Herodotus, 9.82

After the Greek's ultimate victory over the remaining Persian invasion at the Battle at Plataea:

It is also reported that Xerxes had left his tent to Mardonios when he fled from Hellas, and that when Pausanias saw these quarters of Mardonios and how they were furnished with embroidered draperies, he ordered the bread bakers and the cooks to prepare a meal for him like those they had made for Mardonios.  When they had carried out their orders and Pausanias saw the golden and silver counches with sumptuous coverings and the tables, also of gold and silver, all set out with a magnificent feast, he was struck with wonder at the good things lying before him, and then, as a joke, ordered his servants to prepare a Laconian meal.  When the banquet was ready, the difference between the two was great indeed, and Pausanias laughed, and then sent for the generals of the Hellenes.  When they had all come to him, Pausanias, as he pointed to each of the meals that had been served, said, "Men of Hellas, I have brought you here together, because I wanted to show you what an idiot the leader of the Medes was.  This was his lifestyle, but he came to us, who have this miserable way of life, in order to deprive us of it."  That is what Pausanias is reported to have said to the generals of the Hellenes.

Civilizational confidence.

Herodotus, 8: The Battle of Salamis

Retreating after the eventual loss at Thermopylae, the Hellenes try to determine their next course.  The Spartans, Argives, and Achaians build a wall across the Isthmus of Corinth to protect Peloponnesia.  All the residents of Athens are evacuated to the island of Salamis.

The Persian army sacks Athens, while the Persian navy surrounds the island.  Xerxes is advised to simply wait them out, and victory will be his.  Meanwhile, the Hellenes cannot come to an agreement about what to do next.  So Themistokles from Athens secretly sends a messenger to Xerxes, pretending to have changed sides, and encouraging him to begin a final battle he is expected to win.  This message convinces Xerxes to abandon his strategy of patience, and his action then convinces the Hellenes to pull together to fight.

The battle is a massacre in favor of the Greeks, who have well-developed naval tactics while the Persian ships all act at odds with one another.

Xerxes, chastised, leaves an army of 300,000 with the commandor Mardnios and returns to Persia with the rest.  Many die of hunger and sickness on the way home.  At one point, Xerxes was in peril on a ship during a storm, and the helmsman through most of the Persian soldiers overboard to steady the ship.  Xerxes rewarded him with a crown for saving his life, then beheaded him for killing so many soldiers.  (Herodotus seriously doubts this story.)

Mardonios tries to buy off the Athenians without a fight.  They string him along for a bit, long enough for the Spartans, panicking, to send envoys to find out what's going on.  The Athenians calmly tell off the Persians, and tell off the Spartans for good measure (8.143):

The Athenians first answered Alexandros as follows: "We ourselves are already well aware that the forces of the Mede are many times greater than our own, so there is no need to admonish us about that.  Nevertheless, we shall defnd ourselves however we can in our devotion to freedom.  So do not attempt to seduce us into an agreement with the barbarian, since we shall not be persuaded.  Report back to Mardonios that the Athenians say: 'As long as the sun continues on the same course as it now travels, we shall never come to an agreement with Xerxes.  Trusting in the gods and heroes as our allies (for whom he showed no respect when he burned their homes and images), we shall advance against him and defend ourselves.'  As for you, Alexandros, in the future, do not appear before the Athenians with speeches such as this one, nor pretend to be doing us a favor while encouraging us to commit deeds that violate all tradition.  For we would not want you, our proxenos and friend, to suffer anything unpleasant at the hands of the Athenians.

After giving this answer to Alexandros, they turned to address the messengers from Sparta: 'It was quite natural for the Lacedaemonians to fear we would come to an agreement with the barbarian, but nevertheless, we think it disgraceful that you became so frightened, since you are well aware of the Athenians' disposition, namely, that there is no amount of gold anywhere on earth so great, nor any country that surpasses others so much in beauty and fertility, that we would accept it as reward for medizing and enslaving Hellas.'"

Notables: Artemisia was a female commander in Xerxes army.  At one point, her ship was pinned in by the surrounding Persian ships while pursued by a Greek ship.  To escape, she rammed a Persian ship, causing the pursuit to cease while Xerxes looked on, impressed.

8.98:

As Xerxes was doing all this, he also sent a courier to Persia to report his present misfortune.  There is nothing that travels faster, and yet is mortal, than these couriers; the Persians invented this system, which works as follows.  It is said that there are as many horses and men posted at intervals as there are days required for the entire journey, so that one horse and one man are assigned to each day.  And neither snow nor rain nor heat nor dark of night keeps them from completing their appointed course as swiftly as possible.  The first courier passes on the instructions to the second, the second to the third, and from there they are transmitted from one to another all the way through,  just as the torchbearing relay is celebrated by the Hellenes in honor of Hephaistos.  The Persians call this horse-posting system the angareion.

The Persians invented the Pony Express, and Herodotus wrote the U.S. Postal Service Creed.  Son of a bitch.

Herodotus, 7.175-239: The Battle at Thermopylae

First, a word about the badasses from Sparta and Athens.  The Spartans had killed some envoys from Xerxes who were offering a peaceful invasion.  Sparta then sent two messengers to Xerxes, allowing them to be killed in response.  But brought before the king, the messengers refused to bow to him (7.135-136):

[Hydarnes] entertained them by serving them a feast during which he asked them, "Lacedaemonians, why are you trying to avoid becoming the King's friends?  You can see that the King knows how to honor good men when you look at me and the state of my affairs.  This could be the same for you if only you would surrender yourselves to the King, since he would surely think you to be good men and allow each of you Greek territory to rule over."  To this they replied, "Hydarnes, you offer us this advice only because you do not have a fair and proper perspective.  For you counsel us based on your experience of only one way of life, but you have had no experienced of the other: you know well how to be a slave but have not yet experienced freedom, nor have you felt whether it is sweet or not.  But if you could try freedom, you would advise us to fight for it, and not only with spears, but with axes!"

After giving that answer to Hydarnes, they traveled inland to Susa and gained an audience with the King.  At first the King's bodyguards ordered them and actually tried to force them to prostrate themselves before the King; but they refused to do so, saying that they would never do that, even if the bodyguards should try to push them down to the ground headfirst, since it was not their custom to prostrate themselves before any human being, and besides, that was not the reason for which they had come.

When the Hellenes were looking for allies to fight against the invasion, they came to Syracuse for help.  Gelon of Syracuse was willing to help, but only if given command either of the land army or the navy.  The Athenian delegation (7.161):

And now the envoy sent by the Atheneians interjected before the one from the Lacedaemonians could reply: "King of the Syracusans, Helalls did not send us to you because it needed a leader, but rather because it required an army.  But you have given us no indication that you would send an army unless you were to become the leader of Hellas; to command its forces is what strongly attracts you.  Now as long as you were asking to lead the entire force of the Hellenes, we Athenians were content to keep quiet, knowing that the Laconian would be capable of answering for us both.  But now that your leadership over the whole force has been ruled out and you ask to command the fleet, you should know that this is the situation: even if the Laconian yields the command of hte fleet to you, we shall not yield it to you.  For that command belongs to us, unless the Lacedaemonians want it.  Now if they want to lead the fleet, we shall not oppose them, but we shall allow no one else to command it.  For if we yield our leadership to the Syracusans, it would then be all for nothing that we have acquired the greatest naval force of all the Hellenes-- we, the Athenians, who represent the most ancient nation of the Hellenes and are the only ones who did not migrate.  Even Homer the epic poet said that the best man to go to Troy and to draw up and marshal the troops was one of ours, so we cannot be reproached for asserting this claim."

The Greeks scouted the terrain and settled for the narrow pass by the city of Thermopylae to set up their defenses, as it was the only rational path through the mountain ranges to the southern Greek peninsulas.  They set up to fight despite the warnings of the oracles.  They caught a break when a storm smashed a few hundred of the Persian ships.  On top of that, several Persain ships sailed into the wrong harbor and were taken by the Greeks.

Finally, Xerxes' army approached the pass.  On the other side, the defense forces were led by Leonidas of Sparta (a direct descendant of Herakles), and were comprised of several thousand from the different cities.  The first waves of Persian soldiers were slaughtered, as their great numbers were of no use in the narrow terrain.  "Indeed, the Hellenes made it clear to everyone, and especially to the King himself, that although there were many in his army, there were few real men" (7.210.2).  Finally, they sought a different way through, taking the even narrower Anopaia Path through the mountains.

Leonidas learned of their plans, and sent the majority of his soldiers away to avoid the upcoming slaughter, but kept the 300 Spartans to fight on.  Knowing they were fighting to their death, they fought more valiantly than usual, charging unexpectedly into the oncoming waves of Persians.  Leonidas himself was killed and Xerxes had him beheaded.

In response to the battle, the Persians changed their invasion plans, sending the ships to occupy the Spartans from the south while the army continued to subjugate the Greeks cities on their march from the north.

Herodotus 7.34-35

It was from Abydos to this promontory, then, that the bridges were built by those assigned to this task, the Phoenicians working on the white flax bridge and the Egyptians on the papyrus bridge.  The distance between Abydos and the opposite shore here is about 1,350 yards.  But in fact after these bridges had been built, a violent storm descended upon them, broke them up, and tore apart all that work.

Xerxes was infuriated when he learned of this; he ordered that the Hellespont [river] was to receive 300 lashes under the whip, and that a pair of shackles was to be dropped into the sea.  And I have also heard that he sent others to brand the Hallespont.  In any case, he instructed his men to say barbarian and insolent things as they were striking the Hellespont: "Bitter water, your master is imposing this penalty upon you for wronging him even though you had suffered no injustice from him.  And King Xerxes will cross you whether you like it or not.  It is for just cause, after all, that no human offers you sacrifice: you are a turbid and briny river!"  Thus he ordered that the sea was to be punished, and also that the supervisors of the bridge over the Hellespont were to be beheaded.

Xerxes tried to arrest, and then physically and emotionally abused, the river.  Xerxes was nuts.

And a fantastic photo, by "Amy":

Herodotus 6.102-124: The Battle at Marathon

After conquering the Eretrians, the army of King Darius of Persia planned to march on Athens and enslave them as well.  The Athenians got wind of the plan and marched to meet them on the plains of Marathon where the Persian army had landed.  They sent the runner Philippides to Sparta to ask for military assistance.  He ran the 150 miles in one day to deliver the message, but the Spartans would not send aid until the next full moon, 20 days later.

Instead, the Plataeans came to the aid of Athens, having pledged their loyalty in exchange for Athenian protection.  The Athenians confronted them across the plain, with the Athenians on the right flank and the Plataeans on the left, and a weakness of depth in the center.  But they took the Persians by surprise by running to their positions instead of marching.  They drove the Persians back to their boats, losing only 192 men.  The Persians then tried to circle the peninsula and land closer to Athens on the other side, while the Athenians marched quickly home to be ready for a second battle.  But, perhaps having been tipped off by the leaders of the city, the Persians instead turned their ships for their own home.

Later, 2000 Spartans arrived to help.  When told what had happened, they were duly impressed.  Then they went home.

In a break from tradition, the Athenians buried their casualties, not in the city, but on the field where they fell.  The burial mound stands to this day.

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OK, so Philippides didn't run from Marathon to Athens.  Instead, he ran from Athens to Sparta.  And he only did it once.  And he didn't die afterwards.  And it didn't help, because Sparta didn't come.

That's all disappointing, but the whole story is still flippin' awesome.  The whole tone of Herodotus seemed to be different for this episode.  Much less speculation, many fewer outrageous claims.  The battle was within his lifetime, within his geographic region, involving people he must have known-- it's all reliable.  Very cool chapter.

Prometheus Bound (Aeschylus)

A late addition, when I decided to make a thorough survey of Greek drama before moving on to Plato.  I really liked the last Aeschylus I read, but this is a different translator (James Scully), so we'll see how it goes.

I got this copy from the Mount Prospect library, and it's due back in two days.

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Update 4/14: Well, the Scully translation literally read like something I'd write myself.  It reminded me of many of these blog posts, actually.  That's not what I'm going for, so I found a copy of the translation from my old pal Paul Roche (who, it turns out, was at Notre Dame for a time).  Got this on Interlibrary Loan from the Glenview Public Library.

The Eumenides, 3

Athena starts the trial, and Apollo enters for the defense.  The Furies question Orestes, and he admits killing his mother, but under the instructions of Apollo.  He claims justification also because Clytemnestra had killed Agamemnon without suffering from the gods for it.  The trial turns on the question of whether the closeness between son and mother makes the killing automatically a ghastly crime, regardless of circumstances.

Apollo argues to the jury.  He claims his instructions came from Zeus, in part because of the greatness of Agamemnon who was struck down.  He further claims that the child is closer to his father than his mother, who is merely a caretaker even during pregnancy.  As proof, he points to Athena, who was not born of a mother but sprung whole from Zeus.  As fathers are necessary, but mothers are contingent, the weight of the argument is in Orestes' favor.

Athena calls for the jury's verdict.  As the votes come in, trash-talking between the Furies and Apollo.  Athena announces her tie-breaking vote, and it indeed comes down to that: Orestes is acquitted.  Apollo exits, and Orestes praises Athena, pledging devotion to her and to her city of Athens for the remainder of his life.

The Furies are pissed.  Athena tries to calm them down, pointing out that they did well if the verdict came out tied, but they won't hear it.  Athena keeps at it, eventually promising a promotion for them into the keepers and apportioners of justice for the people of Athens [I think].  The Furies, now called the Eumenides, are overjoyed at their new station, and eventually parade out in peace.

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This was not how I expected this to end at all.  I was sure the verdict was going the other way.  And upon first reading, I couldn't follow the final conversation between Athena and the Furies.  But the second reading opened it up a bit.

First of all, Athena is heaping much praise on the people of Athens, and their traditions of doing justice to each other and to the gods.  It reads like a whole lot of flattery Aeschylus is heaping on his fellow-citizens.  Perhaps this is how the playwrights won the drama prizes?

But Athena is doing more here when she promotes the Furies.  She is allowing them to dole out punishment, but also to dole out positive justice.  That has been missing from the Furies actions throughout the play-- they chased Orestes to inflict divine retribution, and could not be satisfied until the task was finished.  But as it turns out, that is a very one-sided view of justice.  In fact, that may be the crux of the failure of justice through the entire trilogy.  Each character was seeking revenge, seeking to do violence as the only way to achieve satisfaction.  True justice requires the possibility of other kinds of responses.

Update, 20 minutes later:  Looked up some interpretations.  Nailed it.

Herodotus, 4.42

And so I am astonished by the way some people have delineated the boundaries of Libya, Asia, and Europe; since these lands actually differ quite a bit in size.  In length, Europe stretches out along both the other landmasses, while in width, any attempt to compare it to the others seems futile to me.  For it is clear that Libya is surrounded by water except for where it borders Asia.  The first one we know of to have discovered this fact was Nechos king of Egypt.  After he had stopped excavation work on the canal, which extended from the Nile to the Arabian Gulf, he sent some Phoenicians off on boats with orders to sail around Libya and back through the Pillars of Herakles into the Mediterranean Sea and to return by that route to Egypt.  And so the Phoenicians set out from the Erythraean Sea and sailed the Southern Sea.  Whenever autumn came, they would put in to shore at whatever region of Libya they happened to have reached in order to sow seeds.  There they would wait for the harvest, and after reaping their crops, they would sail on again.  This they did for two years, and in the third, they came around through the Pillars of Herakles and returned to Egypt.  They mentioned something else which I do not find credible, though someone else may: that when they were sailing around Libya, the sun was on their right side as they went.

Wait, so the Phoenicians sailed around Africa in 600 BC?  What the hell?  How come this is the first time I've ever heard about this?  What was the big deal about the Portuguese and the Cape of Good Hope?

The Eumenides, 2

Months later, Orestes enters the temple for Athena at the Acropolis.  He claims to have done penance, and is asking for final cleansing and exoneration from Athena.  The Furies follow him in, and have been dogging him ever since he left Apollo's.  They see him cornered, and are eager to get their final satisfaction.

Orestes makes his final plea, then falls silent.  The Furies tell him his just punishment has arrived, and await a response.  Not getting one, they gleefully sing and boast over their success.  They renew their argument for the justice of their cause, and the importance of the role they play.  They rue their position in the world, their ugliness and ostracization from both humans and gods, but are confident in their righteousness.

Athena arrives to hear the case.  The Furies make their accusation of matricide, and call it an open-and-shut case.  Athena insists on hearing the other side, for only by following proper procedures can justice truly be done.  Orestes makes his usual claims: he has already paid his penance (as witnessed by his now un-bloodstained clothes); he did the deed out of a sense of duty to his father (the great Agamemnon-- you remember him, right Athena?); and he was pressed by Apollo to do so.  Athena sees the merits of both sides, and so calls for a full trial.  Arraignment over.

The Furies are now in a panic over the possibility of losing their case, which they had thought was airtight.  They know it's not just about Orestes himself.  If he gets away with matricide, it opens the door to killings by any agrieved party, against any available victim-- all they'd need is a plausible excuse!  Moreover, if the fear of punishment is taken away, there is nothing holding back the savage nature of man.  But in the end, the Furies re-convince themselves of the strength of their case.  Surely any jury will see the long-lasting consequences of an innocent verdict, and the just punishment will indeed be discharged as they demand.

The Eumenides, 1

At Delphi, the Pythia (oracle) emerges to give her morning blessing.  She pays homage to the pantheon of gods, and especially to Apollo, to whom the temple is dedicated.  Turning to go inside the temple, she is horrified by the sight: a distraught man (Orestes) in blood-stained clothes; and in the corner, asleep, the hideous Furies.  But then she sees Apollo himself, and departs.

Apollo pledges his continued protection to Orestes, who is beseeching him under high anxiety over his fate.  He has been wandering, and chased by the Furies, since the murder of Clytemnestra.  Apollo assures him that he was only doing the express will of the god-- Apollo himself shoulders the murder.  They leave.

The ghost of Clytemnestra arises from Hades, where she's been having a hell of a bad time.  All there look down on her for her own act of murder, none give her sympathy for her son's.  She scolds the Furies for not devoting themselves to the job, and after all the sacrifices she has sent their way [also during her life?].  But she can't even awaken them, as hard as she screams...

Finally the Furies (now the Chorus) awake, and bemoan that they must continue their pursuit of Orestes.  They hate their job.  They can't get it done while he is under the protection of Apollo-- he, a performer of matricide!  But they are avowed to continue.

Apollo confronts the Furies face-to-face, with neither party backing down.  Apollo tries to kick them out of his temple, and makes fun of their grotesque appearance.  All claim righteousness for the part they play: the Furies, for chasing a matricide, blaming Apollo for allowing it to happen; Apollo, for instigating the murder as retribution for Clytemnestra's murder of her husband.  And how come the Furies aren't upset over that, if they chase down the murderers of family blood?  Argument over the familial status of spouses, Apollo claiming that a denial of such is an insult even to Zeus and Hera themselves, and to Aphrodite, and to all that is holy.  They mean to take this disagreement before Athena to be judged.

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We have here a huge problem of multiplied duties interfering with one another.  Is this a grand critique of the Greeks' religious system, or will it be resolved properly in the end?  It seems that the rigid system of duties performed out of honor can't help but lead to tighter and tighter contradictions, and even the gods cannot escape the illogic of it all.

The Libation Bearers, 4

Aegisthus enters, not quite believing the news of Orestes' death.  The Chorus push him to meet the stranger and hear for himself.  He does, and is killed offstage.

A servant brings the news, and can't understand the Chorus's calmness in the face of calamity.  Clytemnestra appears, as Orestes comes back and declares his intentions.  She lays the guilt-trip on him, trying to preserve her life.  He won't hear it.  Besides killing Agamemnon, he resents her for sending him away to live with strangers as a child.  She protests, appeals to the Fate she had to follow, tells of her sorrow living while Agamemnon fought abroad.  It doesn't work.  Orestes takes Clytemnestra offstage.

The Chorus ruminates on Fate, and celebrates Justice done.  They see a completed cycle of violence, with the ultimate hero, Orestes, coming out on top. 

The deed done, Orestes comes back out, surveys the bodies, and carries his father's bloody mantle in which he was killed.  He sees Justice done.  Her rues his father's passing, lamenting his fate.  But thinking on it too long, he begins to weep, and starts to lose composure, the enormity of the act finally getting to him.  He declares himself an exile from the land, undeserving to live among the people after his deed.  The Chorus try to settle him, but he quickly gets worse.  Orestes sees the Furies in the room, coming for him.  He's losing control, the Chorus is panicking, the Furies approach, and he flees.

The Chorus is sorrowful again, struck by the apparently continuous curse upon this family.

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With all the character focused only on their narrow interests, all were blind to the overall injustice happening around them.  The ultimate lesson from this play is the insufficiency of the old modes of honor and justice.  "An eye for an eye" cannot prevail in the long run.

The Libation Bearers, 3

The Chorus tells of Clytemnestra's dream: that she gave birth to and nursed a serpent that kills her in the end.  Orestes is encouraged by the good omen, seeing success in his plan to kill her.  He hatches his plot: he'll gain entrance to the palace disguised as a traveling stranger.  Then he'll walk up to Aegisthus and kill him.  [Yes, it's really that simple.]

The Chorus contemplates the pattern of history, of women killing the men they're closest to and being killed in return.  Althea, who killed her son; Scylla, who killed her father; the women of Lemnos, who all killed their husbands.  And now the pattern looks to be repeated again.

Orestes, in disguise, enters the palace and is met by Clytemnestra.  He says he brings the message of the death of Orestes to his family.  Clytemnestra appears distraught, and goes to tell the household while the stranger is accommodated.  But the Chorus of women speaks to Orestes' old nurse Cilissa, who says Clytemnestra is secretly pleased, for the one threat against her power is no more.  The Chorus, barely able to contain their excitement, tell her to make sure Aegisthus comes to meet the stranger unarmed, but won't tell what's about to happen next.  Chorus, to themselves: "It's finally happening!  We're about to see the murder we've been waiting for.  Everything is gonna be awesome now!"

About Last Night...
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Heretics, IV - Mr. Bernard Shaw

It is typical of an artist that he aims to display his work; but it is typical of an orator that he aims to disguise his true thoughts-- see Mark Antony, or Joseph Chamberlain.

Bernard Shaw is often viewed as capricious and flitting from ideal to ideal.  In actuality, he holds himself rigorously to an unchanging standard, and this puts him at odds with both the liberals and conservatives at different moments-- hence the perception.  And his unchanging standard is not to veer from calling things as they are-- no bending the use of words, or backing off of his own perceptions.  He'll call a white wine a yellow wine, and be right in doing so.

But this insistence also means he insists against any traditional ideals or moral standards.  He takes this too far, in the sense that he denies some of man's most central qualities, like giving laws, or making generalizations.

And Shaw's ultimate devotion is to an even worse ideal: he looks down upon Man, but always in comparison to the Superman.  In this, he makes the same grave error as Nietzsche from whom he learned the trick: his point of comparison is to a thing that isn't, rather than seeing and loving and being surprised at the thing that is. 

Better to view the world from a lack of pre-conceptions or expectations.  The man who does this will live a life of joy at the wondrousness of his surroundings.  It is true: the meek shall inherit the earth.

Shaw's way leads to further despair.  When he sees the gulf between humanity and his Superman, between the world and his adopted notion of Progress, he holds tightly to his notion and discards humanity, repudiates the world.  But the things that last have the opposite approach.  The Church was built on the Rock of a man who was an exemplar of the good that is only found against an expectation of nothing, "and the gates of Hell have not prevailed against it."

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This chapter got really beautiful by the end of it-- and in a hurry, too.  Good technique.

History I had to look up: Boer War (mentioned a few times already) -- British colonial conflict in present-day South Africa in the late 19th century.  Introduced the use of concentration camps by the British.

The Histories (Herodotus)

I was hemming and hawing over reading this for a long time.  I knew I wanted to read Thucydides for the Peloponnesian War, but I didn't want to get bogged down in long, boring histories instead of getting to the literature at the base of the project.  But this is the time for it, and I had to get some Greek drama out of the library anyway, so I picked this up to give it a shot.

As it turns out, Herodotus is really fun!  This particular translation seems to be really informal in its use of idioms, so its really easy to read.  And the action is actually fast-moving so far, jumping from one interesting episode to the next.  I'm enjoying it enough to finish the whole thing.

So this is the longest book on the list by far up to now.  Ironically, thanks to dragging my feet on the Montesquieu, I've got a week-and-a-half to finish it before it's due back at the library.  Gotta fly now.

The other thing I know is that, due to its length and level of detail packed into that length, good notes are going to be virtually impossible to keep.  Don't know what I'm going to do about that yet.

Update, 3/18: Yup, writing notes is impossible.  If you want to know what happens, just read the outline at the beginning of the book.  I shall plow through.

Heretics, III - On Mr. Rudyard Kipling And Making The World Small

In the great argument between the "bores" and the "bored" (the parochial and the cosmopolitan), let us come out on the side of the bores.  For it is they who discover life and substance in the everyday-- they are continually aroused to poetry by what they see around them.  They are as gods, who require to be fascinated by the familiar, for a god is surrounded only by the familiar.

As an example, look at the poetry that can be found in the ordinary: "Smith" (a noble profession battling with the hardest elements, and necessary for all great wars and conquests), "signal-box" (the last line of defense between life and death for the sea-farer), "letter-box" (the ultimate symbol of security and irrevocability).  To regard such things as unpoetical is to be languishing in what you have learned from too much prose.

Give him this, at least Rudyard Kipling has a flare for just this sort of embellishment.  He manages to see the honor in the ordinary.  He is often criticized for his admiration of things military; this is only incorrect insofar as his perception is just as awry as that of his critics.  A strong military is indicative of a weakened culture (else how could the military have gained strength over the populace?)  The organization that Kipling admires in the military could just as easily be admired in any other industry-- as all are necessary for the smoothness we find in our own lives.

Kipling's real problem is his cosmopolitanism.  By being a "citizen of the world", he fails to be a citizen of his country.  And while he thinks this gives him a grander view of the whole, in reality it gives him a feeble view of all.  Only the lover of a country can truly perceive that country, as he has given himself over to the country.  Only a lover can know his beloved; only a devoted religious can understand his religion; and in all these cases that knowledge grows the subject and thus shrinks (and withers? and darkens? and makes and brings suspicion upon?) the outside world. 

Those who belong nowhere can gain facts about many places, but those who belong somewhere occupy and grasp an entire universe.  The moss-covered stone is weighted with life.  The microscope enlarges the world while the telescope shrinks it.  In reality, true devotion infuses meaning into those things we encounter, however few.

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I was struck in this chapter at the similarities between Chesterton and Mark Steyn-- and if I gave it any longer thought the similarities would probably multiply.  In this case, though, I'm thinking of Steyn's argument against multiculturalism: the big fraud of the multiculturalist state is that it actually absolves people from knowing anything about any other culture.  Facts are fleeting, and often we don't even bother with the facts, relying instead on portraying the proper sentiment.  What is needed, instead, is a strong cultural identity that citizens are eager to buy into.  Only this can produce true vitality in a populace.

The Libation Bearers, 2

Orestes comes out of hiding and greets his sister, who disbelieves it his him at first.  But they embrace joyfully, Electra now glad she has someone with whom she can share her sorrows.  Their talk moves immediately to avenging their father's death.  On Orestes' part, it is for many reasons: divine justice, the duty of a son, to recapture the royal estate, that the fighters at Ilion might witness the glory they fought for, to cut down the coward Aegisthus.  But most prominently in his mind, it is to avoid the terrible underworld fate that awaits him if he doesn't avenge his father, if he avoids this task.

Orestes and Electra lament together, in alternating stanzas, while the Chorus speaks for Agamemnon from his place in the underworld.  They offer that it would be better if he'd died during the war-- at least his authority would pass to his children lawfully.  They look for divine guidance and aid in their response.  Agamemnon (or the Chorus) fill in information they do not know-- that his body was mutilated further by Clytemnestra before burial.  Orestes and Electra ask for a final blessing.

Suitably riled up, and confident in the righteousness of their course, they are avowed to act.  But suddenly confused, Orestes asks how it is the women have been sent by Clytemnestra to annoint the grave.  It seems she has been having nightmares...

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A really effective structure here, with Orestes and Electra reinforcing each other, their stanzas bouncing back and forth until they both think they've been convinced by the other.  I think the role of the Chorus is very ambiguous here.  It's entirely possible that they were actually speaking for themselves, and getting the children to do the evil deed they have no power to perform themselves (or are more than happy to shift the responsibility for onto others).

In the end, in some ways it is necessary that Orestes and Electra are deluding themselves.  Electra especially, not clearly seeing the evil deeds of her own father and how he may have deserved his fate.  And Orestes, searching widely for a pure justification for what he intends to do, but ultimately only getting part-way there.

The conversation also reflects what must have been the discussion between Clytemnestra and Aegisthus before the action of the previous play.  There, too, each had their own reasons for plotting the murder, and together they convinced each other of their righteousness-- only to perform a shocking act of evil that led to terrible consequences for themselves.  Bad move, kids.

The Spirit of Laws, Book XIII - Of The Relation Which The Levying Of Taxes And The Greatness Of The Public Revenues Bear To Liberty

Section 1, quoted in full

1.-- Of the Public Revenues

The public revenues are a portion that each subject gives of his property, in order to secure or enjoy the remainder.

To fix these revenues in a proper manner, regard should be had both to the necessities of the state and to those of the subject.  The real wants of the people ought never to give way to the imaginary wants of the state.

Imaginary wants are those which flow from the passions and the weakness of the governors, from the vain conceit of some extraordinary project, from the inordinate desire of glory, and from a certain impotence of mind incapable of withstanding the impulse of fancy.  Often have ministers of a restless disposition imagined that the wants of their own mean and ignoble souls were those of the state.

Nothing requires more wisdom and prudence than the regulation of that portion of which the subject is deprived, and that which he is suffered to retain.

The public revenues should not be measured by the people's abilities to give, but by what they ought to give; and if they are measured by their abilities to give, it should be considered what they are able to give for a constancy.

Discussion of the Laffer curve.

Argument in favor of progressive tax rates.

Argument in favor of consumption tax at the point of sale, the better to disguise the tax from the consumer.  Possibility of a progressive consumption tax (VAT?).

Long discussion of use and abuse of taxes in various types of regimes, and the danger of gaming the system for private advantage.

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That was a fun chapter.  Good to end on a high note.

One thing I've discovered from wrestling with this book-- this project needs to stick to genuine literature as much as possible.  The technical stuff is awful.  (I don't know if that will put The Wealth of Nations in danger or not.)  Of course, crossover works like Plato's Republic (and hopefully Thucydides) will still make the cut.

The Libation Bearers, 1

Orestes, home again, attends his father's grave.  Leaves a lock of his own hair as a tribute.  Hears the women (taken from Troy) arriving with their own tribute, and hides to observe their ceremony.

Electra, Orestes' sister, leads them.  The Chorus speaks of the troubles in the palace since the murders-- and especially of a new prophecy, that the underworld is angered and awaiting Aegisthus' and Clytemnestra's demise. 

Electra struggles for words to speak at the grave.  Bring tidings from her mother?  Or bring promises of revenge against her mother?  The Chorus suggests she bring prayers for swift (and fair) revenge, but won't commit to joining her in such prayers. 

Finally, Electra comes out with it: she does seek payback against Aegisthus especially, and hopes for Orestes' swift return.  Leaving, she sees the hair and recognizes it as possibly Orestes'.  Footprints that match his as well.  Could it be?

Heretics, II - On The Negative Spirit

Say what you will about the mystics and their wild devotions, but at least they claim a clear vision of the Good, of an Ideal worth striving for.  Whereas in our current popular ethics, the most we do is point to a failing, to a bad end, and display it as the example of what is to be shunned.  Surely an ethic that only goes so far is lacking... something!

In another case, we hold up examples of diseased bodies to scare people away from the wrong path, rather than holding up examples of virtuous and ideal bodies to draw people to the right path. 

In literature, too, we have fallen into this mode.  Our "realism" literature [e.g. that of Isben] revel in showing bad behavior-- but do so no more than any past moral literature was able to do.  The difference is that current realism lacks any portrayal of the absolute good as a counterpart.  In the way that they only use negative portrayals or actions to make their ethical points, the literary realists are like dynamiting terrorists.  "Both realists and dynamiters are well-meaning people engaged in the task, so obviously ultimately hopeless, of using science to promote morality."

And here is the connection: Rationalism that shuns an orthodox understanding of Truth flails about and gets lost in the details-- for it has nothing else to use.  "Now we have fallen a second time, and only the knowledge of evil remains to us."

Any replacement concept we try to use is merely spinning our wheels.  "Liberty", "Progress", "Education" are all goals of gaining more of... an unknown, undefined, and unevaluated quantity.  H.G. Wells thinks he has located the purpose of man in parenting-- but that merely continues the line of man, toward what end?  Unsaid.  In this sense, Progressivism is a lie-- because unanchored "progress" can be made in any direction.  Without a prior moral doctrine.  "progress" is unmeaning.  And yet that group insists on not adopting a moral doctrine.

The Spirit of Laws, Book XII - Of The Laws That Form Political Liberty, In Relation To The Subject

The previous concerned conditions of liberty in government itself.  The liberty of an individual is a different story altogether.  Philosophically, it involves the ability to exercise one's will.  Politically, it concerns the sense of personal security that is necessary for any such exercise to take place.

The laws that impinge on the individual ought to have that aim in mind.  That requires judicial procedures that are fair, predictable, and modest.  Proportional punishment for wrongdoing; fair rules and procedures for evidence; fair accusations-- no bringing ridiculous, but undefensible, charges like witchcraft.

Crimes against the government are especially tricky to define and fairly prosecute, for they always carry the potential and temptation for abuse.  Too often they are charged merely for political revenge.  They are cast onto bystanders or acquaintances too easily.  They impugn mere passing thoughts, or careless actions, or even satirical writing.

The people's sense of security against loss of liberty is improved by punishment for those who hurl false accusations.  It is improved also by laws against terrible abuse of debtors by owners.

[Long discussion of proper behavior on the part of monarchs.  Booooooring.]

The Spirit of Laws, Book XI - Of The Laws Which Establish Political Liberty With Regard To The Constitution

Liberty, in the realm of government, is the ability to properly pursue the ends of government.  This means setting up systems that inherently prevent the abuse of power.  Most governments are set up for the pursuit of some external goal, that is, external to the government itself.  But the English system is designed for the internal goal of maintaining political liberty-- of sustaining itself.  Any system looking to do this must be moderate in its actions.

Features of the English system, or any system looking to preserve itself:

Separation of power between legislative, executive, and judicial-- to prevent one body or person from amassing self-serving power.

Judicial appointees coming from the common population [jury trial].

Legislative representatives chosen from the best among the people-- possibly even from the nobility.  Or perhaps a combination [bicameral legislature].

Universal suffrage.

Active, nimble, and unitary executive, but one with the legislative power only to reject laws-- and ability of the legislature to override vetoes.

Regular legislative sessions.

Impeachment trials.

Slow-moving government overall-- so that when it does move, it moves in concert.

Legislative taxing power.  Executive control of the military.

Successful monarchies, too, must be organized by a proper division of power.  Much of the political turmoil in ancient history is due to improper, and thus unstable, divisions of power, that had to be corrected again and again.  The Greeks invested too much judicial power in their kings, but not the legislative power for them to be able to correct the problem themselves.  Eventually the entire system gave way.

[Looooooong discussion of the political developments among the Romans.  Highlights-- often the fairest systems arose in times of transition, but were superseded by the new changes.  Initial discussion is of the division between legislative senate and executive king, governor, or appointed dictator.  Later discussion of the organization of the judiciary.  Distinction between discovery of fact and discovery of law-- roles played by different bodies.  Peaceable systems in conquered lands-- often more stable.  Note: a fair separation of powers upholding a stable government that itself exemplifies "liberty" does not guarantee that the people themselves will experience anything resembling personal "liberty".  That's for a later chapter.]

Ends by saying that anyone wanting to explore the development of liberty in any other historical mode of government will have to do the work themselves.  He's done.

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Ah, the good stuff.  It's pretty remarkable how much of this was incorporated, and is still incorporated, in the American system at the constitutional level.  It may have a been a good idea to read this thing after all.

Heretics, I - Introductory Remarks On The Importance Of Orthodoxy

Once upon a time, men who argued for any conviction whatsoever would claim the mantle of orthodoxy-- for they at least would desire to claim to be right.  But now, men gleefully laugh at adopting the mantle of heresy, for the pursuit of rightness and truth is in itself viewed as misguided.  As a consequence, we hear the most outlandish statements [e.g. "Life is not worth living"] and shrug-- despite the absurdities it contains.

In the recent past, we allowed the exploration and proclamation of heresies, expecting in doing so that me might gain a greater awareness of and appreciation for the real truth.  Instead the very idea of the importance of truth was lost.  And because of that, we are far worse off than before.  Consider the treatment of Oscar Wilde: applauded for daring to publicly ridicule and defy the reigning social mores; jailed for personally living out what he proclaimed-- because his personal conviction of the supreme righteousness of his actions was over the line.

In place of large theories, we think we have found meaning examining the details of art, politics, literature. [Deconstruction?]  Yet it is the strong who look beyond themselves to external goals worth pursuing.  It is the weak who busy themselves with self-maintenance, turning inward and shrinking from the world.  The result of this cultural turn is bad art, bad politics, bad literature.  For the bold, in their boldness, were capable of extraordinary heresy as well [e.g. Milton's Satan]. 

A pursuit of practicality above all else, and the attendant shunning of grand theory, does fail and must fail.  So let us be bold, and have it out!

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This is so cool.  And the final paragraph is amazing, so I have to quote it in full:

Suppose that a great commotion arises in the street about something, let us say a lamp-post, which many influential persons desire to pull down.  A grey-clad monk, who is the spirit of the Middle Ages, is approached upon the matter, and begins to say, in the arid manner of the Schoolmen, 'Let us first of all consider, my brethren, the value of Light.  If Light be in itself good--' At this point he is somewhat excusably knocked down.  All the people make a rush for the lamp-post, the lamp-post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congratulating each other on their unmediaeval practicality.  But as things go on they do not work out so easily.  Some people have pulled the lamp-post down because they wanted the electric light; some because they wanted old iron; some because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil.  Some thought it not enough of a lamp-post, some too much; some acted because they wanted to smash municipal machinery; some because they wanted to smash something.  And there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he strikes.  So, gradually and inevitably, to-day, to-morrow, or the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk was right after all, and that all depends on what is the philosophy of Light.  Only what we might have discussed under the gas-lamp, we now must discuss in the dark.

I'm not crazy.  Thanks, Gil.

The Agamemnon, 4

Agamememnon is killed.  The Chorus goes through every possible response in a dozen lines-- confusion, anger, timidity, vindictiveness, reckless bravery.  Finally determine to see for themselves what the situation actually is.

Clytemnestra stands over the body and admits the deed-- for Agamemnon's past sins.  Chorus threatens punishment and banishment, but she points out they did nothing to Agamemnon when he sacrificed his own daughter.  Claims the protection of Aegisthus, who abetted and murdered Cassandra at the same time.

Chorus breaks into internal discussion dealing with their shock and grief, but Clytemnestra keeps interrupting [in contrast to the previous Strophe-Antistrophe format].  Chorus first blames Helen once again.  C: Again?  You keep going back to that well.  Chorus blames the seeming curse on the royal house.  C: Getting closer.  But in that case, consider me the conduit of that curse, and especially the required vengeance for the killing of Iphigenia, and find me personally not guilty.  Chorus: "Never!  On the other hand, it was pretty horrifying what Atreus did, and the punishment seems to have landed on Agaememnon."  [Clytemnestra is winning.]  So how do we grieve?  C: Consider this a family matter.  Let Iphigenia greet her father appropriately.  [Ouch.]  Chorus asks, how can the murderer be put in charge of rectifying justice?  C: No, I've put an end to injustices in this house.

Aegisthus enters, surveys the scene, tells the whole tale of his father: Thyestes, brother of Atreus, banished from the kingdom.  Laid low, he returns to the palace, but is welcomed by Atreus serving him his own children at the meal.  A disgrace.  Aegisthus planned this whole murderous plot as an ultimate revenge.  The Chorus are outraged, but Aegisthus is claiming power and threatening punishment and slavery for any who dare rise against him.  Hot words rise, insults fly, and the room nearly breaks out in violence before Clytemnestra steps between them and orders an end to it.  She committed the murders to quell the violence once and for all.  More insults hurled, as the Chorus hopes for the return of Orestes.

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Good stuff.  I like the multiple motivations at play here: Clytemnestra avenging the murder of Iphigenia, Aegisthus avenging the horrible insult of his father at Atreus's hands.  Agamemnon had it coming from two ends.

The interesting thing is that Clytemnestra and Aegisthus seem to be acting unawares of the other's motivation.  Who was playing whom, here?  Aegisthus using Clytemnestra to actually do the deed, then claim power himself?  Or Clytemnestra coaxing Aegisthus into a conspiracy, thus shielding herself while she gets the revenge that has burned within her for ten years?  Probably both.

Furthermore, Clytemnestra seems to think this will be the end of the episode-- that she actually has managed to definitively shut down the cycle of violence.  Great naivete here.  In fact, the truce doesn't last more than an hour before the Chorus is planning an uprising, and plotting to aid Orestes upon his return.

Interesting subtext in the Chorus as well.  Aegisthus is claiming the crown, and threatens violence against the people.  At the moment, they're not having it.  They recognize an illegitimate leader when they see one, and only the threat of widespread violence and slavery holds them back.  That can't last forever.  (Of course.  That's why there's a trilogy.)