Book 4, Letter 16, Part 3 of 3 To Xenophon, on monuments

 

Just when there seemed hope for peace between Sparta and Athens, that's when Thebes leaps into the fray. The reasons are complex and stupid, just like so many pre-conditions of war. I don't want to get into that here. Your book, though only a fraction of the size of Thucydides, is long enough, and after a while, reading about the seemingly endless conflicts becomes exhausting. When Thebes entered the war I outwardly groaned, worn out by the killing, corruption, greed, valour, heroism, lies, rivalries and propaganda. Now that I have finished the book, I am still tired of it. I have turned to reading comic books and I have begun reading a study guide to Plato's Republic, just to clear my head of this war that seems to have no end.

Yet, inside this horror story, I found a monument to tragedy that perhaps sums up the whole conflict.

The Thebans were about to go into battle against the Spartans (Bk 6, Ch 4, Sec 7).

They (The Thebans) also found a certain encouragement in the oracle which says that the Spartans must suffer a defeat at the place where stands the monument to the virgins who are supposed to have killed themselves because they had been raped by some Spartans. So the Thebans put garlands on this monument before the battle.

I have never heard of such a thing in the ancient world, so I asked Ryan Stitt, author of the History of Ancient Greece podcast, about this monument. He likewise had not heard of anything similar, but recommended I read about Lucretia in Rome. So I went digging. I found that two writers whom I have not yet read, record the story of Lucretia, and, having a budding interest in the founding myths of Rome, was delighted to have found my way via this story.

Livy, Dio, and Dionysius of Halicarnassus both tell of the rape of Lucretia. A rape which sparked a revolution, and saw the birth of the Roman Republic. When Lucretia told people that she had been raped, she then killed herself, saying, I shall act in a manner which is fitting for me; you, if you are men, and if you care for your wives and children, exact vengeance on my behalf and free your selves and show the tyrants what sort of woman they outraged, and what sort of men were her menfolk!

Lucretia (Wiki)

Today I remember Eurydice Dixon. 19 year old Eurydice, comedian and actress, who was raped and murdered at Melbourne's Princes Park, on the 12^th of June, 2018. The man who destroyed her, Jaymes Todd, handed himself in to police after CCTV footage of him was released and was convicted and sentenced to 35 years in prison. On the 18^th of June, 10,000 people gathered in vigil in her honour at Princes Park, attended by the State Premier, Daniel Andrews. On the morning of the vigil, the floral tributes laid at the site of her rape and murder were vandalised by Andrew Nolch, who was later sentenced for vandalism.

Eurydice Dixon

Euryidice Dixon (Wiki link)

My first letter to Eurydice (2018)

No monument was built in her honour, and no revolution followed.

But today I remember her. Today we remember her.

Thank you Xenophon. I am glad to be reminded of difficult truths, and though I close your book, you story lives on in my mind, and in the world all around me. All around us.

With gratitude and respect

Morgan.

Book 4, Letter 16, Part 2 of 3 To Xenophon, on rivalries, memoirs and monuments

 

So Xenophon, you wrote about Lysander like you knew him personally, and you probably did, so it might interest you to learn how he was remembered by Plutarch, who lived about 600 years after Lysander. I have always loved Plutarch's writings. Like you, Xenophon, he is accused of never letting the facts get in the way of a good story, but Plutarch is also credited with having access to, and making extensive use of, a great many library records in Greece and Rome. Plutarch's histories are generally well regarded, but we refer to them as Historiographies, since Plutarch, like you Xenophon, was interested in stories from a person's life and how they represented character in regards to their virtues or vices.

So, I will cherry pick from a few of Plutarch's statements about Lysander.

Lysander is said to have had long hair and a beard, a fashion which began with another famous Spartan named Lycurgus. He is reported to have said that a fine head of hair makes handsome men look more handsome and ugly men more terrifying. Herodotus recounts that the 300 Spartans, when preparing to do battle against the Persians at the Hot Gates, combed their hair and their beards, and did exercises on the beach. Xeonophon, in my life I have had long hair and short hair, I have dredlocked it and decorated it with shells and beads and coloured cloth, and at differing times of my life it has made me look more handsome or more terrifying, dependent upon who was casting judgement. I think it was Timothy Leary (the modern era author) who said that long hair is a sign of a free man. I can neither confirm or deny such a statement.

However, back to Plutarch...

The Spartans expect their boys from the very first to be intensely conscious of public opinion, to take any censure deeply to heart as well as to exult in praise, and anyone who remains indifferent or fails to respond to these sentiments is despised as a spiritless clod, utterly lacking in any desire to excel. This kind of ambition and competitive spirit, then, had been firmly planted in Lysander by his Spartan training, and it would be unfair to blame his natural disposition too much in this respect. On the other hand he seems to have displayed an inborn obsequiousness to the great such as one would not expect to find in a Spartan, and to have been willing to bear the arrogance of those in authority for the sake of achieving his own ends, a quality which some people regard as a great part of political capacity. Aristotle, (Problems, XXX, 1) when he observes that great natures, such as those of Socrates, Plato, and Heracle, are especially prone to melancholy, notes that Lysander also became prey to melancholy, not a first, but in his later years.

So it should be obvious why I love Plutarch so much, but there is a little parallel that I would like to bring into the discussion, in regards to the Spartan culture of exalting in praise. Jimmy Hendrix, a rather famous musician of my own era, is remembered for saying I don't consider myself to be the best, and I don't like compliments...they distract me. Hendrix is also remembered for saying Knowledge Speaks, Wisdom Listens, which makes me wonder if he was a fan of Socrates.

Back to Plutarch; his mention of melancholy, makes me wonder if this was an early understanding of Depression. It's hard to really know what people of the ancient past really thought about such a concept as depression, which is a common medical issue of my era. Certainly you did not understand brain chemistry the way we do, but there are always parallels to be found. The use of the word melancholy is from the 1960 translation (Ian Scott-Kilvert), but the 1906 John Dryden translation runs thus: Aristotle, who says that all great characters are more or less atrabilious...

So I had to look up atrabilious and I found this rather helpful entry on the Merriam-Webster website:

Atrabilious is a somewhat rare word with a history that parallels that of the more common 'melancholy'. Representing one of the four bodilly humours, from which it was once believed that human emotions originated, atrabilious derives from the Latin 'atra bilis' literally meaning 'black bile'. The word melancholy derives from the Greek 'melan-' and 'chole', which also translates as 'black bile'. In its original sense, atrabilious meant melancholy, but now is more frequently used to describe someone with an irritable or unfriendly temperament. A word with a meaning similar to that of atrabilious is 'splenetic', which is named after the organ in the body (the spleen) once thought to secrete black bile.

So was it depression, or was Lysander just a grumpy old man, venting his spleen at a changing world he didn't like? In the absence of answers, I have always enjoyed the questions, since each question is an open door, leading to further questions.

So, back to the dispute between Lysander and Callicratidas, I found this illuminating passage, again in Plutarch, regarding the difference between their leadership styles.

All those who were associated with him (Lysander) already through friendship or the ties of hospitality were promoted to important enterprises, honours, or commands, and he made himself a partner in their acts of injustice and oppression to satisfy their greed. The result was that everyone looked up to him, courted his favour and fixed their hopes upon him, believing that so long as he remained in authority all their most extravagant ambitions would be fulfilled. For the same reason they were not at all well disposed to Callicratidas, when he first appeared on the scene (in 407 BCE) to succeed Lysander in command of the fleet; and even after he had proved himself as brave and as just as a man could bbe, they still disliked the character of his leadership, which had a certain Doric simplicity and candour about it. They admired his virtue, much as they might do the beauty of some hero's statue, but they missed Lysander's whole hearted support and looked in vain for the latter's keen partiality for the interests of his own friends, so much so that when he sailed away, they wept for sheer despair.

Book 4, Letter 16 Part 1 of 3 To Xenophon, on rivalries, memoirs and monuments

 

Hey Xenophon,

I just finished reading your Hellenica today, although the most modern translator (1966) chose to title your work A History of My Times, in light of your book's thoroughly casual style as a history. Because you tried to write the sequel to Thucidides, History of the Peloponnesian War, everyone compares your work with his, and you never come out in a favourable light. You weren't the forensic historian that Thucidides was, you were a philosophy student, and a soldier, and as such, you wrote what you were capable of producing, in this instance, the memoir of a retired commander.

The tradition continues today, when retired figures of state leave their duties, they have the time to reflect on their lifetime of adventures, and decide that their stories need to be told; hence the endless supply of political memoirs that have been produced in the prior century or so of my era. I'm not patronising you, it's actually fine with me that you aren't interested in the historical precision Thucidides was capable of. I've always thought of you as more of a storyteller anyway, so your inaccuracies, omissions, lies and foggy memory don't detract from your book at all for me. I'm not reading it to become versed in the true history of a war that ended over two thousand years ago. I read your work because I'm interested in cultural values, and the expressions that authors use to describe, and justify those values.

I'll start with the story of Callicratidas and Lysander.

So, Lysander was commander of the Spartan fleet, but command was being passed from Lysander to Callicratidas. (The following quotes are from the Rex Warner translation of 1966)

When Lysander handed over command he told Callicratidas that he was doing so as Master of the Sea and as conqueror in battle.

Once Callicratids had taken over however, he found that the chain of command was being gummed up by supporters of Lysander, who ignored orders, or acted slowly, or just spread rumours against Callicratidas, wanting to have Lysander back in command. Knowing that he had a job to do, Callicratidas made a speech:

Personally I am perfectly content to stay at home. And if Lysander or anyone else wants to claim superiority in the knowledge of sea warfare, I, for my part, have no objection. However, it is I who have been commissioned by the state to command the fleet, and I have no alternative except to carry out my orders to the best of my ability...

Since no-one wanted to go against the directives handed down by the Spartan authorities, all the critics shut up pretty quick. So then Callicratidas went to see Cyrus, the Persian king, to get money to carry out the war against Athens.

To pause for a moment, this aspect of the Peloponnesian war is to me the most revealing, and fascinating aspect of the whole story. In 480 BCE, the Persian King Xerxes tried and failed to invade and subdue Greece, and was beaten back by a Spartan and Athenian joint effort. A few decades later, with the Peloponnesian War in full swing, Sparta and Athens are doing their best to destroy each other amidst horrific plagues, with a whole generation lost to the sacking and burning of cities, farms and villages. In order to get the upper hand on the Athenians, the Spartans go to the new Persian King for money to help fund their war. The Persian King was more than happy to pay Greeks to kills Greeks, as it kept them busy on the fringes of his own empire, and it stopped them them from uniting to try their hand at invading Persia.

So, Lysander, (to go back to our original story...), was all for taking money from the Persians, but Callicratidas was not so enthusiastic.

He then went to Cyrus and asked him to pay for the sailors, but Cyrus told him to wait two days. Callicratidas was furious at being put off and at having to keep behaving like a courtier. It was a sad day for the Greeks, he said, when they had to make up to foreigners for the sake of money, and he declared that if he got home safely, he would do his best to make peace between Athens and Sparta.

So then Callicratidas goes off to the Milesians, who were allies of Sparta, and he gave the following speech: (The following two sections are from the HG Dakyns Translation, 1891)

“Men of Miletus, necessity is laid upon me to obey the rulers at home; but for yourselves, whose neighbourhood to the barbarians has exposed you to many evils at their hands, I only ask you to let your zeal in the war bear some proportion to your former sufferings. You should set an example to the rest of the allies, and show us how to inflict the sharpest and swiftest injury on our enemy, whilst we await the return from Lacedaemon of my envoys with the necessary funds. Since one of the last acts of Lysander, before he left us, was to hand back to Cyrus the funds already on the spot, as though we could well dispense with them. I was thus forced to turn to Cyrus, but all I got from him was a series of rebuffs; he refused me an audience, and, for my part, I could not induce myself to hang about his gates like a mendicant. But I give you my word, men of Miletus, that in return for any assistance which you can render us while waiting for these aids, I will requite you richly. Only by God’s help let us show these barbarians that we do not need to worship them, in order to punish our foes.”

So Lysander, in order to screw with Callicratidas even more, actually gave back the war funding money he had already got from Cyrus, forcing Callicratidas to make the journey himself to ask for it back. This political back and forth seems very familiar. Even though Lysander and Callicratidas were meant to be fighting for the same goals, fighting the same enemy, and both loyal to Sparta, Lysander's actions seem driven by standard political positioning for advantage. If Lysander could mess with Callicratidas' ability to effectively carry on the war against Athens, then it would make Lysander look good, and support whatever private political goals he was working towards.

The speech was effective; many members of the assembly arose, and not the least eagerly those who were accused of opposing him. These, in some terror, proposed a vote of money, backed by offers of further private contributions. Furnished with these sums, and having procured from Chios a further remittance of five drachmas a piece as outfit for each seaman, he set sail to Methyma in Lesbos, which was in the hands of the enemy. But as the Methymnaeans were not disposed to come over to him (since there was an Athenian garrison in the place, and the men at the head of affairs were partisans of Athens), he assaulted and took the place by storm. All the property within accordingly became the spoil of the soldiers. The prisoners were collected for sale by Callicratidas in the market-place, where, in answer to the demand of the allies, who called upon him to sell the Methymnaeans also, he made answer, that as long as he was in command, not a single Hellene should be enslaved if he could help it. The next day he set at liberty the free-born captives; the Athenian garrison with the captured slaves he sold.

To Conon he sent word:— He would put a stop to his strumpeting the sea. And catching sight of him, as he put out to sea, at break of day, he gave chase, hoping to cut him off from his passage to Samos, and prevent his taking refuge there.

I do love Dakyns translation, but there is an important difference between him and the the modern Warner translation, which I will show you, and you can make up your own mind which one better represents the Greek.

He then sent the following message to Conon: 'I am going to put a stop to your fornication with the sea. She belongs to me.'

I personally like the Warner translation best, but this whole story just leads me to want to know more about Lysander and the messy business of what now looks like a Hellenic regional war, funded by the clever foreign policy of a Persian king. So, I turned to Plutarch, who is really the best resource we modern readers have for so many stories concerning both Greek and Roman history.

Book 4, Letter 15, to Marcus Aurelius, On Epicurean Living

Hail! Emperor Marcus Aurelius,

I am writing to apologise. I am a big fan of your writing, and of Seneca and Epictetus, yet despite two years of studying Stoic philosophy, I am living an Epicurean life. I've not actually ever read any Epicurus, but I find that my life is nonetheless defined by its pleasures.

And it is good.

My work is a pleasure, I am a gardener and an aged care support worker. Gardening is self explanatory, suffice it to say that my job is to make the world more beautiful, and to help others. It is a great pleasure to go to work every day that I do.

My study is a pleasure. I am not a student at university, and thus, my study is a pleasure. I read who I want to read, and write what I want to write, and all my deadlines are self imposed. The same goes for my study of music, and of art. I play and write music that I want to hear, I draw and paint pictures that I want to see, and I write stories that I want to read. I share them with many friends and family, and it is a pleasure to do so. And it is good.

My family is a pleasure. We have our health. We have a good home, we have all the food we could ever need, we have all of modern life's necessities and many of its conveniences. Family life is a pleasure. And it is good.

Is this pleasure the Highest Good? I cannot say.

But it is good.

In my aged care work, I find every day a way to put into practice stoic precepts and the advice which Cicero gives in his book On Old Age. At 40, I am about half the age of my clients. Every day I see my future reflected back to me through their stories. Every day I see them as young ladies and gentlemen, full of life and vigour. I joke with them, I listen to them and I am given greater context for my own joys and losses as I hear tales from the war, or from the depression, or from living in China, or from having children die.

As I get to know them better, I am privy to their worries and anxieties, I learn the meaning behind their scars, or their limp, or swollen arm. And I am known by them, I share as well, and I befriend these people who are deep into their own twilight years, and in some cases nearing their imminent deaths, not with a disinterested, or dismissive nonchalance, but with a Stoic practicality. It is real to them, just as their whole lives have been real.

Every day I remember that I am mortal.

Every day I am reminded to concern myself with what I can influence, and to not concern myself with what is beyond my power.

Every day I remember that to be prepared to die, is to be ready to live.

I am reminded that Kindness is a gift and a virtue. I am taught by the kindness of the people I serve. I discover kindness in myself, rising from the darkness and it lights up my heart, and it lights up the faces of the people I serve.

I remember that virtue is the highest good.

I remember that kindness is a pleasure.

So I ask you, Emperor Aurelius, is Kindness the Highest Good?

Meditations: Book 3, section 10 (Gregory Hays translation, 2002)

Forget everything else. Keep hold of this alone and remember it: Each of us lives only now, this brief instant. The rest has been lived already, or is impossible to see. The span we live is small – small as the corner of the earth in which we live it. Small as even the greatest renown, passed from mouth to mouth by short-lived stick figures, ignorant alike of themselves and those long dead.

Or, since the older translation is so beautiful: (George Long, 1862)

Throwing away then all things, hold to these only which are few; and besides bear in mind that every man lives only this present time, which is an indivisible point, and that all the rest of his life is either past or it is uncertain. Short then is the time which every man lives, and small the nook of the earth where he lives; and short too the longest posthumous fame, and even this only continued by a succession of poor human beings, who will very soon die, and who know not even themselves, much less him who died long ago.

These little acts of kindness that my life allows me to share, suddenly seem quite important indeed.

Thank you Marcus, for all that you give.

With gratitude and respect.

Morgan.

Book 4, Letter 14, To Cicero – History written by the losers. Part 2 of 2

 

Sometimes Cicero, the whole story can be found in a single letter, and I find that I have very little to say...

DCCCCIX

M Tullius Cicero to M Iunius Brutus

BCE 43, July

...Solon, who was at once one of the wisest of the Seven, and the only lawgiver among them...said that a state was kept together by two things - reward and punishment. Of course there is a certain moderation to be observed in both, as in everything else, and what we may call a golden mean in both these things. But I have no intention to dilate on such an important subject in this place.

But what has been my aim during this war in the motions I have made in the senate I think it will not be out of place to explain. After the Death of Caesar and your ever memorable Ides of March, Brutus, you have not forgotten what I said had been omitted by you and your colleagues, and what a heavy cloud I declared to be hanging over the Republic. A great pest had been removed by your means, a great blot on the Roman people wiped out, immense glory in truth acquired by yourselves : but an engine for exercising kingly power had been put into the hands of Lepidus and Antony, of whom the former was the more fickle, the latter the more corrupt, but both of whom dreaded peace and were enemies to quiet. Against these men, inflamed with the ambition of revolutionizing the state, we had no protecting force to oppose. For the fact of the matter was this : the state had become roused as one man to maintain its liberty; I at the time was even excessively warlike ; you, perhaps with more wisdom, quitted the city which you had liberated, and when Italy offered you her services you declined them.

Accordingly when I saw the city in possession of parricides, and that neither you nor Cassius could remain in it with safety, and that it was held down by Antony's armed guards, I thought that I too ought to leave it : for a city held down by traitors with all opportunity of giving aid cut off, was a shocking spectacle. But the same spirit as always had animated my staunch love to the country, did not admit the thought of a departure from its dangers. Accordingly, in the very midst of my voyage to Achaia, when in the period of the Etesian gales, a south wind – as though remonstrating against my design – had brought me back to Italy, I saw you at Velia and was much distressed : for you were on the point of leaving the country, Brutus – leaving it, I say, for our friends the Stoics deny that wise men ever “flee.”

As soon as I reached Rome I at once threw myself in opposition to Antony's treason and insane policy : and having roused his wrath against me, I began entering upon a policy truly Brutus-like – for this is the distinctive mark of your family, - that of freeing my country. The rest of the story is too long to tell, and must be passed over by me, for it is about myself. I will only say this much : that this young Caesar, thanks to whom we still exist, if we would confess the truth, was a stream from the fountain-head of my policy. To him I voted honours, none indeed, Brutus, that were not his due, none that were not inevitable. For directly we began the recovery of of liberty, when the divine excellence of of even Decimus Brutus had not yet bestirred itself sufficiently to give us an indication of the truth, and when our sole protection depended on the boy who had shaken Antony from our shoulders, what honour was there that he did not deserve to have decreed to him?

However, all I then proposed for him was a complimentary vote of thanks, and that too expressed with moderation. I also proposed a decree conferring imperium on him, which, although it seemed to great a compliment for one of his age, was yet necessary for one commanding an army – for what is an army without a commander with imperium? Phillipus proposed a statue ; Servius at first proposed a license to stand for office before the regular time. Servillius afterwards proposed that the time should still be further curtailed. At that time nothing was thought too good for him.

But somehow men are more easily found who are liberal at a time of alarm, than grateful when victory has been won. For when that most joyful day of Decimus Brutus's relief from blockade had dawned on the Republic and happened also to be his birthday, I proposed that the name of Brutus should be entered in the fasti under that date. And in that I followed the example of our ancestors, who paid this honour to the woman Laurentia, at whose altar in the Velabrum you pontiffs are accustomed to offer sacrifice. And when I proposed this honour to Brutus I wished that there should be in the fasti an eternal memorial of a most welcome victory : and yet on that very day I discovered that the ill- disposed in the senate were somewhat in a majority over the grateful. In the course of those same days I lavished honours — if you like that word — upon the dead Hirtius, Pansa, and even Aquila. And who has any fault to find with that, unless he be one who, no sooner an alarm is over, forgets the past danger ? There was added to this grateful memorial of a benefit received some consideration of what would be for the good of posterity also ; for I wished that there should exist some perpetual record of the popular execration of our most ruthless enemies. I suspect that the next step does not meet with your approbation. It was disapproved by your friends, who are indeed most excellent citizens, but inexperienced in public business. I mean my proposing an ovation for Caesar. For myself, however — though I am perhaps wrong, and I am not a man who believes his own way necessarily right — I think that in the course of this war I never took a more prudent step.

The reason for this I must not reveal, lest I should seem to have a sense of favours to come rather than to be grateful for those received. I have said too much already : let us look at other points. I proposed honours to Decimus Brutus, and also to Lucius Plancus. Those indeed are noble spirits whose spur to action is glory : but the senate also is wise to avail itself of any means — provided that they are honourable — by which it thinks that a particular man can be induced to support the Republic. But — you say — I am blamed in regard to Lepidus : for, having placed his statue on the rostra, I also voted for its removal. I tried by paying him a compliment to recall him from his insane policy. The infatuation of that most unstable of men rendered my prudence futile. Yet all the same more good was done by demolishing the statue of Lepidus, than harm by putting it up.

Enough about honours ; now I must say a few words about penalties. For I have gathered from frequent expressions in your letters that in regard to those whom you have conquered in war, you desire that your clemency should be praised. I hold, indeed, that you do and say nothing but what becomes a philosopher. But to omit the punishment of a crime — for that is what "pardoning" amounts to — even if it is endurable in other cases, is mischievous in a war like this. For there has been no civil war, of all that have occurred in the state within my memory, in which there was not certain to be some form of constitution remaining, whichever of the two sides prevailed. In this war, if we are victorious, I should not find it easy to affirm what kind of constitution we are likely to have ; if we are conquered, there will certainly never be any.

I therefore proposed severe measures against Antony, and severe ones also against Lepidus, and not so much out of revenge as in order that I might for the present prevent unprincipled men by this terror from attacking their country, and might for the future establish a warning for all who were minded to imitate their infatuation. However, this proposal was not mine more than it was everybody's. The point in it which had the appearance of cruelty was that the penalty extended to the children who did not deserve any. But that is a thing of long standing and characteristic of all states. For instance, the children of Themistocles were in poverty. And if the same penalty attaches to citizens legally condemned in court, how could we be more indulgent to public enemies ?

What, moreover, can anyone say against me when he must confess that, had that man conquered, he would have been still more revengeful towards me ?

Here you have the principles which dictated my senatorial proposals, at any rate in regard to this class of honours and penalties. For, in regard to other matters, I think you have been told what opinions I have expressed and what votes I have given. But all this is not so very pressing. What is really pressing, Brutus, is that you should come to Italy with your army as soon as possible. There is the greatest anxiety for your arrival. Directly you reach Italy all classes will flock to you. For whether we win the victory— and we had in fact won a most glorious one, only that Lepidus set his heart on ruining everything and perishing himself with all his friends — there will be need of your counsel in establishing some form of constitution. And even if there is still some fighting left to be done, our greatest hope is both in your personal influence and in the material strength of your army.

But make haste, in God's name ! You know the importance of seizing the right moment, and of rapidity. What pains I am taking in the interests of your sister's children, I hope you know from the letters of your mother

*

Well Cicero, history proved your faith in the young Caesar to be fatally misplaced. History proved your efforts to be futile. History proved your cause to be be a failure and the Republic nothing more than a dying beast, wounding itself with it's final thrashing.

But Cicero, history has also proved your immortality, paper thin though it might be. Book upon book are stacked upon my desk, your words still ringing out, 2000 years later.

History, written by the loser.

Thank you, Cicero, for taking the time to write so much.

With Gratitude and Respect

Morgan.