The Continence of Scipio 10

Nicolas Poussin, The Continence of Scipio (1640) 

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) 

The Wisdom of Solomon 19:6-12

[6] For the whole creation in its nature was fashioned anew,
complying with your commands,
that your children might be kept unharmed.
[7] The cloud was seen overshadowing the camp,
and dry land emerging where water had stood before,
an unhindered way out of the Red Sea,
and a grassy plain out of the raging waves,
[8] where those protected by your hand passed through as one nation,
after gazing on marvelous wonders.
[9] For they ranged like horses,
and leaped like lambs,
praising you, O Lord, who did deliver them.
[10] For they still recalled the events of their sojourn,
how instead of producing animals the earth brought forth gnats,
and instead of fish the river spewed out vast numbers of frogs.
[11] Afterward they saw also a new kind of birds,
when desire led them to ask for luxurious food;
[12] for, to give them relief, quails came up from the sea.  

IMAGE: Nicolas Poussin, The Crossing of the Red Sea (1634) 

Et in Arcadia Ego

Guercino, Et in Arcadia Ego (c. 1622) 

Nicolas Poussin, Et in Arcadia Ego (1627) 

Nicolas Poussin, Et in Arcadia Ego (c. 1638) 

Johann Georg Schütz, Et in Arcadia Ego (1788) 

"Even in Arcadia, there am I." 

A theme both serene and haunting, as shepherds in a pastoral setting ponder the presence of death. 

The Wisdom of Solomon 14:12-31

[12] For the idea of making idols was the beginning of fornication,

and the invention of them was the corruption of life,
[13] for neither have they existed from the beginning
nor will they exist forever.
[14] For through the vanity of men they entered the world,
and therefore their speedy end has been planned.
[15] For a father, consumed with grief at an untimely bereavement,
made an image of his child, who had been suddenly
taken from him;
and he now honored as a god what was once a dead human being,
and handed on to his dependents secret rites and initiations.
[16] Then the ungodly custom, grown strong with
time, was kept as a law,
and at the command of monarchs graven images were worshiped.
[17] When men could not honor monarchs in their
presence, since they lived at a distance,
they imagined their appearance far away,
and made a visible image of the king whom they honored,
so that by their zeal they might flatter the
absent one as though present.
[18] Then the ambition of the craftsman impelled
even those who did not know the king to intensify
their worship.
[19] For he, perhaps wishing to please his ruler,
skilfully forced the likeness to take more beautiful form,
[20] and the multitude, attracted by the charm of his work,
now regarded as an object of worship the one
whom shortly before they had honored as a man.
[21] And this became a hidden trap for mankind,
because men, in bondage to misfortune or to royal authority,
bestowed on objects of stone or wood the name
that ought not to be shared.
[22] Afterward it was not enough for them to err
about the knowledge of God,
but they live in great strife due to ignorance,
and they call such great evils peace.
[23] For whether they kill children in their initiations,
or celebrate secret mysteries,
or hold frenzied revels with strange customs,
[24] they no longer keep either their lives or their marriages pure,
but they either treacherously kill one another,
or grieve one another by adultery,
[25] and all is a raging riot of blood and murder,
theft and deceit, corruption, faithlessness, tumult, perjury,
[26] confusion over what is good, forgetfulness of favors,
pollution of souls, sex perversion,
disorder in marriage, adultery, and debauchery.
[27] For the worship of idols not to be named
is the beginning and cause and end of every evil.
[28] For their worshipers either rave in exultation,
or prophesy lies,
or live unrighteously, or readily commit perjury;
[29] for because they trust in lifeless idols
they swear wicked oaths and expect to suffer no harm.
[30] But just penalties will overtake them on two counts:
because they thought wickedly of God in devoting
themselves to idols,
and because in deceit they swore unrighteously
through contempt for holiness.
[31] For it is not the power of the things by which men swear,
but the just penalty for those who sin,
that always pursues the transgression of the unrighteous. 

IMAGE: Nicolas Poussin, The Adoration of the Golden Calf (c. 1634) 

Winter: The Flood

 

Nicolas Poussin, Winter: The Flood  (c. 1664)

Autumn: The Grapes of the Promised Land

Nicolas Poussin, Autumn: The Spies with the Grapes of the Promised Land (c. 1664)

Summer: Ruth and Boaz

Nicolas Poussin, Summer: Ruth and Boaz (c. 1664)

 

Spring: The Earthly Paradise

Nicolas Poussin, Spring: The Earthly Paradise (c. 1664)

A Dance to the Music of Time

Nicolas Poussin, A Dance to the Music of Time (c. 1636)

Parnassus

Nicolas Poussin, Parnassus or Apollo and the Muses (c. 1630)

Truth Stolen Away . . .

Nicolas Poussin, Truth Stolen Away by Time Beyond the Reach of Envy and Discord (1641)

Dhammapada 147

Look at this dressed-up lump, covered with wounds, joined together, sickly, full of many thoughts, which has no strength, no hold!

IMAGE: Nicolas Poussin, The Plague of Ashdod (1630)

The Choice of Hercules 6

Nicolas Poussin, The Choice of Hercules (c. 1637)

Landscape with Diogenes

Nicolas Poussin, Landscape with Diogenes (1648)

Diogenes throws away his bowl when he sees a boy drinking water from his hand . . . 

Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 2.14

Though you should be going to live three thousand years, and as many times ten thousand years, still remember that no man loses any other life than this which he now lives, nor lives any other than this which he now loses. The longest and shortest are thus brought to the same.

For the present is the same to all, though that which perishes is not the same; and so that which is lost appears to be a mere moment. For a man cannot lose either the past or the future, for what a man has not, how can any one take this from him?

These two things then you must bear in mind: the first, that all things from eternity are of like forms and come round in a circle, and that it makes no difference whether a man shall see the same things during a hundred years or two hundred, or an infinite time.

The second, that the longest liver and he who will die soonest lose just the same. For the present is the only thing of which a man can be deprived, if it is true that this is the only thing which he has, and that a man cannot lose a thing if he has it not.

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 2 (tr Long)

We sometimes struggle with arguments like this one, perhaps because of what seems to be a web of words, but I suspect it is most often because we think about a question too abstractly, and do not ground it sufficiently in the concrete act of living. By all means, consider time through the means of mathematics and physics, but do not neglect to also consider it from the immediate perspective of human experience.

We speak of our awareness of time in terms of the past, the present, and the future, of what was, of what is, and of what will be. The past is held in my memory, the present is what I am experiencing now, and the future lies in my expectation. Now these three are in relation to one another, but which can I truly say exists in the fullest sense? Only the present is, because the past is no more, and the future has not yet come to pass.

In this light, I should therefore remember that it is the now that I am actually living, and that I possess for myself. Even the present itself has no quantity, but is a constant process of coming and going, and it offers the same quality to all of us. It will make no difference how long I have already lived, or how much longer I am going to live, because the Stoic measure of my life, of that which is within my power to decide, can be said to exist in its totality and completeness at any given moment.

I should never neglect my awareness of the past or of the future, but my estimation of them must always be ordered toward how well I am living. Think of how often we destroy the good now from hopes and fears about the past and the future. If I have lived poorly before, I can change that right now, and I should hardly live poorly now because of what may or may not still unfold.

The past is something I can learn from, and the future is something I can plan for, but no change in the quantity of either will matter if I do not strive for quality right here and now. Carpe diem.

Everything comes around, and Nature always offers the same order, and the same opportunities, whether through a larger or a smaller orbit. A long or a short life is in not in itself a blessing or a curse, because living is in itself complete.

For myself, pain from the past can often tempt me into despair, and all the metaphysics aside, Stoicism offers a very practical solution. The only thing I can really lose is right now, and it is ironic that only I am able to throw away the chance of that immediate moment, out of a worry for something that no longer exists. I end up foolishly abandoning what I do have for what I no longer have. It is only by rightly reordering my attention on what is or is not mine that I can make the most of my time. 

Written in 9/2004

Image: Nicolas Poussin, A Dance to the Music of Time (c. 1634-1636)