Michiel Sweerts, The Seven Works of Mercy

Michiel Sweerts, The Seven Works of Mercy (c. 1649) 

Feeding the Hungry 

Refreshing the Thirsty 

Clothing the Naked 

Harboring the Stranger 

Visiting the Sick 

Ministering to Prisoners 

Burying the Dead 

Works of Mercy

Master of Alkmaar, The Seven Works of Mercy (c. 1504) 

Pieter Bruegel the Elder, Caritas (1559) 

Frans Francken the Younger, The Seven Works of Mercy (1605) 

Caravaggio, The Seven Works of Mercy (1607) 

Pierre Montallier, Works of Mercy (1680) 

Justus Lipsius, On Constancy 1.16

Examples of necessary alteration, or death in the whole world. That heaven and the elements are changed, and shall perish; the like is to be seen in towns, provinces, and kingdoms; finally, that all things here do turn about the wheel, and that nothing is stable or constant.

"It is an eternal decree, pronounced of the world from the beginning, and of all things therein, to be born and to die, to begin and to end. That supreme judge of all things would have nothing firm and stable but himself alone, as says the tragic poet, Sophocles: 

"From age and death God only stands free,
But all things else by time consumed be. 

"All these things which you behold and admire either shall perish in their due time, or at least be altered and changed: See you the sun? He faints. The moon? She labors and languishes. The stars? They fail and fall. 

"And howsoever the wit of man cloaks and excuses these matters, yet there have happened and daily do in the celestial body such things as confound both the rules and wits of the mathematicians. I omit comets strange in form, situation, and motion, which all the universities shall never persuade me to be in the air, or of the air. 

"But behold, our astrologers were sorely troubled of late with strange motions and new stars. This very year there arose a star whose increasing and decreasing was plainly marked, and we saw, a matter hardly to be credited, even in the heaven itself, a thing to have beginning and end. 

"And Varro cries out and affirms that the evening star called of Plautus Versperugo, and of Homer Hersperus, had changed his color, his bigness, his fashion, and his course. 

"Next unto the heaven, behold the air, it is altered daily and passes into winds, clouds, and showers. 

"Go to the waters. Those floods and fountains which we affirm to be perpetual, do sometimes fail altogether, and at other times change their channel and ordinary course. The huge ocean, a great and secret part of nature, is ever tossed and tumbled with tempests. And if you are wanting, yet has it its flowing and ebbing of waters, and that we may perceive it to be subject to decay; it swells and swages daily in its parts.

"Behold also the earth which is taken to be immovable, and to stand steady of its own force: it faints and is stricken with an inward secret blast that makes it to tremble; somewhere it is corrupted by the water, elsewhere by fire. For these same things do strive among themselves.

"Neither grudge you to see war among men, there is likewise between the elements. What great lands have been wasted, yea wholly swallowed up by the sudden deluges, and violent overflowings of the sea? 

"In old time the sea overwhelmed wholly a great island called Atlantis (I think not the story fabulous) and after that the mighty cities Helice and Bura. But to leave ancient examples, here in Belgica two islands with the towns and men in them. And even now in our time this lord of the sea Neptune opens to himself new gaps and sweeps up daily the weak banks of Friesland and other countries. 

"Yet does not the earth sit still like a slothful housewife, but sometimes revenges herself and makes new islands in the midst of the sea, though Neptune marvel and be moved thereby? And if these great bodies which to us seem everlasting are subject to mutability and alteration, why much more should not towns, commonwealths, and kingdoms, which must needs be mortal, as they that do compose them? 

"As each particular man has his youth, his strength, old age, and death, so fares it with those other bodies. They begin, they increase, they stand and flourish, and all to this end, that they may decay. 

"One earthquake under the reign of Tiberius overthrew twelve famous towns of Asia, and as many in Campania in Constantine's time. One war of Attila, a Scythian, prince destroyed a hundred cities. The ancient Thebes of Egypt is scarcely held in remembrance in this day, and a hundred towns of Crete not believed ever to have been. 

"To come to more certainty, our elders saw the ruins of Carthage, Numantia, Corinth, and wondered thereat. And ourselves have beheld the unworthy relics of Athens, Sparta, and many renowned cities, yea even that Lady of all things and countries, falsely termed everlasting Rome, where is she? Overwhelmed, pulled down, burned, overflowed: she is perished with more than one kind of destruction, and at this day she is ambitiously sought for, but not found in her proper soil. 

"See you that noble Byzantium, being proud with the seat of two empires? Venice lifted up with the stableness of a thousand years continuance? Their day shall come at length. And thus also our Antwerp, the beauty of cities, in time shalt come to nothing. For this great master builder pulls down, sets up, and, if I may so lawfully speak, makes a sport of human affairs. And like an image maker, forms and frames to himself sundry sorts of portraitures in his clay.

"I have spoken of towns and cities. Countries likewise and kingdoms run the very same race. Once the East flourished. Assyria, Egypt and Jewry excelled in war and peace. That glory was transferred into Europe, which now like a diseased body seems unto me to be shaken, and to have a feeling of her great confusion nigh at hand. 

"Yea, and that which is more and never enough to be marveled at, this world having now been inhabited these five thousand and five hundred years, is at length come to its dotage. And that we may now approve again the fables of Anaxarchus, in old time hissed at, behold now there arises elsewhere new people, and a new world. 

"O the law of necessity, wonderful, and not to be comprehended! All things run into this fatal whirlpool of ebbing and flowing. And some things in this world are long lasting but not everlasting.

"Lift up your eyes and look about with me, for it grieves me not to stand long upon this point, and behold the alterations of all human affairs, and the swelling and swaging of them as of the sea: arise you; fall you; rule you; obey you; hide you your head; lift you up yours and let this wheel of changeable things run round, so long as this round world remains. 

"Have you Germans in time past been fierce? Be you now milder than most people of Europe. Have you Britons been uncivil heretofore? Now exceed you the Egyptians and people of Sybaris in delights and riches. Has Greece once flourished? Now let her be afflicted. Has Italy swayed the scepter? Now let her be in subjection. 

"You Goths, you Vandals, you vilest of the barbarians, peep you out of your lurking holes, and come rule the nations in your turn. Draw near you rude Scythians, and with a mighty hand hold you a whiles the reins of Asia and Europe; yet you again soon after give place and yield up the scepter to another nation bordering on the ocean. Am I deceived? Or else do I see the sun of another new empire arising in the West?" 

IMAGE by Kirk D. Keyes 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 2.1

Never, for my part, did I imagine Marcus Regulus to have been distressed, or unhappy, or wretched; because his magnanimity was not tortured by the Carthaginians; nor was the weight of his authority; nor was his honor; nor was his resolution; nor was one of his virtues; nor, in short, did his soul suffer their torments, for a soul with the guard and retinue of so many virtues, never surely could be taken, though his body was made captive. 
 
We have seen Gaius Marius; he, in my opinion, was in prosperity one of the happiest, and in adversity one of the greatest of men than which man can have no happier lot. 
 
You know not, foolish man, you know not what power virtue possesses; you only usurp the name of virtue; you are a stranger to her influence. No man who is wholly consistent within himself, and who reposes all his interests in himself alone, can be otherwise than completely happy. 
 
But the man whose every hope, and scheme, and design depends upon fortune, such a man can have no certainty—can possess nothing assured to him as destined to continue for a single day. If you have any such man in your power, you may terrify him by threats of death or exile; but whatever can happen to me in so ungrateful a country, will find me not only not opposing, but even not refusing it. 
 
To what purpose have I toiled? To what purpose have I acted? Or on what have my cares and meditations been watchfully employed, if I have produced and arrived at no such results, as that neither the outrages of fortune nor the injuries of enemies can shatter me? 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 2 
 
We all say that we want to be happy, and yet we rarely reflect on what this might mean. Most of us will assume that happiness is the same thing as pleasure, so we pursue those conditions that can offer us the greatest possible gratification. In such an approach, morality merely becomes a tool for avoiding unnecessary pain: if I play by the rules, then hopefully other people won’t hurt me. 
 
But what if I told you that there are people who measure their appetites by their conscience, and not the other way around? You might not immediately notice them, because they do not feel the need to make demands or to put on a show. They understand why all good things are pleasurable, but not all pleasurable things are good, and so they are satisfied by the dignity of their actions. To be fulfilled in the virtues is the highest end, which also brings with it the fitting consequence of an unsurpassed joy. 
 
Historians tell me that Marcus Regulus couldn’t have offered his life for the sake of his promise, though I wonder if they are just inclined to see everyone as base. Whether the story of his sacrifice is fact or fable, it demonstrates what is most noble within our nature, as creatures gifted with reason and will. For all the harm done to his flesh, his spirit remained intact, and the contentment came from an awareness of that ultimate meaning. 
 
Since I know very little about Gaius Marius, I now have some homework to do. I was under the impression that, for all his courage, he also had a streak of brutality, so I will do some digging about what Cicero may have meant. This will take me some time, but I do not find that burdensome, as I appreciate how the effort can contribute to my own character. As it is with the big things, so it is with the little things. 
 
I am sometimes afraid to even speak about the virtues, given how often people will exploit their appearance in a pursuit of the vices. Yet since they are only playing make-believe, I know how they are fractured by insincerity, and I therefore know why they cannot be at peace with themselves. Don’t let the pretenders ruin it for you. 
 
In my own experience, I have never been happy when I am angry, fearful, grasping, or devious. I have always been happy when I am loving, constant, grateful, and authentic. Where my life revolves around feeble attempts at manipulating fortune, I am constantly anxious. Where my life rests in the integrity of my thoughts, words, and deeds, I am finally liberated. Beyond the arguments from philosophy, these are the facts, plain and simple. 
 
True bliss is about arriving at that point where you no longer allow the circumstances to bring you down. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: J.M.W. Turner, Regulus (1828) 

Noble Pigeons

Storm on the Sea 31

John William Waterhouse, Miranda (1916) 

Ruins 21

Leopold Schulz, Gothic Church Ruins on the Mediterranean (1842) 

Memento Mori 14

Ligier Richier, Tomb of René of Chalon (1547) 

Vanitas 99

Michiel Sweerts, Self-portrait with a Skull (c. 1660) 

Sayings of Publilius Syrus 193

When the edifice of our Fortune is but slightly fractured, a chasm opens through the whole. 

Maxims of Goethe 85

If a man spreads my failings abroad, he is my master, even though he were my servant. 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 1.3

Now let the deriders of this sentiment and principle come forward; let even them take their choice, whether they would rather resemble the man who is rich in marble palaces, adorned with ivory, and shining with gold, in statues, in pictures, in embossed gold and silver plate, in the workmanship of Corinthian brass, or if they will resemble Fabricius, who had, and who wished to have, none of these things. 
 
And yet they are readily prevailed upon to admit that those things which are transferred, now hither, now thither, are not to be ranked among good things, while at the same time they strongly maintain, and eagerly dispute, that pleasure is the highest good; a sentiment that to me seems to be that of a brute, rather than that of a man. 
 
Shall you, endowed as you are by God or by nature, whom we may term the mother of all things, with a soul (than which there exists nothing more excellent and more divine), so degrade and prostrate yourself as to think there is no difference between yourself and any quadruped? 
 
Is there any real good that does not make him who possesses it a better man? For in proportion as every man has the greatest amount of excellence, he is also in that proportion most praiseworthy; nor is there any excellence on which the man who possesses it may not justly value himself. 
 
But what of these qualities resides in pleasure? Does it make a man better, or more praiseworthy? Does any man extol himself in boasting or self-recommendation for having enjoyed pleasures? Now if pleasure, which is defended by the advocacy of many, is not to be ranked among good things, and if the greater it is the more it dislodges the mind from its habitual and settled position; surely to live well and happily, is nothing else than to live virtuously and rightly. 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 1 
 
Now if you wish to follow the path of improving your character, be prepared to face the mockery of the cynics—not from the courage of the ancient cynics, but from the bitterness of the modern cynics. It’s such a shame when good words go bad. 
 
It helps me to remember how a man who loves to scorn is also a man who is terrified of commitment. Perhaps he has been gravely disappointed, but he hides away from his responsibilities by simply despising everyone and everything. If you wonder why I am so certain of this, I only have to look within my former self. 
 
Behind the snark, the critic cannot avoid the challenge: will he choose to define himself by the character on the inside or by the circumstances on the outside? It doesn’t take much to discover where a man’s true loyalties lie. 
 
The Romans had a particular way of describing their heroes as modest, temperate, and totally incorruptible, like Gaius Fabricius, who would not allow himself to be bribed by Pyrrhus, and then refused to be intimated when placed before an elephant. I also think of Manius Curius, who thought nothing of the gifts offered by the Samnites, preferring to be happy with his roasted turnips. 
 
When they are put on the spot, the ambitious and the greedy will praise the virtues to high heaven, which only makes sense if you understand how this is one of their clever methods for winning fame and fortune. Behind the posturing, they just wish to be gratified, and there is no need to be outraged at this, because you can continue to treat them with human decency, even if they are behaving like brutes. 
 
I know the temptations of comfort and convenience all too well, and then I recall why my happiness is in what I do, not from what is done to me. How does it reflect well upon me if I happen to have received this or that pleasure? If such diversions have become my measure, I have made myself a slave to the very luxuries I so desperately crave, and if I somehow grab hold of them for a moment, my longing will only increase. 
 
Nature makes virtue our natural limit, because it leaves nothing more to desired, while pleasure alone, divorced from an excellence of action, cannot fill the emptiness within our souls. Since there is nothing within it to make us better, there is nothing within it to bring us joy. 
 
Even as riches and renown can be employed for the sake of the good, they are not in and of themselves goods. It is a rightly formed conscience that provides our lives with true meaning and value, and it therefore becomes the standard by which any other benefits are judged. 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Ferdinand Bol, Fabricius and Pyrrhus (1656) 

Island

Chuang Tzu 6.11

Tsze-sang Hû, Mang Tsze-fan, and Tsze-khin Kang, these three men, were friends together. 

One of them said, "Who can associate together without any thought of such association, or act together without any evidence of such cooperation? Who can mount up into the sky and enjoy himself amidst the mists, disporting beyond the utmost limits of things, and forgetting all others as if this were living, and would have no end?" 

The three men looked at one another and laughed, not perceiving the drift of the questions; and they continued to associate together as friends. 

Suddenly, after a time, Tsze-sang Hû died. Before he was buried, Confucius heard of the event, and sent Tsze-kung to go and see if he could render any assistance. 

One of the survivors had composed a ditty, and the other was playing on his lute. Then they sang together in unison, 

"Ah! come, Sang Hû! ah! come, Sang Hû! 

Your being true you've got again,
While we, as men, still here remain,
Alas!" 

Tsze-kung hastened forward to them, and said, "I venture to ask whether it be according to the rules to be singing thus in the presence of the corpse?" 

The two men looked at each other, and laughed, saying, "What does this man know about the idea that underlies our rules?" 

Tsze-kung returned to Confucius, and reported to him, saying, "What sort of men are those? They had made none of the usual preparations, and treated the body as a thing foreign to them. They were singing in the presence of the corpse, and there was no change in their countenances. I cannot describe them—what sort of men are they?" 

Confucius replied, "Those men occupy and enjoy themselves in what is outside the common ways of the world, while I occupy and enjoy myself in what lies within those ways. There is no common ground for those of such different ways; and when I sent you to condole with those men, I was acting stupidly. 

"They, moreover, make man to be the fellow of the Creator, and seek their enjoyment in the formless condition of heaven and earth. They consider life to be an appendage attached, an excrescence annexed to them, and death to be a separation of the appendage and a dispersion of the contents of the excrescence. 

"With these views, how should they know wherein death and life are to be found, or what is first and what is last? They borrow different substances, and pretend that the common form of the body is composed of them. They dismiss the thought of its inward constituents like, the liver and gall, and its outward constituents, the ears and eyes. 

"Again and again they end and they begin, having no knowledge of first principles. They occupy themselves ignorantly and vaguely with what they say lies outside the dust and dirt of the world, and seek their enjoyment in the business of doing nothing. How should they confusedly address themselves to the ceremonies practiced by the common people, and exhibit themselves as doing so to the ears and eyes of the multitude?" 

Tsze-kung said, "Yes, but why do you, Master, act according to the common ways of the world?" 

The reply was, "I am in this under the condemning sentence of Heaven. Nevertheless, I will share with you what I have attained to." 

Tsze-kung rejoined, "I venture to ask the method which you pursue." 

Confucius said, "Fishes breed and grow in the water; man develops in the Tâo. Growing in the water, the fishes cleave the pools, and their nourishment is supplied to them. Developing in the Tâo, men do nothing, and the enjoyment of their life is secured. Hence it is said, 'Fishes forget one another in the rivers and lakes; men forget one another in the arts of the Tâo.'" 

Tsze-kung said, "I venture to ask about the man who stands aloof from others." 

The reply was, "He stands aloof from other men, but he is in accord with Heaven! Hence it is said, 'The small man of Heaven is the superior man among men; the superior man among men is the small man of Heaven!'" 

Delphic Maxims 94

Υἱοῖς μὴ καταρῶ 

Do not curse your sons 

IMAGE: Henry Fuseli, Oedipus Cursing His Son Polynices (1786) 

Vivekachudamani 108-135

THE THREE POTENCIES 

The power of the supreme Master, that is called unmanifested, beginningless unwisdom whose very self is the three potencies, to be known through thought, by its workings—this is glamor, Mâyâ, whereby all this moving world is made to grow. 

Neither being nor non-being nor of the self of both of these; neither divided nor undivided nor of the self of both of these; neither formed nor formless nor of the self of both of these—very wonderful and ineffable is its form. 

To be destroyed by the awakening to the pure, secondless Eternal, as the serpent imagined in a rope, when the rope is seen; its potencies are called substance, force, and darkness; each of them known by their workings. The self of doing belongs to force, whose power is extension, whence the pre-existent activities issued; rage and all the changes of the mind that cause sorrow are ever its results. 

Desire, wrath, greed, vanity, malice, self-assertion, jealousy, envy, are the terrible works of Force, its activities in man; therefore this is the cause of bondage. 

Then enveloping is the power of Darkness, whereby a thing appears as something else; this is the cause of the circling birth and rebirth of the spirit, and the cause whereby extension is drawn forward. 

Though a man be full of knowledge, learned, skillful, very subtle-sighted, if Darkness has wrapped him round, he sees not, though he be full of manifold instruction; he calls good that which is raised by error, and leans upon its properties, unlucky man that he is; great and hard to end is the enveloping power of Darkness. 

Wrong thinking, contradictory thinking, fanciful thinking, confused thinking—these are its workings; this power of extension never leaves hold of one who has come into contact with it, but perpetually sends him this way and that. 

Unwisdom, sluggishness, inertness, sloth, infatuation, folly, and things like these are of the potency of Darkness. Under the yoke of these he knows nothing at all, but remains as though asleep or like a post. 

But the potency of substance is pure like water, and even though mixed with the other two, it builds for the true refuge; for it is a reflected spark of the Self, and lights up the inert like the sun. 

Of the potency of Substance when mixed the properties are self-respect, self-restraint, control, faith and love and the longing to be free, a godlike power and a turning back from the unreal. 

Of the potency of substance altogether pure the properties are grace, direct perception of the Self, and perfect peace; exulting gladness, a resting on the Self supreme, whereby he reaches the essence of real bliss. 

The unmanifest is characterized by these three potencies; it is the causal vesture of the Self; dreamless life is the mode where it lives freely, all the activities of the powers, and even of the knowing soul having sunk back into it. 

Every form of outward perceiving has come to rest, the knowing soul becomes latent in the Self from which it springs; the name of this is dreamless life, wherein he says "I know nothing at all of the noise of the moving world." 

The body, powers, life-breaths, mind, self-assertion, all changes, sensuous things, happiness, unhappiness, the ether and all the elements, the whole world up to the unmanifest—this is not Self. 

Glamor and every work of glamor from the world-soul to the body, know this as unreal, as not the Self, built up of the mirage of the desert. 

But I shall declare to you the own being of the Self supreme, knowing which a man, freed from his bonds, reaches the lonely purity. 

There is a certain selfhood wherein the sense of "I" forever rests; who witnesses the three modes of being, who is other than the five veils; who is the only knower in waking, dreaming, dreamlessness; of all the activities of the knowing soul, whether good or bad—this is the "I"; 

Who of himself beholds all; whom none beholds; who kindles to consciousness the knowing soul and all the powers; whom none kindles to consciousness; by whom all this is filled; whom no other fills; who is the shining light within this all; after whose shining all else shines; 

By whose nearness only body and powers and mind and soul do their work each in his own field, as though sent by the Self; 

Because the own nature of this is eternal wakefulness, self-assertion, the body and all the powers, and happiness and unhappiness are beheld by it, just as an earthen pot is beheld. This inner Self, the ancient Spirit, is everlasting, partless, immediately experienced happiness; ever of one nature, pure waking knowledge, sent forth by whom Voice and the life-breaths move. 

Here, verily, in the substantial Self, in the bidden place of the soul, this steady shining begins to shine like the dawn; then the shining shines forth as the noonday sun, making all this world to shine by its inherent light; knower of all the changing moods of mind and inward powers; of all the acts done by body, powers, life-breaths; present in them as fire in iron, strives not nor changes at all. 

This is not born nor dies nor grows, nor does it fade or change forever; even when this form has melted away, it no more melts than the air in a jar. 

Alike stranger to forming and deforming; of its own being, pure wakefulness; both being and non-being is this, besides it there is nothing else; this shines unchanging, this Supreme Self gleams in waking, dream and dreamlessness as "I", present as the witness of the knowing soul. 

Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 1.2

But these matters, when they are more loosely discussed, appear somewhat obscure; but those things which seemed to be discussed with more subtlety than is necessary in words, may be illustrated by the lives and actions of the greatest of men. 
 
I ask then of you, whether the men who left to us this empire, founded upon so noble a system, seem ever to have thought of gratifying avarice by money; delight by delicacy; luxury by magnificence; or pleasure by feasting? 
 
Set before your eyes any one of our monarchs. Shall I begin with Romulus? Or, after the state was free, with those who liberated it? By what steps then did Romulus ascend to heaven? By those which these people term good things? Or by his exploits and his virtues? 
 
What! Are we to imagine, that the wooden or earthen dishes of Numa Pompilius were less acceptable to the immortal gods, than the embossed plate of others? I pass over our other kings, for all of them, excepting Tarquin the Proud, were equally excellent. 
 
Should anyone ask, what did Brutus perform when he delivered his country? Or, as to those who were the participators of that design, what was their aim, and the object of their pursuit? Lives there the man who can regard as their object, riches, pleasure, or anything else than acting the part of a great and gallant man? 
 
What motive impelled Gaius Mucius, without the least hope of preservation, to attempt the death of Porsenna? What impulse kept Cocles to the bridge, singly opposed to the whole force of the enemy? What power devoted the elder and the younger Decius, and impelled them against armed battalions of enemies? 
 
What was the object of the continence of Gaius Fabricius, or of the frugality of life of Manius Curius? What were the motives of those two thunderbolts of the Punic war, Publius and Gnaeus Scipio, when they proposed with their own bodies to intercept the progress of the Carthaginians? What did the elder, what did the younger Africanus propose? What were the views of Cato, who lived between the times of both? 
 
What shall I say of innumerable other instances; for we abound in examples drawn from our own history; can we think that they proposed any other object in life but what seemed glorious and noble? 

—from Cicero, Stoic Paradoxes 1 
 
While the theory will set the terms, only the practice will seal the deal. Like so many who have aspired to an intellectual life, I have spent too much of my time talking the talk, and therefore I have often failed when it comes to walking the walk. 
 
The best inspiration is not an idea of a good man, but rather the works of a good man. I understand completely why we try to present heroes for our children to follow, though I sometimes wonder if we might be pointing to the right people for all of the wrong reasons. 
 
In grade school for example, I was taught to revere Washington and Lincoln, and when I pushed for an explanation that went beyond a colorful poster with an uplifting quote, I was hastily told it was because they had both won wars. 
 
Hadn’t Napoleon and Stalin also won wars? “Yes, but they weren’t the good guys.” 
 
Which leads me straight back to my original question: so what makes the good guy a good guy? It is much the same when we venerate those who are incredibly rich or popular: does their greatness came from their fortune and fame, or perhaps from something far more important, to which the fortune and fame are merely accidental?
 
No one should be reduced to a caricature, and none of us are without our faults. Nevertheless, some will rise to the occasion, with no concern for any reward beyond that of a sound conscience. It took me many years to learn more about what motivated both Washington and Lincoln, which gave me a far better sense of what truly defines character. 
 
Reading this section prompted me to brush up a little on my Roman history; I was reminded how such narratives can be full of folly and ambiguity, making me squint in order to discern the excellence. 
 
That is, however, as it should be, since the right thing is always bound up with the wrong things. Cicero correctly observed how we must isolate what determines greatness, and it will turn out that the virtues behind the circumstances make all the difference. 
 
I will not include my rambling notes on Romulus, Lucius Junius Brutus, Gaius Mucius, or Horatius Cocles. Each age will have its own stories, and their historical accuracy is less important than what they say about the deeper values they endorse. Look closely at the qualities in a hero, and you will learn much about the merits of a society. 
 
For my purposes, I think about the meaning of being a “gentleman” or a “lady”, terms still in use when I was a child, though they have now been all but abandoned. Whatever your background, you can surely find your own equivalent. 
 
Now is such a name given to someone on account of his property, or birth, or breeding? Those who speak in this way reveal their priorities. Or is such a name given to someone on account of his moral worth, regardless of his station? Those who speak in this way continue to stand with the timeless principles of a Cato and a Cicero. 
 
I humbly suggest we have a problem when our politicians must be rich, and our artists must be sexy, and the whole lot of our celebrities must be decadent. Yet hasn’t that always been the problem? And hasn’t the solution always been to go against the grain by pursuing integrity instead of prosperity? 

—Reflection written in 5/1999 

IMAGE: Jacques-Louis David, The Intervention of the Sabine Women (1799) 

On Time

"On Time"

John Milton (1608-1674) 

Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace;
And glut thy self with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more then what is false and vain,
And meerly mortal dross;
So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain.
For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd,
And last of all, thy greedy self consum'd, 
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss
With an individual kiss;
And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,
When every thing that is sincerely good
And perfectly divine,
With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine
About the supreme Throne
Of him, t'whose happy-making sight alone,
When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall clime,
Then all this Earthy grosnes quit,
Attir'd with Stars, we shall for ever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time. 

IMAGE: Giovanni Francesco Romanelli, Chronos (c. 1650) 

Sayings of Ramakrishna 282

A heron was slowly walking to catch a fish. 

Behind, there was a hunter aiming an arrow at it; but the bird was totally unmindful of this fact. 

The Avadhûta, saluting the heron, said, "When I sit in meditation let me follow your example, and never turn back to see who is behind me." 

Wisdom from the Early Cynics, Diogenes 41

Diogenes was returning from Olympia, and when somebody inquired whether there was a great crowd, "Yes," he said, "a great crowd, but few who could be called men." 

Libertines he compared to fig trees growing upon a cliff: whose fruit is not enjoyed by any man, but is eaten by ravens and vultures. 

When Phryne set up a golden statue of Aphrodite in Delphi, Diogenes is said to have written upon it: "From the licentiousness of Greece." 

Alexander once came and stood opposite him and said, "I am Alexander the Great King." 

"And I," said he, "am Diogenes the Hound." 

Being asked what he had done to be called a hound, he said, "I fawn on those who give me anything, I yelp at those who refuse, and I set my teeth in rascals." 

—Diogenes Laërtius, 6.60 

IMAGE: Gustave Doré, Diogenes (c. 1860) 

Wisdom from the Early Stoics, Zeno of Citium 81

It is the Stoic doctrine that there can be no question of right as between man and the lower animals, because of their unlikeness. Thus Chrysippus in the first book of his treatise On Justice, and Posidonius in the first book of his De Officio. 

Further, they say that the wise man will feel affection for the youths who by their countenance show a natural endowment for virtue. So Zeno in his Republic, Chrysippus in book 1 of his work On Modes of Life, and Apollodorus in his Ethics. 

—Diogenes Laërtius, 7.129 

IMAGE: Bartolomeo Passarotti, Portrait of a Man with a Dog (c. 1585) 

Songs of Innocence 11

A Cradle Song (1789)  

William Blake (1757-1827) 

Sweet dreams form a shade 
O’er my lovely infants head. 
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams, 
By happy silent moony beams. 

Sweet sleep with soft down, 
Weave thy brows an infant crown. 
Sweet sleep Angel mild, 
Hover o’er my happy child. 

Sweet smiles in the night, 
Hover over my delight. 
Sweet smiles Mothers smiles 
All the livelong night beguiles. 

Sweet moans, dovelike sighs, 
Chase not slumber from thy eyes. 
Sweet moans, sweeter smiles, 
All the dovelike moans beguiles. 

Sleep sleep happy child. 
All creation slept and smil’d. 
Sleep sleep, happy sleep, 
While o’er thee thy mother weep. 

Sweet babe in thy face, 
Holy image I can trace. 
Sweet babe once like thee, 
Thy maker lay and wept for me. 

Wept for me for thee for all, 
When he was an infant small. 
Thou his image ever see, 
Heavenly face that smiles on thee. 

Smiles on thee on me on all, 
Who became an infant small. 
Infant smiles are his own smiles, 
Heaven & earth to peace beguiles.