The Greed of the Sick and the Weather-Watchers

Wasting away, joining with those who are sinking and going to an end., the lover of bodies, even if it rages through desires for a long time, or even having reached priestly age itself or having grown old having seen what is desired and having cast off its bloom, finds a standing place for the disease. The stomach's lust withdraws, either having filled the belly or having become weak from digestive particles and having ceased the heightened appetite. The glory-seeker destroys himself with many flattering appearances of vanity. The disease of greed is an evil that is inseparable; and just like this ivy, the lush plant and evergreen, it climbs strongly and entwines itself around the trees upon which it intends to cling, and it does not withdraw, neither having suffered nor having dried up, unless someone cuts its coils with iron like a dragon; in this way, it is not easy to free the soul from such a thing, whether the body is being refreshed or having diminished, unless a sober thought comes and like a knife cuts the disease. Hose at home, the greedy man is unpleasant, to servants heavy, to friends useless, to strangers difficult to deal with, to neighbors a nuisance, to a cohabiting wife a burden, to children stingy and a meager provider, a bad overseer of himself, caring only by night, becoming thick during the day, reasoning with himself according to those who have strayed or are deviating; he is always complaining and groaning as if in need, not enjoying those present and seeking those absent, not using what is his own, but coveting what belongs to others. Flock of such a man is a great burden, narrowing the enclosures upon which it is penned, covering the pastures in which it grazes; even if a fleshy sheep appears to be approaching, having left his own flock, he approaches with desire toward the one and the other. The same happens with the oxen, similarly with the horses, and no differently with the earth. Everything narrows the house and nothing is useful in use; for the insatiable one is not even enjoyable, but his house is near a tomb. For behold, even tombs are often filled with silver and gold, but the inhabitants do not possess them. The body is not nourished, no profit is found for the soul; for almsgiving does not prosper from the right hand.

What is the end of toil? Let someone warned by such a disease teach this. I know many, having learned through experience, that even in sickness they love money more than health; if a doctor suggests a way of treatment through some substance, such as celery, thyme, or anise, of which supply is inexhaustible, they obey the advice readily; but if some medicine is required that is varied and complex, and they are commanded to go to the druggist or the perfumer, they are more ready to let go of their soul or to loosen their purse. For being earthly, they consider the prudence of possessing earthly goods to be life itself.

These are greatly distressed by common good fortunes, but circumstances bring them joy. They pray that tax-free decrees may come so that they may increase their silver through interest; they desire to see those distressed by lenders, so that they may acquire the field or the vessel or the animal being cast off easily out of necessity. And they constantly look up toward the sky after the philosophers, those attentive to the things in the air, not seeking a command from a star, nor peering to see if any house belongs to one of the planets, but rather attending to the busy state of the air, if the appearing signs promise a flow of rain or hail. Even if they see something difficult approaching for the many, they rejoice in the misfortune of others.

They gather everything into storerooms, marking it securely and fastening it with two locks; they count haphazardly while measuring. And when the greedy one is occupied with such a hope, and finally dreams of becoming rich in the shadow-sketch of ideas, if a deep cloud occurs, he fears it as being dangerous. If light sprinkles the earth, he begins to tear up; but if even rain occurs sufficient to end the hail, it is a matter of complete mourning.

He therefore wanders about, scrutinizing everything regarding the grain as if a son were in danger, asking what shall heal, what machine is needed, so that for a long time it may suffice for many, so that it may escape the blight of the crops. Even if he feels a heat, as doctors have spread him out to differentiate it, he divides and cools himself, settling his toil, a shelter according to the midday.