#conspiring to kill fyodor if you will

[videogamelover99]

okay but in the chapter 105 dazai was all chill (uh maybe not inside lmao) and it looked like he was waiting for something/wasting his time on a purpose just like you said, then what if he's all like this bc a third party will come and help them get out of this mess, if that goes that way i just want to see verlaine or smt simply thinking abt how it would be cool to finally see him in the main manga after all of this, it would make sense for his waiting for "the storm" i dont think he would just stay in his goddamn basement when all this shit's happening *coughs* chuuya,, and i think dazai would easily contact with him considering how he does with other pm members-- so i think that chapter could especially be a hint for him showing up? or its just my hopes (probably) and i remember u have written about this so wanted to know ur opinions/thoughts if it would slightly make a point yknow and if not verlaine and anyone then who? who can help them if there will be a support,, or maybe its just soukoku on action who knows

Thank you Anon, you've given me great opportunity to insert my Gogol-Working-With-Dazai theory.

#as in #they were working together the whole time #conspiring to kill fyodor if you will #nothing proves this theory but nothing disproves it yet so #both dazai and gogol were like 'im gonna kill dostoyevsky' #bsd #asks #bungou stray dogs #theory

[mania-sama]

rule #15 - four aces

Rule #15 - Four Aces - Fish in a Birdcage

Bungou Stray Dogs Pairing - Dazai Osamu & Nakahara Chuuya Tags - major character death, ambiguous relationship, prison, capital punishment, death row, solitary confinement, post-decay of angels arc, character study, hurt no comfort, angst, self-hatred, depression Summary - The crimes unveiled by the Hunting Dogs do not simply disappear. They stay, and Dazai Osamu is convicted in court of one hundred and thirty-eight murders, three hundred and twelve counts of extortion, and six hundred and twenty-five cases of fraud. Word Count - 2,256 Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own Whumptober 2023 - Day 23: Prison See my full Whumptober 2023 Challenge on Tumblr or Ao3

Dazai Osamu’s murder trial was among the shortest in Japanese history, as far as criminals worthy of the death penalty go. No witnesses of his crime dared enter the stand; the only evidence available was records of documents and faint trails of his wrongdoings that he didn’t bother to properly clean up. After all, he had been Port Mafia. The local courts and police were mostly under their controlling thumb. He didn’t have much to worry about.

Recent affairs brought to light his laundry list of crimes, and even then they didn’t quite get to all of it. Dazai didn’t bother finishing off their incomplete list. He wanted the trial over and done with as quickly as possible.

“How do you plead?” The judge asked, tone even and face neutral.

“Guilty,” Dazai replied. There would be no talking or bartering his way out of the court — his crimes could not be erased now that the entire government knew. Ango had done what he could all those years ago, but the Hunting Dogs, though exposed for their treasonous plot, did irreparable damage to his name. Saving the world does not negate the hundred lives he took and the two hundred he conspired to kill.

Being an invaluable member of the Armed Detective Agency and killer of Fyodor Dostoevsky does not save him from the death penalty.

He could have pled not guilty. He could have talked in circles and used every bit of charm he possessed all he wanted, but his sentence would not have changed. Honestly, the trial itself was a worthless and time-wasting endeavor. The only one who got anything out of it was his public lawyer whom he picked out of a hat. He got paid for his representing Dazai, and Dazai got the death sentence. The members of both the Armed Detective Agency and Port Mafia that watched from the stands did not benefit, either. They were only surprised by the lack of fight against the sentence, but not the sentencing itself.

Prison itself is miserable, more so for him since he’s a prisoner on the condemned row. They are treated as the scum of the Earth that they are, for they are all people who have committed crimes worthy of capital punishment. Their cells are small, cramped things with nothing but a toilet, sink, bed, and a tiny window to let in streams of barred light. Since Dazai is not only an ability user but a criminal with a history of escaping prisons, he’s checked every morning and every night for any hidden weapons or communication devices. It's an arduous, boring process that makes him pray for his execution day to come faster.

That’s part of the point of solitary confinement, however. It’s supposed to make your life miserable. It teaches an important and invaluable lesson to the people stuck inside: they should not have committed their crimes. When Dazai catches sight of the other criminals, he sees their worn and haggard appearances, as well as their distant gazes. He wonders if he looks the same.

Dazai does receive mail from the Armed Detective Agency members. He’s not allowed to keep them, obviously, but he does cherish every carefully handwritten word for as long as he can. They didn’t support him during his trial, and they hardly ever made the effort to visit him in Tokyo. He warned them with as much seriousness as he could that they should stay away from him. He is a criminal. It doesn’t matter what he has done to help Yokohama — he has killed more than he has saved. They may know him as the intelligent and self-sacrificing Dazai Osamu, but the rest of the world knows him as a serial murderer.

The Armed Detective Agency would suffer severe backlash and irreparable damage if they did not condemn him publicly.

It doesn’t mean that there isn’t a hole in his chest every time he hands his letter back to the guards or is escorted away from their hour-long visitations. He’s used to the overbearing emptiness that has eroded him for his entire life, but back then, he had free reign to be and do whatever he wanted. Now, he sits in a cell, eats tasteless food, and waits for his death. It’s entirely different, a unique form of torture that he never wanted any participation in.

Escaping the detention center would be an embarrassingly easy feat. He resides in a normal prison in Tokyo. Minimal efforts are put into place in terms of guarding him specifically. He has four guards instead of the typical one, they check underneath his bandages twice a day, and he has a sniper waiting to shoot his window at the first given opportunity. All easy obstacles to overcome.

Dazai Osamu, convicted murderer of at least one hundred thirty-eight people, sits in front of Nakahara Chuuya. A plastic screen and metal bars separate the two men from being completely together. Four guards with loaded rifles stand behind Dazai, and another armed guard stands behind Chuuya.

Dazai smiles politely with his hands in his lap.

“You look like shit,” Chuuya starts. His hat hangs from his chair, a rare show of vulnerability that Dazai is well aware of the implications of. The offer of jailbreak hangs between them as it has with every visitation thus far.

“I know,” Dazai replies. He doesn’t know, he supposes. He doesn’t have a mirror. He can only feel the weakness in his limbs after so long standing and lying still in solitary confinement. Even walking to the visitation room was a struggle for his eroded muscles. “Nothing I can do about it now.”

His partner stares at him, eyes narrowed and taking apart every inch of Dazai as though he’s a painting with a deep meaning. It strikes Dazai with a sudden pang of pain that he’s going to miss those heterochromatic eyes.

“When was the last time someone visited you?” Chuuya asks. It’s a complete change of topic, but it shows his resignation from Dazai’s will. They have the same non-verbal fight every visit, and it always ends with Chuuya unable to discern why Dazai chooses to comply with the misery of the law.

Dazai takes a second to think about his past visitors. Atsushi has not written once, nor has he visited. Ranpo explained the situation to him, though it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

"Atsushi cannot forgive you for your crimes or your treatment of Akutagawa."

Dazai and Atsushi are similar in that aspect.

Kunikida has only stopped by once, and even then it had been in direct opposition to his ideals. The President and Ranpo visited more often. Since they had both known of Dazai’s crimes for far longer than anyone else in the Agency, they were quicker to set their uncomfortable feelings aside. Yosano visited sparingly, never with much to say other than the various insults she wanted to put together with Dazai to hurl at Mori. It’s fun.

Kenji and Kyouka are not permitted due to their ages. The Tanizaki siblings have only visited twice, and Hirotsu three times.

The Port Mafia boss has attempted to visit, but Dazai refused to entertain him on every occasion. Akutagawa’s visit had been long and painful. Maybe it was the fact that he’d already spent months in solitary confinement, but Dazai’s stomach revolted as soon as he was done with the young, tortured man. Ango’s three visits have done much the same to his poor constitution.

It’s amazing how the death penalty can change a person.

“I can’t tell time,” Dazai says. It’s the truth. He knows it’s been five years, but days elude him as easily as the minutes that pass by. “You were the last one, though.”

“Five months, then.” His voice is uncharacteristically somber. Dazai hates that. His twin flame is meant to be bright, brash, and vocal, a perfect contrast to Dazai’s dark and composed nature. Chuuya gazes at Dazai with an inscrutable expression. “Nothing has changed since then. Yokohama is untouchable thanks to you.”

Dazai shakes his head with effort. Everything he does nowadays requires an amount of painful strain. “I won’t take credit where credit isn’t due. I deserve the death that is awaiting me.” Chuuya’s lips form a thin line. Disappointed, if not regretful. However, he cannot deny the truth of the statement. Death has been waiting for Dazai for a very, very long time.

“I hardly recognize you,” Chuuya says.

“You’ve changed, too,” Dazai responds neutrally. Five years is enough to change anyone. His partner’s hair has grown in length, reaching the middle of his back. The edges of his face have hardened, but not with age or anger. It’s a deep-rooted sorrow that keeps his jaw locked and eyes narrow. The manner in which he speaks to Dazai is the most different; he doesn’t hurl biting insults or call him names. Instead, he’s sincere and honest-to-God kind.

Maybe he knows that Dazai has not experienced a shred of anything but distant contempt for the past five years of his life.

“It’s going to be gone soon. Tomorrow, maybe. Next week at the latest,” Dazai continues at the lack of response from the other side of the plastic. Chuuya’s eyes widen in a hint of panic, before quickly settling down into something less intense.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he says. And he means it. There’s no anger in his words, no contempt — only regret and melancholic desolation.

Dazai raises his hand to touch the plastic sheet, and he flinches when the guards shift. Their guns click and make harsh sounds in their hands. His bandaged arm trembles with the effort of staying in the air without any support.

“It’s that.” His partner declares, this time with the edge of something more raw. “You would have smiled at their fear before.”

“And I would’ve complained about you being here at all,” he shoots back tautly. “It’s been five years. Of course I’ve changed.” Chuuya sits back in his chair and crosses his arms in front of his chest. The rejection leaves an aching pain in Dazai’s chest, and he lets his arm drop back down into his lap. “It’s not change,” he says harshly. “You died somewhere along the way, and all that’s left is a flesh body.”

“Maybe,” is all Dazai can respond with. He’s tired, but he wants to keep talking to Chuuya. Hearing his voice, seeing him, even through the plastic screen, is the only highlight of his miserable days. Everything is always the same at the detention center. His partner’s bright hair and blue and brown eyes are the only things that bring color to his painfully monotonous life.

They only use twenty minutes of their allotted hour session. Chuuya doesn’t have much to remark upon aside from his continual attempts at offering Dazai freedom. Dazai doesn’t have much to respond with aside from the continual rejections of those offers. His bright twin flame leaves after a final goodbye.

Handcuffs are snapped onto his bandaged wrists, and he is brought back to solitary confinement silently. Dazai is alone once more. 

—

When he wakes up the next day, he finds a guard standing in his cell with a judge by her side. He asks the prisoner one question:

“What would you like as your last meal?” Dazai smiles and replies: “Boiled crab.”

—

Nothing is said to him as the noose is fitted around his neck. He feels the way the guard’s hands move as he knots and pulls the rope into a tight and secure loop. It’s different from how Dazai tied it fifteen years ago, and again fourteen years ago, and again thirteen years ago until he realized it hurt too much and he would always pull through.

There are more knots in this loop. It pulls under his ear and pushes into his throat, leaving a mark that would burn later if they were to call off the execution and revoke his sentence.

The nooses Dazai created in his desperate attempts were meant to kill, but slowly. They would strangle him, preventing air from air from reaching his lungs and bending the esophagus. The noose he wears now would snap his neck. He would be dead before he could blink his eyes.

He would have thought it too nice for someone like him. He deserves to suffer, doesn’t he? Then, he reflects on the past five years on death row. That’s what solitary confinement was for. Execution is only meant to bring an end.

Once the noose is tight on his neck, the guard steps off of the platform. The trap door underneath his feet is metal. Fancy. Japan has certainly made an upgrade since the nineteenth century.

Dazai turns only slightly to stare at the guard. He’s the only person other than Dazai himself in the execution room. A camera allows the trapdoor operator to observe from a distance, effectively putting a barrier between them and the death they will inevitably cause. It’s for the sake of their mental health, he knows. But, as a proficient killer, Dazai knows that they are bringing death all the same.

Being in the room and doing it through a camera changes nothing.

The guard does not look back at him. He keeps his gaze trained on the camera, to which he brings a thumbs-up to a moment later. Before he can blink, the trapdoor opens beneath him.

Dazai Osamu, convicted murderer of one hundred and thirty-eight people, hangs.

#bungou stray dogs #major character death #bsd fanfic #bsd #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chūya #osamu dazai #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #whumptober fic #whumptober #whumptober2023 #ai less whumptober

[awkwardravencosplay]

Decay of Angels Theory

So, here’s a few of my theories for where the Bungo Stray Dogs story is going to be going in the future; particularly concerning the Decay of Angels. Spoiler warning for up to 91 of the manga.

The End of the Decay of Angels Arc

For a few reasons I think that the DoA arc will be ending soon in the manga, partially due to the shear length of it as it’s almost twice as long as all the other arcs combined on its own which alone isn’t very strong evidence. However, in all the past arcs we’ve had one new gifted organisation introduced per arc; the Port Mafia in the first, then the Guild, then the Rats but already in this arc we’ve had two new organisations introduced. Both the Hunting Dogs and DoA are smaller groups than any previous ones and have the same leader so it makes sense to link them in the story but it was recently mentioned in the manga that the Order of the Clock Tower would finally be entering the main story. This would make three new organisations introduced this arc; therefore, I believe that this arc will end before the order of the clock tower properly enters the story.

Speaking of the end of this arc I believe that before the end of the DoA arc Dazai and Fyodor will be freed from the prison because as the story is progressing it is becoming more clear that those two are the chess masters controlling the actions of all the other characters involved in the story so to have them out of action for so long feels wrong. I’m not so sure about this but I would hazard a guess that Chuuya has been sent to free Dazai as we see Mori with Chuuya’s hat in chapter 91 with explanation as to where Chuuya is and that Nikolai will free Fyodor simply because of how suitable his ability is for staging a prison break (although Fyodor possibly planned that Nikolai would conspire with Sigma to kill him and count on him coming to free him to get an opportunity to kill him. I’m not sure about that though).

Moving onto my thoughts about Fukuchi, I think that his death will cap off the arc. So far we have seen three already established characters fight him with only one even managing to escape alive. Again, I’m not too sure about this part of theory but I would really like to see it so I’m including it, but I think maybe we will see Soukoku fight together again to take out Fukuchi. If I’m right about Chuuya freeing Dazai then they will be on their way back to Yokohama together and presumably their first priority will be fix the mess the ADA and Port Mafia are in currently, which would need to start with Dazai nullifying the vampirism ability and Fukuchi being killed as he is currently the biggest threat to both groups. As Bram is always with Fukuchi, Dazai will eventually have to go to wherever Fukuchi is and while realistically anyone could go with him it would be nice to see Soukoku work together again. Just before the fight Atsushi and Akutagawa think about what Dazai and Chuuya would do in that situation but they ultimately failed so seeing Soukoku do what Shin Soukoku couldn’t will show how far Shin Soukoku have got left to go before they can fully take over as the new Soukoku (presuming that Akutagawa somehow is still alive after the vampirism is gone).

The True Leader of the Decay of Angels

As mentioned above I think that Fukuchi will be dead soon in the manga which for someone who is supposedly the leader of the DoA feels strange that he would die so early into the Decay being out in the open. I believe that the DoA are going to remain the main antagonists in BSD for at least a few more arcs so for them to have no leader moving forward feels like a strange choice. Of course, Fyodor could take over, but I would like to put out an alternative version of another theory I’ve seen floating around. If you aren’t already aware The Decay of Angels is named after a novel by Japanese author Yukio Mishima and before all five members of the Decay had been revealed a common theory was that Mishima would be their true leader. Once we knew all of the member’s identities this theory was thrown out mostly, but it still feels weird to have a group named after a novel without having any connection to the author of that novel. I have a few different thoughts about how Mishima could be tied to the Decay.

The first isn’t my theory but I would still like to mention it: that Sigma’s true identity is Mishima. I have a slightly different take on it but here’s the run down. As it’s unclear how Sigma was created by the Book three years before the main story as if the Decay had had possession of the Book earlier then Fyodor would have already have enacted his plan to use it to get rid of all ability users. So the theory is that Sigma already existed prior to three years ago but as a different person and three years ago someone (possibly Fyodor as we’ve seen him mess with Ivan’s mind before) did something to him which caused him to loose his memories. Sigma’s former identity could possibly have been Mishima, but I think it’s more likely that if this is true his previous identity was Chekov.

The second is that Mishima is a completely separate character from any existing member of the Decay. I have two slightly different ideas on this: one is that Mishima has always been the true leader of the DoA. There are five members of the Decay as it’s based off the 5 signs of an angel dying from Buddhist mythology but what if that’s referring to five normal members, not including the leader so Mishima could have been pulling the strings behind the scenes the whole time. Alternatively, Mishima could simply replace Fukuchi as the leader of the Decay after he dies.

Bram and the Order of the Clock Tower

This section is going to be looking a bit further ahead than the others which were more focused on the end of the Decay of Angels arc but it was an interesting thought I had so I figured I’d just stick it in here for your consideration. I believe that Bram Stoker may have originally been part of the Order of the Clock Tower, not the Decay of Angels. As Asagiri has a habit of making the gifted organisations all authors from a single country, it makes the DoA a notable exception as it is made up of three different nationalities between it’s five members. As we know that the Order of the Clock Tower is a group made up of British authors, I think that Bram was originally a member of the Order, not the Decay as IRL Bram Stoker was British author.

What I believe happened was that whatever battle that Fukuchi fought in where he encountered and ultimately defeated Bram involved the Order in some way. It’s hard to speculate because we know so little about this, but Bram was possibly kidnapped from the Order after he was defeated by Fukuchi and forced to work with him for the DoA.

I’m aware that this theory is a bit half baked but it would be really interesting to see the interactions between the Order members and Bram after they arrive in Yokohama and I’m excited to see how this story unfolds in the future. I would love to hear any thoughts anyone has on the theories I’ve mentioned here, and any discussions are welcome.

#bsd decay of angels #decay of angels #bungo stray dogs #bsd fyodor #bsd nikolai gogol #bsd sigma #bsd bram stoker #bsd theories #theory

[lowestechelonabomination]

"You, Lieutenant Honda's family, could not know that this English instructor even existed. But in Yasukichi's heart a Raskolnikov in clown's costume has been kneeling in the muddy roadway these eight long years, begging your forgiveness." --Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, The Writer's Craft

so I'm reading through Akutagawa-sensei's short stories, and this quote in particular stood out to me. Raskolnikov is the main character of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment, and his character arc revolves mainly about having killed an old woman for personal gain. and I wouldn't exactly say that he's a clown. sorry to disappoint the literature fans who might stumble across this post, but I'm going to try to connect this to Bungou Stray Dogs (not very well, mind you, but I'll still try), so from this point on, all author's names will be referring to the fictional characters, and references to the irl authors will be distinguished with honorifics. in BSD, there's only one character who wears a clown costume: Gogol. he also notably conspires to kill Fyodor in order to achieve freedom, and he does seem to have at least some semblance of guilt about it. I don't know where I was going with this, but I just wanted to point this out. maybe this was a passage from which Asagiri-sensei drew some inspiration from. I'd also like to point out that Dazai seems to have met Mori 8 years ago, but I'm not sure how that could be connected at all. and this might be a real stretch, but I wonder if Akutagawa-sensei's frequent references to other authors in his works will ever become narratively important in BSD

#no idea how to tag this #its not really an analysis because i have no idea where i was going with this but. eh #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd analysis #yeah honestly i actually have no idea what this was supposed to mean #i had some kind of epiphany but then forgot #oh the wonders of having a neurodivergent brain that won't fully form coherent thoughts when it needs to

[ozkamal]

There is some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two TowersTwenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.– H.Jackson Brown Jr., P.S. I Love YouIt is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.– André Gide, Autumn LeavesWho, being loved, is poor?– Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No ImportanceEvery human life is worth the same, and worth saving.– J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly HallowsGet busy living, or get busy dying.– Stephen King, Different SeasonsThe goal isn’t to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.– Chuck Palahniuk, DiaryTravel far enough, you meet yourself.– David Mitchell, Cloud AtlasNone of us really changes over time. We only become more fully what we are.– Anne Rice, The Vampire LestatMost people are nice when you finally see them.– Harper Lee, To Kill a MockingbirdAll endings are also beginnings. We just don’t know it at the time.– Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet In HeavenWhen someone leaves, it’s because someone else is about to arrive.– Paulo Coelho, The ZahirIt’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.– Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in WonderlandThe only limits for tomorrow are the doubts we have today.–Pittacus Lore, The Power of SixIt is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.– J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Chamber of SecretsIf we wait until we’re ready, we’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives.– Lemony Snicket, The Ersatz ElevatorFear doesn’t shut you down; it wakes you up.– Veronica Roth, DivergentWhen you are imagining, you might as well imagine something worth while.– Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Green GablesThe worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.– Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia PlathYes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.– Oscar Wilde, The Critic as ArtistI dream. Sometimes I think that’s the only right thing to do.– Haruki Murakami, Sputnik SweetheartIf I got rid of my demons, I’d lose my angels.– Tennessee Williams, Conversations with Tennessee WilliamsIt is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.– Philip K. Dick, ValisIf you’re making mistakes it means you’re out there doing something.– Neil Gaiman, Make Good ArtEven a stopped clock is right twice a day.–Paulo Coelho, BridaIf my life is going to mean anything, I have to live it myself.– Rick Riordan, The Lightning ThiefTo define is to limit.– Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian GrayArt enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.– Thomas Merton, No Man Is an IslandIf you don’t imagine, nothing ever happens at all.– John Green, Paper TownsEverything is possible. The impossible just takes longer.– Dan Brown, Digital FortressSo many things are possible just as long as you don’t know they’re impossible.– Norton Juster, The Phantom TollboothWe are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.– Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere’s FanPain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.–Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About RunningAbove all, don’t lie to yourself.– Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers KaramazovSome infinities are bigger than other infinities.– John Green, The Fault in Our StarsYou never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.– Cormac McCarthy, No Country For Old MenWe must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy.– J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of FireNothing that’s worthwhile is ever easy.– Nicholas Sparks, Message in a BottleIt’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.– Chuck Palahniuk, Fight ClubTime you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.– Marthe Troly-Curtin, Phrynette MarriedIt is never too late to be wise.– Daniel Defoe, Robinson CrusoeAppear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.– Sun Tzu, The Art of WarWhen you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.– Paulo Coelho, The AlchemistOne day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.– Jack Kerouac, The Dharma BumsAnything worth dying for is certainly worth living for.– Joseph Heller, Catch-22All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

https://www.reddit.com/r/quotes/comments/6c1wzf/quotes_from_great_books/?utm_source=ifttt

#IFTTT #reddit

[smartphone-science]

The life of Galen is a unique opportunity to look at Roman history from the perspective of a prestigious doctor who became the most influential voice in medicine for a millennium.

People fight for a variety of reasons. We’re intrigued by it when we’re on the receiving end of the news and not of a nearby fist. It fuels our desire for daily drama. In Dostoevsky’s masterpiece, The Brothers Karamazov, a beautiful tension blossoms within the family when the patriarch Fyodor and his son Dmitri fight over the affection of a lady named Grushenka. Conflict ensues. Sometimes people fight not to break hearts but inertia. When Melkor got bored of the song they were playing in the Silmarillion, he fought against the wishes of Elu Iluvatar and played a wicked out of key guitar solo that drastically altered the music of creation, paving the way for a bunch of small folk to save the world. We can survey the annals of literature all day to look for more examples, but we might never find samples as rich as those found in reality, and perhaps there’s no better place to look for conflicts than in one of the most martial cities in history, Rome.

Most interesting for a historian of ideas is when people fight over convictions, be it philosophical, economic, scientific, religious, political, and to the interest of this blog, medical. Rome had plenty of medical fights, some having great importance to the history of medicine. Reasons varied: people fought over correct interpretations of medical (usually Hippocratic) texts, the existence of a particular bone, the cleanest surgical stroke, the best possible cure for a certain disease, or whose teacher was the best. To drive home their points, the contestants used orations and blades, not swords, but their miniature cousins, scalpels. Soldiers and gladiators didn’t have a monopoly on combat in Rome, doctors had their fair share of battles as well. 

No need to go to the battlefield for a bloodbath.

The medical culture of Rome was a microcosm of the empire: it was simultaneously brutal and beautiful, like Madame Guillotine dressed as Sailor Moon — beheading monarchs by moonlight, winning revolutions by daylight. Roman doctors lived in a highly-competitive society where success wasn’t simply the result of medical talent. Fixing Flavius’ fractured femur wasn’t gonna cut it: you had to tell others that you were the best at fixing broken thigh bones. An amazing ability to announce your achievements was a must. Mastery in the arts of oration, debate, and, sometimes, pugilism were important implements in a doctor’s medical kit. But aside from having the right tools, developing a committed character was also important. Arriviste physicians needed to be charismatic and convincing in speech, have sound philosophical minds, and possess tenacious spirits to survive and prosper. And in the pages of history, no other doctor in the Roman empire embodied all three than the Greek doctor from Pergamon, Galen.

For being so, Galen rightly deserves his own segment in this series. It is even important to do so. Partly because the life of Galen is very interesting as it is. But most important is its exemplary typification of Roman medical culture. Galen best exhibits the values of Greek intellect and Roman vitality, thus giving us the best possible example of what this partnership looked like when wed. That is to say, he was the living embodiment of the central idea developed in the previous essay, Roman Medicine Was Nurtured by Greek Doctors. 

But we can get more from him than just the flavour of medicine in his time. 

The life of Galen is an excellent study for the student of Roman history. It is an open window with a wide panoramic view of the empire, starting from the exotic luxuries of Asia minor, to the teeming markets of the Levant, to the busy ports of Egypt, and to the cobbled streets of Rome. To study the life of Galen is to illuminate Roman history from within and without, to make visible Rome’s complexities and confusions (why did the conspirators kill Julius Caesar in their bid to protect the republic when all it did was endanger it more?). Scenes, voices, faces, colours, scents, and diseases from the empire are again animated by the power of his words, for he was not only a tireless doctor, but he was also an incessant writer. Galen wielded a philosophical pen that was as sharp as his medical blade, able to cut through the thick epidermis of everyday Roman life. Every page of Galen’s texts is a dissection of the empire’s political underbelly; an investigation of the invisible social veins that channelled life and energy throughout the empire. Like a master surgeon to anxious juniors, Galen makes the initial incision to start the laparotomy, he then reaches out and hands us his tools: he tasks us to complete the investigation. 

Before doctors make a diagnosis, they first need to analyse a patient’s case history. A case or medical history is basically a rundown of things that have happened to a patient that might have led to or caused the complaint. Last Tuesday’s accidental Lego up the rectum explains Friday’s severe gastrointestinal bleeding. So in order for us to really know what Galen was all about we first need to know his history, otherwise we might falsely identify our headaches as casual brain throbbing caused by intense knowledge acquisition.

The story starts in the city of Pergamon, in what was then a Roman colony found on the western lip of modern-day Turkey kissing the Aegean. Long before the Romans held the city’s reigns, Pergamon was home to its own homegrown kingdom. Its monarchs had the bright idea of turning the city into a centre of learning, so they built a large library. Indeed, it was large. It was also excellent. So large and excellent in fact that neighbouring kingdoms wanted one for themselves. In On Architecture, the Roman engineer Vitruvius says that the fifth instalment of the Ptolemaic dynasty, Ptolemy V Epiphanes, “actuated by zeal and great desire for the furtherance of learning” decided to make “a similar one for the same purpose at Alexandria, about the same period.” That later turned out to be the famous and much bigger Library of Alexandria, which was loved by both scholars and arsonists. Though Pergamon’s library was upstaged by its Egyptian counterpart, the city nonetheless maintained its prominence and prestige. Pergamon was “by far the most famous city in Asia” says Pliny the Elder in Natural History. This is the affluence and influence that Galen was born into.

The privilege of Pergamene upbringing didn’t stop there.

Subjugation under Roman command didn’t diminish the Hellenistic tastes of the Pergamene aristocracy and bureaucracy. They carefully cradled it like overprotective parents. Pergamenes were proud of their Greek lineage and tongue. Galen exclusively wrote in Greek despite making his fortune in the Roman empire. Not once did he quote any Latin passage or author. It’s tempting to accuse him of the good ole xenophobia, but proper historical context says that Galen was standing on reasonable ground because Greek was the intellectual language of the empire. In this regard, Pergamon wasn’t unique since widespread Hellenism was felt across the empire. But the privilege Pergamon bestowed upon young Galen wasn’t its uniqueness, but the collection of favourable circumstances that it had developed which altogether conspired to shape the destiny of Galen.

One favourite pastime of the Greeks was to glorify gods. And the Pergamenes, true to their Hellenistic heritage, loved worshipping. Among the gods that they chose to venerate was Asclepius, who, from earlier essays we’ve learned to be the Greek god of healing. They also built him a temple to house his attendants and the sick seeking to be cured by him. Though there is no direct evidence, leaving us to solely rely on speculation, we can suspect Asclepius as the divinity that designed Nicon’s dream. 

And dreams were serious business in the ancient world. 

Galen’s father, a Greek architect known to posterity by his Romanised name Aelius Nicon, supervised Galen’s education, starting when the boy was very young. When his son reached the age of 14, Nicon hired the best minds around to tutor young Galen in philosophy. His teachers came from various philosophical schools: of those present were a Stoic, a Platonist, a Peripatetic, and an Epicurean. This early introduction to the many branches of philosophy played a pivotal role in the formation of Galen’s unique mind. He would later write in On Anatomical Procedures that this exposure moulded in him an attitude of “never professing myself an adherent of any sect, making rigorous investigation of them with all diligence”. 

One night, when Nicon was sleeping soundly, the god Asclepius paid him a visit. The sleep was deep, so there was no resistance on Nicon’s part. To thank him for the easy welcome, Asclepius made Nicon dream of his son: Galen will soon become a successful and popular doctor, if only you’d let him. Nicon woke up, flustered. In the ancient world, gods communicated with mortals through dreams. To discard dreams as rubbish was to deny the gods their will. Nicon wasted no time and told his son about it the following morning. Sweet dreams of expertise. Galen approved, himself now driven to become a medical expert. Who were they to disagree? Nicon was set to make his son a doctor, and he had all the finances to fund Galen’s education.

Galen didn’t choose the medical life, the medical life chose him.

His first foray into medicine happened under the tutelage of Satyrus, a student of the popular Roman doctor Quintus. It was also around this time when Galen first saw the devastating power of disease in wrecking human life, something that he would again, to an even greater extent, face when under the payroll of the Roman royalty. Between 146-148 CE, Galen beheld the spread of what he called “anthrax”.  But instead of being deterred, Galen showed early signs of his rash and dauntless character: he faced the disease headlong and recorded everything that he observed. Risque, yes. But it was driven by a desire to know, risks notwithstanding. The outbreak was not a pretty sight, for “many patients were stripped of skin, and some also of the very flesh” (ibid). This was just the first of many unpleasant experiences Galen endured for the sake of knowledge.

A sudden segue to via tristitia happened in the life of Galen when his father died in 148 CE. Galen was just 19 years young and by all accounts had all the rights to sulk and abandon his father’s augury. But giving up was not his wont nor want. Throughout his life — if we’re to base his feelings on the mood of his texts — Galen rarely revealed his emotional state, consistently maintaining a calm and almost detached demeanour, even in the middle of severe situations (like when he first observed anthrax). This is not to say that he felt indifferent to his father’s death. On the contrary, he always held his father’s memory adoringly, peppering his texts here and there with praises for his father’s determined efforts to educate him (he only mentions his mother once in a scathing passage).  

With his bag on one shoulder and his father’s dream on the other, Galen headed to Smyrna in 150 CE to start his education abroad. His first stop was the doorstep of the physician Pelops. From him Galen would learn a lot about making drugs (he would cite him as one of his primary sources). However, Galen felt Pelops was keeping away a lot from him, especially the notes and findings of Numisianus, Pelop’s teacher (who was also a student of Quintus, the mentor of Galen’s former teacher Satyrus). Pelops hid Numisianus’ documents from prying eyes, because, according to Galen (ibid), Pelops “preferred that certain theories, as yet unknown, should be attributed to him”. To put it simply, Galen accuses Pelops of plagiarising Numisianus’ works. Needless to say this relationship was in dire need of an immediate amputation.

So Galen removed himself from Smyrna to look for the lost master. He gives a detailed rundown of what happened thereafter (ibid): “Next, I was in Corinth on account of Numisianus, who was himself the most famous of the students of Quintus, and in Alexandria and some other places in which I learned that Numisianus . . . was living”. But despite the many steps taken, Galen never found Numisianus. Perhaps he had died without Galen knowing of it. A huge opportunity missed.

The loss of Numisianus presented chance gains for Galen as it allowed him to mingle with the other medical minds in Alexandria. In his time, Alexandria was the centre for anatomical studies, as it was one of the few (if not the only) cities in the ancient world where human dissection was not considered taboo, (sources say vivisection of criminals were also carried out). The Egyptian practice of mummification made the opening of cadavers a routine operation, devoid of the unnecessary spiritual baggage attached to it by other cultures. This openness to human anatomical explorations was probably what convinced the Greek anatomists Erasistratus and Herophilos to settle in the city and establish their famous anatomical school. So it is not surprising that it was in Alexandria where Galen learned to better his knowledge of anatomy and skills in surgery. “When I first returned from Alexandria”, writes Galen in Compounding Drugs by Kind, “I really and truly learned the treatment of those who were wounded in the tendons.” 

When one door closes, don’t fret, look for open bodies instead.

Galen’s adamant search for the best medical education from the best teachers around, even at an early age, shows the strong and lasting influence Nicon had on him, and it is something that would guide Galen all throughout his life. This lifelong dedication to study has its roots planted in Greek intellectual culture, where men of learning devoted their whole lives to the study of philosophy and even natural history, as was the case with Aristotle. Through Nicon’s nurture, Galen was able to pick up the torch of Greek intellectual fire and lit the dark crevices of medical knowledge. What he revealed wasn’t always very nice though, and Galen was at times burned by his own fire as we shall see later.

The study of medicine necessitates actual practice to measure how well a student carries out the instructions and theories learned in the years of study. It was the same for Galen. After years of study in Alexandria, Galen went back home to Pergamon in 157 CE, probably in the hopes of practising there. Did he actively apply for medical positions or endorse himself to the public, there is no telling, for no evidence surfaces. But in 158 CE, Galen tells us of a remarkable development. He says (ibid) that the city’s archierus, or high priest, “decided to entrust to me alone the care of the gladiators, although I was still young as to stage of life.” What prompted the high priest to hire him, even Galen “does not know”. Perhaps he had already cultivated a reputation as a medical prodigy while he was still studying. Or maybe he had found success when he practised in Pergamon. Most likely both.

The high priest made the right choice. Almost immediately, Galen reversed the rather terrible outcomes of his predecessors. The doctors before Galen recorded an impressive sixty gladiator deaths under their care. In Galen’s five year tenure as doctor to the gladiators, he only had an underwhelming two deaths to his name. All the more impressive was the fact that Galen worked alone at a relatively young age for a doctor. “Although, at that time, I had not yet completed thirty years of my age”, recounts Galen in On the Examinations by which the Best Physicians are Recognised, he was already handed the responsibility of treating “all the wounded men who had fought duels in combat.” This was in stark contrast with the medical organisation before his arrival. He continues: “Before my time, two or three of the Elders were in charge.” The confidence and trust bestowed upon him by the authorities is highly indicative of how his skills were appreciated and admired by the Pergamene elite. 

Gladiatorial games were mainly conducted to entertain. Fights were carefully choreographed to ensure that no real harm was done to the gladiators. They were what athletes are now, expensive to keep and beloved by the public. Accidents, however, were inevitable. So was grudge and the avante-garde attitude of not sticking to the script. With the arrival of Galen, the realm of entertainment was further stretched to include the operating table. He used his privileged position as a platform to publicly demonstrate surgical techniques learned and innovated by himself. One such demonstration was the case of a wounded “horseman” with a very long laceration “going very deep into the frontal and lower sections of the thigh” and a wide gape “one edge torn upward, the other pulled downwards toward the kneecap”. Galen “attempted to proceed from the so-called lateral joint, and bring together little by little the sundered parts of the muscle with stitches” (Compounding Drugs by Kind). The wound was closed without any complications and infections. Another successful operation added to his fast growing résumé. But like his combative patients, he also dealt with non-human subjects. 

Public demonstrations of surgical and medical skills on animals were a common spectacle in the empire. Physicians readily carried out these performances to showcase their skills, dazzling the crowd with precision cuts, popped veins spraying blood in every direction, eviscerated innards, and erudite speech, just like a regular TED Talk but with an extra element of gore. A sanguine theatre where doctors enjoyed prominent roles and elaborate lines while colouring the town red. Who needs gladiators when you have doctors to satisfy your blood lust? It was admittedly lopsided against the animals, as they couldn’t fight back, but the crowd was still captivated. They either cheered or jeered. Despite the obvious disregard for the ethical promise of primum non nocere, Roman physicians were eager to conduct these exhibitions for these had the positive effect of hauling in curious students to study under their influence, thus increasing their sphere of influence and popularity. It also served as a powerful stage to silence your critics in public. This was the case when Galen, on his free time as a doctor to the gladiators, vivisected a monkey. Galen started by disembowelling the monkey, then challenged “the other physicians who were present” to safely return its viscera inside its body before the poor screaming creature lost its life. When none would dare take up the task, Galen, ever the showman, showed them how and easily succeeded in doing so, “making it clear to the intellectuals who were present that” whosoever had abilities like his “should be in charge of the wounded” (On the Examinations by which the Best Physicians are Recognised).

This was Galen’s favoured tactic in proving that he was right: aggressively prove that others were mistaken. Galen garnered a reputation for being stringent and arrogant, always believing himself to be the paramount authority in medicine, second only to Hippocrates. But who could blame him? He had a great education and was able to prove himself correct time and time again without anybody able to prove otherwise. With today’s sensibilities, this may display a lack of class, but Galen’s attitude was perfectly in sync with the class he belonged to. Arrogance, vigour, and a relentless drive for argumentation were currencies flaunted by the intellectual elites of his time. And he was unabashedly one of them.

Having spent the better of five years as the premiere physician in Pergamon, Galen then moved to the biggest ward of them all, the eternal city of Rome. There is no telling what prompted him to do so, and he also doesn’t tell us whether the high priests terminated his contract. Perhaps it was his lust for challenges that drove him to Rome. After all, it was in the notorious streets of Rome where Quintus, the teacher of his own mentor, Satyrus, plied his trade. He may have wanted to get a feel of what it was like to be a doctor in the most famous city in the ancient world. There were also no reasons to stay in Pergamon. All the signs pointed to Rome. His years of education and training had prepared him for the spotlight, and he had everything going well in his favour: he was wealthy, popular, intelligent, and so far, had been mostly lucky.

Galen made many brief stopovers along the way to stock his supplies of drug ingredients. Some of the materials he gathered have been clinically found to immediately raise modern eyebrows, like “black crustaceous rocks and rocks which, when exposed to fire, emit a meagre flame,” (On the Mixtures and Powers of Simple Drugs) which he collected in what is now Palestine. His search for medicament also exposed him to the working and living conditions of rural peasants, an experience that he was proud to recall in his books. Whether he was inside ore mines, sharing tables with farmers, having fortunate encounters — since it was an invitation to study human anatomy — with unfortunate carcasses on the road, or enduring long sea travels, Galen always recorded every bit of information that he accrued, increasing the riches of his mental medical treasury.

Finally, in his 32nd year of his life, Galen arrived on Rome in the spring of 162 CE.

Roman interest in the medical arts slowly snowballed after Julius Caesar set the motions for the republic’s collapse. Greek doctors, who were mostly slaves, comprised the majority of healthcare providers in Rome. Caesar, before being murdered and subsequently turned into a vegetarian option, was the first to inject some sense of healthcare professionalism in Rome with an important edict: Caesar granted Greek doctors Roman citizenship in 46 BCE. Not to be outdone by his adoptive father, Augustus, Rome’s first emperor, blessed doctors with certain tax exemptions and gave them special privileges. Vespasian further enhanced their station by allocating state money for the salary of doctors who were in the business of teaching future physicians. The state and public support enjoyed by doctors in Rome made the city an enticing venue for medical practice. By the time he arrived in Rome, Galen was just another name in the long list of doctors testing the limits of their luck. All roads lead to Rome, indeed.

However, while recent developments improved life prospects for doctors, the local populace lived in constant peril from diseases, infectious or otherwise, thanks to imperial priorities. Augustus and Agrippa may have turned brick to marble, but later emperors spent much of the empire’s energy and fortunes on wars abroad, largely neglecting the marble-lous grandeur of Augustan Rome. As the military was expensive to keep, funding for better public housing and sanitation measures were kept to a low. So people had to make do with what little the state provided them with. They were cramped in very tight horizontal and vertical spaces. Dense was the city, which made pathogens and vectors very happy. There were so many people and so little space that even proximal contact with neighbours was blurred. “One peculiarity of Rome, which is not shared by other cities”, writes Galen in On the Examinations by which the Best Physicians are Recognised, “is that not even neighbours, let alone other inhabitants, know how a patient has died, or by whom he has been treated. This is because the city is great and populous.” It was so crowded that deaths hardly mattered. Dead tenants were easily replaced by other warm bodies looking for homes.

This was the Rome Galen found himself in. It was definitely wealthy but hardly healthy.

To be new in this highly competitive medical environment was difficult. Lonely neophytes were set up against a drove of desperate elder doctors. Luckily for Galen, some Pergamenes preceded him in Rome, so he was not without welcome and support. A compatriot named Teuthras helped butter the way for Galen’s smooth entry into Rome’s medical throng. He was Galen’s first level of support that allowed Galen to build an initial following. Teuthras also served as a wellspring of good advice, which came in handy almost immediately. 

Galen was aching to get his career up in running in Rome, so shortly after arriving, he found himself in the middle of a medical snafu. Treatments in Rome were usually a public event, as it was an outgrowth of the Greek practice of conducting lectures out in the open. One day when he was roaming the streets, Galen saw a gathering of people and heard that they were discussing phlebotomy (drawing blood). It was one of his favoured treatments so he joined the fray eager to know what others had to say about it. Conducting the discussion was a sect called (by Galen) the Erasistrateans, who boasted a record of avoiding phlebotomy in their repertoire. Upon hearing the offending group express their reluctance to bleed their patients, Galen immediately engaged them with his preferred mode of dissent: direct confrontation. With obvious disdain and intensity in volume, Galen politely reminded them that they were wrong for omitting phlebotomy from their services. But his was an unfamiliar voice in an unwelcoming environment, and he failed to convince the participants of his gospel. Unable to sway attending opinion to his side, Galen quickly got riled up. But Teuthras was with him and pulled him away from the crowd. Now in safe distance from the more established and well connected rogues, Teuthras offered Galen a sound advice: “You will never influence these men; they are too stupid to remember the patients who were killed by Erasistratus. For what other reason did the patients they are citing now come to die, if not that the remedy of phlebotomy was omitted” (On Venesection against the Erasistrateans at Rome). 

Teuthras’ words had an immediate and profound effect, for Galen changed his rather tactless urgency into a well structured (and probably choreographed) demolition. When the second occasion for a showdown occurred, Galen produced a very articulate refutation of the Erasistratean method which won him the reinforced ire of his newfound enemies as well as some fresh followers. 

But it would be a mistake to think of Galen as someone like today’s internet trolls. Galen didn’t poke his head around every discussion ready with ornate obloquy and belligerent burns. Despite his rashness, Galen only reserved his contempt for corrections. To right wrongs – the very essence of medicine. Being doctors meant being intellectually responsible for pointing out the medical errors of others, which also required a willingness to wear a bulls eye for the scorn of wrongdoers — Galen wore that to the best of his abilities, for he was duly recognised as the best. He expressed unwavering allegiance to accuracy, but hated the consequences that came with it. In fact, he disdained the benefits of having enemies as it gave him unwanted press and attention. Gossip and defamatory hearsay against him spread like pestilence, forcing his early exit from Rome: “I wanted to escape the slanderous tongues,” Galen writes in On My Own Books, adding that he also planned to refrain from “[saying] anything beyond what was necessary among the patients” and “teaching in public, as before, nor performing demonstrations.” Rome had a sickness unto itself that sucked the life out of its doctors, and not even the great medical mind of Galen could deal with it. 

But perhaps it wasn’t a social ill that he ran away from. There is reason to believe that he was only trying to escape the wrath of a virulent disease that had set afoot in the far reaches of the  empire. Galen recounts in On My Own Books, “When the great plague began, I immediately left the city and travelled to my homeland.”

Wait a minute, if he was such a good doctor then why did he run away from duty? That’s something salacious journalists might munch for dinner — saucy and trite yet containing no gram of truth. Historian Susan Mattern argues that Galen had no intention to distance himself from the plague, but his motivation to leave Rome was driven by a desire to confront it as per his responsibility as a doctor. She writes in The Prince of Medicine (an excellent biography of Galen from where many of the quotes here are taken from), “Galen fled not from the plague, but toward it —motivated, perhaps, by worry about his hometown and a desire to be there for his people.”

There is no telling what Galen’s true intentions were but he did leave Rome in 166 CE and went back to Pergamon. Retreat from Rome didn’t mean resignation from medicine. It was business as usual in Pergamon: Galen admitted patients, argued here and there, conducted anatomical experiments, and edited some of his books. Life was going well, so Galen thought, until a letter arrived in 168 CE. It was an imperial summon. Apparently, it wasn’t just slander and malice around his name that circulated in Rome, but news of his talents also went viral. The message was simple: the royal household wants you back in the capital. To this there was only one possible reply: compliance. Galen soon found himself taking the trip back to the place he dreaded.

All roads led to Rome, yet again.

In the second season of The Life of Galen in Rome, the drama continues and heats up as even more poisonous tongues lash their malice at Galen’s enviable position. Galen achieved what only a few doctors have and would ever reach: the coveted title of archiatros, physician to the emperor. Along with the honour came financial security as well as the insecurity of others. It was a trade off that was unavoidable, but was Galen now more capable and mature to deal with it.

His appointment came in a unique time in the empire when the first co-emperors sat on the throne of power. However, Lucius Verus died of the plague in 169 CE on his way back to Rome. At that time, Galen was still in Aquileia, tending the sick and infected Roman soldiers, which meant two things: first, Galen couldn’t supervise the treatment of Lucius Verus which could’ve saved the co-emperor’s life; and second, he only served the other co-emperor Marcus Aurelius.

Galen’s sophomore spell turned out to be a period of prolific productivity and mastery. Marcus Aurelius was often abroad fighting on the German front, leaving Galen with enough time to write more books and seek more enemies. His one great task as archiatros was the care of the sickly Commodus, son and heir of Marcus Aurelius. This proved to be a wise decision on the emperor’s part, but a generally frowned upon move by the Romans and later historians: Wise because when young Commodus suffered an intense fever, the best doctor Galen was there to the rescue; damned because Galen cured him and put him back to good health. A positive medical outcome seen by many as a net negative for the empire because Commodus turned out to be a fine emperor of bad taste and abandon. 

When Marcus Aurelius did return to Rome in 176 CE, Galen was there to meet him. Included in the arriving imperial entourage were three other doctors who were presumably military medics or personal physicians. Galen met them too. And they were immediately set against each other in a battle of medical alacrity and wisdom.

The emperor brought back with him a medical complaint as a souvenir for all his troubles. He felt ill and convulsive, so he summoned the three doctors and Galen to check up on him. The first to do their examinations were the three, leaving Galen the unenviable task of being last. When it was Galen’s turn to inspect the pained emperor, he didn’t. In On Prognosis, Galen describes the event in full:

“Three doctors had already examined him at dawn and at the eighth hour; they had taken his pulse; and they agreed that this was apparently the opening of an attack of an illness. When I stood by in silence, the emperor looked at me and asked why, when the others had taken his pulse, I alone had not done so. I replied that since they had already done so twice and the peculiarities of his pulse were probably known to them through their experiences on their travels abroad with him, I expected that they could obtain a better diagnosis of his present condition than I. On hearing this, he commanded me to take his pulse. It seemed to me that his pulse, compared with the general norm for each age and constitution, was far from showing the onset of an attack of an illness, and so I said that there was no attack of fever, but his stomach was overloaded with the food he had taken, which had turned to phlegm before excretion, and that this was now  quite clear.”

At this point, it’s safe to say that we’ve already established Galen’s superior dexterity and guile over his competitors, so it’s predictable what happened: he was right once again. The emperor ecstatically received his diagnosis, remembering that, indeed, his stomach was a bit upset from all the meals that he had taken. Galen’s accurate medical judgement instantly set him apart from the three doctors, leading the emperor to claim “we have one physician only”, which of course meant Galen. 

From this story, two major medical themes arise to serve as important reminders to posterity on how to properly conduct medicine and science.

Opinions always vary: some are patently false without any hope of redemption, while others are true yet incomplete. The task of science is to collect the bits of scattered truth and use it to build structures of knowledge supported by verifiable reality. But to know which fragments are genuine, a rigorous process of sieving the grains of truth is and should always be observed. Nowadays we call this peer review. In medical consultation, this can also mean seeking second opinions. Aurelius asking Galen his opinion on the matter is evocative of this ideal design. To ask for a consensus regardless if ideas and opinions clash with each other, for what matters is that the best ideas from the best minds are canvassed. But what truly stands out in this story is something of the heroic: this episode would have waned in poignancy had Galen been unwilling to challenge his seniors. Reviewing and revising means to test ideas and concepts against extremely high standards — this requires a disposition of strength and fortitude able to withstand the might of authority. Did not Galen exhibit this early on when he challenged the Erasistrateans? And this aforementioned episode is just one of the many fracas where Galen stood up against authority to wave the banner of truth. Galen’s argumentative flair wasn’t indicative of a rebellious tendency nor vagrancy, it was all part of the Hippocratic spirit that Galen passionately embodied in his public and academic life. Thus, while it wasn’t unusual for Galen, his boldness to declare the truth against the more established elders in front of the emperor, in the biggest stage at that time, serves as an example of correct scientific virtue and consequently a crucial lesson to today’s doctors and medical students.

The second and most important tenor in Galen’s diagnosis of Marcus Aurelius was his high valuation of case histories. Galen’s reluctance to examine the emperor after the three doctors have done so exemplifies the Hippocratic demand to view health as the total outcome of a person’s unique history. That is to say, health concerns vary from one person to another as per their life experiences. Galen knew well that he was unfamiliar with the emperor’s day to day life as he was practising in Rome while the emperor was off fighting on foreign soil. He had no insight to the daily regimen of the emperor, leaving him with little to no information about the factors that led to Marcus Aurelius’ complaint. Now, this leaves us with the question: if Galen didn’t have the emperor’s case history as a reference to base his judgement, then how was he able to diagnose Marcus Aurelius correctly and save the emperor’s life? The brilliance of Galen shines through when he read the emperor’s pulse, only after being urged, and matched it with what he had observed from other people of the same age (the case histories of others), which led him to conclude correctly that there was nothing inherently wrong with the emperor. By comparing Marcus Aurelius’ pulse with that of others, Galen ensured that his judgement was informed by research – research that could only have been possible with the study of case histories. This strategy allowed him to prove that the methods of the three doctors were wrong, leading him to devise another stratagem: to look at the events that transpired before the complaint, that is to say, analysing Marcus Aurelius’ case history. The emperor had a lot to eat. His stomach was complaining. Galen said that was causing the pain. Marcus Aurelius agreed. Job done.

It may be tempting to abuse the character and name of Galen for intellectual anarchy. True, there is an element of romance in Galen’s struggles against the doctors of his time that is tempting to emulate, a delectable tale of the underdog succeeding against the odds by virtue of wit, wisdom, and intelligence. But to believe this genre is to remove Galen from the reality of Roman life. The whole truth is hard to know, since we can only dissect the texts left by Galen himself. But it is thanks to his extensive corpus that we are provided with an opportunity to travel back in time and have a closer look at the dynamics of Roman medical life, an institution that Galen dominated and developed so effectively that his importance and impact lasted for a millennium. The life of Galen is a genre of its own – a medical and philosophical odyssey along the august steps of Roman history. But in whatever mode you might read it in, what stands out are his fights, for Galen fought them to bring medicine to the forefront of intellectual life. And, despite all the drama that comes with it, that was and is a fight worth fighting for.

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A Short List Of Great Fictional Prison Book Ever Written

By Debra Wood

When speaking of literature, it contains many branches and genres that are each identified by definitive qualities it contains. As the years go by, more genres are added to that growing list, some combinations of two genres and others a new one altogether. One of those is called prison literature, wherein the person who created the book was trapped or confined in a specific location against their will. Furthermore, this includes authors who were trapped in prisons, jails, or even house arrest. The contents of their writing may be about the establishment they are trapped in like their musings and experiences. It could also be anything at all, as long as it was coincidentally written in jail. In line with this, stated below is a definitive list of the best Fictional Prison Book. Fyodor Dostoyevsky is a popular and prominent author in genres of philosophy, religion, and politics. A novel he wrote that stands out is The House of the Dead, which recounts tales based on convicts who spent some time in the infamous prison camps based in Siberia. It contained many elements of Realism, and referenced events and facts, but were not confirmed by Dostoyevsky himself. Orange is the New Black is known mostly as a popular series, available in major streaming sites. However, what most people are not aware of, is that it was actually a book written by Piper Kerman. It is considered to be her memoir, following the experience of being imprisoned after being convicted of money laundering and drug trafficking. A book that garnered some controversy is Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler. It gained some notoriety during its time of release because it contained some implications and heavy references to the trials that took place in Moscow. Koestler has not made any comments towards it but nevertheless, the work received high praise and was even enlisted as his best work ever published. Margaret Atwood became nominated for many awards and went on to win a few after publishing Alias Grace. While based on a real murder that took place, it focused more on the serial killers rather than the victims. Two servants who worked for Thomas Kinnear conspired to kill him and one of his housekeepers. When they were found out, they faced heavy prison sentences. While most often remembered as a work of science fiction, The Star Rover still contained many elements of this kind of literature. Jack London is responsible for this work of art and elaborates on Darell, a man who used to work as a professor in a popular university. However, he was sentenced to prison after discovering that he killed a person. During which, he is subjected to torture by means of wearing a tight jacket that compresses all his body organs. As a means of escapism, he teaches himself to go into a trance state, where his soul and mind travels to different dimensions and planets. Jean Genet is a French novelist and political activist who is the mastermind behind Our Lady of the Flowers. Its prose relies heavily on poetic influences and takes into account the journey of a man who goes travels through the Parisian underworld. Majority of its characters are homosexuals, who the main character meets while living on the outskirts of conventional society. Nawal El Saadawi is a prominent figure in feminism and art forms that focus on this subject matter. A popular novel she wrote about it is Memoirs from the Women Prison. It contained some firsthand witness accounts from different people regarding the feminist movement and their struggle to break free from state violence and male white corporate oppression.

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A Short List Of Great Fictional Prison Book Ever Written

By Debra Wood

Literature is a branch of the arts and science that contains numerous branches that expand on various topics. As more authors are born and go on to create works of their own, each existing genre becomes more defined and more contributions are added into it. An existing genre that has been around since 524 AD is prison literature, which relates to stories that take place in it, or were written by people who were currently imprisoned at that time without their consent. Furthermore, it some authors have fully capitalized in this and has written numerous novels focusing on the subject entirely. A clear element is either the story taking place there, or a writer being trapped inside on against their will. It typically contains content about their experience, how they felt, or essential musings. Following this trail of thought, this article will be relaying the top seven best Fictional Prison Book published. An iconic figure in the Realism movement is Fyodor Dostoyevsky. One of his earliest works is titled The House of the Dead and it emphasizes on the experiences of several convicts who were sentenced to spend time in an infamous camp in Siberia. While this is an important event in Siberian culture, the characters are purely fictional and are not based on any other stories. A trending online streaming series is called Orange is the New Black, often shortened into OITNB. It recounts the experiences and musings of Piper Kerman who was imprisoned after facing trial. Her case revolved around drug trafficking and laundering money. The novel is actually a memoir by a woman of the same name. A book that garnered some controversy is Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler. It gained some notoriety during its time of release because it contained some implications and heavy references to the trials that took place in Moscow. Koestler has not made any comments towards it but nevertheless, the work received high praise and was even enlisted as his best work ever published. Margaret Atwood became nominated for many awards and went on to win a few after publishing Alias Grace. While based on a real murder that took place, it focused more on the serial killers rather than the victims. Two servants who worked for Thomas Kinnear conspired to kill him and one of his housekeepers. When they were found out, they faced heavy prison sentences. While most often remembered as a work of science fiction, The Star Rover still contained many elements of this kind of literature. Jack London is responsible for this work of art and elaborates on Darell, a man who used to work as a professor in a popular university. However, he was sentenced to prison after discovering that he killed a person. During which, he is subjected to torture by means of wearing a tight jacket that compresses all his body organs. As a means of escapism, he teaches himself to go into a trance state, where his soul and mind travels to different dimensions and planets. Activist Jean Genet made Our Lady of the Flowers. The plot takes place in an underground Parisian community. The lead character comes to terms with his current condition and the lifestyle he is exposed to. The area is filled with a lot of homosexuals, whom he observes from a distance and subsequently makes friends with. Memoirs from the Women Prison is by Nawal El Saadawi. It recounts the objectification and discrimination women experience during imprisonment. It focus on sexism forced upon them that made their time spent there twice as hard.

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When you are searching for info about a fictional prison book, come to our web pages online today. More details are available at http://www.belaabel.com now.

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There is some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two TowersTwenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.– H.Jackson Brown Jr., P.S. I Love YouIt is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.– André Gide, Autumn LeavesWho, being loved, is poor?– Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No ImportanceEvery human life is worth the same, and worth saving.– J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly HallowsGet busy living, or get busy dying.– Stephen King, Different SeasonsThe goal isn’t to live forever, the goal is to create something that will.– Chuck Palahniuk, DiaryTravel far enough, you meet yourself.– David Mitchell, Cloud AtlasNone of us really changes over time. We only become more fully what we are.– Anne Rice, The Vampire LestatMost people are nice when you finally see them.– Harper Lee, To Kill a MockingbirdAll endings are also beginnings. We just don’t know it at the time.– Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet In HeavenWhen someone leaves, it’s because someone else is about to arrive.– Paulo Coelho, The ZahirIt’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.– Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in WonderlandThe only limits for tomorrow are the doubts we have today.–Pittacus Lore, The Power of SixIt is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.– J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Chamber of SecretsIf we wait until we’re ready, we’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives.– Lemony Snicket, The Ersatz ElevatorFear doesn’t shut you down; it wakes you up.– Veronica Roth, DivergentWhen you are imagining, you might as well imagine something worth while.– Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Green GablesThe worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.– Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia PlathYes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.– Oscar Wilde, The Critic as ArtistI dream. Sometimes I think that’s the only right thing to do.– Haruki Murakami, Sputnik SweetheartIf I got rid of my demons, I’d lose my angels.– Tennessee Williams, Conversations with Tennessee WilliamsIt is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.– Philip K. Dick, ValisIf you’re making mistakes it means you’re out there doing something.– Neil Gaiman, Make Good ArtEven a stopped clock is right twice a day.–Paulo Coelho, BridaIf my life is going to mean anything, I have to live it myself.– Rick Riordan, The Lightning ThiefTo define is to limit.– Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian GrayArt enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.– Thomas Merton, No Man Is an IslandIf you don’t imagine, nothing ever happens at all.– John Green, Paper TownsEverything is possible. The impossible just takes longer.– Dan Brown, Digital FortressSo many things are possible just as long as you don’t know they’re impossible.– Norton Juster, The Phantom TollboothWe are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.– Oscar Wilde, Lady Windermere’s FanPain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.–Haruki Murakami, What I Talk About When I Talk About RunningAbove all, don’t lie to yourself.– Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers KaramazovSome infinities are bigger than other infinities.– John Green, The Fault in Our StarsYou never know what worse luck your bad luck has saved you from.– Cormac McCarthy, No Country For Old MenWe must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy.– J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of FireNothing that’s worthwhile is ever easy.– Nicholas Sparks, Message in a BottleIt’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.– Chuck Palahniuk, Fight ClubTime you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.– Marthe Troly-Curtin, Phrynette MarriedIt is never too late to be wise.– Daniel Defoe, Robinson CrusoeAppear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.– Sun Tzu, The Art of WarWhen you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.– Paulo Coelho, The AlchemistOne day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.– Jack Kerouac, The Dharma BumsAnything worth dying for is certainly worth living for.– Joseph Heller, Catch-22All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

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