The Mad Monarchist: America and Japan, Who Wanted War?

The Mad Monarchist: America and Japan, Who Wanted War?

I have always thought this, but never really did the necessary research.

Ab Urbe Condita Libri

The history of Rome

By T. Livius Patavinus

I.57

In this permanent camp, as it happens in wars more long than bitter, plenty of men were on leave, yet the nobles were more than the soldiers were: certain royal youths frequently wore out leisure in feasting and revelries among themselves.  By chance while these were drinking with Sextus Tarquinius, where also Collatinus Tarquinius, the son of Egerus, dined, a mention of wives occurred.  Each praised his wife utterly; thereupon with the struggle aroused, Collatinus said that words were not necessary; indeed, in a few hours it could be known how much his Lucretia surpassed the rest.  “Why not, if the vigor of youth is present, do we mount the horses and visit, seeing in person the characters of our wives?  Let it be the surest test for each wife what she should appear to the eyes of her husband at the unexpected arrival.”  They had become roused with wine; “Come then,” all said; with summoned horses, they flew away to Rome.  When first they had arrived there at dusk, they proceeded thence into Collatia, where they discovered Lucretia not at all like the royal daughters-in-law, whom they had seen in a banquet and at play with their peers wasting time, but devoted late at night to the wool among her late-working handmaids sitting in the middle of the house.  The glory of the womanly contest was Lucretia’s.  The husband and the Tarquins coming, and welcomed courteously; the married victor kindly summoned the royal youths.  There an evil lust for raping Lucretia seized Sextus Tarquinius; not only the figure but also the chastity observed incited him.  Then indeed, they returned from nocturnal youthful fun into the camp.

I.58

A few days later, Sextus Tarquinius, unknown to Collatinus, came to Collatia with one companion.  Where courteously withdrawn from the men unaware of his plan, when he was led after dinner into the guestroom, burning with passion, after things seemed sufficiently safe and everyone seemed near sleep, he came to the sleeping Lucretia with a sword drawn and with the left hand having fallen upon the breast of the woman he said, “Be quiet Lucretia, I am Sextus Tarquinius; there is a sword in my hand; you shall die, if you should utter a sound.”  When the woman, startled from sleep, saw no help and death threatening nearby, Tarquinius confessed his love, he adored, he mingled threats with prayers, he influenced the womanly soul in all manners.  When he saw the obstinate woman and indeed, she did not bend to the fear of death, he added dishonor to fear: he said that he would place a murdered nude slave with her dead body, that it may be said that she had been killed in vile adultery.  By this terror, when his vengeful lust had conquered her stubborn chastity, Tarquinius left, savage in the defeat of womanly grace.  Lucretia, mourning at such a great evil, sent a messenger to Rome to her father and to Ardea to her husband, to come with a single faithful friend; they must act, and quickly; a horrible thing had happened.  Spurius Lucretius came with Publius Valerius, son of Volesus; Collatinus came with Lucius Junius Brutus, with whom he was met returning to Rome by chance by the messenger of his wife.  They found Lucretia weeping, sitting in her room.  Tears rose at their arrival, to her husband asking, “Are you well?”  “No,” she said; “For what is well for the woman with lost chastity?  There are remnants of a strange man.  Collatinus, they are in your bed; moreover, there is violated a body alone, an innocent spirit; death shall be the testimony.  Yet give your right hands as a pledge; it shall not be with impunity for the adulterer.  It is Sextus Tarquinius, an enemy last night instead of a guest, who clad with violence here stole a pleasure destructive to me, and if you are men, to him.”  All gave the oath in turn; they consoled the woman sick at heart, by averting the pain from the compelled woman onto the author of the crime: they said that the mind sins, not the body, and he from whom the plan was absent, the guilt was absent.  “You,” she said, “you must see what is destined for him: I free myself, even if free from sin, I am not free from punishment; and then no shameless woman shall live by the example of Lucretia.”  The knife, which she had hidden under her clothes, she thrust it into her heart.  Falling forward onto the wound, the dying woman collapsed.  Her husband and father lamented.

I.59

Brutus, with the others occupied with weeping, holding before himself the knife taken from Lucretia’s wound, flowing with blood, said, “By this blood most chaste before the prince’s injury I vow, and I make you, gods, the testimony that I shall seek vengeance on Lucius Tarquinius Superbus with his criminal wife and the entire stock of his children with the sword, fire, and with every means I am able, and suffer no one else to reign at Rome.”  Then he gave the knife to Collatinus, thence to Lucretius and Valerius, astounded at the strange thing, whence came this new spirit in Brutus’ breast.  They swore as it had been ordained; having been turned all the way from weeping into anger, followed the lead of Brutus already calling him thence to conquer the kingdom.

De Republica

The Republic

M. Tullius Cicero

The Dream

Ch. 13

“Yet that you may be, Africanus, more eager to protect the republic, reflect thus: to everyone who has preserved, helped, and increased the fatherland, it is certain that a place is assigned in heaven where the blessed enjoy everlasting life.  For nothing is made more agreeable on earth to that chief god who rules the whole world, than the meetings and gatherings of men united by law, which are called states.  The rulers and preservers of these states from this place, departed hence, return here.”

Ch. 14

Here I, although I was terrified not so much by the fear of death, as by fear of treachery by my own fellows, I still sought whether the man lived, my father Paullus, and the others whom we believed dead.  “Aye,” he said, “they live here who have flown from the chains of the body as from a prison, truly that which is called your life is death.  Why do you not see Paullus your father coming to you?”  When I saw him, I for my part squandered a quantity of tears, while he for his part, embracing and kissing me, forbade me to weep.

Ch. 15

I, when I first began to be able to speak, after I restrained my tears, said, “Most sacred and best father, I ask since this is life as I hear Africanus say, why do I delay on earth?  Why do I not hurry to come here to you?”  “It is not thus,” he said, “for unless god himself, whose is this whole temple which you see, should free you from the cares of your body, the approach hither cannot lie open to you.  For men have been begotten by this law, that they might keep that globe which you see stands as center in this temple, which is called the earth, and to these the soul has been given from those eternal fires which you call constellations and stars, which globular and rotund, animated by the divine mind, make their orbits and circles in extraordinary speed.  Wherefore the soul  is to be held fast in the custody of the body by both you, Publius and every pious man, and not save commanded by him from whom that that soul has been given you, ought it be removed from the life of men, lest you seem to have fled the human duty assigned by god.

Ch. 16

Yet thus, Scipio, since your grandfather is here, as am I who bore you, cultivate justice and piety, which is not only great towards parents and relatives, but also greatest towards the fatherland.  This life is a way into heaven and into this gathering of those who have already lived and resided in that place with a reduced body which you see”—while there was that circle shining with a most splendid whiteness among the flames—“which you call, as you learned from the Greeks, the Milky Way.”  From which place all other famous and extraordinary men seemed revealed to me.  However, there were those stars which we have never seen from this place and a magnitude to everything which we never supposed to exist, out of which the least thing was that which is farthest from heaven, it was lit by the nearest foreign light from the lands, the spheres of stars, however, easily conquered the size of the earth.  Already that planet seemed small to me, so that I felt ashamed of our empire in which we held about a dot of that.

Epistolae XXII, ad Eustochium de custodia virginitatis

Letter 22—To Eustochium on the Care of virginity

By Eusebius Sophronius Hieronymus (Jerome)

XXIX

You should not wish to be seen too eloquent or to trifle with festive meters in lyric songs.  Nor should you—a delicate woman—follow the degenerate drivel of the matrons, who now with clenched teeth, now with loose lips temper stammering voices in imperfect words, thinking everything rustic which is natural.  So pleasing to them is even the adultery of the tongue.  “For what is the commonality between light and darkness, what is the agreement between Christ and Belial?”  What fellowship does Horace make with the Psalms, Vergil with the Gospels, and Cicero with the Apostle?  Is not a brother tempted if he shall have seen you reclining in a pagan temple?  Although “everything is clean to the clean and nothing can be rejected which has been secured through the act of thanks,” still likewise we ought not to drink the chalice of Christ and the chalice of demons.  I shall tell you an account of my misfortune.

XXX

When many years ago I had taken myself from home, from my parents, from my sister, and from my kin and, what is more difficult than this, from the custom of more elegant food, on account of the kingdom of heaven and I went to Jerusalem to become a monk, I was not able to be without the library which I had amassed for myself at Rome through the greatest study and labor.  Therefore, I wretchedly used to fast about to read Tully; after numerous night watches, after tears which recollections of past sins elicited in me from my inmost parts, Plautus was taken up in my hands.  If ever, turned back to myself, I had begun to read the prophet, the uncultivated speech horrified, and because I did not see light with blind eyes, I did not think that it was the fault of the eyes but of the sun.  While thus the ancient serpent mocked me, almost in the midst of Lent a fever filled the innermost parts of me, it invaded the exhausted body and without any respite—this may be incredible to say—so it consumed the unfortunate member so that I barely clung to my bones.

Meanwhile the obsequies were prepared and the vital heat of the soul beat in a body cooling everywhere in a glowing little breast, when suddenly taken I was dragged in the spirit to the tribunal of a judge, where there was so much light and so much brightness of light in the bystanders that thrown down into the ground, I dared not look upward.  Asked my rank, I answered that I was a Christian: he who sat in judgment said, “You lie, you are a Ciceronian, not a Christian; ‘where your treasure is, there also is your heart.’”  Immediately, I became silent and between blows—for he had ordered me struck—I was tormented more by the fires of conscience, reflecting on that verse: “In hell, however, who shall confess you?”  Still, I began to shout and to say with a cry of pain, “Have mercy on me, O Lord, have mercy on me.”  This cry was resounding between the scourges.  Finally, prostrated on the knees to the president, those who stood attendance had begged that he bestow a pardon of youth, that he might provide a place of penitence for the error, to exact torment then, if I should read the books of pagan letters ever again.  I, who wished to promise greater things, forced by such a dreadful moment, began to swear and imploring his name to say, “Lord, if ever I shall have secular books, if I shall read them, I have denied you.”