One of the great joys of reading widely is seeing how authors and ideas respond to each other. This referencing, refuting, and rephrasing done throughout history that has led some to think of the entire development of literature and philosophy as an ongoing conversation. Take, for example, Lucretius’ On the Nature of Things. That didactic poem was an exploration of the teachings of Epicurus, who lived and wrote some 300 years before Lucretius. In it, Lucretius writes:
Sweet it is, when on the great sea the winds are buffeting the waters,
to gaze from the land on another’s great struggles;
not because it is pleasure or joy that any one should be distressed,
but because it is sweet to perceive from what misfortune you yourself are free.
Sweet is it too, to behold great contests of war in full array over the plains,
when you have no part in the danger.
Some 1,800 years later, the poetess Charlotte Smith responds Lucretius. She also describes the pleasure of looking watching the sea from a safe spot on the shore, but watching men suffer and die takes all of the sweetness out of it:
The upland shepherd, as reclined he lies
On the soft turf that clothes the mountain brow,
Marks the bright sea-line mingling with the skies;
Or from his course celestial sinking low
The summer sun in purple radiance glow
Blaze on the western waters; the wide scene
Magnificent and tranquil seems to spread
Even over the rustic’s breast a joy serene,
When, like dark plague-spots by the demons shed,
Charged deep with death, upon the waves far seen
Move the war-freighted ships; and fierce and red
Flash their destructive fires–The mangled dead
And dying victims then pollute the flood.
Ah! thus man spoils glorious works with blood!
Where Lucretius perceives the suffering of others as a sweet reminder of our own relative security, Smith sees the suffering of others (particularly the human-inflicted suffering) as a great mar on the otherwise awe-inspiring world.
This reading of Smith as an answer to Lucretius is supported further by her poem The Emigrants. The poem begins on the cliffs of the English coast, facing France, a country in the midst of a bloody revolution. Shortly before encountering refuges from the conflict, the narrator announces:
For never yet could I derive relief;
When my swol’n heart was bursting with its sorrows,
From the sad thought, that others like myself
Live but to swell affliction’s countless tribes!
Again, where Lucretius finds sweetness in knowing that others suffer more than he, Smith derives no relief. In fact, it seems to make her own suffering even worse; not only must she endure her own sorrows, but also the knowledge that others seem to live only to suffer.
Despite these differences in perspective on the afflictions of others, Lucretius and Smith have a similar opinion about what life would be most enjoyable: one of isolation. For Lucretius, this isolation is found in philosophy, where he would “dwell in the calm high places, firmly embattled on the heights by the teaching of the wise.” For Smith, the desired isolation appears to be more literal:
How often do I half abjure Society,
And sigh for some lone Cottage, deep embower’d
In the green woods, that these steep chalky Hills
Guard from the strong South West; where round their base
The Beach wide flourishes, and the light Ash
With slender leaf half hides the thymy turf!—
There do I wish to hide me; well content
If on the short grass, strewn with fairy flowers,
I might repose thus shelter’d.
Nearly two thousand years separate Lucretius and Smith, and yet they each appear to play a part in the ongoing conversation. The common inquiry into the human condition makes each text richer, and the whole of the Western canon that much grander.
Beer of the week: Optimator – This doppelbock comes from Munich’s Spaten-Franziskaner-Bräu. It is a pretty, dark brown with a quickly dissipating head of small bubbles. The aroma has hints of ripe, dark fruit. Optimator is not syrupy, exactly, but it is very rich and full. This is a good beer to sip on over a longish period of time; not just because of the 7.5% alcohol content, but also because the flavor opens up a bit as the beer warms.
Reading of the week: The Emigrants by Charlotte Smith – The French Revolution must have been a very perplexing event for the English. To side with the monarchy was to side with England’s perennial adversary. To side with the revolutionaries was to oppose the very notion of divine right. But the countless victims of such a regime change, no matter their allegiance, are worthy of our pity.
Question of the week: What works do you see as responses to earlier writings?
This is the forty-seventh in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume XLVII: Elizabethan Drama 2
“Let the wine be plentiful as beer, and beer as water. Hang those penny-pinching fathers that cram wealth in innocent lamb-skins.” Thus Simon Eyre, the mayor of London, opens the feast at the end of Thomas Dekker’s The Shoemaker’s Holiday. But very few coffers are deep enough to long sustain such a prodigious flow of libations, and the play is somewhat ambiguous on the virtue of thrift.
Earlier in the play, before Eyre was mayor, he promised his workmen a dozen cans of beer. But when he placed the order, he slyly told the errand boy to purchase only two. When the delivery came up ten cans short of the promised dozen, Eyre feigned surprise, but was clearly glad to get twelve cans’ worth of good cheer from his workers for the price of two.
At the beginning of the play, another character relates how his nephew wasted a veritable fortune, reveling his way across Europe:
A verier unthrift lives not in the world,
Than is my cousin; for I’ll tell you what:
’Tis now almost a year since he requested
To travel countries for experience.
I furnished him with coins, bills of exchange,
Letters of credit, men to wait on him,
Solicited my friends in Italy
Well to respect him. But to see the end:
Scant had he journey’d through half Germany,
But all his coin was spent, his men cast off,
His bills embezzl’d, and my jolly coz,
Asham’d to show his bankrupt presence here,
Became a shoemaker in Wittenberg,
Of course, the time spent as a shoemaker ends up serving the young man very well, but one can hardly argue that carousing to the point of bankruptcy is sound policy.
If The Shoemaker’s Holiday has a lesson regarding thrift, it seems to be that one should be willing to spend money for the sake of enjoyment, particularly the enjoyment of others, but not to live beyond one’s means. Lacy was wrong to waste so much of his uncle’s money in Europe, and Eyre was arguably justified in buying his men less than the dozen beers he promised. But once Eyre’s fortune was made, he quite laudably spent a great deal of it on feasting the shoemakers.
So let the beer be as plentiful as water… so long as you can cover the bar tab.
Beer of the week: Broegel Bock Beer – One way to stretch the beer budget is to buy “store-brand” beer. Aldi grocery stores sell a few beers that appear to be “knock-offs” of better known (and slightly more expensive) beers: Kinroo Blue (Blue Moon), Independence Harbor (Sam Adams), Cerveza Monterey (Corona). Based on the label of Broegel Bock, I assumed that this was simply Aldi’s version of Shiner Bock. The packaging is extremely similar. However, I was pleasantly surprised. Broegel is brewed by Brouwerij Martens NV, a prominent white-label brewery in Belgium. The beer is dark amber with a tan head of very large bubbles. The aroma is of bread and caramel. The flavor matches the smell, with sourdough notes to go with the sweet dark malt. This is a much better beer than Shiner Bock.
Reading of the week: The Shoemaker’s Holiday by Thomas Dekker – To be a minute late to this play would mean missing some very important plot points. The opening conversation establishes the forbidden relationship that drives the action of the play.
Question for the week: The balance between quantity and quality is difficult to establish. Is an $18 six-pack really twice as good as a $9 six-pack?
This is the twenty-fourth in a series on The Harvard Classics; the rest of the posts are available here. Volume XXIV: On the Sublime, The French Revolution, Etc., Edmund Burke
One can imagine, hopefully without much effort, that some people actually read this blog. Of those people, there may be a subset who hold the author in such high regard (as regards his taste in suds) that they reckon that a well-reviewed beer on this site is worth a try. This is probably the chief value of reviews, be they reviews of books, theater, or restaurants: the opinions of others can help us choose.
Likewise the opinions of others about other people help us decide with whom to associate. The expression “any friend of Eddy is a friend of mine” exemplifies this notion; the speaker holds Eddy’s choice of company in such high regard that anybody worthy of his friendship is worthy also of the speaker’s. The reverse is also commonly true. Guilt by association is a real phenomenon; “any friend of Eddy must be avoided because Eddy is a bad guy with bad taste.”
Occasionally, however, negative reviews have the opposite of the expected effect. To be despised by certain people is often regarded as a sort of endorsement. Imagine, for example, a politician who is decried by the grand wizard (or whatever silly title he holds) of the KKK. At least some people would regard that as a glowing (if unintentional) endorsement.
When certain of Edmund Burke’s political adversaries attacked his government pension, he took the position that it was an honor to be reviled by such men. “I confess it does kindle, in my nearly extinguished feelings, a very vivid satisfaction to be so attacked and so commended.”
So whether you try the beers that I review positively because you trust my taste, or you try the beers that I hate because I must be wrong, cheers!
Beer of the week: Shiner Bock – This is a reliable go-to lager. It pours clear and orange-brown. It’s got bread notes throughout but not as much flavor or mouthfeel as may be expected from the look of it. It’s a solid porch beer, but nothing special.
Reading of the week: A Letter to a Noble Lord by Edmund Burke – Burke’s detractors gave him an excellent opportunity to both belittle them and to commend himself. And boy, he did not let that opportunity go to waste.
Question for the week: Is there anybody of whom you think so little that you reflexively adopt the opposite of all of his judgments?
I am no fan of Woodrow Wilson.
He pushed for and then signed the Espionage Act and it’s extension known as the Sedition Act. Through these laws, countless individuals have been harassed, convicted, and sentenced to prison for political (primarily anti-war) speech.
Wilson also successfully campaigned for the presidency on a policy of neutrality in what became World War I. After attaining office, however, embarked on policy that was so unneutral that his Secretary of State, William Jennings Bryan, resigned. He then pushed for the United States to join the otherwise deadlocked European war on the flimsy pretext that some Americans died when the Germans sunk the Lusitania, a ship carrying munitions for the British military. (To say nothing of the fact that the German government gave ample warning that they considered the Lusitania a warship and that Americans should not take passage on it.) It has been argued that had Wilson not joined the war, the United States would not have become the military-industrial nation that it is today, and the First World War would not have ended in the conditions that made Germany ripe for the rise of Adolph Hitler.
Sigmund Freud, in his psychological analysis of Wilson, concluded that the President was a dangerous fanatic whose belief in his own pre-ordained glory made him act with reckless abandon. Freud ultimately decided that the disastrous evil which inevitably resulted from Wilson’s actions made him impossible to sympathize with.
In the interest of keeping this blog post short, I will only mention further that Wilson is currently in the public eye due to calls from Princeton students to rename the Woodrow Wilson School of International Affairs because of his well-known racism.
For all of the above reasons, it may seem reasonable to attempt to wipe Wilson’s legacy from the school and the country. But I side with Diodorus Siculus on the subject of erasing legacies. Rather than eliminating the memory of evil men, it is better to “publish [the] truth to the stain of their memory.” Let the school continue by the name of Wilson, so that for generations to come people will reflect on how his actions resulted in the death and oppression of countless souls.
Beer of the week: Kalnapils Bock – One of the many unintended consequences of the First World War was the declaration of Lithuania as a sovereign nation. This is the first Lithuanian beer that I have had and, unfortunately, it is not very good. Initially, I was surprised to see how pale this beer is for a “bock”. It pours with a fluffy head that fades quickly. The aroma is reminiscent of cheap malt liquor: cheap grain, some alcohol. The aftertaste is decidedly metallic. Step up your game, Lithuania.
Reading for the week: Bibliotheca Historica, by Diodorus Siculus – In the preface to Book XIV of his “universal history”, Diodorus points out that men of high standing are subject to greater censure for their faults. “Let this therefore startle wicked men to consider, that they leave behind them an ugly representation of themselves, to the view of posterity for ever.”
Question for the week: Is it better to totally annihilate the memory of a bad man or to preserve his infamy as a warning to future generations?
*This post was accidentally published prematurely last week. So if you saw it then and couldn’t find it later, that’s why.
“Man up!” I was told when I was out on the town with some friends and we were obliged to finish our beers before moving on to the next tavern. “Be a man and chug that beer!”
The first time that I had Cooper’s, an Australian teetotaler hassled me for drinking my beer too slowly. I was shocked and perplexed. Assuming (quite accurately) that this gentleman had quit drinking because he was unable to live with his habit, I was confused as to why he would insist upon perpetuating the very notion that drinking beer can only be done immoderately. It was an impossible and fruitless effort to explain to him that some people drink beer because they like the way that it tastes.
Nobody would dream of saying, “a real man skulls his Riesling!” or “only a pussy wouldn’t chug that Cabernet Sauvignon!” So why does this culture surround beer?
When I was out with my friends and they insisted that I “man up”, I was drinking an IPA. And a good one at that. What a dreadful way to take the fun out of drinking a good beer: pressuring somebody to skull a delicious, high-alcohol beer as fast as possible. I know that some people cannot drink beer for medical or personal reasons, and I would not dream of pressuring them into doing so. I also would not try to bully somebody into chugging can after can of a beautiful, well-crafted beer, just for the sake of getting drunk.
Peer pressure is a problem among young adults. But it is also a problem for grown men who understand that drinking beer and getting drunk are different activities with different aims.
So for everybody who enjoys a nice beer at the end of the day, and only one, don’t be afraid to tell everybody else that you drink what you want, when you want, in the quantity that you want. Anybody who tries to make you chug a finely crafted ale is a barbarian, and their opinion is worth naught.
Beer of the week: Hinterland Maple Bock – This Wisconsin stout is exactly the kind of beer that is meant to be savored rather than chugged. It is brewed with real maple syrup. It pours quite dark, but what light does filter through is deep red. The head is made up of large tan bubbles that lace the glass nicely. The maple really shows in the aroma. The smoky, dark roasted malt with the sugary maple calls to mind maple smoked bacon. The beer is almost shockingly smooth. The mouthfeel is almost velvety. The dark malt really is the heart of the flavor. The smokiness leaves a tingle in the back of the throat that encourages the next sip. This is a very nice beer.
Reading of the week: Ajax by Sophocles, Lines 1-133 – The son of Telamon is manliness personified. He was the strongest of the Greeks at Troy. He single-handedly prevented Hector from burning the Argive ships, leaping from prow to prow with a gigantic spear. But eventually, Ajax met a disgraceful end. As Odysseus observed, even the greatest among us are “mere fleeting shadows.”
Question for the week: Who’s the man?