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.
Suppose, per impossibile, we were to carry out an even more thoroughgoing plan of reform. You can fill in any impossible details and requirements that suits your fancy. Even if we were to gain the whole world, we would still be left with a population of some 300 million clueless lost souls, without any skill or knowledge that is not technical, with churches that are the enemy of Christ, with a commercial culture that is more morally degrading than heroin and methamphetamines.
Among the many reasons why a regime would wish to eliminate all knowledge of antiquity and the insights ancient writers offer is the desire to shield the subject masses from anything that might make them uneasy. We might view it as a kindness on the part of the ruling class.
In the off chance that this screed might be read by people who do not already know the score, I ask such imaginary readers to imagine a visit from Jefferson or Twain or Mencken or even some reasonable politician like Robert Taft or Sam Ervin, who asks us to take him on a guided tour of these United States. We might begin their tour by taking them to see New York or San Francisco or Chicago or Portland, in fact to any major city in to witness the complete breakdown of law and order, sanitation, and public decency.
We are honored to be able to publish this fine essay by Randall Ivey, well-known novelist and essayist, on the once-famous Texas writer, William Goyen.
I have reposted this piece from four years ago and made it free to everyone at the request of a friend who is now reading The Napoleon of Notting Hill.
Thomas Hardy, though best known for his novels, was a poet who exercised significant influence on the next generation.
I’ve just finished reading what is sometimes called Shakespeare’s Ovid because the playwright borrowed from it extensively. The passage below comes in the twelfth of the poem’s fifteen books.
I am going to start this post as a sort of thread, introducing some themes and eliciting comments and questions. My first question is: Who is Mrs. Samille, and is her name of any significance? NOTE: THIS HAS BEEN ADDED TO.
These are really crucial chapters in the novel, as we begin to understand the principal characters.
