happen to have stumbled upon a truth, and yet I can give you no credit when your disposition is so vulgar, and your motives are so spiteful. A ruler ought first to rule himself.
—Reflection written in 1/1999
IMAGE: Pietro della Vecchia, Ajax (c. 1650)
Thursday, August 22, 2024
Sayings of Ramakrishna 250
As the young wife in a family shows her love and respect to her father-in-law, mother-in-law, and every other member of the family, and at the same time loves her husband more than these; similarly, being firm in your devotion to the Deity of your own choice (Ishta-Devatâ), do not despise other Deities, but honor them all.
Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 4.22
M. But we see Ajax in Homer advancing to meet Hector in battle cheerfully, without any of this boisterous wrath. For he had no sooner taken up his arms than the first step which he made inspired his associates with joy, his enemies with fear; so that even Hector, as he is represented by Homer, trembling, condemned himself for having challenged him to fight.
Yet these heroes conversed together, calmly and quietly, before they engaged; nor did they show any anger or outrageous behavior during the combat.
Nor do I imagine that Torquatus, the first who obtained this surname, was in a rage when he plundered the Gaul of his collar; or that Marcellus’s courage at Clastidium was only owing to his anger.
I could almost swear that Africanus, with whom we are better acquainted, from our recollection of him being more recent, was noways inflamed by anger when he covered Alienus Pelignus with his shield, and drove his sword into the enemy’s breast.
There may be some doubt of L. Brutus, whether he was not influenced by extraordinary hatred of the tyrant, so as to attack Aruns with more than usual rashness; for I observe that they mutually killed each other in close fight.
Why, then, do you call in the assistance of anger? Would courage, unless it began to get furious, lose its energy? What! Do you imagine that Hercules, whom the very courage which you would try to represent as anger raised to heaven, was angry when he engaged the Erymanthian boar, or the Nemaean lion?
Or was Theseus in a passion when he seized on the horns of the Marathonian bull? Take care how you make courage to depend in the least on rage. For anger is altogether irrational, and that is not courage which is void of reason.
Yet these heroes conversed together, calmly and quietly, before they engaged; nor did they show any anger or outrageous behavior during the combat.
Nor do I imagine that Torquatus, the first who obtained this surname, was in a rage when he plundered the Gaul of his collar; or that Marcellus’s courage at Clastidium was only owing to his anger.
I could almost swear that Africanus, with whom we are better acquainted, from our recollection of him being more recent, was noways inflamed by anger when he covered Alienus Pelignus with his shield, and drove his sword into the enemy’s breast.
There may be some doubt of L. Brutus, whether he was not influenced by extraordinary hatred of the tyrant, so as to attack Aruns with more than usual rashness; for I observe that they mutually killed each other in close fight.
Why, then, do you call in the assistance of anger? Would courage, unless it began to get furious, lose its energy? What! Do you imagine that Hercules, whom the very courage which you would try to represent as anger raised to heaven, was angry when he engaged the Erymanthian boar, or the Nemaean lion?
Or was Theseus in a passion when he seized on the horns of the Marathonian bull? Take care how you make courage to depend in the least on rage. For anger is altogether irrational, and that is not courage which is void of reason.
—from Cicero, Tusculan Disputations 4.22
We pay so much attention to the rage of Achilles, that we can easily forget about the downright chivalry of Ajax and Hector. It was hardly some casual moment, since everything was at stake, but it just goes to show how those who are brave do not need to be compelled by anger. If we must look down our noses at the hyperbole of myth, cannot the more literal facts of history teach us the very same lesson?
I know I have been watching too many action movies when I look at the hero’s motives from the bottom up, and not from the top down: it tells me far more about my own failings than it does about his actual merits. The desire for revenge can be strong, and yet it always remains within our power to follow a conscience, a deliberate choice that can be far stronger. What does it say about me when I see a greater vitality in a surrender to the passions than I do in the exercise of principles?
Cicero rightly observes how an emotion alone, however intense it may be, is not itself an act of judgment, and so it is not even the expression of a whole person, as a rational animal. What will be our response to the impressions? Far more importantly, how will our thinking then actively inform the impressions, such that what we feel is in harmony with what we understand?
It can’t be a virtue if it isn’t a product of deliberation, so why am I giving credit for the mere presence of an instinct? I must resist the current fashion, where “offense” and “outrage” are treated as if they were badges of honor. I would instead argue that the willingness to consciously cultivate patience and decency is a far greater mark of character.
For all the military heroes I might turn to, I first think of Franz Jägerstätter as a personal model of courage, a fellow whose choice to not get caught up in the frenzy of violence was the occasion for his fortitude. To the end, he offered love and forgiveness, feeling no need to be inflamed at anyone. While I accept that many will disagree, that remains my kind of strength.
We pay so much attention to the rage of Achilles, that we can easily forget about the downright chivalry of Ajax and Hector. It was hardly some casual moment, since everything was at stake, but it just goes to show how those who are brave do not need to be compelled by anger. If we must look down our noses at the hyperbole of myth, cannot the more literal facts of history teach us the very same lesson?
I know I have been watching too many action movies when I look at the hero’s motives from the bottom up, and not from the top down: it tells me far more about my own failings than it does about his actual merits. The desire for revenge can be strong, and yet it always remains within our power to follow a conscience, a deliberate choice that can be far stronger. What does it say about me when I see a greater vitality in a surrender to the passions than I do in the exercise of principles?
Cicero rightly observes how an emotion alone, however intense it may be, is not itself an act of judgment, and so it is not even the expression of a whole person, as a rational animal. What will be our response to the impressions? Far more importantly, how will our thinking then actively inform the impressions, such that what we feel is in harmony with what we understand?
It can’t be a virtue if it isn’t a product of deliberation, so why am I giving credit for the mere presence of an instinct? I must resist the current fashion, where “offense” and “outrage” are treated as if they were badges of honor. I would instead argue that the willingness to consciously cultivate patience and decency is a far greater mark of character.
For all the military heroes I might turn to, I first think of Franz Jägerstätter as a personal model of courage, a fellow whose choice to not get caught up in the frenzy of violence was the occasion for his fortitude. To the end, he offered love and forgiveness, feeling no need to be inflamed at anyone. While I accept that many will disagree, that remains my kind of strength.
—Reflection written in 1/1999
IMAGES:
Charles-André van Loo, Theseus Taming the Bull of Marathon (c. 1730)
Franz Jägerstätter (undated)
Wednesday, August 21, 2024
Stoic Snippets 247
Suppose any man shall despise me. Let him look to that himself. But I will look to this, that I be not discovered doing or saying anything deserving of contempt.
Shall any man hate me? Let him look to it. But I will be mild and benevolent towards every man, and ready to show even him his mistake, not reproachfully, nor yet as making a display of my endurance, but nobly and honestly, like the great Phocion, unless indeed he only assumed it.
For the interior parts ought to be such, and a man ought to be seen by the gods neither dissatisfied with anything nor complaining.
For what evil is it to you, if you are now doing what is agreeable to your own nature, and are satisfied with that which at this moment is suitable to the Nature of the Universe, since you are a human being placed at your post in order that what is for the common advantage may be done in some way?
—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 11.13
IMAGES:
Nicolas Poussin, The Funeral of Phocion (1648)
Nicolas Poussin, Landscape with the Ashes of Phocion (1648)
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