Role of the Philosopher in Greek and Roman Society

Lately I have been drilling down to write about specific works by individual Greek authors. It seems worthwhile, though, to break for a bit to write generally about the role of the philosopher in Hellenistic society. By “Hellenistic” I mean not only the society of Greece in Socrates’ time, but also under the Macedonians and their successors and the thoroughly Hellenized pagan Rome. Indirectly, though, since our own western civilization is itself a successor to these cultures, considering how philosophers fit into them might yield some clues about the place of intellectuals in our own society.

Greek Philosophers [photo by J.D. Falk CC BY-SA 2.0]

Greek Philosophers [photo by J.D. Falk CC BY-SA 2.0]

Many feel that philosophy was born in the work of epic poets, and no one can deny that works of Homer, at least, are laden with philosophical concepts. Philosophy and literature have always been linked. However, the first people we would consider to be philosophers, in the modern sense, all affluent men from the Ionian cities of Asia Minor. The Greek economy had evolved and society had stabilized, to the point where the upper classes had leisure to contemplate the great questions and write down their conclusions for the edification of their friends. Interest in philosophy as an aristocratic hobby soon spread to the Sicily and the Greek mainland, particularly the Attic peninsula and the newly boobing town of Athens. For generations, however, no one considered philosophy to be a career: philosophy was something one did, not something one was. The business of Greek aristocrats to govern the polis and their own estates; philosophy was nothing but an interesting distraction.

By the time of the Periclean golden age, this was beginning to change. Sophists like Protagoras and Hippias earned fame and a comfortable living by teaching practical rhetoric, spiced with philosophy, to aspiring politicians. Judging by the descriptions of them in Plato’s dialogs, they were happy to accept free room and board on their travels and “sing for their supper” by lecturing or engaging in philosophical discourse. When Socrates became interested in philosophy, probably some time in his thirties, he began seeking these men out whenever he heard they were in town. Socrates, however, was a different kind of philosopher. While he was a member of the citizen class, he never seems to have been wealthy. He came from a family of stone cutters and probably followed the trade himself as a young man. Unlike some of his aristocratic friends, he spent at least half his life as a full time philosopher. Unlike the sophists, and to the consternation of his wife Xanthippe, he never attempted to charge tuition from his students. He was always desperately poor, and is the first and most famous of many in history to choose a life of philosophical poverty.

By the time of Plato, philosophy seems to have been regarded as a legitimate career choice. Young Plato considered becoming a politician like his uncle, almost became a playwright, and finally chose to be a philosopher after being influenced by Socrates. Plato had family money and his academy itself seems to have been bought with money originally raised by his friends to rescue him when he got in trouble during an ill-advised foray into in Sicilian politics, effectively making him the first endowed chair of philosophy in Western history. Even so, it is important to draw the distinction that he was a full time philosopher from an aristocratic background, rather than an a full time aristocrat who happened to be interested in philosophy.

Socrates and Plato became the archetypes for generations of philosophers who came to Athens from all over the known world to teach and study philosophy. Some were wealthy, others much less so, but material affluence had little affect on life at the Athenian academies. John Henry Newman, The University: Its Rise and Progress (of which I recently edited a new edition) describes the entry of the Stoic philosopher Cleanthes (born about a century later than Plato) in Athens,

So now let us fancy our Scythian, or Armenian, or African, or Italian, or Gallic student, after tossing on the Saronic waves, which would be his more ordinary course to Athens, at last casting anchor at Piraeus. He is of any condition or rank of life you please, and may be made to order, from a prince to a peasant. Perhaps he is some Cleanthes, who has been a boxer in the public games. How did it ever cross his brain to betake himself to Athens in search of wisdom? or, if he came thither by accident, how did the love of it ever touch his heart? But so it was, to Athens he came with three drachmas in his girdle, and he got his livelihood by drawing water, carrying loads, and the like servile occupations. He attached himself, of all philosophers, to Zeno the Stoic—to Zeno, the most high-minded, the most haughty of speculators; and out of his daily earnings the poor scholar brought his master the daily sum of an obolus, in payment for attending his lectures. Such progress did he make, that on Zeno’s death he actually was his successor in his school; and, if my memory does not play me false, he is the author of a hymn to the Supreme Being, which is one of the noblest effusions of the kind in classical poetry. Yet, even when he was the head of a school, he continued in his illiberal toil as if he had been a monk; and, it is said, that once, when the wind took his pallium, and blew it aside, he was discovered to have no other garment at all;—something like the German student who came up to Heidelberg with nothing upon him but a great coat and a pair of pistols.

The academy of Athens continued until it was finally closed at the order of Justinian I in 529 AD. In other parts of the Greek world we find professional philosophers serving as tutors to royals and nobles, as Aristotle did to Alexander, or occasionally as state employees, such as those at the library of Alexandria under the Ptolemies. Everywhere in the East though, the philosophy was considered a respectable–if rarely lucrative–profession.

Ancient Library of Alexandria.  O. Von Corven [public domain via Wikimedia Commons]

Ancient Library of Alexandria. O. Von Corven [public domain via Wikimedia Commons]

In Rome and the eastern Mediterranean things were somewhat different. Roman culture had been heavily influenced by Greece from a very early point. After Rome annexed the Greek mainland following the Third Macedonian War (an event Will Durant called “The Conquest By Greece”) Roman and Greek high culture became nearly indistinguishable. However, the professional philosopher never attained the same stature as in the east. Ironically, philosophy itself was extremely popular in the pagan Roman Empire. All young upper class Romans (of both sexes) were exposed to Greek philosophy as part of their education and some even studied in Athens. All individuals of cultivation were expected to have articulate opinions on philosophy. Many leading citizens identified with particular philosophic sects: most often Stoicism, but sometimes Epicureanism, Cynicism, or Neo-Platonism. Paul Veyne, in A History of Private Life From Pagan Rome to Byzantium writes about how it was fashionable for senators and even emperors to style themselves as “philosophers” and adopt the unkempt beards and simple robes of the profession, yet few or none of them actually practiced the ideals of this philosophy in their daily lives. They were far too busy holding offices, running their estates, and finding ways to become even more wealthy.

These Romans were very much like a modern American bourgeoisie who takes yoga classes and wears yoga clothes everywhere, yet doesn’t bother to integrate the teachings into her career in any way. According to Veyne, The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius was actually a writing assignment, one of the “steps” of a three step self-help program.

There were professional philosophers in the Western Empire, but most of them seem to have been attached to the household staff of wealthy Romans, and at least some of them were slaves (as were many many doctors, accountants, and other professionals in Rome). As tutors to the pater familias and his children they probably had a high status relative to other household servants, but they were still poor and dependent on their patrons for protection. Those who didn’t have a patron tried to find one quickly, or else headed back East.

The one group of affluent Romans who came closest to actually practicing philosophy were the philosophical poets of the early Imperial period: particularly Lucretius, but also Horace, Virgil, and others. Clearly, there work contains much philosophy, but were they themselves philosophers? George Santayana dealt with this question in Three Philosophical Poets,

Here, I think, we have the solution to our doubt. The reasonings and investigations of philosophy are arduous, and if poetry is to be linked with them, it can be artificially only, and with a bad grace. But the vision of philosophy is sublime. The order it reveals in the world is something beautiful, tragic, sympathetic to the mind, and just what every poet, on a small or on a large scale, is always trying to catch.

[E]ven if we grant that the philosopher, in his best moments, is a poet, we may suspect that the poet has his worst moments when he tries to be a philosopher, or rather, when he succeeds in being one.

Be that as it may, the fact remains that Lucretius and his fellows did not discover any great new ideas in philosophy. Every truth which they included in their poems, no matter how beautifully and clearly, was parroted from one or another of the Greeks. There work, like Homer’s before, is great literature. It is not great philosophy.

And so, the Eastern and Western halves of the Hellenistic world had more or less similar conceptions of the amateur gentleman-philosopher, and very different ideas of the professional philosopher. In Greece and the East he became a revered academic who devoted his life to the pursuit of philosophic truth. In Rome and the West he was simply one more hanger-on of the well equipped household, almost a human fashion accessory. At this time I am not going to comment on the present status of philosophers in Western Civilization, having already run some six centuries ahead of myself in my Great Books program. I will say only that our own society’s views contain elements of both the Greek and the Roman, yet seem to be trending more towards the Roman as time passes.

Plato’s Gorgias

The Gorgias is probably among the last dialogs of Plato’s early period. In it we see him experimenting with the longer format, using multiple interlocutors, which he will later use to great effect in his magnum opus, The Republic. In it also, we get the sense that Plato is coming up against the limitations of the Socratic elenchus (question and answer technique) as a way of teaching philosophy; two of the three interlocutors remain unconvinced and refuse to change their position after Socrates questions them.
The second of these, Callicles, becomes openly hostile and refuses to continue, forcing Socrates to finish up in the sort of monologue argument which he hates. The fundamental weakness of the Socratic method, as any of us who have used it in the classroom know, is that it requires full participation from both sides (which is why I used to give my students a participation point every time they asked or answered a question in discussion section).

Gorgias was a prominent teacher of oratory (public speaking) from Sicily. The dialog opens with Socrates and his side-kick Chaerophon (whom we met in Clouds and heard mentioned in The Apology) waiting to meet Gorgias as he leaves a dinner party. They have heard that he is in town, and want to question him regarding Socrates’ current inquiry: what is the nature of oratory, and is it one of the true arts? When Gorgias comes out he is accompanied by Polus, a younger and less famous teacher of rhetoric, and Callicles, a budding Athenian politician who is hosting Gorgias while he is in town.

The School of Athens.  Rafael.  [public domain via Wikimedia]

The School of Athens. Rafael. [public domain via Wikimedia]

Gorgias good-naturedly agrees to answer Socrates’ questions, and Socrates soon proves to his own satisfaction that oratory, far from being the highest art, as Gorgias believes, is a spurious art–more of a knack, really. It relates to the true art of politics the same way that cooking relates to medicine and cosmology relates to physical training: it panders people’s enjoyment but isn’t actually good for them on any deep level.

At this point Polus wades into the discussion to defend his profession. His argument is that oratory is a good because those who become skilled in it can obtain great power and take advantage of those who are less skilled in court and the assembly. Socrates then launches a series of questions intended to school Polus on the difference between ends and means. Means cannot be good in themselves, but ends can. Next, Socrates introduces one of the most radical concepts in Platonic philosophy: it is better to suffer an injustice than to do one. Thus a man who uses oratory to become a tyrant and take unfair advantage of others is harming himself worst of all. Polus is clearly unconvinced by these assertions, but just as clearly out of his depth trading words with Socrates.

Callicles, who has been quiet so far, can restrain himself no longer. Socrates, he says, has been using logical tricks to take advantage of Gorgias and Polus, and they are too noble to call him on it. Socrates’ position is ridiculous because the natural law of the world is for stronger and “better” men to take from their inferiors. I was reminded of the line from Stephen Sondheim’s musical Sweeny Todd,

In all of the whole human race Mrs Lovett
There are two kinds of men and only two,
There’s the one staying put in his proper place
And the one with his foot in the other one’s face.
Look at me Mrs. Lovett look at you.

Socrates, of course, is able to refute Callicles’ position in short order, and Callicles responds by shifting his position and even resorting to personal insults. Unable to hold his ground and unwilling to admit that he is wrong, he tries to end the conversation. Gorgias, however, who is now enjoying himself, urges him to continue. For the rest of the dialog he answers sullenly and agrees with Socrates only to get the discussion over with faster. Eventually he becomes so unresponsive that Socrates is forced basically to lecture. Meanwhile Socrates has broadened the topic to how a man should live virtuously to achieve the good live (i.e. eudaimonia). A great leader, according to Socrates, would live his life with order and self control. He would speak to the people in order to educate them and improve them in virtue, not merely to talk them into things and pander to them. Even famous men like Pericles and Cimon, while adequate as civil servants, were not great leaders because they used oratory and didn’t actually improve the people in their charge. At this point, the dialog has cycled back to Socrates’ initial conclusion that oratory is not more than a pseudo-art used to pander to the masses.

At the conclusion of the dialog, Socrates offers one of the myths which appear in several of Plato’s dialogues. This particular one deals with the judgement that awaits people in the afterlife. Those who behave unjustly will damage their souls in ways that will be obvious to the judges, who will consign them to punishment in Tarterus. This myth serves as additional support against Callicles’ position, possibly more appealing to a man like Callicles, who is apparently immune to reason.

The Gorgias treats with several concepts which are worthy of further consideration. For instance, the doctrine of avoiding revenge because doing injustice harms the doer became a cornerstone of Platonism, and later of Christianity. Almost as radical was the idea that punishment for injustice was good for the person punished, which has also enjoyed a long currency in Western Civilization, particularly in the Catholic Church. The main theme of the dialog, the distinction between legitimate education and oratory, is of particular interest in the modern world. While we have less opportunity to watch orators in person than classical Greeks, we are barraged all day with advertising and “news” using all the ‘ old techniques and appeals. As Socrates points out, while some of it may pander to us by giving temporary pleasure and telling us what we want to hear, none of it is good for our souls. None of it will bring us closer to eudaimonia in any way.

The Crito of Plato

The Crito is an interesting addition to the Platonic canon. Stylistically and linguistically, it doesn’t seem to fit with the other dialogs. Most scholars explain these by assuming that it is either a very early or very late work. In his introduction to the Penguin edition, Hugh Tredennick explains that either of these poses difficulties. The majority theory that the Crito is one of Plato’s first dialogs is appealing because of the extreme simplicity of Socrates’ line of questioning–more a series of rhetorical questions than the knife-like elenchus we see in the other dialogs. However, there is still the problem of the inconsistent language and lack of Socratic Irony, as compared to the other earlier, more “Socratic” dialogs. There is also a line which seems to reference a later work by Polycrates the Sophist.

The less popular theory, that the Crito was written either by an elderly Plato or another Platonist, perhaps his nephew Speusippus. The simplicity of the Crito works against this theory, as does its failure to reference any of the sophisticated metaphysics which were such a feature of later Platonic works. These objections can be partly dealt with, however, if we assume that the Crito was deliberately kept simple because it was intended for a lay audience. This would explain the choice of Crito himself (respectable and affluent, but no intellectual giant) as a relatable interlocutor. The text itself also seems to imply that it was intended to overcome the criticism of Athenians who essentially asked, “If Socrates was so great, why did he let himself be killed?”,

Crito: …But, O! my beloved Socrates, let me entreat you once more to take my advice and escape. For if you die I shall not only lose a friend who can never be replaced, but there is another evil: people who do not know you and me will believe that I might have saved you if I had been willing to give money, but that I did not care. Now, can there be a worse disgrace than this- that I should be thought to value money more than the life of a friend? For the many will not be persuaded that I wanted you to escape, and that you refused.

 

Speusippus, 2nd head of the Academy.  From a medieval manuscript [public domain via Wikipedia]

Speusippus, 2nd head of the Academy. From a medieval manuscript [public domain via Wikipedia]

Despite its failure to joint neatly into the rest of the corpus, the Crito is unmistakably a Platonic work, even if it is not a work by Plato. The primary question is whether Socrates should allow himself to be rescued by Crito and his other friends. Crito argues that public opinion would be on Socrates’ side and that he has an obligation, under the general norms of their culture, so preserve himself so he can care for his family. Socrates reduces the argument to one of justice. In the eyes of Justice, any obligation he owes do to public opinion or norms is insignificant compared to that he owes to the laws–what we today might call “rule of law”. Socrates has been fairly condemned through due process of law. His conviction may have been unjust, but that does not free him to commit his own injustice against the law and reason.

To me this offers the most digestible justification for why Socrates allowed himself to die: he was a martyr for Reason. Having reasoned his way through an ethical dilemma and convinced himself of the just path, he could do nothing else without ceasing to be a philosopher; a philosopher who does not trust reason is no philosopher at all.

I like this justification much better than Xenophon‘s, that Socrates was ready to die and wanted to do so before his powers failed. It also seems more noble than the argument in the Phaedo that philosophers are destined to a better afterlife, or at least a more pleasant reincarnation, than normal people and should welcome death, particularly since they are forbidden to suicide. That point, however, will have to wait until I write about the Phaedo in a future post.

Lady Justice.  J.L. Urban [photo by Michal Maňas, CC-BY-SA 2.0]

Lady Justice. J.L. Urban [photo by Michal Maňas, CC-BY-SA 2.0]

Xenophon’s Anabasis

The Anabasis is Xenophon’s best known work. Besides being the first known work of what later became as popular literary type–the account of a military expedition cast int he form of a novel–it is often studied by beginning students of Ancient Greek because of Xenophon’s simple and direct, yet vivid, prose. He was the Hemingway of Attic Greek.

The name “Anabasis” means “Going Up” but came to connote a march or military expedition “up country”. After Xenophon numerous Anabasi were written in imitation, The most famous is the Anabasis of Alexander by Arrian of Nicomedia. The title of Xenophon’s Anabasis plays a role in a humorous sketch provided by John Henry Newman, in his The Idea of a University, in which a young student, seeking admission to a university, has asked to be examined on the works of Xenophon,

Tutor. Mr. Brown, I believe? sit down.

Candidate. Yes.

T. What are the Latin and Greek books you propose to be examined in?

C. Homer, Lucian, Demosthenes, Xenophon, Virgil, Horace, Statius, Juvenal, Cicero, Analecta, and Matthiæ.

T. No; I mean what are the books I am to examine you in?

C. is silent.

T. The two books, one Latin and one Greek: don’t flurry yourself.

C. Oh, … Xenophon and Virgil.

T. Xenophon and Virgil. Very well; what part of Xenophon?

C. is silent.

T. What work of Xenophon?

C. Xenophon.

T. Xenophon wrote many works. Do you know the names of any of them?

C. I … Xenophon … Xenophon.

T. Is it the Anabasis you take up?

C. (with surprise) O yes; the Anabasis.

T. Well, Xenophon’s Anabasis; now what is the meaning of the word anabasis?

C. is silent.

T. You know very well; take your time, and don’t be alarmed. Anabasis means …

C. An ascent.

T. Very right; it means an ascent. Now how comes it to mean an ascent? What is it derived from?

C. It comes from … (a pause). Anabasis … it is the nominative.

T. Quite right: but what part of speech is it?

C. A noun,—a noun substantive.

T. Very well; a noun substantive, now what is the verb that anabasis is derived from?

C. is silent.

T. From the verb ἀναβαίνω, isn’t it? from ἀναβαίνω.

C. Yes.

T. Just so. Now, what does ἀναβαίνω mean?

C. To go up, to ascend.

T. Very well; and which part of the word means to go, and which part up?

C. ἀνά is up, and βαίνω go.

T. βαίνω to go, yes; now, βάσις? What does βάσις mean?

C. A going.

T. That is right; and ἀνά-βασις?

C. A going up.

T. Well, now you say Anabasis means an ascent. Who ascended?

C. The Greeks, Xenophon.

T. Very well: Xenophon and the Greeks; the Greeks ascended. To what did they ascend?

C. Against the Persian king: they ascended to fight the Persian king.

T. That is right … an ascent; but I thought we called it a descent when a foreign army carried war into a country?

C. is silent.

Etc.

It is hard to imagine that anyone reading the Anabasis would not know what it was about, since it is a very engaging book in any language. An army of around 10,000 Greek mercenaries, recruited from throughout the Hellenic world are hired by Cyrus the younger, a Persian prince, ostensibly for use in a local brush war. Soon after the men are gathered, however, it becomes clear that Cyrus actually intends to use the army to attack his older brother and place himself on the throne. With some misgivings the 10,000 agree to follow Cyrus. Unfortunately in the first real battle, a nominal victory for Cyrus’ army, Cyrus himself is killed. After multiple disastrous attempts to parlay with the Great King the mercenaries realize that he absolutely can’t be trusted. Accordingly, they set off to march and fight their way across the breath of the Persian Empire and Armenia to reach the Black Sea where Greek cities offer the chance of taking ship for home.

Illustrations of Greek Soldiers from An Illustrated Dictionary to Xenophon's Anabasis, 1892 [public domain via Internet Archive]

Illustrations of Greek Soldiers from An Illustrated Dictionary to Xenophon’s Anabasis, 1892 [public domain via Internet Archive]

The Anabasis more or less introduces the literary trope of the “wandering mercenary company”, which has since been used by numerous authors. It is easy to draw parallels with the free company in Arthur Conan Doyle’s The White Company, for instance. The trope is a mainstay of military sci-fi: David Drake’s Hammer’s Slammers was one of the most successful series of the 1980’s. A somewhat more recent example is David Weber’s and John Ringo’s March Upcountry tetralogy, the name of which is itself a nod to the Anabasis. In fantasy the exploits of the mercenary companies in Glen Cook’s long running Black Company series and Barbara Hambly’s Sun Wolf and Starhawk trilogy are utterly unforgettable. More recently, “sell sword” companies play a recurring role in George R. R. Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire series Of course, there have been plenty of historical mercenary units since the time of Xenophon. Yet his way of writing about life in a mercenary army seems to have set the pattern for all later authors.

One of the interesting things that differentiates Xenophon’s 10,000 from many other armies, particularly the Persian forces that they fought, is that it never has unity of command. There are rarely less than five generals in command at any given time. Towards the end of the book Xenophon himself, who has accepted a generalship to replace a man killed by Persian treachery, is increasingly able to dominate the other four. He is never able to ignore their wishes completely, though. When he tries to simply override them they take their own men and do what they want. Still less are the generals able to ignore the will of the common soldiers. The generals command in the heat of battle but all other decisions are put to a vote. And if a general becomes too unpopular he faces a real chance of getting lynched by his own men.

Another interesting feature of Xenophon’s account is that he is the first military author I am aware of who actually mentions camp followers. In most armies in history the number of actual armed “effectives” was dwarfed by the hostlers, merchants, mistresses, prostitutes, servants, and others who traveled with them. In the ancient world, when slaves were an important type of individual wealth, a successful army was usually further swelled by numerous captives bound for sale in the first slave market the army came to. This is why it is interesting that historians like Thucydides and Herodotus never mention any of these people. In Xenophon, however, the need to protect the camp followers is mentioned as a recurring tactical consideration. While he doesn’t attempt to count them, it is clear that they are numerous and are regarded as bona fide stakeholders in the overall venture.

It is also interesting that Xenophon mentions the presence of “comrade-women”,

As soon as the victims were favourable, all the soldiers began singing the battle hymn, and with the notes of the paean mingled the shouting of the men accompanied by the shriller chant of the women, for there were many comrade-women in the camp.

It is hard to say whether these women were primarily prostitutes, mistresses, or adventurers in their own right. They certainly weren’t wives–he mentions several times how eager the men were to return to their families back in Hellas. It certainly seems though, that while they could not have been expected to have fought in the hopelite battle line, these “comrade-women” were present and played a role in battle. This is yet another of the tantalizing mentions of women that we find in various works that is so at odds with the accepted view of women in the Greek world as a secluded and disenpowered class that was rarely allowed out of the women’s part of the house.

Overall, Xenophon was an important literary innovator whose books are still accessible and interesting to the modern reader. While they do not always make their way onto the various published Great Books lists, I still would recommend them. And if you only read one of his books, the Anabasis is probably the one you should pick.

Note: The Penguin Group’s popular translation of the Anabasis is sold as The Persian Expedition. I personally read Dakyns’ translation, which is also quite good and is available from Project Gutenberg.

Dynamic HTML in Python – A Simple E-Book Server

I thought it was high time I wrote another Python how-to article, since I haven’t for months, and they tend to be the highest traffic posts on this site. This one should give you plenty of “bang for your buck”, though, since it includes examples of web development, file i/o, and working with PDF files.

I should start with a little background to the problem. I have an older Kindle device, to which I am more or less addicted. I download hundreds of classic books, technical manuals, and journal articles, put them on the Kindle, and read them at my leisure. Unfortunately, the device only has 2 gigabytes of storage. This seems like a lot, but by the time I downloaded all the books on my Great Books Reading List on it, it was already 3/4 full. Lately I’ve been having to delete files to make room for new ones–which is a problem, because I don’t always know where to find them again if I need them. A few weeks ago I complained about the problem on Facebook, and one of my buddies suggested (jokingly?) that I build a “Kindle Server”. So I did.

It only took a couple of hours to dump all of my books on one of the servers that live in my garage, set up a simple Python-based web server, and write a Python script to dynamically serve up a listing of titles. Now I just point my Kindle’s browser at the server and download whatever I want on the fly.

This works with non-DRM .MOBI files, like the ones on Project Gutenberg, The Online Library of Liberty, and the University of Adelaide. It also works on .PDF files. It ignores DRP protected Kindle books that you bought from Amazon, because they stay in the “Archived Items” folder on your Kindle and you can re-download them directly from Amazon.

Step 1 – Set Up a Web Server

Python itself comes with all the libraries you need to function as a simple CGI web sever. A simple script like this, slightly adapted from an example on the Pointless Programming blog, should be all you need. Note that my web server root directory is “/var/www”, my Kindle books are in “/var/www/kindle” and my CGI scripts are in “/var/www/cgi-bin”. I don’t have another server on that IP, so I could use port 80, which is the “main” web server port.

#!/usr/bin/env python

import BaseHTTPServer
import CGIHTTPServer
import cgitb; cgitb.enable()  

server = BaseHTTPServer.HTTPServer
handler = CGIHTTPServer.CGIHTTPRequestHandler
server_address = ("", 80)
handler.cgi_directories = ["/cgi-bin"]

httpd = server(server_address, handler)
httpd.serve_forever()

Once you make sure the web server is working correctly, you will probably want to add a few lines to your rc.local file to start it in the background on system startup:

cd /var/www
./webserver.py &

Step 2 – Write the CGI Script

This is a mildly long script, so I will break it down and explain it by sections. The entire source file is at the bottom of this post.

The first lines in the script tell the server to use Python to run is and import the libraries that you will need. “os” is used to read the directory and is included with Python. “pyPdf” is used to get titles from PDF files and is widely available in repositories. On Debian based systems the package is called “python-pypdf”.

#! /usr/bin/env python

import os
from pyPdf import PdfFileReader

Here we print some text to let browser know that it is receiving HTML output. We also set the title of the page and print a header at the top.

print "Content-Type: text/html"
print
print """
<html>
<head><title>Kindle Library</title></head>
<body>
<h1>Kindle Library</h1><hr>
<ul>
"""

Here we initialize blank lists: one for MOBI format books, one for PDF format books, and one for subdirectories.

mobifiles = []
pdffiles = []
dirlist = []

Now we get a listing of the directory where the books are stored and sort the entries based on the file extension. Anything without an extension is assumed to be a subdirectory and anything with an unrecognized extension is simply ignored.

filelist = os.listdir("/var/www/kindle")
for f in filelist:
    if os.path.splitext(f)[1] == ".mobi":
        mobifiles.append("/var/www/kindle/"+f)
    elif os.path.splitext(f)[1] == ".pdf":
        pdffiles.append("/var/www/kindle/"+f)
    elif os.path.splitext(f)[1] == "":
        dirlist.append("/var/www/kindle/"+f)

And now we do the same thing for any files in subdirectories.

for d in dirlist:
    filelist = os.listdir(d)
    for f in filelist:
        if os.path.splitext(f)[1] == ".mobi":
            mobifiles.append(d+'/'+f)
        elif os.path.splitext(f)[1] == ".pdf":
            pdffiles.append("/var/www/kindle/"+f)

This code looks in each of the MOBI format files and extracts a title. The MOBI format is a fairly complex binary file–usually compressed–and I couldn’t easily find a Python library to read the metadata. Let me know if you know of one. A little tinkering with a hex dumper revealed that the first 32 bytes of each file contain an abbreviated title, which works fine for this application.

Screen Shot of Hex Dump

Screen Shot of Hex Dump

print "<h2>Kindle MOBI Books</h2>"
booklinks = []
for f in mobifiles:
    with open(f, "rb") as book:
        t = book.read(32)
        title = t.strip()
        title = title.replace("_", " ")
    booklinks.append(['<li><a href="'+f.replace("/var/www/","/")+'">',
          title,"</a></li>"])

And then this part sorts the list by title and prints the hyperlinked titles.

booklinks.sort(key=lambda x: x[1])      #sort by title

for b in booklinks:
    print b[0]+b[1]+b[2]

print "</ul>"

This part does the same thing for .PDF books. The PyPdf library makes it silly easy to retrieve PDF metadata. The only thing to worry about is that not all PDF creators bother to put a title in. When the title returns as “None” we use the file name for a title.

print "<h2>PDF Books</h2>"
print "<ul>" 
booklinks = [] 
for f in pdffiles: 
    pdfinput = PdfFileReader(file(f, "rb")) 
    title = str(pdfinput.getDocumentInfo().title) 
    if title == "None": 
        title = f.replace("/var/www/kindle/", "") 
    booklinks.append(['<li><a href="'+f.replace("/var/www/",
                "/")+'">',title,"</a></li>"]) 

booklinks.sort(key=lambda x: x[1]) #sort by title 

for b in booklinks: 
    print b[0]+b[1]+b[2] 
    print "</ul>"</ul>

And, finally, we print a count of the number of books and subdirectories and close the <body> and <html> tags.

print str(len(mobifiles)+len(pdffiles)), "books in", 
print str(len(dirlist)+1), "directories.
"

print """
</body>
</html>
"""

Remember to move the finished script to your /cgi-bin directory and change the permissions to make it executable for all users.

The final result runs fast and looks pretty slick:

Screen Shot from Browser

Screen Shot from Browser

It would be easy to add some CSS to make it even prettier, but I didn’t bother since I’ll mostly be looking at it though a Kindle screen:

Screen Shot from Kindle

Screen Shot from Kindle

I hope this is helpful to you. If nothing else, it shows good simple examples of how to create dynamic HTML with Python and how to get the titles from MOBI and PDF files.

Full Source Listing

#! /usr/bin/env python

import os
from pyPdf import PdfFileReader

print "Content-Type: text/html"
print
print """
<html>
<head><title>Kindle Library</title></head>
<body>
<h1>Kindle Library</h1><hr>
<ul>
"""

mobifiles = []
pdffiles = []
dirlist = []

filelist = os.listdir("/var/www/kindle")
for f in filelist:
    if os.path.splitext(f)[1] == ".mobi":
        mobifiles.append("/var/www/kindle/"+f)
    elif os.path.splitext(f)[1] == ".pdf":
        pdffiles.append("/var/www/kindle/"+f)
    elif os.path.splitext(f)[1] == "":
        dirlist.append("/var/www/kindle/"+f)

for d in dirlist:
    filelist = os.listdir(d)
    for f in filelist:
        if os.path.splitext(f)[1] == ".mobi":
            mobifiles.append(d+'/'+f)   
        elif os.path.splitext(f)[1] == ".pdf":
            pdffiles.append("/var/www/kindle/"+f)

print "<h2>Kindle MOBI Books</h2>"
booklinks = []
for f in mobifiles:
    with open(f, "rb") as book:
        t = book.read(32)
        title = t.strip()
        title = title.replace("_", " ")
    booklinks.append(['<li><a href="'+f.replace("/var/www/",
            "/")+'">',title,"</a></li>"])
    
booklinks.sort(key=lambda x: x[1])      #sort by title

for b in booklinks:
    print b[0]+b[1]+b[2]
        
print "</ul>"

print "<h2>PDF Books</h2>"
print "<ul>"

booklinks = []
for f in pdffiles:
    pdfinput = PdfFileReader(file(f, "rb"))
    title = str(pdfinput.getDocumentInfo().title)
    if title == "None":
        title = f.replace("/var/www/kindle/", "")
    booklinks.append(['<li><a href="'+f.replace("/var/www/",
            "/")+'">',title,"</a></li>"])
    
booklinks.sort(key=lambda x: x[1])      #sort by title   

for b in booklinks:
    print b[0]+b[1]+b[2]

print "</ul>"
    
print str(len(mobifiles)+len(pdffiles)), "books in", 
print str(len(dirlist)+1), "directories.<br>"



print """
</body>
</html>
"""

Apology of Xenophon

Apology of Xenophon

Since in the last post I wrote about Plato’s Apology, it seems timely to consider Xenophon’s Apology, which was probably written around the same time or shortly later. Xenophon, like Plato, had studied under Socrates as a young man. unlike Plato, it is impossible that he could actually have attended Socrates’ trial because we know he was fighting in a Persian civil war in 399 (the story of which is told in his book The Anabasis). His information comes second hand, though a friend named Hermogenes, son of Hipponicus.

Xenophon [public domain via Wikimedia]

Xenophon [public domain via Wikimedia]

Xenophon’s apology is considerably shorter than Plato’s. By his own admission, he makes no attempt to dwell on philosophy but merely strives to explain Socrates’ attitude towards death. In a way this is a back-handed critique of Plato and other philosophers who, in their accounts of Socrates, tended to put words into the master’s mouth to legitimize their own philosophic theories. Actually, however, Xenophon’s Apology is just as much a testament to the writer’s personal philosophy as any of the others. The difference is that Xenophon, while he was prolific writer, was never a professional philosopher like Plato. He was, above all else, a mercenary soldier and his Socrates demonstrates a simple soldier’s philosophy: Don’t fear death, because it’s better do die quickly and escape the depredations of old age. Live as well as you can, but don’t apologize to anyone.

Xenophon’s Socrates makes no effort to craft an artful speech in his defense, even when urged by his friends, saying that his life so far is all the defense he needs,

Do you not know that up to this moment I will not concede to any man to have lived a better life than I have; since what can exceed the pleasure, which has been mine, of knowing 10 that my whole life has been spent holily and justly? And indeed this verdict of self-approval I found re-echoed in the opinion which my friends and intimates have formed concerning me. 11 And now if my age is still to be prolonged, 12 I know that I cannot escape paying 13 the penalty of old age, in increasing dimness of sight and dulness of hearing. I shall find myself slower to learn new lessons, and apter to forget the lessons I have learnt. And if to these be added the consciousness of failing powers, the sting of self-reproach, what prospect have I of any further joy in living?

The Athenian juries disagrees when the time comes, but this is of no great import to Socrates, who answers to no one but his daemon and himself. He takes the poison with good grace, embracing the painless death at the the height of his intellectual prime which, to him, is so preferable to future senility or present exile.

Apology of Plato

Two posts ago I wrote about the difficulty we encounter, when reading Plato’s dialogs, distinguishing his teachings from those of Socrates. Because the Apology is an early dialog and the subject matter is Socrates himself, it may give the most accurate portrait of him of all the dialogs. The apology is a “transcript” of Socrates’ defense while on trial for his life. In the decade following his execution (in 399 BCE) a number of authors wrote their own accounts of the trial, and Plato probably wanted to create a definitive version to defend the memory of his teacher. Of course no record of the trial is completely accurate, if only because the Greeks had not yet invented the concept of a court reporter and thus had to rely on their memories of what was said.

Socrates Dictates his Will, Josef Abel, 1800 [public domain via Rijksmuseum]

Socrates Dictates his Will, Josef Abel, 1800 [public domain via Rijksmuseum]

One of the most important things to remember when reading the Apology, is that Socrates really didn’t care whether he won or lost the trial. He was 70 years old and had already reached a place in his philosophy in which he no longer feared death,

For let me tell you, gentlemen, that to be afraid of death is only another form of thinking that one is wise when one is not; it is to think that one knows when one does not know. No one knows with regard to death whether it is not really the greatest blessing that can happen to a man; but people dread it as though they are certain that it is the greatest evil; and this ignorance, which thinks that it knows what it does not, must surely be ignorance most culpable. (29a-b)

Transcending fear, particularly the fear of death, is one of the great benefits of studying philosophy. Unmotivated by fear, Socrates was free to follow his own convictions–and possibly the urgings of his daemon–and seize on the trial as one more chance to educate the Athenians and set an example for his students by demonstrating his dialectic.

Thus Socrates, whose disclaimer that he doesn’t know how to speak in court sounds weak from a man who has already put the greatest sophists of the day in their place, spends most of the trial bringing up edgy theological ideas, such as when he calls on the god Apollo as a witness or when, in passing, he asserts that the Gods cannot lie. Both of these points required a number of unorthodox assumptions and would have made most of the jurors uncomfortable. Socrates then goes on to demonstrate his teaching method by cross examining Meletus which, to most of the jurors, would have been more a demonstration of how annoying he could be. Towards the end of his defense he declines to beg for the court’s mercy (a standard section in Athenian court practice) and explains away his lack of political service by saying that he just would have been gotten himself killed by the other Athenians had he involved himself,

The true champion of justice, if he intends to survive even a short time, must necessarily confine himself to private life and leave politics alone. (32a)

No one, least of all Socrates, is surprised when the court returns a “guilty” verdict. The prosecution recommends the death penalty. Athenian law allows the defendant to propose his own penalty, and everyone expects him to suggest exile, which the jury will probably accept. Instead, he proposes a trivially small fine, saying its the most he can afford. He then raises the number, after Crito and others offer to pay. Obviously, though, if Socrates’ friends are paying it won’t really be a punishment.

Socrates is sentenced to die and soon becomes the most famous martyr to philosophy in Western history (or perhaps the second most famous, depending how one classifies Jesus).

Socrates and Plato [public domain via Internet Archive]

Socrates and Plato [public domain via Internet Archive]

At this point, let’s pause to contrast the careers of Socrates and Plato. Socrates “The Gadfly” was an outsider who was always as odds with, and ultimately executed by, the system. Plato was a respected citizen who died in his sleep at a party. Socrates’ teachings were primarily dialectical–dealing with ways to change and improve society. Plato’s were primarily metaphysical and idealistic and implied that one might as well accept society because the physical world wasn’t the real world anyway as well as advocating a world view that was ultimately static. Socrates discarded his (probably lower-middle) social class and became something else. Plato remained close to his aristocratic roots. Socrates conversed in the streets and at dinner parties. Plato taught at an a academy.

If we think of “philosopher” as a role in society then, in many ways, these two men are the original archetypes of the two kinds of philosopher that have historically been found in Western Civilization. For want of better terminology, I call them Outsiders and Academics, and I am currently writing a book about the Outsiders. While I would of course love it if you were to buy my book, when it comes out, everything you really need to know about the two can be found by studying Socrates and Plato. Outsiders like Socrates are the initiators: they force society to examine new ideas. Since societies don’t really like new ideas, the Outsiders usually suffer for it, financially and/or physically. The Academics, on the other hand, safe within legitimized social organizations such as universities, are the developers and guardians of the new ideas which were first introduced by outsiders. Occasionally, an academic is able to conceive and promulgate a truly original idea, but this is rare because the process they go through to earn their positions selects against innovators and because they have too much to loose to buck the system. Our civilization seems to need both types of philosopher to function.

Euthyphro of Plato

Plato’s Euthyphro is one of his shorter and earlier dialogs. It is concerned with piety (holiness) which, as I mentioned last time, was considered to be one of the five components of virtue. The interlocutor, or person with whom Socrates converses, is Euthyphro. Euthyphro was a well known, very respectable priest. It is typical of Plato’s dialogs dealing with virtues that the interlocutor is an expert on the virtue in question.

Page from a 1578 bilingual edition of The Euthyphro [public domain via Internet Archive]

Page from a 1578 bilingual edition of The Euthyphro [public domain via Internet Archive]

Socrates and Euthyphro meet as they are waiting for their turn in court. Socrates is there to defend himself in the trial that will end in his execution. Euthyphro has come to indict his own father for manslaughter. The father had let a captured murderer die through inattention. Euthyphro has been set up with a classical ethical dilemma: he has a duty as a religious leader and citizen of Athens to prosecute and punish killers, and there is not a shred of doubt concerning his father’s guilt. On the other hand, the man is is own father. The man who was killed was a stranger who had himself knifed one of the family slaves. Furthermore, the father did not deliberately kill the man; he had simply not remembered to check on him after tying him up and leaving him in a ditch, allowing the man to die of exposure.

According to Euthyphro, however, there is no conflict. Piety demands that he follow divine law and prosecute his father. Nothing else comes into the decision. This leads Socrates to begin questioning him on what piety is. Piety, points out Socrates, is an important part of his own upcoming trial, since Antyus has accused him of denying the city’s gods and creating his own. He could really use some instruction from Euthyphro on the matter.

I occasionally teach business ethics classes, and Euthyphro’s story reminds me quite a bit of the mini cases which are in most ethics textbooks. They are deliberately murky, the idea being to force undergraduates to consider both sides of the dilemma and write a reasoned response for why one decision or the other is better. One of the things which we drill into the students is that when they are posed with an ethical dilemma, they need to consult the official code of ethics for the company or professional society. If the situation is covered by the code, then the decision has been made for them. This is essentially what Euthyphro has done. His “professional code of ethics”, of course, is Athenian religious law. This is a good lesson to teach twenty-year-old business majors. They have limited practical experience, are still developing their critical thinking abilities, and will probably never receive further training in moral philosophy after this ten week class is over; they don’t really have many tools to deal with complex or ambiguous ethical situations. However, since the Sarbanes-Oxley Act, most companies, and all large companies, have fairly extensive written ethical guidelines. As long as my students obey them they probably won’t go too far wrong and, ceteris paribus, the world will be a better place.

To Socrates, however, just obeying the law without examination is a cop-out. Euthyphro says that piety requires men to obey the law of the gods, but what is piety, exactly? Can he provide a definition?

Euthyphro first offers himself and his actions as an example of piety, but Socrates is looking for a universal definition. He then defines piety as “doing those things which are pleasing to the gods” and impiety as “doing those things which are displeasing to the gods”. Socrates points out that different gods might be pleased by different things and quarrel among themselves about morality. This causes Euthyphro to refine his definition, saying that “Piety is that which is approved of by all the gods.” Immanuel Kant fans will recognize that his argument is now skating close to the idea of a categorical imperative: something that is always right or wrong regardless of situational factors. The difference, however, is that approval is still coming from the gods, and Socrates seizes on this point for further examination, asking,

“Is the holy approved by the gods because it’s holy, or holy because it’s approved?”

In the first case, the holy action would be a categorical imperative. In the second, a divine command. Socrates then proves that it can not be both:

But if the ‘divinely approved’ and the holy were really the same thing, Euthyphro my friend, then: (i) if the holy were getting approved because of its being ‘divinely approved’; whereas (ii) if the ‘divinely approved’ were ‘divinely approved’ on account of its getting approved by the gods, then the holy would be holy too on account of its getting approved. But as things are you can see that the two are oppositely placed, as being altogether different from each other; for if the one is ‘such as to get approved’ because it gets approved, while the other gets approved because it is ‘such as to get approved’. And perhaps, Euthyphro, when asked what the holy is, you don’t want to point out the essence for me, but to tell me some attribute which attaches to it, saying that holiness has the attribute of being approved by the gods; what it is, you’ve not yet said. (text and emphasis from the Tredennick/Tarrant translation)

Socrates next suggests that piety might be a kind of justice and asks Euthyphro to define what type of justice it is. Euthyphro replies that piety is the part of justice which has to do with looking after the gods, but Socrates worries about what exactly this means. What is the work of the gods, and how do humans help it along, if at all?

Euthyphro, now getting a bit tired of the conversation, says that piety is knowing how to sacrifice and pray to the gods, but Socrates is still concerned that the Gods don’t get anything from relationship except gratification. If so, they are back to Euthyphro’s original definition about piety being that which is pleasing to the gods. Socrates suggests that they start over from the beginning but Euthyphro, suddenly “remembering” a prior appointment, makes his escape.

Plato: Introduction

The man we know as Plato was born Aristocles son of Ariston but adopted his old wrestling nickname as a nom de plume (Platon means “wide” in Greek). As a young man he considered a poetic career and seems to have written a tragic trilogy and several lyric poems. In his early twenties he discovered an interest in philosophy when his brothers Glaucon and Adeimantus became members of Socrates‘ circle. After Plato himself became a disciple of Socrates he burned his poems and resolved to be a full time philosopher. After Socrates’ execution Plato gradually extended his teacher’s philosophy to create his own school. Platonism was probably the most important school of thought in the ancient and medieval periods, heavily influencing both pagan and Christian writers. Even today, some writers consider Platonism “the secret religion of the majority of intellectuals”.

Display of books by Plato

Plato was a prolific writer. Today we have 37 of his dialogs (26 of which are believed to be authentic) and 13 letters, the authorship of which is hotly disputed. Will Durant once jokingly wrote that Plato wrote dialogs because he was a frustrated dramatist. In fact, Plato and his contemporaries believed that the only way to really learn philosophy was to discuss it with other philosophers. If this wasn’t possible, a dialog was the next best thing. It is important to remember that a philosophic dialog–much more so than a play–is meant to teach rather than to entertain. Because of this, it may contain sections that seem boring, repetitive, or different to understand. The dialog is meant to be parsed as a unity, however, and these passages are there intentionally, to make some point to the reader. Allan Bloom, in the introduction to his translation of the Republic, criticizes translators who abridge the boring sections of the dialogs or simplify the wording of difficult passages. According to him, any translation of Plato should be as literal as possible, even at the expense of readability (although, actually, Bloom’s translation is quite readable).

The Socratic Problem

Socrates didn’t leave any writings of his own, as far as we know, but he is a main character in all of Plato’s dialogs. The great unanswerable question in Platonic studies is where Socrates’ philosophy leaves off and where Plato’s begins. There are a couple avenues we can go down to gather clues: We can compare Plato’s earlier dialogs to his later work, on the assumption that he began by summarizing his master’s teaching and developed his own viewpoint as time went on. This approach relies on our ability to date the texts, which requires further assumptions and guesswork. We can also try comparing Plato’s portrayal of Socrates to the writings of others who knew him when he was alive, such as Xenophon and Aristophanes. Unfortunately, Xenophon was a mercenary soldier who dabbled in historical fiction and Aristophanes was a comic playwright. Their descriptions of Socrates are neither as complete nor as credible as Plato’s. Finally, we can read the opinions of writers who lived closer to the time of Plato and Socrates and might have had access to sources and oral traditions that are now lost. Of course, there is no guarantee that their educated guesses are any better than our own. Ultimately, the best answer we can produce to the Socratic problem will be little better than an opinion.

Virtue

One subject that was apparently highly important to both Socrates and Plato was the cultivation of virtue and the question of whether or not it could be taught. Before we go on, though, lest we make the same mistake that Meno does in his eponymous dialog, we need to be sure we understand what virtue means. The word translated as “virtue” in most editions of Plato is actually the Greek arete. An equally valid translation would be “manly excellence”, which is not a common connotation of the modern English word virtue. Bloom puts it well when he writes,

It has been said that it is one of the great mysteries of Western thought “how a word which used to mean the manliness of men has come to mean the chastity of women.”

He goes on to imply that one can glean a summary of the entire history of political philosophy by comparing the changing usage of “virtue” in Plato, Cicero, Machiavelli, Aquinas, Hobbes, and Rosseau.

Arete, according to the Greeks has five components: piety, justice, courage, temperance, and wisdom. One of the recurring themes in the dialogs is discussion of how these relate to each other and to virtue as a whole. As for the question of whether virtue can be taught–as opposed to being an innate quality with which some people are born–it seems that Socrates, the man who was wisest because he knew his own ignorance, was ultimately undecided. Plato’s answer, however, is based on his own theory of forms. Virtue, like every other idea, exists in an ideal form. Souls are exposed to the ideal forms of things before they become incarnate as humans. Thus teaching virtue is a process of leading the soul to remember the ideal which it has already encountered.

Reading Order

In general, I recommend reading all of the Great Books in the order in which they were written. For Plato, this order would be approximately:

Early Works Middle Works Late Works
Apology Cratylus Critias
Charmides Euthydemus Sophist
Crito Meno Statesman
Euthyphro Parmenides Timaeus
Gorgias Phaedo Philebus
Hippias Minor Phaedrus Laws
Hippias Major Republic
Ion Symposium
Laches Theaetetus
Lysis
Protagoras

Another popular organizational scheme is to group the dialogs into thematic tetrologies, in which they are grouped into a 7×4 matrix; The rows are labeled: “What is man?”, “The Sophists”, “Socrates’ Trial”, “Speech and Knowledge”, “The Soul”, “Dialectic”, and “Man in the World”. The columns are labeled: “Cause”, “Desire and Nature”, “Will, Judgment, and Behavior”, and “Reason and Order”. The idea is to read the works in each row from left to right to explore a particular topic.

Another semi-thematic grouping is that used by The Penguin Group, which publishes some of the most popular translations. Penguin’s grouping has a lot to do with creating paperback volumes of a manageable length,

I will be mostly following the Penguin scheme for the simple reason that I mostly own the Penguin translations. I will be beginning with the dialogs in The Last Days of Socrates as I have found many forum posts which suggest it as a starting point for the study of Plato.

Great Books Project: End of Part I

I am now about six months into my Great Books project and this seems like a good time to stop and take stock.  I have now read and blogged about works written up to the end of the Peloponnesian War (404 BCE) in the Hellenistic tradition and up to the establishment of the Second Temple (516 BCE) in the Hebrew tradition.  Up to this point, the two have had almost no first-hand intellectual contact.  Soon, though, they will begin influencing each other to an increasing degree, beginning with Alexander’s conquest of the Persian empire and continuing until Paul and other evangelists permanently fuse them together to create the new tradition of Christianity.

I have come to think of the death of Socrates in 399 BCE as the end of Part I of the Great Books.  Socrates wrote no books himself, yet he brought together all previous Hellenic philosophy and all future Western philosophy owes something to the work of his disciple Plato, who is the next author whom I plan to cover.

Before I go on, I thought it would be useful to present a timeline of the lives of the Hellenistic authors in this first section.  I also included Plato and Xenophon because, though I think of them as belonging to the next period, their lives overlapped with the others.

Great Books Authors Timeline: Ancient Greece (Click to Enlarge)

Great Books authors timeline: Ancient Greece (click to enlarge)

I think the most striking thing about this timeline is that, other than Homer who really belongs to an earlier age, all of these men lived within such a short span of time.  Only 139 years separate Aeschylus‘ birth and Aristophanes‘ death.

I also recently drew this diagram to express how the different strands of Western thought are related in the ancient world.  It is over-simplistic and not particularly scientific, but I find it’s helpful to think about how the ideas relate to each other.

Development of thought in the Great Books: Prehistory to fall of Rome

Development of thought in the Great Books: Prehistory to fall of Rome (click to enlarge)

Finally, now that we have reached the end of Part I, I need to mention that I will be posting more erratically for the next several weeks.  Other literary commitments, including finishing my own book and doing editing work for clients, will take most of my time.  I also don’t want to rush the Plato section, since his work is so important.  I will try to post at least two or three times per month over the summer, however.

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