Welcome Pope Francis

This is only loosely connected to reading the Great Books, but I wanted to comment on it anyway.  Today, for likely the only time during this reading list, we have a new Pope.  He has chosen the name Francis, to honor St Francis of Assisi.  We don't have any of the writings of St Francis on the reading list.  His actions spoke louder than his written words. 

• The new pope is a Jesuit, the first one to become pope.  The Jesuits represent some of the finest learning and thinking in the Catholic church, and I'm astounded that this is the first time one has been elevated so far.  
• I'm not Catholic by heritage or practice.  I'm an outsider but an interested outsider.  Having said that, I've been very tired of non-Catholics promoting very obviously non-Catholic people to the position of pope.  Fine, you don't like Catholic teaching, we got it.  The next time Planned Parenthood looks for a new president, I half hope that Catholics all over the world talk loud and long about how the new head should be opposed to abortion.  That would be equally productive.
• Even from the outside, I find the whole process of choosing a new pope to be amazing.  The weight of centuries can clearly be seen in the ceremony of it all.  We do a good bit of pomp and circumstance when we inaugurate a new President but it pales in comparison.  
• I wish Pope Francis all the luck and good fortune possible.  I don't agree with all Catholic teachings but the world is better for having high profile moral leaders. 

Matsuo Basho - Poetry

This poem is a haiku from 17th century Japan.  The poet is Matsuo Basho.  The book says that it is 'often offered as the quintessential example of haiku'.

Old pond-
A frog leaps in-
Water's sound.

Haiku often leaves me cold and this one is no exception.  Too often, the modern haiku that I'm presented with are no more than a thought that has the proper number of syllables.  Basically, if you look hard enough, you can find a haiku in your grocery list.  Well, your mileage may vary, but my grocery list is seldom poetic.
There are exceptions, of course.  I ran across this one some years ago:

Plum blossoms bloom,
And pleasure women buy new scarves
In a brothel room

The first two lines paint a picture of a picturesque location with happy women.  The third line brings forth the reality that they are not happy and they don't control their own fates.  The first haiku there, offers no poetic twist.  It's a straightforward word picture.
Not my cup of tea.

Biography of Herodotus

We don't know much about the life of Herodotus.  He was born in 484 BC in Halicarnassus, a town in modern day Turkey.  He is well known as the 'father of history', though apparently some of his contemporaries called him the 'father of lies'.  They thought that he was in the wrong for relying so much on stories from other people. 
He traveled extensively and talked with people everywhere he went.  Herodotus then recorded these stories, weighed the evidence, and gave them to his audience.  He often stressed the moments when he had conflicting tales, which gives tremendous credibility to what he speaks of.
Wikipedia gives this wonderful anecdote:

It was conventional in Herodotus's day for authors to 'publish' their works by reciting them at popular festivals. According to Lucian, Herodotus took his finished work straight from Asia Minor to the Olympic Games and read the entire Histories to the assembled spectators in one sitting, receiving rapturous applause at the end of it. According to a very different account by an ancient grammarian, Herodotus refused to begin reading his work at the festival of Olympia until some clouds offered him a bit of shade, by which time however the assembly had dispersed - thus the proverbial expression "Herodotus and his shade" to describe any man who misses his opportunity through delay. Herodotus's recitation at Olympia was a favourite theme among ancient writers and there is another interesting variation on the story to be found in the Suda, Photius and Tzetzes, in which a young Thucydides happened to be in the assembly with his father and burst into tears during the recital, whereupon Herodotus observed prophetically to the boy's father: "Thy son's soul yearns for knowledge."

I simply love the idea of going to the Olympics and reciting your works.  I hope some new writer makes this method succeed again.  

Author Timeline

BC
Homer 7th or 8th Cent(?)
Aeschylus 525-456
Sophocles 497-405
Herodotus 484-425
Plato 428-347
Aristotle 384-322
Lucretius 99-55
AD
Nicomachus 60-120
Marcus Aurelius 121-180
Hobbes 1588-1679
Milton 1608-1674
Pascal 1623-1662
Swift 1667-1745
Rousseau 1712-1778
Kant 1724-1804
Mill 1806-1873

Marvell - Poetry

For the complete posts on Poetry, please click the tag at the bottom of the post.

Our next poem is by Andrew Marvell and was written in the seventeenth century.  Its title is 'To His Coy Mistress'.

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To Walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Should rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
To hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For; lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
They beauty shall no more be found,
Nor; in they marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honor turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on they skin like monring glow,
And while they willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And no like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our  time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us roll all our strengh and all
Our sweetness up ino one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Through the iron gates of life:
Tus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

What a lovely poem!  I absolutely love this.  In the first stanza, our poet says, that if he but 'world enough and time' then he could be as patient as possible.  He explains that his patience would last for entire historical ages.  He'd even take a full two hundred years of concentration on each breast!
But, he says, we're mortal and we don't have that much time.  Would you rather make love with me or wait until you're deflowered by worms in your tomb?  That will be private but not as nice.  So quick, embrace life and lets get to it!
I wonder if Andrew Marvell had a lot of luck with this poem?  I hope so.

Antigone - Sophocles

Our final play for February's reading starts right after a great battle.  The sons of Oedipus, Eteocles and Polynices, found themselves on opposite sides for the battle of Thebes.  They killed each other.  Eteocles fought for Thebes and is given a heroes burial.  Polynices fought against and the king, Creon, has decreed that his body shall be eaten by dogs and birds.
Enter Antigone and Ismene.  They are the daughters of Oedipus, the sisters of the fallen men.  Antigone is outraged that her brother will be denied a decent burial.  She decides to defy the king and unsuccessfully tries to get Ismene to help her.
It is reported to Creon that someone has put some dust on the body of Polynices, basically a symbolicy burial.  Antigone is caught doing so and brought before him.  He asks her if she heard the decree and she answers that she did.  She will openly defy him because burying her brother is what the gods would have her do.  Creon is livid.
It's important to remember the relationships in play here.  Creon is Antigone's uncle.  He is the king while she is the daughter of the previous king.  She is also engaged to marry his son.  In otherwords, she is a source of power in the city and Creon doesn't take well to rivals.  Considering that he just had to fight for the city itself against one of her brothers, this may be a justified point of view.
He decides not to kill Antigone directly.  He will wall her up in a tomb with some small amount of food and water.  His son Haemon, pleads with him not to do this but he won't listen.  Both Antigone and Haemon threaten suicide but still Creon won't be moved.
Until the blind prophet Tiresias convinces him otherwise.  Then he rushes to open the tomb.  Unfortunately, Antigone has taken matters into her own hands and hung herself.  Haemon sees this and falls on his sword, killing himself.  In an echo of 'Oedipus the King', the queen also kills herself.  Creon is crushed.  He ignored the will of the gods to punish a domestic enemy.  They brought doom upon him.

I mentioned that we did a one act version of this in high school.  I played Haemon and my only real memory of the play is having Creon weep over my dead body.  (In my defense, I was more interested in girls than in Greek drama.)  It's a nice, emotional play.

March Reading

The reading for March is

Herodotus: The History (books 1 and 2) link

He's the father of history and his work is exceedingly readable.