Chapter 5 - Among the Mundi Roses

As this is a Regency story, there is bound to be some AU-ness and OOC-ness. Please bear with me. Emphases are in italics and titles of books &ca are underlined. This story places great stress on the significance and meanings of flowers.

Language of Flowers

Chapter 5 – Among the Mundi Roses

While the ladies at Lord Orthod' townhouse were occupied in interrogating Lord Villiers, the owner of that fine residence was safely sheltered from the unyielding rain at Black's. Sighing slightly, Lord Orthod earnestly wished that he had heeded his daughter's words. Oh well, he thought, turning briefly away from his conversation with Lord Lupin, at least it is dry in here and my coughing has stopped.

"How the heavens pour!" he muttered, as he stared out the window. "What is that lady doing there in the heavy rain without an umbrella?"

"What lady?" asked his companion, as he hesitated over his muffin.

Pointing to the forlorn figure in a dark puce pelisse and matching bonnet across the street from the club, the Baron replied, "That one. Do you think she's lost?"

Squinting to make up the features of the woman through the window pane and the heavy rain, Lord Lupin confessed that could not discern her visage. "Do you think she's looking for someone at the club?"

"That is irrelevant, Lupin. The rules of this club have remained misogynistic long enough. I surmise that the young lady must have been separated from her party and sought to seek shelter here. However, since Black's is only a gentlemen's club, she was turned away. Whatever happened to compassion and human goodness?" asked Lord Orthod, repeatedly jabbing at his half eaten toast.

Before Lord Lupin could answer in kind, a mellow silky voice from the shadow purred, "By saying that, my dear Lord Orthod, you have made the assumption that human nature is intrinsically good rather than avaricious and cowardly."

"However, sir, in assuming that my beliefs are an assumption, you have made an asinine assumption yourself," replied the older man.

The shadows soon elongated and yielded a dark haired man with a hooked nose who was clad in full mourning. "Lupin," he greeted in a careless sneer, "and Lord Orthod, I presume?" He executed a flawless bow to the aged Baron.

"Your opinion has finally been replaced by knowledge," answered Lord Orthod by way of acknowledgement. "Lord Sterne, I am pleased to have met you at last. I know you by reputation, of course. My daughter is a keen admirer of your published work."

Lord Sterne bowed slightly. "She was my best potions student at Garswoth. If rumours are to be believed, Miss Granger is as reclusive and tenacious as I am taciturn and unsociable."

Feigning a cough to dispel the men's verbal sparring, Lupin quickly added, "We are all aware of Miss Granger's intellect. Clearly, she inherited her spirit and wit from you, my lord."

Having no desire to further antagonise a man who was obviously unwell, Lord Sterne took his cue from Lupin and changed the topic adroitly, "Forgive my intrusion, Lord Orthod, I could not help by notice that you were discussing a young lady's plight in this rain."

"Indeed, she's still there," exclaimed an auburn haired dandy at a nearby window. "Devil take it! Her face's obscured by the rainwater on the window." He turned around and everyone at Black's fixed their eyes on to the young fop who had the effrontery to interrupt a conversation to which he was not invited to join.

Lupin took in the fop's elaborately tied cravat and well polished black Hessian boots with a quiet snort of derision. Lord Orthod merely rolled his eyes at the embroidered yellow waistcoat and blue coat before he directed his attention to the lady in the rain. Lord Sterne scowled at the dandy and wondered why the haughty Almack's patronesses would call this fool who wore his collars so high up on his cheeks a Pink of the Ton.

"Do you realise," drawled Lord Sterne in a slow and deliberate voice, which Lord Lupin knew heralded certain trouble. "Hessians are only worn when the weather is fine and for the expressed purpose of promenading at Court."

The young auburn haired dandy, Lord Weasley, only laughed at the acidic remark (which he had completely failed to grasp) and replied, "You're not in any condition to dispense fashion advice to me, my Lord Sterne. I am quite the arbiter of fashion!"

"I noticed," said Severus in a chillingly quiet tone, looking out at the rainy scene. "Good Lord! Lupin, I think it's the Weather Oracle!"

"The one haunting you?"

"The very same!"

"Blast her!"

"What's wrong with her?" asked Lord Orthod as he picked up a copy of Ars Chemica.

"She's apparently one of Severus's long-term admirers, that is, if rumours are to be believed," answered Lupin with a grin at his friend.

Orthod laughed and turned to Sterne as that gentleman was about to withdraw his wand at Lord Lupin. "Come now, my Lord Marquess, Sit with us and tell us about your new article."

"Has he published again this month?" came a wizened voice from the door.

"Duke, Count Moody," greeted Lord Sterne in a harsh murmur as the two gentlemen came into the room.

"Bonjour tout le monde!" declared the Duke of Sanguine cheerfully, shaking hands with all his acquaintances. "Ah, mon enfant!" he cried as he warmly shook Lord Sterne's icy-cold hand. "I see you've taken pains to become acquainted with Lord Orthod!" Lord Sterne's eyes narrowed and his lips curled disdainfully at that comment. Ignoring his godson's expression, the Duke's eyed twinkled slightly as he continued, "Lady Sybill was asking for you downstairs."

Lord Sterne groaned inwardly. "I trust you have sent her on her way?" said he with a great air of disinterestedness as he drew Lord Orthod's attention to the anaesthetic properties of the unstrained wolfsbane brew in his article.

"That, I have already done, mon enfant!"

Lord Sterne was prevented from making any further enquiries and he had to be satisfied with the opinion that she had indeed gone home. To his immense relief, Lady Sybill Trelawney was no longer at her post across the street. He smirked lightly at the sight of Lord Percy obsequiously addressing the Duke. He wrinkled his large hooked nose with scorn at the young man's vituperative remarks against his younger twin brothers' foray into trade.

"Insufferable snob!" he muttered and received an approving nod from Lord Orthod and Lupin. He turned to Lord Orthod to avoid laughing aloud at Lord Percy's fatuous denial of his being related to owners of the Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

"Very interesting theory you have on the wolfsbane potion, Lord Sterne," complimented Lord Orthod as the Duke of Sanguine sat down beside Lord Lupin.

"Oh, is it in the new edition of Ars Chemica?" asked Count Moody, picking up the copy proffered by Lord Lupin. "Cured you, didn't he?" blustered Moody in his forceful well-meaning Slavic way. Receiving a nod of acknowledgement from the patient and the Duke, he continued, "So what did you modify?"

"I've combined flower extract into the wolfsbane potion, using the extract as the active binding reagent. To do so, one had to substitute the one hundred percent aconite abstract for the eight percent pure abstract. But I do not expect Lord Orthod to understand this," said Lord Sterne with a slight unmistakeable sneer. "Seeing how, you're a squib who only begun your collaboration with the state during the war."

Fortunately, the bespectacled Baron did not take offence. He smiled pleasantly at the Marquess and said, "Well said. I haven't a head for all these magical things; my daughter has a better notion. She's read all the debates surrounding this adaptive wolfsbane brew of yours." He turned a page of the journal. "Interesting, Hiero Gravitas has responded to your article of the last issue. It's in this edition."

"What's the premise?" enquired the Duke, popping a bonbon into his mouth. Moody responded by handing him the journal opened at Gravitas' article. "Quite interesting," commented Sanguine, "this should cross Sterne's cravat rightly. Rather ironic when you consider how he prefers to be known as Snape in publication. Still can't temper your vanity, mon enfant?"

Watching that belligerent look in his friend's eye, Lupin brushed aside a buzzing insect that must have flown in through one of the doors when the club members entered or exited. "What does it say, Lord Orthod?"

"Shall I read a section to you? Oh, jolly good!" cried Orthod with so much pleasure that Severus narrowed his eyes in disdain. "Sterne's Fennel-Wolfsbane brew," he read aloud, "though acclaimed for curing the condition of werewolves, places too much stress on Pliny's fennel remedies. Yet, without explaining his rationale behind this dosage in his brew, his lordship uses the exact composition of fennel to tuber ratio that snakes imbibe at the point of casting off their skins so as to sharpen their eyesight. In so doing, he did not consider the actual effects of fennel. Granted that it is a praise of strength; granted that it successfully removes the taint of lycanthropy from human blood; it does not address the adverse effects the former sufferer might face aside from his previous ailment. In my experiments, ceteris paribus, I have calculated the adversity factor and used camomile in lieu of fennel. The results were astounding when applied on wererats. The creatures did not suffer much pain and their brain activity decreased as their bodies were gradually purged of their infected blood. After an hour's slumber, the wererats returned to their normal state as rats. If his lordship would be so enterprising as to attempt his cure with my suggested ingredient as a substitute, his lycanthropy cure can be improved."

"Impudent young cur!" hissed Lord Sterne in a low dangerous voice as he unclenched his balled fists and flicked his left hand dismissively to drive away what he presumed was a fly. Privately, however, he made a mental note to reread that article in its entirety so as to replicate Gravitas' proposed camomile-wolfsbane brew. As he was mentally determining how the camomile extract would bind to the strained wolfsbane extract, Lord Sterne caught his godfather's twinkling eyes and he was immediately filled with a sense of slight unease. The Duke evidently knew something that he did not and that made him uncomfortable.

"Know what's strange?" asked Moody.

"The colour of your waistcoat?" responded Lupin. "Lilac is very becoming on you."

Harrumphing at Lupin's joke his expense, Moody replaced his quizzing glass before his revolving glass eye. "This Hiero Gravitas character did not supply Ars Chemica with his writer's profile." He waved the journal emphatically to emphasise his point, then repeated that same gesture to chase away a buzzing insect (which Lord Orthod had declared to be a beetle) before his nose.

"Is it a blank?" asked Sanguine placidly as he gestured the house elves for more tea and to attempt to remove the annoying beetle. "Is his history really a blank? What do you think Lord Orthod?"

"Perhaps he values his privacy," suggested the bespectacled Baron, deliberately staring out at the rain-splashed window again. "I am certain Lord Sterne appreciates that sentiment and desire."

Lord Sterne bowed slightly in acknowledgement.

"Still," said Lupin, watching Lord Percy leave at the entrance of two figures. "One must admit that five years of writing has not yielded the author's identity. It is suspect." He made an attempt to catch the beetle and knocked over his empty teacup.

"What's suspect, Lupin?" came the stout voice of one of the new arrivals.

"Yes, what is?" asked the other newcomer.

"Hiero Gravitas," said Moody simply, shaking hands with the two gentlemen.

Lord Sterne drove away the beetle from his face with an impatient wave and curled his lips contemptuously at the freckled redhead who was guffawing at Moody's decidedly serious tone and the bespectacled fellow with unkempt dark hair next to him.

"Duke, my lords," greeted the stocky redhead. "Some rain, isn't it? Harry and me couldn't possibly race each other today."

"I believe the proper manner of speech would be 'Harry and I', Lord Ronald," corrected Lord Sterne peevishly. "Grammar is important – use it."

Instead of putting them in their place as he intended, Lord Sterne was disappointed to learn that Sir Harry saw it as a comment of good will and chose to slap him in the back with a hoot of laughter.

"What race?" asked Lupin, chasing away the beetle.

"Curricle to Portsmouth," said Lord Ronald.

"If you're lucky, you might break your neck," drawled Lord Sterne rancorously, shocking the young men into silent pouts of displeasure.

"So," began the bespectacled one with unkempt dark hair, wisely changing the topic. "What's so suspect about Hiero Gravitas?" Lord Ronald waved the beetle aside before his friend could catch it. "Ron! I could have caught it!"

"Sorry, Harry!" murmured Lord Ronald, scratching his head by way of apology.

"Other than the fact that Gravitas is an alchemical scholar of the Quality, we know nothing of him," replied Count Moody.

"So?" asked Lord Ronald, "I don't see why this Hero chap is so great."

Lord Orthod started slightly.

"Hiero," corrected the Duke of Sanguine placidly. "Hero is a woman's name."

The old Baron's discomfited laugh at that comment elicited a curious look from Lord Sterne. He asked himself the reason for Lord Orthod's start at Lord Ronald's foolish and innocent slip of the tongue. At that moment, the poor bespectacled old gentleman was thinking the same thing as he silently berated himself. It would not for him to be distressed by such careless comments made by a callow youth. While he did not deny that he felt a surge of pride in reading that brief paragraph to the assembled company, he had to respect the author's wish for anonymity. However, his resolution to calm his nerves was shaken by Sir Harry Potter and Lord Ronald Weasley's queries after his daughter's health. The Duke of Sanguine looked at the exchange with interest. Lord Sterne, on the other hand, was still pondering on the matter posited by Gravitas' article in Ars Chemica.

Increasingly sickened by the sight of Sir Harry and Lord Ronald, Lord Sterne swatted Lupin's back with his gloves to signal that he was ready to leave for Flourish and Blotts. Informing the aged Baron that the rain had stopped, and bidding the rest of his company farewell, Lord Sterne left Black's with a scowl on his face. As soon as he stepped out onto the pavement in front of the club, he thanked his own perspicacity for asking Lupin to walk with him, for Lady Sybill was waiting for him. Once the lady had forcefully commandeered Lord Sterne's right arm, the assailed man used his free arm to grab Lord Lupin. Turning to Lupin, he whispered, "Don't just stand there staring at her, man! Distract her!"

Since there was no response from his friend, he attempted to extract himself from the woman's clutches. "Release me, woman! I have an urgent appointment with Lupin!" he hissed in a vitriolic voice.

She only adjusted the bangles on her arms and smiled. "I can wait, Lord Sterne. My inner eye informs me that your business will not take long. Where are we going? Shall we go to a lecture? I predict you will not turn it down. I have billets to a wonderful one..."

"You!" he said in a quiet purr. It was not lost upon him that Lord Lupin was intently studying the lady's features and clothes. "You are going nowhere!"

"Don't be silly, I am very free today and can accompany you anywhere. I will be happy to meet all your charming friends. I predict that I will like them very well." She smiled sweetly at Lord Lupin.

"Spare Lupin and I your coquetry. Tell me, Lady Sybill," said he in a most uncivil tone. "Have you contemplated either suicide or entering a nunnery?"

The lady only giggled and muttered something about his wicked wit.

Prying her hand off his arm, he extended his wand and commanded sharply, "Leave ME ALONE!"

Stunned by his harsh manner, Lady Sybill released his arm. Lord Lupin (fortunately for Lord Sterne) regained his powers of speech and made his salutations to the lady. Clearly struck by the lady's vivacious manner, easy elegance and remarkable way of speaking on the futures of the other passers by, Lupin soon engaged her for a promenade at the park. Noticing Lupin's success in distracting the lady, Lord Sterne quickly disappeared into the apothecary until Lady Sybill and his friend went away in the direction of the park.

Footnotes:

Readers, you will notice that the title of the chapter contains the name of flowers/plants. This is significant to understanding the plot. While some of you may be familiar with the language of flowers, I beg you to allow for differences in interpretation. Some flowers/plants have one meaning during the time of the Regency and another during the Victorian era. My guess is that those of you familiar with this language are acquainted with the Victorian interpretation rather than the Regency one.

Naturally, there is also a deeper meaning beyond that of the flowers. What it is – I leave it to you to uncover.

(1) Mundi rose stands for "variety".

(2) Aconite/Wolfsbane stands for "misanthropy".

You can see it here http://www.beatylandscaping.com/wolfsbane.gif and

http://www.mconegal-botanical.co.uk/images/wolfsbane.jpg

You may be surprised that Wolfsbane (also commonly called Aconite and Monkshood) are of the buttercup family. Look at the pictures closely and you will notice that the plant has 5 blue or yellow sepals. One of these sepals is shaped like a hood or a helmet. And in the old days, think old fashioned mages, monks and whatnot – they had this hood over their heads. This is why the English called it Monkshood. The flowers as you notice are rather showy, but at least it warns you not to mistake the plant's roots for horseradish. If you really must play Potions Master with Wolfsbane, please be careful. The juice of the wolfsbane root produces a feeling a numbness and tingling when tasted (as in a lick – if you swallow – it's your own funeral).

As to why wolfsbane represents "misanthropy", let us go into the meaning of "misanthropy". A misanthrope is someone who feels an intense dislike of people and wants to be alone. This begs the question that the person is already in society and cannot fully escape from it. After all, it is only in society that one meets people and only when one has met people can one decide to dislike them. Wolfsbane is very ornamental garden plants. Someone once told me that aconites are hardy perennial. They thrive very well in any ordinary garden soil (Americans call soil "dirt" if I am not mistaken), but ONLY if they grow beneath the shade of trees. Because they thrive under trees, shaded from the sun, livestock are very fond of eating them. And when the animals eat aconite, they die. Now, think how this applies to Severus...

And yes, aconite/wolfsbane has been ascribed with supernatural powers relating to werewolves and other lycanthropes either to repel them or induce their lycanthropic condition.

Just in case you're wondering, let me say that the meaning Monkshood conveys is completely different from the meaning conveyed by Aconite and Wolfsbane. Aconite and Wolfsbane means "misanthropy". But Monkshood has two meanings: (i) A deadly foe is near, and (ii) The chivalric acts of knight-errantry.

(3) Camomile means "energy in adversity". It is a tradition feature of English gardens through the ages. It seemed to thrive especially when it grew in paths and lawns and was walked upon. Planting camomile amongst other flowers helped keep them healthy. Camomile extract is believed to prevent nightmares. The Spanish call camomile manzanilla, which is used to flavour a kind of sherry, named after the plant.

See it here http://www.camstar.co.uk/images/camomile-1.jpg, http://www.annettejohnson.co.uk/Etchings/camomile.jpg, and http://www.artflower.pe.kr/images/gallery/pot-0405-1.jpg

(4) Fennel has two meanings: "worthy of all praise" and "strength". Pliny wrote that there are 22 remedies to fennel. Pliny was the one who wrote that snakes ate fennel (1) when they cast off their skins, and (2) sharpen their eyesight. In the Middle Ages, fennel was believed to ward off spells and evil spirits. In some parts of Britain, fennel is used in stables to repel fleas. See it here http://www.mrcophth.com/plants/fennel.html and http://www.prairiepoint.net/journal/images/Img_1312.jpg

(5) Lilac represents "humility". This is the colour of Moody's waistcoat.

See it here http://www.crystalmountain-aromatics.com/oils/lilac.jpg, http://www.stewo.no/P/Phlox%20douglasii%20'Lilac%20Cloud'%20SL.jpg and http://dahlia.france.free.fr/producteurs/Lilac%20Times%200.jpg

Believed to have originated in 13th Century Persia, the Lilac is considered the embodiment of spring's perfection because of its sweet smelling blousy flowers and breathtaking beauty. Yet, the blossom is unassuming in looks; as such, it came to represent humility.

(6) I have been informed that auburn has many definitions. In the context of this story, I take auburn by its 16th – early 18th century meaning, viz., reddish-brown, with more red than brown.

(7) The "is it a blank" line is adapted from Twelfth Night's "Her history is a blank." Think on the significance of this.

(8) Hiero is a Greek name. I've taken it from a treatise on tyranny by Xenophon (430 BC-352 BC) entitled Hiero: Or On Tyranny. Xenophon is one of my favourite ancient Greeks. He was a biographer, historian, essayist, soldier, political philosopher, novelist, and rhetorician. He was born in Athens between 431 and 427 BC, at the start of the Peloponnesian War between Athens and Sparta (431 to 404 BC). Xenophon lived a life as tumultuous and full of contrast as his written works. Having grown up during the most flagrant excesses of the Athenian democracy, he was an admirer of Sparta and a critic of rule by the demos. A cavalryman for Athens around 409 BC, he later applied the principles of military command learned during brutal combat to history, biography, education, economics and philosophy. Having left Athens to fight with a mercenary army in Persia, he devoted himself to writing in the sublime style of Plato's Academy. He is the first extant prose writer who demonstrates a clear awareness of his own methods on a wide range of closely delimited subjects: his works pour forth as monologues, Socratic dialogues, technical manuals, essays and panegyrics. He approached each with a style that is spare and yet compelling, displaying a range of literary tools and subjects that allow us to read him as history's first professional writer. Xenophon is important (I feel) to understanding Hermione's character in this story. If you have no interest in him, please go to next footnote NOW.

Xenophon's Hiero, based on a Sicilian tyrant who ruled from 478 to 467 BC, completes a trilogy of works in which biographical information becomes a means to the didactic presentation of moral ideas. In no case can these works be dated with any reasonable certainty. Xenophon leaves us a series of technical treatises, none of which challenged the basic dualities underpinning Greek thought, but each of which carries a didactic value into the present day. His two treatises on wealth, unique in Classical literature, adhere to the familiar polis (city) and oikos (homestead) dichotomy that permeated Greek life. The Oeconomicus (trans.: Household Economy) deals with the management of family resources. The most important job of the household manager is to assure that good actions are rewarded and improper actions punished, so that the consequences of doing a good job matter to the person doing the job. Women, for example, are vital to the management of household resources. Like all human beings it is important that they understand their role and how their work benefits them. Xenophon's decidedly paternalistic ideas, especially his view that the wife must be educated if not tamed, turn to a mutually-beneficial partnership between the husband and the wife, in which each has a vital role in the household. The Oeconomicus is an important literary source for the Greek family and the relationship between wife and husband. Xenophon approaches that relationship from the same perspective as he considers military command and the training of horses: in terms of education, goals and rewards.

His Poroi (trans.: Ways and Means), directed to the management of wealth in the Greek city, may have been a proposal to re-invigorate the economic vitality of Athens after her wars with her allies ended in 355. Rejecting the view of wealth management as a zero-sum game that is concerned solely with distribution, he urges the city to put in place the proper conditions whereby people will come to Athens, to work and produce. He runs counter to protectionist, anti-immigration views we know today, recognizing no limit to wealth and claiming that the city can prosper if people are allowed to benefit from their work. Despite Xenophon's failure to integrate oikos and polis wealth-management into a single science of economics, these treatises call upon human motivations common to an estate manager and his workers, a farmer and his slave, a general and a soldier, and a husband and his wife.

Such principles are also evident in his shorter technical treatises. The Hipparchos (trans.: The Art of Cavalry Warfare), possibly written on the eve of a war between Athens and Thebes in 365 BC, is timeless in its practical relevance to the problems of military command. "To put it short, a commander will little incur the contempt of the men under him if he shows himself more capable than they of doing what he needs them to do" (6.4). His work Kunegetikos (trans.: Hunting with Dogs) also exhibits a military focus: "I charge the young not to hold hunting, or any other education, in contempt. For these are how they become good at war . . ." (1.18). Anyone dealing with horses should read his treatise Peri Hippikes (trans.: On Horsemanship), which is a case study of how an intellectual from Classical Greece would teach technical skills. These works rank with the best of Greek prose works in the sense that the reader can learn not only about them, as matters of historical interest, but also from them, as guides that remain relevant to this day.

Xenophon attains happy notoriety among students of the ancient Greek language for being one of the few Greek writers who is easier to read in Greek than modern German – I am serious about this – take my word it. Try reading Hegel in German – it's ghastly. He seldom uses two words when one will do, even when lapsing (usually briefly) into rhetoric or encomium. His language may seldom attain the heights of beauty presented by Plato, but neither does it divide the writer from his reader by claiming a place in the sun apart from those trapped in a cave. Xenophon has achieved his goal: he remains accessible and practical for all time.

It is almost certain that he spent his own youth under the tutelage of Socrates, either formally or informally, and he absorbed the rhetorical and dialectical arguments permeating Athens in the late fifth-century. He often demonstrates a self-conscious use of the Socratic method of searching for a definition of his subject that transcends the particular object of his discussion. His Oeconomicus (trans.: Household Economy) applies this to the management of wealth in a private estate:

"I once heard him [Socrates] discuss the subject of household management in this way: 'Tell me, Critobulus, is household management the name of a branch of knowledge, like medicine, smithing or carpentry?"

From here, the subject of household management is dissected and analyzed. It is not, says Xenophon, limited to one's own family; it is a distinct subject of inquiry, and a recognisable science (episteme) that can be defined and considered in the abstract. Principles of human action apply to this science as they do to military, political and educational affairs. We cannot fault Xenophon for failing to achieve the depth of Plato, the seminal philosopher whose dates mirrored his own; we can only thank him for leaving us this unique picture of a late fifth / early fourth century Athenian intellectual.

His Apomnemoneumata (trans.: Recollections of Socrates) follows a similar path, attempting to isolate the subject of investigation while offering an insight that augments the deeper meditations of Plato and counters Plato's idealism. Xenophon's creation of a conversation between Pericles and Alcibiades (1.2.41-46) is the kind of unhistorical treatment of definitions that would have engaged classical intellectuals. Their concern for questions of "nature versus custom" (phusis / nomos) often followed the same manner of Socratic argumentation. Xenophon uses the character of Pericles to embody the dilemma of the Athenian: the thinker, subtle in his youth, has grown to a mature weariness, a symptom of the problems faced by Greek philosophy and of the general disillusionment that welled up in many Greek intellectuals after the defeat by Sparta in 404. Xenophon's attempts to form abstract definitions may too often fall flat, but few prior to Aristotle did as well.

Xenophon's attempt to bring realism to the figure of Socrates continues in his Symposium, a snapshot of a drinking party in Athens. Written around 380 BC, while the author was living in exile in the western Peloponnesus, the account is forty years removed from the event it immortalises; Xenophon is presenting a child's perspective on conviviality. Socrates is at his most relaxed. Although the language does not soar to the heights of Plato's own Symposium, the account further distinguishes Socrates from Plato's idealized portrait and returns him to his place as a regular guy in Athens, having a good time as the Athenians were wont to do, discussing matters of interest in an atmosphere of benevolent give and take.

But Athens was wracked by political excesses that prevented Xenophon from considering the Athenian democracy to be a good thing. The Assembly, he tells us in the "Recollections of Socrates," is made up of "fullers or cobblers or builders or smiths or farmers or merchants, or traffickers in the marketplace," "men who never gave a thought to public affairs" (3.7.5-6). In his Hellenica (trans.: History of Greece), the history that takes over where Thucydides leaves off, he recounts the infamous Trial of the Generals in 406 BC, in which the Assembly illegally usurped the authority of the courts and condemned to death the generals who had won an important battle for Athens. The affair was a blatant attack, for narrow pragmatic reasons, on those very men who had just saved the city. Xenophon's account pits Socrates, who refuses to sanction the illegal trial, against an unknown voice in the mob who screams that it is monstrous that the people cannot do whatever they wish. The subordination of a man of virtue to an uncouth loudmouth must have been personally abhorrent to Xenophon. The rule of law or the rule of the mob is the alternative Athenians faced at the end of the war, and there is no doubt where Xenophon stood. He elevates his history beyond the mere recording of events by presenting the motivations that led the Athenian democracy to become what Aristotle would call a "composite tyranny."

In 404 BC the war with Sparta was lost, the inevitable consequence of mob rule. The victorious Spartan commander placed Athens under an oligarchical regime, the so-called "Thirty Tyrants". Some of these men were students of Socrates. In the atmosphere of fear and distrust that followed the swift restoration of the democracy, enemies of Socrates filed charges against the philosopher for impiety and corrupting the youth of Athens. Socrates was convicted and sentenced to death. He took hemlock rather than flee the city. We have two accounts of his Apologia (trans.: The Apology of Socrates) before the jury: that of Plato, and that of Xenophon.

Xenophon was in Persia at the time of the trial, and his version of the Apologia was likely written from later exile; the date is unknown. He defends Socrates against the charge that he was a supporter of the tyrannical regime merely because he was a teacher of the tyrants. In fact, says Xenophon, the tyrants used Socrates for narrow political purposes, failing to understand his wider message that moderation in all things is best. The amnesty ("forgetting") that Athens invoked after the restoration of the democracy was intended to prevent the Athenians from taking revenge against their enemies for their actions during the tyranny. Socrates' trial may have been a way to evade the amnesty. This brings to mind the attacks, decades earlier, on the sculptor Phidias (architect of the Parthenon) and the philosopher Anaxagoras, friends of Pericles who were prosecuted and exiled in order to get at the powerful statesman.

Xenophon's Apologia avoids entirely the subject of life after death, which Plato made the basis for Socrates' acceptance of the jury's decision (and which Plato explored in other works). Socrates' motives for taking the hemlock, according to Xenophon, were more in tune with common-sense Greek views: a desire to avoid a dreadful old age wracked by disabilities. It was, to put it simply, time for Socrates to die, and a timely death should not be shunned. Xenophon's account, of course, trivializes Socrates' relationship to the political state and lacks the timeless significance of Plato's great works. But it is difficult to believe that Xenophon would have intentionally minimised Socrates' problem. Possibly the conclusion came from a witness or a commentator; at minimum, Xenophon demonstrates that not everyone shared Plato's vision of Socrates.

In 401 BC, two years before the trial of Socrates, and in reaction to the same uncertain atmosphere, Xenophon had chosen to leave Athens. He joined his friend Proxenos and 10,000 Greek mercenaries in an expedition into Persia. King Cyrus had died, leaving his kingdom to his oldest son Artaxerxes. But, as too often occurred, there was to be a power struggle between the heir and his younger brother, in this case Cyrus (the younger). Spartan sympathizers, with the clandestine support of Sparta herself, may have marched in order to thank Cyrus for his assistance during the war with Athens. Despite the help of the Greeks, Cyrus died in battle at Cunaxa, leaving the Greek mercenaries stranded and their command structures decimated. Xenophon, elected a general, became commander-in-chief and led the Greeks out of Persia...at least, he did in his own account. Their cry "The sea! The sea!" crowns the Anabasis (trans.: The March Up-country), one of the most stirring military adventure stories of all time. Written after 400 BC, this account of a foray of Greek mercenaries through Persia helped dispel the notion of Persia as an unbeatable power, and presaged Alexander's march into Persia some 65 years later. In literary terms the Anabasis is also one of the first autobiographical works ever written.

The army did not disband after returning to Hellas. In 396 BC, Agesilaos, one of the kings of Sparta, was given command of an expedition against Persia, and Xenophon served under him until the army was recalled in 394. Xenophon fought with the king at Koroneia against those of his fellow Athenians who supported Bœotia. He was exiled, and lived on a farm in Spartan territory until Athens realigned herself with Sparta after the battle of Leuktra in 371. His relationship with Athens, then, was dependent upon the Athens' political relationship with Sparta, and can be understood only in the context of democratic / oligarchic political factions and the state of the shifting Greek military alliances. Although Xenophon's movements after 371 are unclear, his history continues until the battle of Mantineia in 362, when one of his sons, serving in the Athenian cavalry, was killed. His banishment from Athens was likely repealed after this time, although he probably died at Corinth. The year is not known, but 354 may suffice. Later commentators, of dubious reliability, claim he lived until age 90, or approximately 340 BC.

Later editors attributed to him a work of anti-democratic rhetoric, the so-called Athenaion Politeia (trans.: The Athenian Constitution). This work crudely describes the Athenian mode of government as far from ideal, given that the best men are subordinated to the worst, but as effective given that the mob provides the naval strength of the city and has a say in how it is run. The writer cannot condone the democracy, but he can respect how the Athenians preserve it. This work, however, is totally lacking in the grace of Xenophon's other works and is undeniably not by him but editions of the Athenaion Politeia continue to be published under his name and the fact that ancient editors attributed it to him is evidence for his reputation as a critic of democracy and a supporter of oligarchy. It may represent Xenophon's sentiments if not his actual words.

Xenophon's Lacedaimonian Politeia (trans.: "Laecemodian Constitution" or "Constitution of the Spartans") is a different matter. Generally accepted as authentic, this serves as one of the very few Classical sources on affairs inside Sparta. Xenophon, like every Greek, saw politics as intimately connected to the moral characters of the citizens, and in the case of Sparta he was in a position to judge such matters. He heaped the greatest praise on Lycurgus, a semi-legendary figure from centuries earlier, whom tradition credits with establishing the city's constitution through a revolution in citizen virtues:

Lycurgus, who gave them both the laws they obey and their prosperity, I do regard with wonder; he reached the utmost extreme of wisdom. For rather than mimicking other cities, he devised a system different from theirs, and in this way made his land prosperous (1.2) Lycurgus' reforms seem totalitarian to us: laws on the bearing and raising of children, requiring women to take physical exercise so that children would be strong enough to fight, separating husbands from wives so that lust would increase the strength of the children, and most of all mandating a system of education that stretched from birth to age 29. All of this had one end: the production of good, virtuous soldiers. In order that the boys would never lack a ruler, Lycurgus "gave authority to any citizen who was nearby to order them to do what he thought was right, and the authority to punish them if they err." The deeper reason for Xenophon's decrying of the Athenian democracy, then, was its amoral appeal to whims rather than rules. It left the citizen without clear standards of conduct, without a moral point of focus for his actions, and allowing him to act "as he wants" rather than as the polis requires. Sparta did not make this error. His own view is no better shown than in his decision to send his sons to school in Sparta.

But Xenophon's own understanding of education, or paideia, is not totalitarian. He leaves us a case study of ancient learning, Cyropaedia (trans.: The Education of Cyrus), a work that is arguably the first full-length work of biographical fiction. Set in the context of sixth-century Persia, he uses historical facts as a background for his portrayal of the life and principles of a political despot, Cyrus the Great. Ostensibly about the education of a Persian prince, like all of Xenophon's works it is difficult to see where Greek values end and those of Persia begin; more closely, one cannot always see where the Athenian intellectual gives way and the Spartan soldier takes over. This problem is intensified in his Agesilaos, a work dealing with the Spartan king of the same name and with whom Xenophon was intimately familiar.

(9) "Pink of the Ton" is one of the Regency slang words for fashionable gentleman.

(10) To cross someone's cravat rightly is to annoy him a great deal.

(11) Ton, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the Regency/Empire period means fashionable Society, or the fashion. It originates from the French bon ton, meaning good form, i.e. good manners, good breeding, etc. A person could be a member of the ton, attend ton events, or be said to have good ton (or bad ton). Ton can be interchangeably used with beau monde. In this story, when I spell society with a capital S (i.e. Society), I am referring to the ton.

(12) Moody uses a quizzing glass. The quizzing glass is also known as a lorgnette. During the period of Louis XV the lorgnette became an instrument for the close and unashamed observation of female beauty. Having originally been used for this purpose in the theatre it soon became popular in a variety of situations. (On this subject Mercier wrote an article entitled «Les Lorgneurs», published in the Tableau de Paris in 1793: «Paris is full of these lorgneurs, setting their eyes on you, fixing your person with a steady and immobile gaze. This behaviour is so widespread that it is not even considered indecent anymore. Ladies are not offended when they are observed arriving at the theatre or whilst taking a walk. But should this happen when they are amongst themselves the lorgneur is considered uncouth and accused of insolence». The criticism becomes more severe in the chapter dedicated to the lorgnette: «...they are quite an offence to fashion. Lorgnettes encircle hats, they are contained in fans and in all manner of strange objects. Even the snuff boxes of the era of the XVIII and XIX centuries often contained small spyglasses. French fashions were soon followed in London. Beau Brummell popularised the quizzing glass in England and used a sceptical look through it at a gentlemen as a set down.

(13) Almack's in mentioned in this chapter. The club was originally a gaming establishment but underwent a transformation with smart new assembly rooms in King Street, St James's. As a gaming club with an attraction for the Macaronis in the eighteenth century, it had been in Pall Mall where the stakes had been high, it had been customary for gamblers to play for rouleaus of coins worth 50 pounds and there was often 10,000 pounds on the table. Charles James Fox and his brothers had been known to lose many thousands of pounds in a single night of gaming there playing hazard. Each gambler had a small neat stand by him to hold his tea, or a wooden bowl with an edge of ormulu to hold the rouleaus.

Almack's in this story is not the gaming house. After the heavy gaming days of the club lapsed, the club changed. In its new lease of life, Almack's became the exclusive marriage mart for eligible daughters of the ton. The Assembly room were on the South side of King Street in St James's and were opened on February 12, 1765 with an Assembly. At the time the subscription was ten guineas for which there was a ball and supper each week for the twelve weeks of the season. There was a large ballroom of 100 feet by 44 feet decorated in gilt columns and pilasters. The largest assembly at the rooms is recorded to be 1,700 square feet.

(14) Hessians is a style of man's riding boot that is calf-length in the back and curves up in front to a point just below the knee, from which point hangs a tassel (if you like that kind of thing. If you don't, you can remove it). To see what it looks like, please refer to this fashion plate - http://www.pemberley.com/janeinfo/brummell.jpg. It is generally made of black leather and the boots sometimes had a narrow border at the top in a different colour, e.g. white-topped Hessians.

(15) A Curricle is a fashionable open-air two-wheeled sporting vehicle designed for a pair of horses and seating for two (i.e. the Regency equivalent of a two-seater convertible sports car).

(16) There were many clubs in London during the Regency period. The oldest and most famous of these was White's. But within this story, I have renamed White's. I call it Black's (after Sirius Black). If you are curious as to name of Black's and these sorts of gentlemen's clubs, read on. I have modelled Black's heavily after White's.

White's can be found at 37-38 St James's Street. It was founded – 1736. White's is the oldest club in London, growing out of White's Chocolate House which opened in 1698. The building burnt down in 1733 and so the club moved a few doors up St James's Street and then to its current location around 1755. It was sometime around 1736 or just after that it established as a club and included among its membership of the time such great personages as the Duke of Devonshire, Earl of Rockingham, Bubb Doddington and Sir John Cope.

There was such a clamour for membership that by 1745 it was decided that a second club would be established under the same roof, and this was called the 'Young Club'. The original group were called the 'Old Club'. Vacancies in the Old Club were filled by members of the Young Club. It wasn't until around 1780/81 that the unwieldy system of administration between the two clubs was amalgamated. In Regency times, it faced its great rival, Brookes's, across St James's Street and while it was regarded as a Tory club. This distinction meant little in practice as gentlemen were generally members of both. It was one of the few clubs that set itself up with premises of its own. White's, like Brookes's had restricted admission, with members being elected. It was remarked that no man was refused entry who "ties a good knot in his handkerchief, keeps his hands out of his breeches pockets, and says nothing." White's is most famous for its Bay Window which was built in 1811 and quickly became the preserve of Brummell and his friends. Other noted members who frequented White's, and the notorious bow-window, were Lord Alvanely, the Duke of Argyll, Lord Worcester, Lord Foley and Lord Sefton.

Whist had been voted a dull game by the members and deep gambling was made in hazard, faro and other games of pure chance. The betting book, like the one at Brookes's, was always open on the table for bets of the most trivial nature to be laid at any time.