Embalmed

To embalm in word.

And keep the ghost of them alive.

To make them more flesh than phantom,

and yet held in a particular frame of time.

Every word spoken,

every gesture made replayed

with every word written, then read.

The story of their life, however short or long,

repeated whenever the book or document is opened.

These heroes and heroines embalmed within pages,

in youth, in angst, in maturity,

with all their problems of life or personality laid bare,

entangled as it were with the bias of the biographer,

for pale figures, like myself,

to gorge on.

Picture credit: Sylvia Plath

A journal entry upon finishing a biography on Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes, April 2021.

On Penguin's Plutarch (by a non-expert reader)

Parallel lives, placing two lives side by side and judging by comparison. That is the comparative technique, as devised by Plutarch to suit his artistic and biographical purposes. The prologue to the first life justifying the reason for his pairing and the epilogue at the end of the second comparing the two heroes, which in the passing of time were judged not to be essential to the text, as were regrettably his pairings. His comparative epilogues, in future and recent printings, I read, were omitted and his paired lives separated with little or no thought given as to the essentiality of their being paired together. I admit on reading of this I was astounded! And even though this unsatisfactory approach first came about years ago I still feel irritated that such a measure was even considered and forwarded. Nor does the original logic behind it: that 'it seemed natural [when the Penguin series first started to appear] to separate each Life from its pair and organise the volumes by period and city', and to thereby also omit the epilogues from the translations, which in some part still holds, seem to me to be logical at all. Did nobody working on this project ask themselves why were these lives paired thus? And what was the artistic merit? Surely the comparative passages alone would have been enough to convince there was some intended structure in play, which should, at whatever cost or logic as they then saw it, be preserved? 
Apparently not. (Though it still to me beggars belief Plutarch's distinctive pairing of a Greek and Roman was not seen as fundamental, nor, to repeat myself, that it was not asked what was he trying to underlie with the partnership of such people.) Although they came to remark upon it later and perhaps to regret the error, enough at least to admit to it but not enough to restore in revised editions Plutarch's pairings or respect his own 'authorial intentions.' Again, I'm incensed! Which is not usually the case with Penguin Classics. Though it is true their position – this revision being made in 2005 – may have again since then changed, or may do so again in future should the demand for Plutarch continue, or surge again after a fall.
So, whilst the revised Lives now - I'm told - include the prologue to the first and epilogue of the second, the pairs are still not printed as intended. And Penguin continue to sort the Lives into logical groups of their own devise. I am I admit somewhat confused, as much by this revision as by their original separation method. Why admit to this editorial error and not correct it?
The scholar as well as the reader is blamed. The scholar for he/she has only lately realised the importance of the pairings and how all Plutarch's lives are crafted; and the reader because they read Plutarch 'to see what he has to say about a particular period, and will wish to compare his treatment of the major players to see how the different parts of his historical jigsaw fit together.' The pairings would in other words force the readers to purchase several different volumes of the series or the whole set in order to satisfy their interest or achieve a thorough understanding. I thought publishers wanted to make money? Is this reasoning not for purposes of practicality but to cover up the chaotic approach they took and continue to take?
I have to say I think the latter explanation is more likely. But then I feel, as may have been noted, very strongly on this matter. For whatever method or system a writer has devised it should be adhered to and honoured. It should not be altered simply to suit modern readership or an editor's logic because such a revision seems to make sense when it was not the sense, and departs widely from it, in which the author conceived or created or meant it to be read. That is not honouring the author or the work.
The translator in the preface to the original edition concludes it by saying – I paraphrase – the texts (in this volume) should speak for themselves as much as possible. How can they do that when the author's intention – in this volume and subsequent others containing other Greek and Roman Lives - has, and continues, transparently, to be dishonoured? The format is just as fundamental as the text; one cannot speak nor make itself understood without the support of the other. If they are made to, as I believe they have been in this Penguin series, public comprehension - of the author and his work – will, at best, be partial, or, dare I say it, fail to exist at all.

Picture credit: The So-called Leonides Sculpture, Helmed Hoplite, 5th Century BC, Archaeological Museum of Sparta, Greece (source: Wikipedia).

See On Sparta, revised edition with Life of Agesilaus, first published 2005.

Notes from journal, written April 2021.

The Moralist

Gaius Cilnius Maecenas to (the historian) Livy: '...I detect the odor of a moralist. And it seems to me that the moralist is the most useless and contemptible of creatures. He is useless in that he would expend his energies upon making judgments rather than upon gaining knowledge, for the reason that judgment is easy and knowledge is difficult. He is contemptible in that his judgments reflect a vision of himself which in his ignorance and pride he would impose upon the world. I implore you, do not become a moralist; you will destroy your art and your mind.'
Is he, Maecenas, right? And to what extent was this Maecenas' opinion and to what extend John Williams', the author?
I have just put to myself an essay question which I have no intention of outlining an answer to, though in essence what Maecenas or Williams' says I hold to be true, for if that was a Roman view of moralists then it's all the more truer of the general populace today, especially in a world where, knowledge, although everywhere, and accessible, it is even harder to discern the grains of fact and the grains of fiction. Therefore, in a state of either confusion or indifference, with our position in the argument already fixed upon, we impart our judgement to whoever will listen or give us a platform – and there are many platforms to choose from. If we hold this view of moralists to be true then it destroys so much more than just the moralist's own mind or that which they might touch through their work, it corrupts the very notion of liberty; it destroys society, for it does not promote what it says is its aim, that of tolerance.
It is too easy to allow that knowledge is difficult, and that judgement without (knowledge), except that of your preconceptions, is acceptable. We determine that this premise should not shape the world, and yet it is, it does.
And yet in other spheres, say that of the soldier, we talk of duty. They are, in other words, not paid to think or judge. They are told what they are told and instructed, as a body, what is required of them. They can, of course, have their opinion but duty comes first, which may entail acting against any knowledge gained or judgement formed. 'It is not', in the words of a Roman Centurion, 'the place of the soldier to think of politics, and it is not the business of the soldier to hate or love. It is his duty to fulfil his oath.' Yes; even if that means fighting against his own principles, or own countrymen. In the military there is no voice for moralists; only when released (from service) can the solider speak and explain or defend their past actions.
Moralists cannot understand how the moral ground can be put so easily aside, and yet as humans we make that judgement all the time, based on what we think we know and how morally comfortable we are with taking certain steps. It is far easier for a moralist to look back on another's decision to act – either in word or deed – because they weren't and haven't been in that position. They can only question what others did, and presume what they, in the same age or instant, would have done, which is obviously advantageous to taking the higher moral ground, when in reality they are not in possession of the full facts or of the experience as it was experienced and do not know how they would have responded if they had been.
To paraphrase Maecenas: judgement is easy, knowledge difficult.

Picture credit: Horatius Reads Before Maecenas, 1863, Fyodor Bronnikov (source: WikiArt)

Quotes from Augustus by John Williams.

Adapted from a journal entry, written April 2021.

The Shepherd

In the cabinet of bone

The Shepherd dwells;
He goes by the name of Soul.

His flock he tends night and day,
Feeding it wholesome thoughts;
By night however it craves the Wolf.

The Wolf when bid will come,
Will snap and snarl and use winsome words
To gather some, if not all, the flock.

His teeth, a case of knives,
Also wound and prick the Shepherd,
Yet do not despite their efforts kill him.

The Shepherd has tried everything
To dispel the Wolf:
Fire and sacrifice and prayers.

Soul has even visualised
His abode as a bony Palace
Fit for the Holy Lord.

But only the Sun, by his light,
Scatters the Wolf
And rebellions of the night.

Picture credit: Shepherd tending his flock, Jean-Francois Millet (source: WikiArt).

A weaving of words with George Herbert, written April 2021.