The story of Manius Papirius Lentulus & Massimo has been totally rewritten (as a draft, of course.) You can read it here.
α
The Samnite: “What are you talking about?”
Giorgio: “Well, you know that novel we were discussing here in our living room a couple of months ago.”
The Samnite: “You mean the story on both Ancient Britannia & today’s Rome?”
Giorgio: “Exactly. It foresees at least two universes, but I would say infinite ones, as Giordano Bruno had imagined – the one burned by the Catholic Church in the late Counter Reformation Renaissance – & as modern physicists imagine today too.”
ω
Ok, readers, words are enough.
All the best,
MoR
[*enjoying Brazil- Germany on TV, and feeling sorry for the humiliation of a great soccer team. They have to react, damn! Massimo, soccer ex promising star: “Their defence is too weak, although it has always been like that …” Giorgio: Brazil 1-7 Germany. Astonishing. Not that I am not glad for Germany, although I am thinking of those favelas where soccer is the salt of life …*]
“Le patron de la Banque centrale européenne, Mario Draghi, a convaincu les investisseurs que les taux directeurs resteraient très bas longtemps, et que les liquidités seraient abondantes pour les banques”. Crédit Photo : Sébastien SORIANO/Le Figaro. Source
Here is the EU / Euro / Europe debate I had promised to some friends. We will start with personal dialogues from our slice of the blogosphere.
You will however notice how ideas & feelings (passionate, at times) will soon go beyond the sphere of the particolare and reach the wider area of an equally passionate debate a. within the EU etc.; b. on the other side of the Atlantic; c.much beyond that, since all economies – China, India, Japan, the gas & oil states etc.) are interwoven.
[last minute update: France & Germany, who will win? In the world cup, I mean. 🙂 I don’t know whom to cheer, folks ]
Cheri (original post & discussion): “I remember visiting my grandparent’s home […] On the wall […] a framed cross-stitched message in blue which read, ” To Have a Friend, Be One.”
The souls I am privileged to call friends […] would say that I have always been too busy […]
[My sister Cindy] and I have a give and take friendship. I ask about her. She asks about me […]
This week, I have been in deep contemplation and as usually happens in times like these, my friends enter my consciousness like ethereal butterflies …
Were my grandmother […] still alive and were she to ask me whether I have […] followed the imperative on the cross-stitch, I would have to say “No, Nana. I have not.” I have simply been too busy.”
Kaytisweetlandrasmussen: “I am a retired fine arts teacher, sculptor/painter, writer, and a native Californian. I love my family, dogs, horses, movies, reading and music, probably in that order. I have been married forever to a very nice man who is nice to old ladies, dogs and children.”
kaytisweetlandrasmussen83: “Let us be grateful to people who make us happy. They are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom. ” Marcel Proust
Let’s face it, friends make life a lot more fun. You make my life more fun.
Loved the photo of Obexers! AK.”
Cherie Ladybugg: “You know, I was just up at Tahoe for one night. What a place that engenders so many memories. I slept in my parent’s room and on the wall is that large black and white picture of you and Dr. Advice, Ron’s parents, and mom and dad. You all looked so young and happy.
kaytis…83: “Weren’t we all dashing? We thought we already knew it all. Oh how wrong we were!”
MoR: “Dear Cheri, your post has hit my heart, I find it one of the most beautiful you’ve ever written. I did not have a brother, unfortunately … I do feel the same.
Our relationship, friendship, with you, Richard, Christopher, Cyberquill, Jenny, Andreas, Thomas, Douglas, Geraldine, Paul Sunstone and others from the Web it’s been non face to face, ok, but profound (of souls, as you say) and I have neglected you since I was too busy to achieve goals in my universus introversus […]
[I btw didn’t mention those met face to face: The Commentator Italo-Canadese, Paul or Pavlos le canadien du Quebec half Greek btw, Ashish the GeekWrestler (met by my daughter in Mumbai) Devinder the Sikh from Montreal, Nomad Anju from the Bangla culture, Nita from Mumbai, one of the best journalists ever etc. etc. etc.]
Id est 3 objectives that are inter alia impossible which I’m determined none the less to attain at the cost of croaking […]
So now objective num 3 [num 1 & 2 being performing 2 of Bach’s sublime masterpieces, ndr] is of course the ‘Manius Papirius Lentulus soldier trapped in Albion’ series (I’m thinking about a sequence of smaller books being published – feuiletton-like? – one after the other, like ‘Desperate Roman Soldiers’ LOL.)
So the writing has being restarted since a while (a 3-4 hundreds draft pages in both Italian and English: 3 perhaps draft small books) and […] no less hard than the previous two Bach goals, it being a neo-Platonic-Pythagorean Dante […] these three objectives making me live like in a closed bell – with some old school mates around and other friends, who are patient – as you say, Cherie – since I none the less neglect them […]
And for that I have neglected you, Chaeri Faerie, who have been so warm, fanciful, crystal clear as only an Hyperborean Ladybugg can be […]
As for Londoner Richard, a soul I love as much as I love yours, I have not even told him my youngest daughter is working in London as an architect / civil engineer […] hired by an English engineering company busy building a skyscraper […]
Remember my friends that I love you so much, and to me, you ALL are important [those not mentioned because too many, of course, too], and perhaps you souls from the WWW are even more important, being like Platonic souls deprived of a body, you all having a place in a heart that doesn’t forget though neglects.”
Chaerie Ladybugg: “Well Giovanni, I don’t know what to make of this long emotional comment. […] Life is a journey that we are all on, most of us doing the best we can with what we have and with who are parents were. We meet the “other,” our spouse and we engage in a relationship, often times forgetting that they, indeed, are not an extension of ourselves, but an individual, at times very different from us on their own journey too. That is the magic of the “other”.
We have friends, whether in the WWW or face to face, friends with whom we connect and at times for myriad reasons, disconnect.
I’d like to believe that both fate and free will entwine in these dances that we do […]
Cheri
Richard:“Dear Roma,
I am not so naïve as to imagine that the feelings you express are for me personally. I know that you speak of the brotherhood of man generally and specifically of your love for my country and its people. That you do so despite their widespread rejection of the European Union in the recent elections to the Parliament is a measure of your sincerity.
Yes, the British do feel neglected by Europe. We feel treated unfairly, as a caricature of ourselves, that our pioneering contributions to European culture, democracy, justice, law, science, industry and peace are sidelined, misunderstood or even ridiculed. Our expectations, despite our massive sacrifices and investment in Europe over the last 300 years, and particularly over the last 100 years, bear hardly a consideration, as evidenced by the fact that the recent vote will make hardly any difference to our voice in Europe.
I myself have not lost hope in the European project, but believe that nations require their identity to be returned to enable them to be heard and to retain what is familiar to them so they may prosper together. Rightly or wrongly, there are those who reckon that some in Europe hope to win some sort of long-term cultural war through the medium of the EU, when there need be no war at all. This fear is behind the current crisis in the Ukraine.
Adaptability of form and purpose is the key to a united Europe, no less in its central organisation than in its constituent parts, and a willingness to abandon obsolete “visions” and obsessive “principle”. That headlong idée fixe has acquired a separate existence detrimental to the ideal. Real lessons can be learned from the UK and how it maintained many of the practical traditions of the constituent nations. In many ways the UK can be seen as a Scottish take-over as well as an English one. I know that we face the real possibility of Scotland’s severance, but it is a union that has lasted for 300 years, not without its difficulties, for sure, but of great mutual benefit, not only to ourselves but also to Europe and the whole world, by and large. It is significant that many true Scots who play such a large part in the running of the UK have no vote in the forthcoming referendum because they live in England. Our cultures are closely intertwined and most of us in England feel as one. I myself have Scottish antecedents on both parents’ sides and I am a Presbyterian – of a most liberal and broad-minded kind, I hasten to suggest.
Bigger is not necessarily better and if an organisation is unwieldy it is more likely to lead to unfairness, authoritarianism, disruption, rejection and, in the worst analysis, bitter conflict, than it is to peace.
MoR:[writing his novel, he needs:]
“An Invocation, before a mind journey
To my belovéd Anglo Saxon friends,
And to Chaerie dearest Faerie,
Queene of the Greatest Isle, Américà.
O Goddess, Thou, so heauenly and so bright!
Shed pls thy faire beams into our feeble eyne,
And raise, our thoughts being humble and too vile,
The argument of our afflicted style.
Volpone‘s tunic is in fact VERY large, many pockets here and there hiding so many things one can never tell where this man will bring us. But in any case. *Grinning*. Source
By Volpone (aka MoR)
Hearts sometimes do skip a beat
[I am late with my post, MoR]
And in fact weird things occurring
And emerging disconcerting
It’ll be the matter elsewhere.
“Where, where, where, where”
[say the buds et li lettori enchanted]
Well, beloved friends, should you be there
Id est the 14th day after the previous writing …
“Inviting, exciting, so much reuniting”
[the buds in truth are restless, perturbed] *He pauses. Reflects, and scratches a bit his perrwige. Then takes a deep breath*
Ψ
Now, luck yet send us, and a little wit
Will serve, to make our Play hit,
According to the palates of the season
Here is rhyme, not empty of reason.
This you were bid to credit, from our Poet,
Whose true scope, if you would know it,
In all his Poems, still, hath been this measure,
To mix profit, with your pleasure.
Not as some (whose throats their envy failing)
Cry hoarsely: all he writes is railing!
L’Aretino, subverting the system in Renaissance Italy. Source
Flavia & Fulvia:“Basta!”
Old Man [a bit from Arezzo, like L’ Aretino, incidentally]: “Why on earth?”
Flavia [Fulvia does not know whether to leave or to stay, her boobs dancing, no matter what] :
“Because – Flavia’s smile is strange – you’ll never write that novel c’mon.
You are sadistic. Checking your exchanges it turns Andreas once wrote: “Ah, Man of Roma, you finally got Anglo-Saxons just need to be spanked.” Therefore, with a story that never starts … you keep them walking on thin ice ”
Old Man: “Or on a razor’s edge, my domina. Although, your words making me upset, I will leave this room right now.”
[Exit]
*Flavia and Fulvia pale. They’ve caught a glimpse of a paddle’s (or of a whip’s) handle flashing from MoR’s large tunic*
*The buds look unaffected. But Cyberqwil the Austrian is snickering & Pavlos the Greek merchant too, although his eyes are lost in the sees where he belongs*
Ψ
The Anglo-Saxons, ça va sans dire, control their emotions much better than we Latin do – *MoR is thinking* – also because (despite their virtues and staggering achievements) showing and accepting emotions is not their forte.
Which makes them even more addictive.
And yet, MoR’s probing mind – he always lived with women, incidentally – is sensing like glimmers in their eyes (the men and the women alike.)
No, no no, mamma mia!
If THAT is what they need (Andreas is always right, he’s German no kidding) my novel will make them blush.
Ψ
At the other end of Europe, on a rainy island, Erika Leonard aka E. L. James is paling too.
For reasons nobody can fathom.
So far.
Related stuff:
[ I’ll take my time, although I’ll start with:
i.Andreas Kluth aka Hannibal Man in a TED conference on ‘failure and success in life’ as impostors (see If, by R. Kipling)
MoR:“I think I’ve commented here twice. Well, ok. Good night Richardus.”
Richard: “Twice? That’s because you’re so much faster than me, relatively speaking.”
MoR: “I am slower, Richardus.”
MoR (*using too many smartphones in outdoor cafes, people screaming toasting): ” I am confused. Got moderated, probably. 1:20 am Rome’s time. Time to get back home. G’night.”
Richard: ” Keep a watch for predatory animals and itinerant males.”
Manius Papirius Lentulus Maxumus (soldier of Rome):
“I always do.”
An ancient Anglo-Saxon weapon, called an axe-hammer. Source
M. P.L.M: “An inspiring man, Richardus, stemming from the Ancient Britons, id est the Romano-British prior to the adventus Saxonum [the good ol’ days, *sighing*]. Hope R. won’t get upset about my reposting his article on The Magic Mountain. ”
Richardus: ” I hereby give retrospective consent, relatively speaking. Not so sure about the inspiring, unless you refer to my snoring.
I was just guessing about my Ancient Briton heritage. It must be there somewhere.”
MoR (*tapping on his phone, sun having risen tho his studio getting none*):
“Wull, snuuring can be inspuuring”
Said the Saxon with distraction
Rising his axe that is never lax
Tho THIS Brittonic is faster: he *thwacks*
…
Now the time, sodalis, has arrived,
An ancient heritage we ought to dive,
For u to reveal in full detail
Tonite, u sprite, [yes!] over ale.
[The songs below are from our school-days; sotto, alcune canzoni degli anni ’60]
ψ
Caro ****,
ti scrivo da un piccolo caffè da cui si intravede il Colosseo, tappando sullo smartphone. Qualche goccia d’acqua cade.
Outdoor cafe. Via dei Fori Imperiali, Colosseo
Pure tu se gajardo a more’ (che poi eri biondo), sennò te cassavo (come il mio povero papà ecc).
Bella scuola di vita, le difficoltà (sono ripetitivo).
ψ
Pensa che Benedetto Croce (Pescasseroli, 1866 – Napoli 1952) ….
[citato sempre da quella vecchia prof di filosofia coi senoni che se glieli fissavamo (specie tu, il più bello della scuola: quando ti interrogava era turbata, era evidente) lei ti / ci dava un bel voto … ]
… Croce, dicevo, della haute abruzzese, perse 17enne i genitori e la sorella sola che aveva, morti il 28 luglio 1883 nel terremoto di Casamicciola nell’isola d’Ischia dove i Croce si trovavano in vacanza … la casa, sdraiata dal terremoto, lasciò quest’adolescente con le ossa rotte che lo credevano morto anche lui, e invece era vivo, per miracolo.
Sciroccato, il 17enne fu portato a riprendersi in campagna in una villa vicino a Salerno, di proprietà della facoltosa famiglia ormai sterminata.
Non ricordo bene – quello che dico di Croce è frutto della mente vagante -, ma ho l’immagine di lui che se ne sta forse anni sdraiato su una panchina sotto gli alberi, preso dal dolore e dall’angoscia.
Poi andò a vivere in un bel palazzo forse a Roma, dallo zio Silvio Spaventa (che diffuse Hegel in Italia ecc.)
ψ
Passò il tempo.
Il dolore rimaneva ma la casa di Spaventa a Roma era un via vai di intellettuali. Croce però non stava forse ancora bene. Provò con l’università, giurisprudenza, dove apprese un po’ di marxismo da Labriola, ma credo fallì, non volle laurearsi.
Si stabilì pertanto a Napoli, ricco e solo, comprando la casa di G.B. Vico (altro filosofo sempre citato dalla prof mentre, una carezza a noi qua, una là, incedeva per l’aula (1967?) con le mani dietro infilate sotto il cappottone, per cui – le zinne protuberanti e le mani sollevate dietro – sembrava (e forse era, nell’intimo del suo cuore, una gallina, poveretta).
Finalmente Benedetto un bel giorno, toltisi i rospi dal cuore, cominciò a riparlare con la gente, frequentò, uscì, rientrò.
Napoli era vivace, meravigliosa. La casa di Vico si trovava forse nei quartieri spagnoli e mi piace immaginarla con il giardino interno – tipo casa romana che era volta dentro e non fuori perché i tempi antichi erano pericolosi: e forse pure al tempo del giovane i quartieri spagnoli erano tosti, come lo sono oggi, ma lui era un signore intoccabile.
E allora Benedetto si mise a scrivere scrivere pensare inviare ricevere lettere.
Forse i servitori a dì:
“Che cazzo scrive sto tonto”.
Beh, non sapevano che era diventato Benedetto Croce, il più olimpico e armonioso dei filosofi di qui, la cui prosa e pensiero danno pace, incantano (e istruiscono, potentemente).
Pensatore non accademico
Non accademico, con contatti sempre più estesi, il suo pensiero pian piano si irrobustì e per gradi divenne il più grande pensatore italiano della prima metà del 900, filosofo di influenza abbastanza mondiale (scrisse per es la voce ‘Estetica’ della Britannica (poi pubblicata in italiano come Aesthetica in nuce; inglesi, americani francesi lo amavano; gli italiani pure; lui ha sempre però preferito la Kultur tedesca, e quella italiana, alla culture francese: vedi qui). Per Croce vedi anche qui.
[En passant, il suo allievo Antonio Gramsci – sardo, legato anche alla Francia e mentor spirituale di chi scrive – fu la stessa cosa: intellettuale cioè mondiale massimo nostro – più di Croce – nella 2a metà del 900 e ben oltre.
Le sue opere scritte negli anni ’30 furono rese note dal finto amico Togliatti nell’immediato dopoguerra e fermentano ancora oggi 2014 e vanno oltre.
Gramsci paradossalmente è esploso dopo la caduta del muro, quando si è detto:
Il comunismo è morto, A. Gramsci sarà pure un comunista ma in realtà è un liberale, come Croce, ed è utilissimo per gli strumenti di antropologia che offre.
Capire la destra e la sinistra anglo-sassoni
Per esempio A.G. è stato utilizzato (per capire)
a. la destra reaganiana, i neocons e i Tea Parties (destra religiosa e protestante – ora cambia: si volge a tutti, è più secolare, meno bianca, sennò scompare).
Come sarà andata? Magari per combattere questo comunista sempre più noto (opere integralmente tradotte in innumerevoli lingue) i repubblicani USA hanno giocato con G come avrebbe potuto fare la Chiesa con Giordano Bruno facendo la machiavellica (invece l’ha fatto fuori).
Cioè la destra USA ha scoperto suo malgrado che l’anti-Cristo Gramsci gli era entrato nel sangue;
b. la destra thatcheriana per capire e combattere l’egemonia culturale della sinistra nei rispettivi paesi
c. USA e UK insieme per – gli USA – leccarsi le ferite del Vietnam, e (both) per imporre la deregulation come pratica e ideologia economica del liberismo anglo-sassone
“Diamo al diavolo quel che è del diavolo: this Gramsci is a genius!”…
… ha forse detto un predicatore del sud USA (area Bible belt). Non mi ricordo chi era (I will check all this article) ma dà un’idea di quello che è successo nelle culture wars.
I digress, my friend.
Apollineo e dionisiaco:
Quale è meglio?
Vediamo meglio come Croce si risollevò, alla luce della sapienza dei millenni.
Croceimmagino si sollevò l’anima scegliendo la via apollinea (Orfeo –>Pitagora—> Platone —>Hegel): liberarsi cioè dai travagli dell’anima attraverso la conoscenza-scienza (sofìa: wisdom: conoscenza sapienziale: intrisa di matematica & e musica: uno sballo mentale senza droga).
L’altra via, quella dionisiaca, decantata da Nietzsche (che ha rovinato i tedeschi e l’Europa con essi) id est purificare i travagli dell’anima attraverso vino e sesso, misticismo privo di ragione, droghe ecc.,densa di tragicità (legata probabilmente alla nascita della tragedia greca) ha anche il suo fascino e può avere i suoi vantaggi, non lo nego.
Ma alla lunga ti distrugge: i Romani, popolo saggio (non folle come i Greci) proibirono Bacco Dioniso – Senatus consultum de Bacchanalibus – che dilagò comunque con la vittoria romana su Cartagine: i giovani reclamavano il piacere, il lusso dei greci.
Dioniso-Bacco è il più rappresentato degli dei: mosaici statue dipinti graffiti ecc. Uno sballo mistico non solo col vino e sesso di gruppo ma includente cose che oggi fanno un poco ribrezzo ma soprattutto lasciano stupefatti se consideriamo che si trattava di riti sacri: gli antichi erano veramente diversi da noi: più rigidi – rigidissimi – e più aperti, allo stesso tempo.
E Croce e la Prof?
Tornando a B. Croce, forse anche lui, prima di scegliere la via della Filo-Sofia, si congiunse alla Prof allora giovanissima, che magari (senza magari) era una gran fresca pugliaccona.
A me sembrava brutta, dai.
Una donna veramente bella la vedi anche da anziana, come tua madre, donna sublime e forte. Forse la prof aveva la bellezza del somaro, che è meglio comunque di niente … 😉
Autocensura …
… i vasi raccoglitori delle donne, del resto, essendo 3: numero non per caso importante nella numerologia pitagorico platonica cristiana tomista dantesca hegeliana: il triangolo, la regola aurea … censura…, le terzine, le tre cantiche, la trinità cristiana pitagorica platonica, il trio Venere Urania – spirituale – Venere carnale o demotica e Amore.
Dunque … prima di purificarsi con σοφία … autocensura … la prof e poi Sofia, la prof e poi Sofia, infine solo Sofia, Venere spirituale di Plato e non più la Venere carnale.
O la Madonna, amore meraviglioso e sognante, solo spirituale: ha addirittura concepito vergine (vedi questa bella canzone dei bei tempi nostri, di Charles Aznavour).
O la donna angelicata del dolce Stil Novo di Dante: Beatrice. Gli occhi di Beatrice descritti centinaia di volte in modo diverso nella Commedia sono la cosa più bella e dolce di questo capolavoro.
Inoltre, molte divinità antiche erano vergini, Diana, Minerva ecc ecc (qui espandi), ma Giunone no, amava molto, pur essendo gelosa di Giove, e aveva tanti amori unendosi a umani non umani.
Dal suo seno superabbondante – bellezza giunonica, si dice ancora – è nata la via Lattea, immagine poeticissima.
Dalla via Lattea noi proveniamo e poi ritorneremo. Vedi il Sogno di Scipione di Cicero.
Poesia amore sesso negli antichi vanno insieme in modo sublime: mi piace da morire il mondo antico.
[se vai qui e qui esplori la knowledge base che sottende a tutta la e-mail]
ψ
Sto per smettere, ma prima …
Dobbiamo dedicarci all’apollineo (Ἀπόλλων), non al dionisiaco (Διόνυσος), il che implica un’etica, l’amore dedicato, non itinerante, per la nostra donna, l’amore disinteressato per i figli di sangue e non ecc., la conoscenza come gioco e passione visione scienza.
MA, siccome semel in anno licet in-savire [forse, oggi, bis, ter, quater in anno] un pizzico di dionisiaco ci può pure sta’, ma non più di tanto.
Helmet found in Sutton Hoo, Suffolk, England (6th cent. AD) One of the images that enrich our soap on Ancient Britannia: maniuslentulus.blogspot.com
Hi, a new Manius chapter has been written and posted. The English version links to the Italian original.
I hope all is well with you all.
Too late to say anything else. See you tomorrow.
MoR
ψ
Update. What I had to say I have posted over at the Manius Papirius Lentulus blog dialogue section. Here it is.
Latin Poets of the Golden Age
'A favourite poet' by the Victorian painter Alma Tadema (1888). Detail. Click to enlarge
Regarding this painting by Lawrence Alma-Tadema (1836–1912) Jenny had asked :
“I need to know which (favorite) poet the Roman women are reading in that painting. I just ordered Slavitt’s translation of Ovid’s Love Poems, Letters and Remedies. Looks great.”
MoR: “According to Rosemary J. Barrow (*L. Alma-Tadema*, Phaidon 2001) the poet is divine *Horace* – I add links for the sake of new readers, and basically am a pedantic teacher to the marrow -, who was from *Venusia*, South Italy, today’s Venosa in Mezzogiorno’s Lucania also called Basilicata.
[Incidentally, Rosaria’s personal account on his town, with Orazio’s statue in the main piazza, and the bay-leaves crown the best school students received, similar to the one Orazio’s statue wears, is so compelling]
The bronze wall panel behind the 2 Roman women in Tadema’s gorgeous painting has inscribed a few words by Horace. The title of my Manius soap (Misce stultitiam consiliis: Add Folly to Wisdom) is taken from Horace (4 Odes, xii. 28), and the ‘act’ the buddies in the plot perform in the taberna (read Chanting in an Ænglisc taberna) is one of Horace most perfect choral songs from the *Carmen Saeculare* (Song of the Ages!), probably his most perfect (and classical in the real-deal sense of the term) poem.
Horace (together with Vergil) is Rome’s bard and his poems were sacred to the Romans – no easy stuff, Horace; Lord Byron confessed he couldn’t understand Horatius Flaccus; but I believe every minute spent on Horace’s lines is worthwhile – although sacred, I don’t mean it in the sense of the Judeo-Christian ‘Revealed Writ’ of course. For that – revealed-by-god(s) words – you have to turn, outside the Jewish tradition, to the amazing Orphic Greek literature, for example, which I’m sipping here and there and find terribly inspiring.
Tibullus visiting his beloved Clelia. Click to watch it in full resolution
True Romans & Celts.
A different temperament?
Horace was the most loved ancient poet in 19th century England. His tone befitted the Victorians who kinda felt like the spirituals heirs of the Romans. He was also fun like most Roman writers (he for ex. preferred the liberty of loving slaves or unintelligent women, since Roman matrons were a headache to him, a tad too matriarchal perhaps, but basically I think he didn’t find a long-for-life love (Vergil did, probably, but I guess it was a man) and most of all Horace is the real classical thing more than Vergil in some way, while Tibullus and Catullus (and Vergil) were a bit more … romantic since – so darn interesting for the Manius’ blog – they were Italian Celts from North Italy, id est continental Celts, id est cousins to insular, British-Isles, Celts.
I absolutely adoreTibullus and his elegies, so beautiful & melancholic, and Clelia (Tibullus’ true love – see a painting below- : differently from Horace he was more or less monogamous: Clelia not by chance is Manius’s lost love too.
[Tadema painted Tibullus at Clelia’s, and Catullus at Lesbia’s – see above and below. How could he not 😉 ]
But Manius is not monogamous. Massimo, the positive hero, is.
Ovid is a sparkling choice Jenny. His verses are peculiar, naturally flowing, and possibly much more fun than all the poets I’ve mentioned.
Catullus at Lesbia's by Sir Laurence Alma Tadema (1836-1912). Click to enlarge
All the best Rome could give
ALL these poets are the best Rome could give and were much deeper than the coeval Greek literature, that was extremely refined but void and spineless. Catullus was another first class Italian Celtic poet, very romantic as well. He was in love with the sluttish Clodia he calls Lesbia.
True Romans from Rome were – and still are – not much romantic (in both the arts and common sense of the term); Manius, Massimo, Giorgio (and myself) are partly true Romans, partly North Italian Celtic, so they are a tad romantic too (I guess it takes also bad weather to be ‘romantic’ lol).
I mean, it all fits together perhaps – or so it seems to the Man of Roma (now Manius) 😉
“Now, Manius, I have a throwing dagger but what tells you how I will use it the only time I will be able to throw it because retrieving it once thrown is rather problematic.
Not being a Roman and being a merchant why would I hurt potential costumers?
Of course you are my friend and that could cause me some scruples and those guys do seem to be cutthroats so they could also be out to cut mine, they seem to be somewhat xenophobic.
All considered, I will side with you after all.”
MoR: ” Being a merchant why would I hurt potential costumers?
Right Paul, you got into the Pavlos character as I see it at least, probably because it’s part of you despite what you may think who knows.
Ulysses and the Sirens by John William Waterhouse (1849–1917). Detail. Via Wikimedia. Click for a bigger image and a higher resolution view of it
Ulysses, ie the Mediterranean Man
To me Pavols is a symbol par excellence of the Mediterranean Man ready to survive in every circumstance and to exchange knowledge goods symbols experiences with a wonderful good nature – given to him by Helios ok – but with an admirable life balance reached tho thru horrible toil it must be said:
the Med, one often forgets, is a ruthless stepmother and no fertile area as the Nordic European lands.
One reason why the Germans are so big compared to the Greco-Romans and successive Mediterranean people: their climate may be horrible but they got BEEFY in the course of the centuries from the beefy cattle that got (and still gets) BIG – as them – from the fat-and-so-green-from-rain darn grass)
« La rareté en Mediterranée – Fernand Braudel écrit – des vrais pâturage. Elle entraîne le petit nombre des bovin … pour l’homme du Nord le bétail de la Méditerranée semble déficient. La Méditerranée, II, pp. 290-291, Livre de Poche »
You add, Paul:
Now, Manius, I have a throwing dagger but what tells you how I will use it the only time I will be able to throw it because retrieving it once thrown is rather problematic.
Well well, I don’t think this to be a problem. I had added the following italic text (but had to prune this and other stuff, it was too verbose:
“Pavlos pulled out an inlaid-with-gold throwing dagger that he always carried with him (even in bed?). He had already shown his ability to use it with deadly precision..
If you have even a colossus before you – Ulysses had one-eyed Polyphemus – you can dispatch him in a second by throwing dagger hurled into the left or right eye (your choice).
But, true, both the Romans & their Greek copain then would all be slaughtered by the rest of the Angles. So yes, Pavols waits for the events to unfold.
Nikos Kazantzakis: Odyssey, a Sequel
Nikos Kazantzakis, a modern Greek genius. Click for attribution & additional infos
MoR: “A side note à propos de Ulysess. In the winter of 1938, at the age of 45, your father’s countryman Nikos Kazantzakis from Crete (1883 – 1957) published his “Odyssey” (a modern Sequel) in Athens. A huge tome of 835 pages in 24 books with 33,333 verses!
There’s a good English translation by a Greek American, Kimon Friar (Simon & Schuster, NY 1958).
The two worked together for a long time in order to achieve a good translation. I, being a book maniac, have it on my shelves but have sipped only here and there.
Killer, false prophet of evil, folks’ souls poisoner Osama Bin Laden
After getting home this afternoon I was captured by our NYC Jewish engineer’s lapidary (and subtle) post ‘Batting 500’.
So I started with a wink:
Wake up man! 😉
Even couldn’t-care-less Romans are having festa. 10 years of tenacity have given their magic, liberating fruit.
Everyone may be critical of one’s country’s no-matter-what but this time man I do feel happy.
And I know the souls of Ronald Reagan and of eternal (not only in my mind I think) Jimmy Stuart & John Wayne are having fiesta as well.
By the way these two last icons were mythical to us – as I guess you know from our blogs’ exchanges – my basically right-wing Tuscan friend I mean and myself.
Beloved Marion Mitchell Morrison (1907 – 1979,) better known as John Wayne. Via Wikipedia
When I grew up and realised who Jimmy and John really were (also,) I personally loved them even more (my friend ça va sans dire.)
We may have different views on a few things, my friend and I, but we both respect faith, big ideals, honesty.
Today Europeans are darn proud of America.
The killer, the folks’ souls poisoner lies deep in the ocean.
Personally I don’t care who the hell will judge him.
But if someone up there is watching humankind (by loving us especially) may He / She bless the wonderful American people.
ψ
AMERICAN EMBASSY IN ROME. Palazzo Margherita on Via Veneto in Rome was built from 1886 to 1890 by Gaetano Koch for prince Rodolfo Boncompagni Ludovisi. You might hear this story in Calcagni's memoirs (Wikipedia image and text). Cick to enlarge
Rome after Bin Laden’s death
Rome is no NYC nor Washington DC but …
… did here people flock somewhere as it happened at the World Trade Center or before the gates of the White House?
No idea but I mean, entire areas of the city were blocked when we approached the down town area on our way back from Tuscany this veryearly morning (3 hours drive.)
Ok, we yesterday had 1rst of May plus the beatification of Pope John Paul II in the eternal city. We knew what traffic anarchy was awaiting us so we delayed our return till this Monday morning.
After having learned the great news from our car radio and me having been dropped by Flavia not far from Rome’s American Embassy – I thought btw about my dear American and Italian IT ex students working there (read about one here, not because he’s not criticizing me lol) : many black cars were by now protecting this huge American-embassies’ hub (which testifies US-Italia friendship btw) – and on the way to my guitar guru while desperately entering bars in search of A-bomb espressos to keep myself awake and while using taxies, talking to these great people (YES, taxi drivers of any city in the world, they are great) …
…. I noticed the men-in-the-street reaction synthesized by a Roman laconic cab driver:
Man of Roma 