Wednesday, February 25, 2009 37 Comments

Lycidas' Bull

Lycidas' bull, big as a house!
Lycidas died. We got his bull.
The town showed up and clapped.
With an iron chain we chained him

To an oak as old as Cromwell.
A green hill of wooden stone,
Elephant-fat. But Lycidas' bull
Would not submit. He bellowed

Awfully at night, raged and roamed,
Ripped the earth and all around him.
(He missed Lycidas, the poor thing.)
At last he collapsed, and slept a week.

But his iron chain had sawn the oak.
When he woke it cracked. Where he went,
Big as a house, he towed that tree.
And many were torn in its twigs alone.

Then we stood; took heart; and forged
A new chain for the bull of Lycidas,
Of carbon-fiber and black titanium.
We pinned him with levers. We bent

His neck. We riveted his chain
To a redwood older than Columbus.


Blogger Mencius Moldbug said...

In Late Harvest (1946), Norman Douglas writes (p. 59):

"So Thomas had also stayed there! This already constituted something of a bond between us. Now he settled down in Anacapri where he discovered a house, with a large room as studio, on the inclined district which slopes westward. In this room, drinking and smoking constant napoletano cigars, we would spend fruitful hours on certain days when his servant and model Antonio was not fit for posing as 'Lycidas'. It was I who chose the name for that statue, Thomas having asked me to root out a well-sounding and classical one which, however, was to convey no definite suggestion; he wanted something vague and yet distinguished. I hit upon Lycidas because it belonged to three or four persons in antiquity, none of any great importance."

February 25, 2009 at 9:18 PM  
Blogger Daniel A. Nagy said...

Annotate this post over at

February 25, 2009 at 11:01 PM  
Blogger Aaron Davies said...

@daniel: one glaring problem with thiblo occurs to me: there's (afaict) no way to jump from note to note. i tend to read the article first here, then go have a look at the thiblo version. it's impossible as a practical matter to read the same text at the same level of attention twice over, especially in quick succession, so i can't just reread it, reading notes as i go--i have to scan for the note markers. while their unobtrusiveness is great when you're reading the article, it's annoying when you're actually looking for them.

i'd like to see "prev note"/"next note" links in the note boxes to help navigate (with appropriate slop in the scrolling so you can see the text being annotated, of course.

ideally, these would also be bound to keys a la gmail/google reader.

February 26, 2009 at 1:34 AM  
Blogger G. M. Palmer said...


I kept thinking here of Milton (the great cause-maker for progressivism under Cromwell) and wondering how good old John would react to your blog (apart from enjoying your diction thoroughly), especially when considering different stages in his life.


February 26, 2009 at 4:06 AM  
Blogger Daniel A. Nagy said...

Aaron: Thank you for the valuable suggestion! I really appreciate it. I opened a ticket for it in our issue tracking system and we will try to implement this feature (or its functional equivalent) as soon as we can.

February 26, 2009 at 5:18 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The glaring problem with Thiblo is that it is pointless and redundant. If I want to comment on UR, I will do so here and not on some external site whose purpose is unclear.

February 26, 2009 at 6:42 AM  
Blogger Johnny Abacus said...


Are you still looking at moving Thiblo towards one of Mencius' truth systems, or are you going off in a direction of your own now?

February 26, 2009 at 1:29 PM  
Anonymous josh said...

I always thought those comments were just SPAM.

February 26, 2009 at 2:26 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Enough with this gay poetry shit. We want the regular moldbuggery essays!

February 26, 2009 at 6:41 PM  
Anonymous Lawful Neutral said...

Anon 6:14:

It says right at the top:
"Stubbornness and disrespect, programming languages and operating systems, obsessive epistemology and formalist propaganda, Austrian economics and contemporary verse" (emphasis mine, obviously)

Just be patient, I doubt MM could keep his political views to himself if he tried.

Also, if anyone cares to explain the poem a bit for us philistines in the audience, it would be much appreciated.

February 27, 2009 at 12:31 AM  
Blogger G. M. Palmer said...

I'll give it a go --

I'm speculating here (as I said above) but you can't say "Lycidas" and not mean Milton. . .

John Milton had a good buddy named Eddie King who shipwrecked when Johnny was 29. He wrote the poem as an elegy, giving Eddie the ol' epic name "Lycidas." The poem itself is a monster of a work, dense and difficult (though certainly intriguing).

Anyway, Milton, apart from being a 1337 h4rdc0r3z p0e7, was a rabble rouser and hawk for the Revolution (that would be the Puritan Revolution) -- which, of course, Mencius would be again'.

He was arrested a few times as the course of the revolution/restoration resolved itself, but he was pretty unstoppable as a political and literary force.

February 27, 2009 at 4:17 AM  
Blogger Daniel A. Nagy said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

February 27, 2009 at 4:40 AM  
Blogger Daniel A. Nagy said...

Johnny Abacus: Yes, we are still aiming at bringing about a "Truth system" very much in line with MM's ideas.

A few months ago we painted ourselves a bit into a corner by focusing too much on code and features, neglecting the problems of deployment and live updates, which means that we could not easily deploy minor fixes and small features on a live system without long downtime and a lot of coordinated work by several people. Many of the bugs reported by MM readers have already been fixed, but we are now working on seamless and effortless upgrades and a loosely coupled test environment, where we can test release candidates before unleashing them on the unsuspecting public. :-)

Meanwhile, we keep mirroring UR (with explicit authorization by MM) and looking at how people use it. We have already learned much from it and the next deployed version will be much better and richer, comprising the results of several months' worth of intensive work.

February 27, 2009 at 4:42 AM  
Anonymous josh said...

Is the bull something like a Hobbesian state of nature? The first tree republic or constitutional democracy?

February 27, 2009 at 5:00 AM  
Blogger G. M. Palmer said...

I would guess something like that -- perhaps had Ed lived he would have steered Milton towards Royalism?

Anyway, in keeping with the idea that Harvard is 25 years ahead of official policy, I suppose we can expect to be rounded up just in time for 2033:

That is, "them free-marketers are crazy and here's why." Expect the DSM-VI to include libertarian, restorationist, and capitalist as mental afflictions. . .

February 27, 2009 at 5:22 AM  
Anonymous Michael S. said...

'Lycidas' is sort of a red herring, with its obvious suggestion of Milton. Why has no one yet mentioned the poem's allusion to Solzhenitsyn's "The Oak and the Calf" ?

February 27, 2009 at 1:36 PM  
Anonymous infobeast said...

I'll take a stab at this.

The bull here looks an awful lot like Behemoth in Job.

In the Bible, Behemoth is supposed to do fight Leviathan at the end of the world, after which they will both be slain by Jehovah. In Hobbesian allegory, Leviathan is ideal monarchy while Behemoth is parliamentary chaos. It's clear which of the two Mencius favors, though the faithful would say they will both perish in the end to bring forth a paradise.

But Mencius tells us that the bull's master (Lycidias = Jehovah) is dead. The people try to chain and restrict him, yet they fail. These might be the neocalvinist/progressives of Mencius's ire, trying to do the work of God, immanentize the eschaton and bring forth an earthly paradise. It's impossible to reconcile divided power with orderly government, absent a miracle.

The account of the bull's breaking his chain, and re-chaining with high-tech material, comes out of an entirely different mythos. This is the wolf Fenrir of the Edda, who will break loose at the end of the world and fight Odin at Ragnarok, to their mutual destruction. Odin is the chief god, with no higher power to set things right if he fails. There is no paradise at the end but only destruction and rebirth of the old universe.

The bull will finally break free once again. The delusional Puritan republic will fall, and eventually civilization will rise again from the chaos.

February 27, 2009 at 2:58 PM  
Blogger Aaron Davies said...

i may as well also point out the handoff of the conspiracy from england to america implicit from moving from cromwell to columbus. (and perhaps the redwood reflects its contemporary headquarters on the west coast? :)

February 27, 2009 at 8:48 PM  
Blogger George Weinberg said...

I think the bull is a refernce to De Jouvenal's Minotaur.

According to "Enlightenment" thinking in the metaphor, government was a "Minotaur", a monster when in the service of kings, but if only bright people like themselves were calling the shots, they could "tame the Minotaur" and use its strength for good.

Didn't precisely work out that way.

February 28, 2009 at 9:33 AM  
Anonymous Michael S. said...

I ran across this some time ago:

The fruit of foes, by fraud of friends,
He may peruse that lust,
How firm is fraud, how frail is faith,
How ticklish now is trust,
How as from Hydra's head intrudes,
The plumes of peevish pride,
And how with double-faced wrong,
Time's truth is slowly tried.
And everything do clean decline,
Without restrain of might.
Abandoned are all civil means,
Of policy and right.
In this deformed change each craft,
By painful hands sustain'd,
Who reapt his fruit by labour sweet,
Is now no more maintain'd.
The herdsman doth (dismayed man)
Refuse his simple charge,
The advocate hath now no means,
To wrest his law at large.
The steersman leaves his floating bark,
To drench in seas alone,
The traffic of the spending hand,
Is now reject and gone.
Mute is the mouth that would control,
That Error now suborns,
Their blind and brutish appetites,
No Justice now reforms.
To foul and vile licentious vice,
Now liberty permits,
Disorder and deformed will,
In open judgment sits.
Now each man prowls for private gain,
With greedy lust he wrings,
The massy gains of golden sums,
That such disorder brings.
In this black time the stars do war,
The heavens frown at this,
To see this Chaos upon earth,
Where form and faction is.

The first part quoted reminds us of the economic crash - especially the particularly fine "the traffic of the spending hand/is now reject and gone." The verses beginning with "Mute is the mouth..." seem with uncanny perception to describe the first month of the Obama administration and the present session of Congress.

In fact I extracted them from Pierre Ronsard's 'Discours des misères de ce temps,' as Englished by Thomas Jeney and published anonymously in Antwerp, probably by Wechel or Plantin, in 1568. I have modernized the spelling, which in the original was a difficult combination of Elizabethan orthography and Flemish typesetting.

Ronsard, like Hobbes and MM, recommends the exercise of absolute authority as the remedy for all these miseries:

The Royal pride of haughty seat,
The pomp of princely law,
That quiet held the mace of might,
And regal sword of awe,
In bosom of the heavenly light,
What may their souls now say?
Yea what may they that shrouded are
In couch and tomb of clay?
What may the Royal PHARAMOND,
And CLODIUS insign?
What may proud CHARLES, king PIPPIN eke,
And LEWIS of that time?
What may CLOVIS in Armour clad,
And Martial MARTEL say?
That first with prudent policy,
Did reign and rule alway.

Look to your proud estate, you GAULS,
You GAULS of ancient name,
That never stain'd with overthrow,
You might conserve your fame,
In quiet form, as heretofore,
Your fathers in their time,
Who long maintained a quiet reign,
From all unshamefaced crime:
From headlong broils, from civil wounds,
From such defamed war,
That in this age (unhappy time)
We see apparent are.
Of happy and of quiet life,
We see the glass run out,
The wreck appears from cloudy sky,
Now, MADAME,* look about:
Make clear a board, in stormy seas,
The master shows his skill,
Reform these frantic brains that thus,
Do run on headlong will.
Restrain with steady reins these men,
That with unbridled head,
Haste to the stage of fiery arms,
Their native blood to shed.
Respect the hazard of our state,
Respect our present Reign,
Appease this quarrel and debate,
That mangles thus our fame.
Redress our vile dismembered age,
Of most deformed life,
Seek how to reconcile these wars,
Of vile and hateful strife.
Our plaintful state in throes of woe,
In hazard of decay,
Calls help of none but thee (thou QUEEN)
That beareth now the sway...

*The poem was dedicated to Catherine de Medici, queen mother and regent of France in the minority of her son Charles IX.

February 28, 2009 at 12:32 PM  
Blogger Neutrino Cannon said...

I interpreted the bull to be the maturity transforming banking system. It periodically goes haywire, despite quite literally dictionary-length bodies of law intended to prevent it from doing just that. Once the dust settles, everyone decides that it was obviously under regulated, attaches to it more regulation and figures that all is well until it goes on another rampage.

February 28, 2009 at 5:52 PM  
Anonymous Michael S. said...

If we begin with the notion that the Lycidas in question is Milton's - which is not at all certain to me - then we must bear the following in mind (as well as that it is easily possible to go quite wrong in interpreting an allegory).

Milton's Lycidas belongs to the genre of the pastoral. It was quite popular at the time the poem was written. Compare ll. 132-141 of "Lycidas":

"Return Alpheus, the dread voice is past,
That shrunk thy streams; Return, Sicilian muse,
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast
Their bells, and flowerets of a thousand hues.
Ye valleys low where the mild whispers use,
Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,
On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks,
Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes,
That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers,
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers."

with Ottavio Rinuccini's lines of 1613, set by Monteverdi in his "Scherzi musicali" (1638), certainly one of the 'hits' of that year, not coincidentally the same as that of "Lycidas":

"Zefiro torna, e di soavi accenti
l'aer fa grato, e 'l pie discioglie a l'onde,
e mormorando tra le verdi fronde,
fa danzar al bel suon su 'l prato i fiori.
Inghirlandato il crin Fillide e Clori
note tempran d'amor care e gioconcde;
e da monti e da valli ime e profonde,
raddopian l'armonia gli antri canori..."

All the same stock expressions about whispering winds, flowers, waters, and valleys low!

Both pieces are descendants of the Renaissance revival of classical forms that began in the time of Petrarch. The specific references, e.g., to "Alpheus," in Milton's case, and to "Fillide e Clori" in Rinuccini's, place them in the mythical Arcadia of Theocritus's Idylls and Vergil's Bucolics. Lycidas, indeed, was the name of a shepherd in the seventh Idyll of Theocritus and one of the speakers in Vergil's ninth Eclogue. The "Sicilian muse" of l. 133 alludes to the opening lines of Eclogue VI:

"Prima Syracosio dignata est ludere versu
nostra nec erubuit silvas habitare Thalia."

and of Eclogue IV:

"Sicelides Musae, paulo majora canamus."

Line 36 of "Lycidas" :

"And old Damaetas loved to hear our song."

alludes to the Damoetas who gave the shepherd Corydon of Eclogue II a pipe of seven hemlock-stalks, and who is one of the dramatis personae of Eclogue III.

Thus, "Lycidas" was composed with a knowledge of Vergil, and probably of Theocritus. Certainly Latin and Greek literature would have been well known by Milton by the time he arrived at Cambridge.

Not only is "Lycidas" a pastoral, but it is a particular type of pastoral, namely an eulogy or epitaph. The circumstances have been well explained by G.M. Palmer, but the allusions have not. The specific models of pastoral epitaph that Milton had were the first Idyll of Theocritus, and the fifth Eclogue of Vergil, both of which lamented the death of a figure named Daphnis. In addition to bewailing his death, Vergil also (uniquely) described his apotheosis.

The fourth Eclogue of Vergil foretells the birth of a certain child, who will lead to a new golden age. The goats, their udders filled with milk, shall return home, and the herds fear not the lions; the miraculous child's cradle shall give forth flowers, the serpent will perish, and also the deceptive poisonous herbs, while Assyrian spices spring up on every soil:

"ipsae lacte domum referent distenta capellae
ubera, nec magnos metuent armenta leones;
ipsa tibi blandos fundent cunabula flores.
occidet et serpens, et fallax herba veneni
occident; Assyrium volgo nascetur amomum."

All of this was interpreted from the middle ages forward as being a prophecy of the birth of Christ; the similarities to Biblical language about the lion lying down with the lamb, the defeat of the serpent, etc., inviting it. Because of this was Vergil placed amongst the virtuous pagans in Dante's First Circle, the limbo of the just. He was regarded as one of the prisci theologi, pagans who foresaw Christianity. The apostle Paul was said in one medieval hymn to have wept at his grave in Naples:

"Ad Maronis mausolaeum
Ductus fudit super eum
Piae rorem lacrimae
Quem te, inquit, reddidissem
Si te vivum invenissem,
Poetarum maxime!"

Because the fourth Eclogue spoke of the birth of this divine child, and the Eclogue immediately following relates to the death and deification of a young man, the latter was sometimes identified with the former, and so - in the typological manner of late medieval and early modern theology - as a "type" of Christ. Daphnis is eulogized as a sort of divine and wonder-working figure in ll. 29-34 of Eclogue V, having taught men to bring Armenian tigers under the yoke, to lead the dances of Bacchus, and entwine the tough spears in soft leaves. As vines give glory to trees, as the grape to vines, the bull to the herd, and corn to the fertile fields, so Daphnis gave glory to his people:

"Daphnis et Armenias curru subjungere tigris
instituit, Daphnis thiasos inducere Bacchi
et foliis lentas intexere mollibus hastas.
Vitis ut arboribus decori est, ut vitibus uvae,
ut gregibus tauri, segetes ut pinguibus arvis,
tu* decus omne tuis." [*i.e., Daphnis.]

Of course there is no suggestion of Lycidas' deification in Milton, but rather of Christian resurrection:

"So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,
Through the dear might of him that walked the waves
Where other groves, and other streams along,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the saints above,
In solemn troops, and sweet societies,
That sing, and singing in their glory move,
And wipe the tears forever from his eyes."
[ll. 172-181]

In conclusion, Milton's Lycidas, like the Daphnis of Theocritus and of Vergil, is bewailed, and like Vergil's Daphnis, is elevated to some sort of immortal life. He is also a "type" of Christ.

No bull is owned by the Lycidas of Milton's poem, but his archetype - the Daphnis of Vergil - is credited with taming tigers, and the child of Eclogue IV with bringing about the death of the serpent. Here the dangerous animals would have been understood as symbolic of the Devil. The bull, though a domestic animal, is strong, threatening, and difficult to control. He is often a "type" of the Devil, as in Caresana's Christmas oratorio of 1674, "La caccia del toro." There Lucifer is portrayed as the bull:

"Da la mandria d'abissi
In steccato di pene
Sorgo indomito Toro
E non treman le stelle?
E non s'oscura il cielo?
Al muggir strepitoso e dissonante
Del mio grido tonante?
Fregio d'irsuto pelo
Circonda il bieco sguardo
Gala gentil di bifaclate corna
La nera fronte adorno,
Scaglian Etne di foco
Le narici fumanti
Spiro fiati di morte
Animato spavento
Ho grave il passo
E non lo cedo al vezzo."

To bring all these diverse threads together as they relate to MM's poem:

Lycidas was a type of Christ. Lycidas owned the bull, and the bull had not managed to kill him:

"(He missed Lycidas, the poor thing.)"

Now Lycidas is dead, and the bull cannot be controlled. His is the Kingdom of this World, and the efforts of men to restrain him on their own are futile. They cannot be redeemed in the absence of a Redeemer, cannot be saved without a Saviour. Only the coming of the Logos, the Verbum Mirificum, can subdue him, as Caresana writes:

"Se t'ha vinto una Parola
Chi di te paventerà?"

But Puritans (Milton), full of moral arrogance, want to 'immanentize the eschaton' - they think they can chain the bull on their own, whether in the old world ("an oak as old as Cromwell") or in the new ("a redwood older than Columbus"), and bring about heaven on earth. Their efforts proved vain in the seventeenth century; the bull's "iron chain had sawn the oak." And despite the high-tech materials ("carbon-fiber and black titanium"), the implication is that these, too, will presently fail. The bull will break free, its scythe-like horns brandished above his black countenance, spewing volcanoes of fire from his smoking nostrils, the very portrait of dreadfulness. The Beast will go his own way with grave and terrible footfalls, and none shall cause him to turn.

MM is, needless to say, not a Christian. He does not anticpate "la Nascità del Verbo" - yet one does not have to accept these ideas in order to understand the perennial character of evil, the wretchedness of human nature, and the vanity of human wishes.

All the above speculation may well be constructed on a foundation of sand. As an illustration of this risk, someone, I think maybe Mel Bradford, once pointed out to me a passage from some lit-crit type (as I recall, from a college in New Jersey) who had written that a mule in one of Faulkner's works seved as a fertility symbol. Obviously, s/he was a city-bred Yankee who had very limited familiarity with mules! Faulkner would have had a good laugh and poured himself another tumblerfull of bourbon. So, perhaps, will MM if he reads this. But it's been fun writing it.

"Carmina tum melius, cum venerit ipse, canemus."

March 2, 2009 at 3:40 PM  
Blogger Aaron Davies said...

i find myself wanting to write a coda involving a thread of gold hung on a bristlecone older than gilgamesh. pity i can't write poety…

March 3, 2009 at 7:27 AM  
Anonymous josh said...

C'mon Aaron it's easy.

There once was a bull from Greece,
Whose master now is deceased.
He was tied to a tree,
And all thought "Let him be,
his anger will eventually cease."

He tore out the trunk from the earth.
Laying waste with his terrible girth.
And when he became pooped
In behind him they swooped,
Rebinding him for all it was worth.

Took me two minutes ;)

March 3, 2009 at 9:30 AM  
Anonymous Leonard said...

The bull is the state, of course. Lycidas is royalty; the monarchic system worked because the state submitted willingly to the monarch.

Once monarchism dies, problems. "We" -- the demos -- chain the bull to the oak of the Constitution. But words don't enforce themselves; eventually the state breaks free of its constitutional oak, and blunders all about destroying stuff. The presence of the Constitution makes the thing even more dangerous than it was loose: "many were torn in its twigs alone." This is where we are now.

The final two stanzas reflect MM's hopes for the future. By means of technology, we shall rechain the state, and this time to something more solid than the oak of constitutionalism, rather the redwood, which is the profit motive.

Funny that nobody in MM's poem thinks of just killing the goddam thing.

March 3, 2009 at 9:55 AM  
Blogger G. M. Palmer said...

Leonard --

I've been wondering that all day. . .

just shoot the bull.

March 3, 2009 at 10:04 AM  
Blogger G. M. Palmer said...

I would like to give "mad propers" to Mr. Moldbug for getting a bunch of stiffs to discuss poetry.

I'd argue that his purty high profile blog (how many uniques do you get a day, Menc) is one of the most widely read poetry outlets.

That, of course, is disheartening, but poetry will take what it can get.

March 3, 2009 at 2:08 PM  
Blogger William A. Sigler said...

To me, Lycidas equals the rabble, whose powerful emanations outlast all attempts to control them, be they the chaotic Christian bloodletting of Cromwell (Milton’s Satan) or, it is implied, tree-huggers chained to ancient redwoods.

Given such polemic thrust, I’d be careful including Columbus in all this, elegant stand-in as he is for the effective way he’s been used as a proxy to transform white man’s burden to white man’s guilt. As any child in Gloucester knows, “Columbus” was actually the fictional name of a Portuguese spy who tricked the Spanish into claiming and colonizing only the northern half of the New World, leaving Brazil and the all-important southern Africa trade routes to the Portuguese.

March 3, 2009 at 2:37 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


March 6, 2009 at 5:14 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

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March 7, 2009 at 5:41 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

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March 9, 2009 at 11:15 PM  
Blogger Black Sea said...

There once was a Lycidian bull
Who soliloquised thus to his tool . . .


March 10, 2009 at 10:02 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Wow. I wasted 45 minutes reading that. You sir are an over-intellectualized moron.

March 10, 2009 at 10:22 AM  
Blogger Neutrino Cannon said...

45 minutes? You, anon, do not read very quickly.

March 10, 2009 at 10:24 AM  
Blogger Aaron Davies said...

perhaps he was translating the chinese spam…

March 14, 2009 at 1:38 PM  
Anonymous 花蓮民宿 said...


March 16, 2009 at 6:36 AM  
Blogger Leonard said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

March 24, 2009 at 7:58 AM  

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