Let’s say you have an unlimited budget, and the green light to produce a film for the newly formed production company called Alexandria Lighthouse.

The budget has been green-lighted.  All you have to do is submit a final treatment.    I have some favorite subjects in classical antiquity that would make great subjects for film, it just seems that current producers can’t think anything past Cleopatra or Troy for a classical subject for film.  (Note* Another big screen production is due out soon with Angelina Jolie).

A recent article in The New York Times settled what subject I would do.

“I would love to play (Cincinnatus) in a film about ancient Rome,” Schwarzenegger told The Times. “He was given the keys to the kingdom — pure, absolute power! — and he did the job and then went back to his farm. He didn’t get drunk on the power. He did the job he was asked to do, dealt with the invasion and walked away. That is the purest form of public service I can imagine, and it would be fun to try to capture that character on film.”

Here’s my attempt at a movie treatment.

Arnold?

***

–DRAFT–

Working Title:  Sixteen Days / XVI Days

By Rob Cain at rob@ancientromerefocused.org

WGA XXX-XX-XXXX

LOGLINE:  A retired general, now a farmer, leaves the harvest to defend his country from invasion.  He is given unlimited power, and generals an army to defeat an invading enemy.   The senators of Rome eventually fear him, and plot to overthrow him thinking that no man gives up power when it is handed to him.  To their surprize he lays down the power of dictatorship, and returns to the harvest. 

Introduction to key figures:

Cincinnatus — Old but still vital.  Obsessed with the harvest.  He is very particular.   He will have nothing to do with fools, and commands the plow as equally as hard as he commands an army.  He believes that Jupiter talks to him personally.   He holds conversations with him while behind the plow.

Racilia – (wife of Cincinnatus)  Is in charge of the house.  A carbon copy of Cincinnatus in how she runs the slaves and their duties.  Demands that her husband keep one oath to her and one oath only: “Stay alive in battle, and save your death for our bed.”

CAESO — (son of Cincinnatus)  A farmer too, but once a politician.  He is barely surviving on the lands he was left when he was forced to sell everything to pay a fine levied on him by the Senate.  He did the unforgivable, and tried to seek safety with the Etruscans.  The Romans condemned  him to death, but only survived by the vast amount of money Cincinnatus paid to save his only son’s life.    Caeso will find himself enlisted into the fight that is too come.  He does not want to go, but he will go and discover his salvation, and pay a penalty for ambition.  

Fathus – (A slave)  Follows Cincinnatus into battle.  He is always on his right side.  He is nothing more than a slave but acts noble in the face of danger.   At one point he even takes a slinger pellet for his master and survives.    Cincinnatus says that he is the only man more serious than himself.

Aldous Livius – (Centurion)  He is the primus centurion of the legio.  He is eagle-eyed, sharp-nosed, and reminds one of a hawk that walks.  He seems to be able to read Cincinnatus’s mind, and more than once points out things on the battlefield that the general is too old to see clearly.  He is loyal, and hard…and can step into a room without a sound to the dismay of conspirators and those jealous of Cincinnnatus’s power. 

Act 1 (The Setup).

Title: Day I

Cincinnatus is retired.  He is farming his land, happy and contented except for a bull that is subborn and ornery.  The old man talks to Jupiter as he plows the earth, asking constantly for rain. 

“Jupiter, we need rain.  I mean give me enough to get a good harvest in.  Maybe, enough to make the grapes good and plump.  Is that too much to ask?  Look at me, I am getting old.  Great Jupiter, have pity on this old man….”

It seems from the dialogue that Jupiter answers him.  They have a conversation back and forth.  It is then something odd happens.  Jupiter warns him (in his head) to look over his left shoulder.  “What do you mean, look behind you?”  He stops the bull and sees three silhouettes in the sun. 

“Trouble comes in threes,” he says.  The men are senators sent from Rome.  Three senators have come from Rome.  He knows them.  As they approach he looks to see if they are armed.  They greet him warmly.  There is war, an enemy has come down from the mountains and they want him to lead an army against the invader.  Cincinnatus argues that he is old, but they shake their heads.  He has been declared dictator in Rome. 

“Save the Republic!” They beg. 

“Is that all?” Cincinnatus thinks.

Virgil Brutius is the lead senator.  He begs that Cincinnatus accept the position as dictator.  Cincinnatus is suspicious.  He compares his while bull to Rome itself.  He explains that Rome snaps and bellows and you flick his reins to go the right direction, and never does the bull nor Rome like the man that  holds the reins.  Cincinnatus explains that he knows that this bull would gore him if given half the chance and Rome would do the same.  Brutius won’t take no for an answer.  “That is why the dicator is given the reins in the first place.”   

He goes and tells his wife.  She does not want him to go.   A woman alone on a vast estate is open to vagabonds and thieves.  She needs him home.  She reminds him that he is almost blind.  He reminds her that a legio had many eyes and he will be more than looked after.  She demands that they hire slaves to protect the estate.  She picks them out like she is building an army, and he knows why he married her.

He visits his son who greets him filthy from the toil in the field.   Caeso is tired, and resentful that he has to work like this, but when he finds out that his father has been made dictator,  he rejoices.  Caeso is imagining the terror he can reek upon his enemies.  Cincinnatus tells his son that he must join  him in the field.  He will give him a commission and will teach him how to fight.  Caeso does not want to go, but relents — and imagines his revenge on those that banished him from Rome.

Title: Day II

Fathus, the slave, prepares his masters kit for the field.  He is sad, and Cincinnatus asks him what is wrong.  Fathus pleads that the old master take him with him.  Fathus fears for his masters life.  “You need me,” he states.    Cincinnatus tells him of the hardships of the field, and the slave smirks.  “Shall I tell you the hardships of being a slave?”    

Cincinnatus does not relent.  “You need to  stay here.  For the mistress.”  The slave says the mistress does not need him…”but you do.”

Title: Day IV

The day of departure comes.  Caeso is in armor and looks sullen.  Racilia looks sad, but is surrounded by slaves (her personal army).  Fathus has been crying and holds a kit filled with everything he needs, including a balm for the old man’s aching muscles.    Cincinnatus says his goodbyes to his wife.  He says his goodbyes to Falthus who still begs to accompany him on the journey.  He then says goodbye to the white bull.   The final scene is that he looks up at the sky where Jupiter resides: “I won’t say goodbye to you, Jupiter.  Because I know that you will accompany me just so that you can have a good laugh.”   He starts to walk away with his son following.  “Father?” Caeso asks.  “Should we not depart through the olive grove?”   Cincinnatus squints.  “Yes, of course…” he says trying not to look embarrased.  “Let us say goodbye to the olive grove as well.”

Act 2 (The Conflict)

Title: Day VII

He enters Rome.  Everyone is in the streets cheering him.  He marches with his son who watches in wonder the mad exhuberance that masses around his father.  “Save us!” The crowed shouts.   Cincinnatus and his father are led into a  brilliant tent laden with silks and couches.  It is a field tent made for Alexander the Great himself.  Caeso is elated and immediately strips his armor so that he can take a bath.  Cincinnatus says, “Get rid of it.”   “It is like a plow,” he explains.  Army life you must get used to it.  A plow eventually fits your hands, so does Army living..”

They go to see the Army.  It is composed of only a few hundred men.  Cincinnitus orders that every man in Rome be conscripted.  There is protest, but the old man’s voice fills the tent.  “NOW!”  The next day there are five legions standing in the field.  Closeups reveal sullen faced men looking miserable.  There are flashbacks of men being conscripted off the streets and dragged from their beds.

“The men are complaining,” Caeso tells his father.

“That is what soldiers do,” says Cincinnatus.  

Title: Day VIII

The next day is training.  The men go on a march up a mountain.  Halfway up to the top they take a rest.  ”How far?” a lowley soldier asks not relising Cincinnatus is standing right behind him.  “To the top so that we can talk to Jupiter.” Cincinnatus answers.  They reach the top.  As the men celebrate, Cincinnatius tells his officers, “Now we go down.”  The same man shouts: “How far?”  The old general shouts: ” Until we see Pluto himself.” The soldier says under his breath: “I believe we are generaled by sysyphus himself.”  Cincinnatus hears that as well.

When they make it to the bottom, the army is turned around to walk back up.  However this time, they push boulders up the mountain like the legendary mortal who spent an eternity pushing a rock up and down a hill in Hades.

The next day a centurion is presented to Cincinnatus.  He is introduced as  Aldous Livius.  “You come now?” the general asks. 

The Centurion answers, “I was out tending my farm.  I just heard the call and came as soon as I  could.” 

Why should we take  you now?” Cincinnatus asks. 

Livius explains that he can see so clearly in the distance that, “I can see problems coming before they even happen.”  The room of officers laugh. 

Cincinnatus says: “I’ll take him.”

Title: Day X, XI, XII

Scenes of practice sword fights.  Scenes of carrying packs.  Scenes of running of formations practiced over and over.   Every moment Aldous Livius is by the general’s side pointing things out to him.   

Caeso’s fortunes have changed.  He is now a cavalry commander in his father’s army, no longer a dirty farmer trying to ‘ekk’ out a living from the soil.  At night he seeks out those that hurt him in the Senate and throws one down a well, one is beaten up late at night in an alley, and one is robbed in ‘broad day-light’ under the guise of paying taxes.  He employs soldiers under him to carry out his rein of terror.  There is a scene of a secret meeting where Senators that were instrumental in his banishment are run down by horses in a small causeway.

The terror ends when the Roman Army marches out of the city to meet the enemy.  Virgil Brutius watches the general’s son ride out of the city.  His companion says: ”How can someone like Cincinnatus, so unambitious, so willing to serve the state with recompense, have a bloated viper for a son?”

Brutius responds: “Something worries me more.”

“What is that?”

“That someday we shall put someone like Caeso, a man with such unlimited appetite for power, and such limited abilities into the seat of dictator.  Someone like him would kill off the Senate and spend the treasury dry.  He would even declare a horse senator of Rome if he thought it would help him.”

This companion laughs.  “It shall never happen.  Never!”

Title: Day XIII

The Army of Rome meet the Aequi in the field.   “Tell me everything, Aldous,” the general asks.  ”Point out the details, the weather, and which way the sun casts its light.”  The centurion describes the battelfield.  The Aequi Army is in the center – a massive group.  In front of them on the left and right grows tall grass.   “You know a farmer must clear out the pests before he begins to plow,” Cincinnatus says   The officers look at each other with amusement. “What is the old farmer spouting on about,” they think.  Cincinnatus spits out orders.   The left and right part of the field is to be set on fire.  Flaming arrows ignite the tall grass and out from it comes Aequi soldiers that were hiding in ambush. 

“Now, let us plow the field.”

The Roman Army pushes up the center, with the cavalry on the flank.   The battle is at full strength, with each side banging against the other.   Cincinnatius is knocked off his horse.  He winds up defending himself on the ground.  We see how the battle looks from his end, a mass of unfocused bodies.  He is separated from his centurion, Aldous Livius.     The general is knocked to the ground and just as a soldier is about to run him through, the Aqui warrior drops his sword and grasps at his back.  He falls from the screen revealing Fathus, the slave, behind him.  The slave has snuck away from home, into the battle.  He wears make-shift armor (looking more like a clown or a bargain basement soldier), and risked death to save his master.  Suddenly, a slinger’s pellet comes out from the enemy ranks.  Fathus leaps in front of his master taking the pellet directly on the forehead.  He falls.  He is still alive, but he can not walk.  The old man kisses the slave on the cheek, and carries the slave on his left shoulder as he directs the battle.  

The left flank of the Roman Army is overrunned, and Cincinnatus feels the battle is about to go against him.  However, Caeso leads a group of cavalry in the thick of the action to protect his father from attack.  He is unstoppable, and his sword rings as if the gods forged a bell into the blade.  Cutting through the enemy he arrives in time to surround his father.    It is then Aldous Livius fights his way through the battle to the general’s location.  “Lord,” he shouts.  “The enemy has us surrounded.” 

“A blind man never enters a room without knowing the exit.”  He nods to the centurion and Livius takes a bow and arrow and shoots it into the air.   A distant shot shows it rising into the air, leaving a smokey trail of pitch and acrid smoke.

From out of the mountings march two fresh legions and surround the Aqui.  The enemy is trapped with Cincinnatus in the center. 

He turns to the unconscious Falthus still drapped on his shoulder.  “Now, let us fight our way out.” 

Act 3 (Resolution)

Title: Day XVI

The streets of Rome are filled with people.  They stand on the walls and watch the horizon.  Someone finally calls out: “THE LEGIO!”

Cincinnatus, with his son Caeso, lead the legio back into Rome. The crowd shouts and throws flower petals.    They march to the center of Rome, and both father and son dismount in front of the senators that have turned out to greet him.   Virgil Brutius gives a speech welcoming him back.   The crowd shouts its pleasure and women run up and leave flowers at his feet.  Casevo is estatic, and takes in the celebration with delight imagining the applause is for  him. 

That night there are parties going on all over Rome. 

At the villa of Brutius the general  is being celebrated and honored by a room full of senators. 

At a road side wine house Caesevo is bragging to the patrons on how that he led his cavalry in to save his father’s life.  He claims that if it was not for him the battle would have been lost. 

At the house of Brutius there is whispering  of the crimes of his son.  Many of the senators soddened with drink begain to recount tales of Carso and his short reign of terror in Rome.  Cincinnatus listens in wonder to the stories and becomes more and more saddened.  Soon those that lived are brought forward.  They have hoods over their faces, like condemned men.  Virgil pulls the bag off each man revealing wounds, noses cut off, eyes that are swollen with black and blue flesh. 

Some of the braver men call for Caeso to be arrested. 

“We can not!” shouts Brutius.  “He is our dictator’s son.”

“Tyrant!” a voice shouts from the back of the room.

The room is filled with shouts of “Tyrant” and “Dictator”.

Cincinnatus remains in his chair listening to the angry crowd.  A split screen reveals what he is thinking.  It is his white bull bellowing over his shoulder, complaining of the whip and the harness.  It was as he predicted.  Rome, the white bull, shouting its disdain to be in harness.  

Cincinnatus stands.

“Here it comes,” Brutius says under his breath.  “All dictators reveal their spots.  He shall throw us all in jail.  He shall kill us all.  Watch, watch…”

The next scene

Caseo is still bragging in his wine ship.  Women are in his arms.  Men are looking at him with adoration.  Suddenly he feels a hand on his shoulder.  We see in his face that he thinks its someone slapping him on the shoulder in congratulations. 

No. 

It is a soldier.

“Oh,oh.”

“Captain Caseo.  You are under arrest.”

Next scene. 

We see a man in a dirty cell.  The great Captain Caseo looks once more to be filthy.  He is thin and bug eyed with fear.  He stands and goes to the bars.  “When my father hears of this, all of you will pay.  PAY!  I shall have your heads.”  Caseo notices there is a man standing in the dark.  “Are you my new jailor?”

“No,” The voice says.  It is Cincinnatus.  He steps forward and Caseo thinks he has been saved.  His father says that he no longer has that power.  “What do you mean?” Caeso asks.  “I have resigned the dictatorship,” his father explains.  Caeso asks if they forced him out.  He can not believe that his father would give up such great power.   He begins to berate his father for being ”an old fool”, a “stupid farmer”, a ”blind man” to the power that could have been his if he kept the title.

Before his father leaves the cell he says: “Not as blind as you.” 

New Scene.

Cincinnatus is behind the plow.  The white bull is particularly ornery.  We see the old man’s bare back as he directs the plow.  

Scene.

Roman Jurors in the box with lawyers arguing a case.  Caeso sits with his head bowed behind a table. 

Scene.

Rascilia rubbing Cincinnatius shoulder and whispering in his ear: “There was nothing you could do.”

Scene.

A Roman crowd celebrating the victory over the Aedui.  “TO CINNCINATUS!” They  shout.

Scene

Aldous Livius looking at a medal he won while fighting the Aedui.  He smiles and a woman asks him if he has seen her brush.  “It’s under the bench,” he says and goes back to cleaning his medals. 

Scene

Two little boys fighting with wooden swords while their proud fathers look on.  Finally one says: “I am Cincinnatus.”  The other gets angry: “NO, I am Cincinnatus!”

Scene

The defending attroney looks at the jurors and expounds:  “You can find him guilty, but do you want to be the one that tells him his father that his only son will die?”

The jurors look at each other.

Scene

The white bull bellows into the camera.  We see Cincinnatus behind the plow again.  He is plowing a field but it is not his own.  He looks at a man approaching.  “Falthus?”

“Here, sir.”

“Which field do you want plowed.  I can do another acre.”

“It is kind of you to help me get started.”

“A freedman always needs a little help.  The harvest in the spring for you is the same for me.  We help each other.”

“On the battlefield and off.”

Cincinnatus smiles. 

“On the battlefield and off,” the general repeats.

The old man looks to the right and left.  “Where is the new slave?”

A voice off camera says: “Here sir.”

It is Caeso.

“How can I help you, master?”

Cincinnatus shakes his head.  “Don’t ask me, ask your master.”

Fathus slaps Cincinnatus son on the shoulder.  “Fetch some water for your father.”

Cincinnatus turns back to the plow.  “Well, Jupiter, I am back.  What shall we talk about today?  The harvest.  Well a little rain would help.  Not just a sprinkle, but a good shower.  I am expecting it this spring, oh great god.  A little more than a piss, this time.  Something to get the ground good and wet…”

He continues to plow.  He is master of the bull, of the plow and Rome.    

-THE END-

 “…there were some surprises at the more detailed scale. Historians of science, and those graduate students who wish to pursue classics or classical languages are very bright. Budding historians of science have a relatively balanced intellectual profile, and the strongest writing scores of any group except for philosophers. I think I know why: many of these individuals have a science background, but later became interested in history. They are by nature relatively broad generalists. I have no idea why people drawn to traditionally classical fields are bright, but I wonder if it is because these are not “sexy” domains, to the point where you have to have a proactive interest in the intellectual enterprise.”

I’ve always suspected this.    What follows is an explanation about the exam.

Begin quote – The Graduate Record Examination (GRE) consists of two separate tests: the General Test and the Subject Test in psychology. The General Test is composed of three parts–verbal, quantitative, and analytical writing. The verbal and the quantitative tests each yield a separate score between 200-800. Scores on the analytical writing test are reported in ½-point increments along a scale of 0 to 6. The Subject Test, required by only some programs, measures knowledge of psychological concepts that are essential to graduate study; it also yields a score of from 200-800. The book, Graduate Study in Psychology, will tell you whether schools require the GRE as well as the minimum scores they require for admission.

More than anything else, your admission to graduate school will depend on your scores on the verbal and quantitative sections of the GRE (not the Subject Test). It is essential that you do well–at least 550 on each test (600+ is even better)–to get into most doctoral programs. Master’s programs are less competitive, so lower scores (450-500 on each of the tests) are less of a problem. You will probably have trouble being admitted into any program with scores less than 450 on one of the tests.–End quote.

For the whole article click on the link below:

http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/gnxp/2012/01/classicists-are-smart/

Makes you look at the guy quoting the Illiad a little differently, doesn’t it?

Strabo describes… [the Gauls] “…were still raising their swords aloft [the Romans] would duck under their arms , holding up their shields, and then, stopping and crouching low,  they [the Gauls] would render vain and useless blows on the others, where were aimed too high, while for their own part [the Romans], holding their swords straight out, they would strike their opponents in the groins, pierce their sides, and drive their blows through their breasts into the vitals.”

–Dionysius of Halicarnassus

I think what I am seeing described here is the Gauls were basically hacking (drawing weapons over the shoulders and bringing it down) and the Romans were stabbing.   The stabbing action takes less effort and has less space to cover to get to the target.

The Biblioteca de Alejandria (the modern Library of Alexandria - risen from the ashes).

The burning of the library of Alexandria is one of the saddest and most noted points in history.  There has been much speculation of what was ‘lost’ in that fire.  Histories, science and literature sent to ash - a lens to the past that will never be recovered. 

An interesting letter to the editor of the Washington Post examines  the event while proudly pointing out that Alexandria, VA, has been rated by Amazon.com as the nation’s ”Most Well-Read City” for the second year in a row.  A proud title if there ever was one.  And, by the way I am sure there has to be more than me who have made the connection of the city having its own ‘Library of Alexandria’ if you get my drift.   By the way… the modern Library of Alexandria, though it can’t compete in size and scope to many of the larger cities, it has one of the best collections and services that I have ever seen.   Oh, and just a 10 minute drive away is a Masonic Lodge that looks like the Alexandrian Light Tower (no mere accident I persume).   

Quote from article, Saturday, May 4th, 2013. 

Historical Souces cite three parties as probable as Caesar to have contributed to the library’s destruction, including the Emperor Aurelian (in A.D. 270), Pope Theophilus (in A.D. 391) and Muslim conguerors (in A.D. 641).  Each probably played a part in the destruction, and we 3will never know for certain if any one was single-handedly culpable for that unimagninable loss of cultural treasure.

End Quote.

I may agree AND DISAGREE on the Muslim invader part.  The Muslims may have destroyed the structure, but does that explain the scores of Greek and Roman Texts discovered by Christian Crusaders in Arabic texts?  Seems the Muslims had a hand in saving ancient texts (and western thought) as much as Christian Monasteries.   

Quote from article.  (I love how he words this…ready?)

Besides, as the Christian Thophilus would have been quick to point out, it was only a pagan collection;  how much could posterity have learned anway from the writing of has-been authors such as Plato, Aristotle, Sophocles, Euripedes and Aeschylus?

End Quote.

This is a great line! 

Thanks to Philosopher Rocky Semmes of Alexandria.

“The ship wherein Theseus and the youth of Athens returned [from Crete] had thirty oars, and was preserved by the Athenians down even to the time of Demetrius Phalereus, for they took away the old planks as they decayed, putting in new and stronger timber in their place, insomuch that this ship became a standing example among the philosophers, for the logical question of things that grow; one side holding that the ship remained the same, and the other contending that it was not the same.”

—Plutarch, Theseus^[2]

McCoy checks to see if anything is missing.

Star Trek’s Dr. McCoy hated the transporter.  It was a device that could deconstruct your body and transport it to the surface of a planet on a beam of energy.   Some suggest the atoms are destroyed at Point A and reconstructed at Point B.  McCoy was always afraid before stepping into the transporter pad that his atoms would be scrambled.  Later stories contended that McCoy even wondered if the atoms reconstructed upon reaching the destination may not even be the SAME atoms.   Thus providing a paradox that McCoy’s body and brain would be a mere facsimile of himself.     Is the real McCoy (get it?) the one that stepped onto the pad, or the one at the end of the transporter beam?

So this brings up the philosophical question called: The Theseus Ship. 

You name is Theseus.  You are at sea.  Your ship needs to be refitted.  The ship is old.  It is taking on leaks.  The wood is slat stained, and sea worms have bored into the planking.    You love this ship, you know how it tacks in the water, how it moves by the sound of the mast when the sail takes wind, how fast it can turn port or starboard.  The ship has outran pirates, and stayed miles in front of any storm front that tried to catch her.  You know how to give the orders to make it perform at its best.   However, you are taking on water and you need to repair the vessel.  It is your living, and those shipbuilders in Crete are the best.  You walk from the ship with nostalgia and hand it over to the shipwrights. 

I find a JPEG of a ship on the internet. I copy it and paste it on this blog entry. The first JPEG is still on the internet. This JPEG is on my site. Are they the same image, or two images made with different electrons?

You board the new ship and take to sea.

Back at port the ship builders stare at the parts.  Times are tough for these men and they begin to build a ship out of the old parts left in port.  Soon a new ship rises up, old wood, smelling of bilge and men in cramped quarters.   Maybe an occasional broken nail must be added, however the old ship takes form.

One ship goes to sea, the other is ‘resurrected’ from the pieces of the old ship.

Question: Which is your ship? Are you standing on your ship as you pass the Pillars of Hercules, or is your ship still back in port? Is the ship renovated or it it replaced?

How does this relate to man?

Can people change into something else?

If you replace a part in your computer is it the same?

Are you the same if you lose a leg?

If you have amnesia are you still the same person?

Your cells replicate themselves.  Are you a Theseus Ship ‘in the flesh?’

What makes up the nature of self?

The Case of the Brady Photo:

A while ago there was show called People’s Court with Judge Wopner. He tried a case where a man took a photo taken by William Brady, the great Civil War photographer, into a corner photo shop to make a copy.  What he got back was a copy, but the original was destroyed.  It was thrown away by the owner.  He took the case to the judge asking for damages in the thousands.  Judge Wopner only would give the complainant the cost of a black and white print.

“A photo is a photo,” he said.

Personally, I was outraged by the decision.  The original photo was handled by a giant in photography, the paper and process was done by civil war standards.   IT was a process with chemicals and glass in the back of a horse drawn carriage.  The original photo is…unique.  Wopner could not see the difference.

The paradox of the Theseus Ship is according how we define the nature of originality and the whole.   I am sure that some people do not see a paradox at all, some do.

How do you see it?

The particular statue is called the Venus of Morgantina. It has completed its own journey, for it was stolen from Sicily over thirty years ago and has finally come home. What stories can she tell?

The show titled: Venus and Imaginative Archaeology will explore the journey of the Goddess Venus from its creation in Rome to its final resting place at the British Museum.  The episode will feature an interview with Jordan Harbour host and creator of the exciting ’alternative history’ podcast Twilight Histories, and a book review of a student archeological text with comments and insights by the Archeologist and Historian William Glover.

Now only will we will go exploring in our imagination, but will tell you how to do it for real.

Sign up for class today!

“Experts in ancient Greek culture say that people back then didn’t see their thoughts as belonging to them.  When ancient Greeks had a thought, it occurred to them as a god or goddess giving the order.  Apollo was telling them to be brave.  Athena was telling them to fall in love.   Now people hear a commercial for sour cream potato chips and rush out to buy, but now they call this free will.  At least the ancient Greeks were being honest.”

–Chuck Palahniuk, freelance journalist, Satirist, Novelist

I try to imagine this in a different vein.  Imagine a 5th centry hoplite that is schizophrenic.  Think about it. 

The symptoms of this illness can include: delusions of persecution,  getting the idea that a billboard or TV commerical is meant just for them (like giving you a secret message so translate billboard or TV commercial to a 5th century equivalent), delusions of grandeur that maybe you have the power to fly, and the belief that outside forces are controlling you.

This sounds like being controlled by the gods to me.   What a fantastic character of a novel.

“That king is against me.”

“The hawk sat upon the shield…this means Jupiter will descend and speak to me.”

“I am invincible in battle.”

“That I am the tool of the gods.”

Another symptom is the hearing of voices.  How could this hoplite interpret it any other way as:

“Yes, Lord Pluton, I shall carry out your bidding.  I hear you.  Yes. I am the right hand of the lord of the underworld.  Kill my tentmates as they sleep?  Yes, Lord Pluton I shall carry it out.  Tonight you shall have new subjects.”  

They say 1 in 100 people are schizophrenic.  I wonder if 1 in 100 hoplites were the same.   In a world where thoughts are messages from the gods, a schizophrenic hoplite might gather himself quite a following.

Just some dark thoughts.

–Rob Cain  

The Battered Helmet

The general trudged wearily into his tent and threw his helmet on the bunk.  Another large dent was noticeable in the already battered headpiece.   He made a mental note that he must see about getting a new one.  Obviously, as chief of all the ground forces in the area, he shouldn’t be seen wandering around the battlefield in a battered helmet. 

He sank into a chair and pulled of his mud-spattered boots.  It had been an exhausting day.  From the pre-dawn preparations, through the attack and smashing victory, to the relentless pursuit, the general had been on the move.  Now, he had won a major battle which would probably spell the end of the campaign and might even bring about the end of the war.  He felt a deep sense of accomplishment, but was too tired to be jubilant.  Besides, there was still a great deal to be done.  He had called for a meeting this evening of his commanders and staff.

Two weeks ago, he had held a similar meeting.  At that time, some of his leaders had shown panic; others were in a state of shock.  His staff was talking of retreat.  The morning before, the enemy had moved to new positions concealed by darkness and had assaulted him at dawn, gaining complete tactical surprise.  His forces suffered a serious defeat and were forced to withdraw about forty kilometers.

The general had to take stringent measures against a few of his commanders, and through strong personal leadership he had overcome the despair of defeat.  Now, a couple of weeks later, the war was almost over.  A single battle had crushed the resistance of the enemy.

What lessons had he learned today?  What thoughts could he pass on to his commanders and staff at this meeting tonight?  What could he tell them what would help them in future battle on other battlefields when they might bear the responsibility of supreme command?

The enemy had greatly outnumbered him.    They had twice as much infantry and seven times as many mobile forces.  In spite of this numerical superiority, the enemy did not attack him.   They preferred to wait for his attack.  He was allowed to pick the time and the place.  This he considered a great advantage.  He wanted to be constantly on the offensive and to assume the defensive only when forced into it by circumstances; even then it was a temporary measure to be used only until he could regain the necessary combat power to attack.  This thought he would pass on at the meeting tonight.

Since the enemy had so greatly outnumbered him, he had been concerned about his flanks.  Such a large force could have held off his main attack and at the same time counterattacked in force to envelop either flank.  In his terrain analysis he had noted that the banks of the Enipena River were extremely steep and the river itself unfordable [sic] to both foot and more mobile forces.  His intelligence had assured him that the enemy bridging capability was nonexistent.  Therefore, he anchored his left along the river securing that flank. 

His right flank presented more of a problem.  By economizing his forces all along the front, he had been able to create a mobile reserve with the specific mission of repelling any threat to his right flank.

As was his custom, he had kept almost one-third of his forces in the center, uncommitted.  These were his reserve, to be committed only upon his order.

When all of these preparations were completed, he had given the order to attack.  The two forces had engaged and a deadly struggle had taken place without either side being able to gain an advantage.  Then, as he had expected, the enemy launched a counterattack against his right forces.  These fought gallantly, but were gradually forced back.  At the decisive moment, the general had committed his specially formed mobile reserve to support the right flank.  Their mass coupled with their determined attack could not be stopped.  They had forced back the enemy counter-attack and, in turn, enveloped the enemy flank.

When this turn of events was reported to  him, the general had immediately committed his main reserve to the attack in the center.  This attack, coupled with the envelopment, had broken enemy resistance.   The enemy had tried to retreat to his secondary defenses, but the general had insisted that his commanders carry out a relentless pursuit.  Since he never allowed his opponents to reorganize, he had no difficulty in annihilating them.

Why had he won?  He had applied a few basic rules of war-fare.  What were these basic rules?  They could be stated simply enough.  He had assured his security by protecting himself from surprise and hostile interference in order to gain and maintain the power of free action.  He had economized his forces by employing minimum essential means at points other than those of decision.  He had maneuvered his forces to favor accomplishment of his mission by positioning his combat element to place the enemy at a relative disadvantage.   He had concentrated superior combat power at the decisive time and place.  And overall, he had seized, retained, and exploited the initiative.

He knew what he would tell his commanders and staff tonight.  There exist certain fundamental truths that govern the prosecution of war.  He would inform them of those he had discovered in his reflections that evening, and would encourage them to seek out others.  He would impress upon them the fact that the proper application of these fundamental truths is essential to the exercise of command and to the successful conduct of military operations.

 The general put back on the muddy boots, rose and donned his battered helmet.  He moved out of his tent and into the darkness that led to the war tent.  He recognized ahead of him, one of his finest commanders rushing to meet him.  With a smile, he thought of the way that the enthusiastic  young man was bound to great him.

Mark Anthony would say, “Hail Caesar!  Your victory on the plains of Pharaslus against the rebel Pompey will win you a place in history.  All Rome shouts praise to your name.”

The general thought, “I must get a new helmet.”

 -end-

Norman Schwarzkoph

Written by Captain H. Norman Schwarzkopf in Infantry Magazine, July – August Issue of 1962. 

In my opinion a superior article to prove the Seneca quote: “What is then is now.”   While serving as Commander of United States Central Command, he was commander of all coalition forces in the Persian Gulf War. 

My only criticism would be comparing Pompey to a “rebel” considering he represented the Senate in the Civil War.  Wasn’t Caesar the true rebel? Anyone care to comment?   

This article was provided by the Greta Andrusyszyn a research librarian at the U.S. Army War College Library, Carlisle, PA.    

Thank you Greta for taking the time.