Karl White writes in to ask which translations of Herodotus and Thucydides I recommend. In some ways, I am not the best person to ask, since I do not spend much time reading translations, but I have used a number of translations of the historians for classes.
So begins an epic poem that many readers even today regard as the best work of literature that has ever been written, equalled only by the Odyssey. I never cared for such judgments—the most important theologian, the 3 greatest western movies ever made, the world’s best hotdog. I leave the making of lists to newly wed brides who torture their husbands with “Honey Do lists” they post on the bathroom mirror.
Anyone interested in the study of the ancient Greeks and Romans–the languages, the literature, history, philosophy, etc–may wish to visit the Autodidact on Fleming.Foundation.
Before I say anything else about last week’s sojourn, I must mention the eatery where we dined on Wednesday. As it’s in Milan, not Palermo, where I keep such things under wraps, I make public its name and declare it one of the ten best in a lifetime of anxiously restrained gluttony.
I continue to learn the most amazing things on Facebook–generally the things I thought I knew in grammar school and had to spend a lifetime unlearning. Today, someone recirculated a meme with the old wheeze that “idiot” comes from a Greek word meaning private citizen who did not take an interest in public affairs, to which a libertarian–very reliable people, libertarians, one knows what they are going to respond before a question is posed–that the polis was everything.
In a previous light-hearted exercise in “revenge fantasy,” we touched upon the secular/blasphemous misuse of words with strong religious or cultural roots.
In a People’s Democratic Revolution, if you are with the Revolution, then you can do anything you want without punishment: rob, rape, kill. If you are against the Revolution, you are an Enemy of the People and can be sent to the gulag or shot. It’s called Revolutionary Justice. It worked, because the Bolshiviks were in power for 74 years.
Whoever did not fantasize about making Plato’s Symposium or Phaedrus into a feature film had probably had a deprived childhood. I certainly did, and one particular detail sticks in my mind, namely, that I gave the Russian actor playing Socrates a slight stutter.
In Chapters 5-8, Machiavelli surveys, without a trace of moral indignation, the various ways by which a prince may gain power and, perhaps more importantly, how his long-term success is at least partly conditioned by the means he used to establish his rule.
For example, would we allow people from Third World Islamic nations that hate Christ and despise the West to immigrate, become citizens, vote, and hold office?
