Technic civilization was first a republic (the Solar Commonwealth), then an empire (the Terran Empire).
Our main sources are two conversations of Dominic Flandry:
Technic civilization was first a republic (the Solar Commonwealth), then an empire (the Terran Empire).
Our main sources are two conversations of Dominic Flandry:
(When I was an unskilled labourer at Lancaster Royal Infirmary, landscaping a car park, there was new construction work going on at the RLI at the same time and one of the cleaning staff told me that the then current building work was "phrase one." I relayed this to Sheila who responded, "I see. How many phrases will there be?" A cleaner does not need to know her phrases from her phases but such linguistic errors are unacceptable in other lines of work. I attended a College where it was noticed that the headed notepaper described the Principal as the "Principle." When this mistake had been spotted, that notepaper had to be used only as scrap paper for handwritten notes, telephone messages etc. This parenthetical paragraph has become a miniature essay.)
Rome was a monarchy, then a republic, then an empire. "Princeps" meant "first" and, during the Republic, the "princeps senatus" was the leading member of the Senate. In the Empire, "princeps" became an Imperial title, I think the main such title although I am still finding this confusing.
In the Republic, because of foreign wars and civil strife, a successful general, Julius Caesar, accumulated personal political power and was assassinated to prevent him from acquiring even more such power. However, this resulted in what we know as the Empire being founded by his heir and successor, Gaius Octavius.
In 38 BC, Octavius replaced "Gaius" with "Imperator," which meant "Commander" and has come to mean "Emperor." The King of England was "Rex Imperator." In 27 BC, the Senate granted him the name, "Augustus," and he also adopted the unofficial title, "princeps." The Empire is deemed to have begun then, not earlier when Octavius became "Imperator."
The Empire had two phases, Principate and Dominate. This statement may or may not be an accurate analysis. However, (i) it is one analysis that has been made and (ii) it is relevant to Poul Anderson's account of the Terran Empire to which we will turn next.
The Principate was the appearance of continued republican government whereas the Dominate, beginning with Diocletian, was more autocratic.
The next question is: to what extent does the Terran Empire parallel the Roman Empire?
A Tudor woman says:
"'Christ will receive you...'" (p. 120)
A turbaned white man asks which Christ: Catholic, Lutheran, Greek etc? These indeed differ. Does any objective reality correspond to any of these beliefs? Nothing is known about the historical Jesus who died a long time ago. On the other hand, people have, if not always, then for a very long time, projected deities which have taken different forms. In that sense, Christ is no different from Jupiter whom he replaced in the Roman Empire.
A Native American offers:
"'All roads up a mountain lead to heaven.'" (p. 121)
I agree up to a point. Some roads are dead ends but, but by walking such a road to its end, we can turn back and find another road that will take us further. All roads up point towards heaven by which I mean greater understanding, not a hereafter.
He continues:
"'Let each walk the one his forefathers trod.'" (ibid.)
I disagree. Let each walk the one that he finds for himself.
"'On mine, I see their footprints in the dust before me, and in the wind I hear their ghosts singing the olden songs -'" (ibid.)
There is that wind again. This Native American remains close to his ancestral way but not all of us do that.
Villon mixes so many metaphors when complaining that a ballad that he is composing will not take form that he resorts to two more:
"'At least let the wind of your words blow away the garbage clutter of my metaphors! Sit.'" (p. 113)
Then a real wind enters the inn:
"A cold gust made the fire jump and snap. Turning our heads, we saw the front door had opened again. Taverner was greeting a new arrival. We couldn't see past him to that person, but the entrance was full of gray fog and drizzle. I judged the time yonder to be near sundown of a winter's day in a northern land." (pp. 114-115)
My land, as a matter of fact. The man who enters is easily recognizable and is in any case named in the second last sentence.
And it is he that tells a famous painter that his paintings will win something that:
"'...the gates of hell shall not prevail against.'" (p. 122)
And there is one more Biblical reference in a work by Poul Anderson!
It will be a long time before we have squeezed out every detail, implication, reference etc.
What is the cause of the narrator's mood? An Irish politician who, we happen to know, was disgraced by an adultery scandal, asks him:
"'Woman trouble?'" (p. 110)
- and he, the narrator, responds:
"'In a way... Not as simple as I wish it were.'" (ibid.)
That puts him in the same category as Olaf Stapledon's narrator. (See the above link from "mood.")
Villon proposes to recount a story from his own recent experience involving a woman but pauses, considers the narrator and suggests that that might:
"Losers' Night."
"...I'd heard of what happened when Kit Marlowe showed up in [Francois Villon's] presence - one of Taverner's few mistakes, letting two alley tom-cats into the same room -" (pp. 111-112)
In another fictional inn, the White Horse, Shakespeare praises Marlowe's Doctor Faustus whereas Marlowe denigrates Shakespeare's first play. The same author informs us that the Library of Dreams contains Marlowe's dreamed but unwritten The Merrie Comedie of The Redemption of Doctor Faustus.
This author is, of course, Neil Gaiman. Anderson and Gaiman continue to parallel each other as we, editorially speaking, continue to reread both.
I have yet to reread my way to the end of "Losers' Night."
As the narrator approaches the Old Phoenix:
"The signboard creaked faintly overhead in the wind." (p. 107)
Faintly, not loudly or threateningly: it is ambiguous as yet what kind of reception he will have in the inn. (By now, I notice any reference to the wind whether it is meaningful or not.)
Inside, an overheard conversation:
"'- battle tomorrow or the day after,' said he in the toga. 'At Philippi, I think. Harder will be what comes after, to restore the Republic." (p. 109)
- spoken in classical Latin. Highly relevant after our recent discussion in Ecce Romani.
The barmaid to the narrator:
"'Three score and ten summers, the Book says. I should think yer couldn't afford ter waste time.'" (pp. 109-110)
Sound advice in any text. In our meditation group, we recite a text by Zen Master Dogen which says:
"If you want to find it quickly, you must start at once."
That was a quick breakfast post on a Saturday morning before proceeding into town for some usual weekend activities which might include a curry from a market stall.
Onward, Earthlings.