II : LIII In Ruins

...
THOMASINA: (To Septimus) How is a ruined child different from a ruined castle?
SEPTIMUS: On such question I defer to Mr. Noakes
NOAKES: (Out of his depth) A ruined castle is picturesque, certainly.
...

Arcadia, Act I, Scene i. Tom Stoppard.

Since as early as 18th century and evolved well into 1920s, picturesque style has been the star of European gardening. Landscape designers recreates nature from the early emulation of landscape painters such as Salvatore Rosa, Poussin and Claude Lorraine, decorating manors with gazebos and other allegorical artifacts, presenting gardens as though a highly manipulated stage scenery, to the later Romantic manifestation of Jean-Jacques Rousseau's influences, reflected by a wilder and more realistic approach. Early in the first act of Stoppard's Arcadia, Lady Croom, young Thomasina's mother, couldn't understand the appeal of having her garden look "ruined", while Mr. Noakes convinced her of the picturesque nature of what he's doing. In the mean time, the hostess was worried about her daughter being exposed to the notions of sex too early and questioned the tutor-student duo in scrutiny. The quite witty Thomasina took the literal meaning of "ruin" and redirected the question to Spetimus, who then aimed the arrow towards the architect.

The Omnipotent Magician Jane Brown

Chatto, pp.384, 20

• THIS article comments on the style of Capability Brown from Guardian, a design with details down to "the right amount of sheep tastefully arranged" that Lady Croom much liked. 
• In Arcadia Stoppard discussed the augmented layers of designs from the perspective of Hannah Jarvis, revealing that the evolution of styles is never from the scratches, but is always influenced by our predecessors.

The wordplay never fails to put smiles on our face, and also makes us think about the deliberate "ruined" state that was popular with English gardening in early 19th century, which was supposed to reflect a sense of transiency in life.       

 
The real problem is: nothing lasts forever. Ancient cities, states, the glories of human inventions and accomplishments, hundreds of years of cultures, all burned down to ashes when disasters fell. Zeus' thunder is a metaphor here but the Greeks' view of life and religion is metaphorical to begin with. Nothing survives the wheel of life, not the plays by Sophocles, not the fountains of Troy, not the philosophers in the school of Athens.

Septimus: We shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and what we let fall will be picked up by those behind. The procession is very long and life is very short. We die on the march. But there is nothing outside the march so nothing can be lost to it. The missing plays of Sophocles will turn up piece by piece, or be written again in another language. Ancient cures for diseases will reveal themselves once more. Mathematical discoveries glimpsed and lost to view will have their time again. You do not suppose, my lady, that if all of Archimedes had been hiding in the great library of Alexandria, we would be at a loss for a corkscrew?

Arcadia, Act I, Scene iii

 

Like Sisyphus' labour uphill, the process of human society might seem like pointless efforts that bound to end with doom. However, I believe each time Sisyphus pushed the rock uphill, his strategy evolves. There might not be happily ever after on the horizon, but our efforts are never for nothing, for ruins are the evidences of experience. Our life is merely a small segment of history, yet without each link, the chain would never be formed. Prometheus gave his children a sparkle of creation, with which we invent flashlights, so that we'll never be afraid of the oncoming storm.

Konrad Dippel, Who?

Before Percy and Mary and John and George eloped that fateful trip to Lake Geneva, (which you can read about in my post earlier this month) it is believed that Frankenstein, the science fiction bestseller of centuries to come, had already been brewing in Mary Shelly, nee Wollstonecraft's head. 

Johann Konrad Dippel

In Gary Dexter's post about Mary Shelly's original ideas of Frankenstein, a name Konrad Dippel was mentioned. Johann Konrad Dippel, German Pietist theologian, physician, alchemist, and, altogether an odd fella who got charged of tomb robbery. He was known for doing eccentric experiments with animal parts in his estate, which was named, wait for it, CASTLE FRANKENSTEIN! Percy and Mary Shelly took a trip across Europe before they officially became a couple, during which they took in a glimpse of a half ruined Castle Frankenstein, destroyed due to Dippel's failed attempts in creating elixir of life, an occupation and a lifelong pursuit picked up by most alchemists at the time.

Konrad Dippel (1673-1734), also known as Dippel Franckensteina (Dippel of Frankenstein), who in the early eighteenth century had conducted experiments on animal bones and had been expelled from Strasbourg University after an accusation of grave-robbing. Dippel was an alchemist, and had produced an Arcanum chymicum (a secret substance, possibly an 'elixir of life') which he offered to the Landgrave of Hesse in return for being restored to his family estates. As it happened, the Shelley party met three students from the University of Strasbourg around the date of the mooring near Gernsheim, and it is possible that the castle, and its legend, came up as a topic of conversation.

----from Gary Dexer's How Frankenstein Got Its Name

Now, we can almost make the statement that Victor Frankenstein is based on Johann Konrad Dippel, the alchemist who got on an air of mysteriousness and wickedness because a lack of understanding of science back in early 18th century. In 19th century when Mary Shelly wrote the story, the whole thing was still shocking to the public and was automatically conceived as a creation of fantasy. Indeed the idea of the creation of life dazzles us, and an early understanding of electricity and evolution made it possible for the story to come into being. Mary, for one, was surely fascinated by the life of Dippel. With her youthful curiosity and boundless imagination, we now have the wealth of an iconoclastic piece of literature.

Frankenstein Castle

Dexter's blog, which I found extremely interesting, is devoted to providing background information on how books got their names.

II : L - LII The Importance of Being On the Road – Harold, Kino, and Pi

Underneath the canopy of the witnesses of history, you can't help but think about the world in an entirely different longitude. A young lord's idle journey across the ocean and continents, similar versions of which has been performed by aspiring youth everywhere trying to find themselves in the unfamiliar wilderness of foreign countries, found him a new understanding of the world as an entity, a living, breathing organization rather than an instrument that we exploit and excavate.

It's a dangerous occupation going on the road, truly going on the road, that is. A little tour in gap years on the cruise line, a merry-on-round with the comfort of luxurious inns and fancy entourages, those don't count. The act of putting oneself out and exposed to the world calls for courage and a lot of endurance. Many of those individuals are timelessly and universally admired, for they fulfilled a buried dream of most of us: to become more in tune with the world around us, to see more, to expand our lives and jump out of the mundane case we live in every day.

It's also a privileged occupation going on the road. How fortunate it would be to explore, whether you're put on the journey by choice or by chance. 

"There world is not beautiful," said Kino on her scooter, "therefor it is." I can't prove it, you just have to see it for yourself.

 

Harold, and Kino, and Pi. The three of them are of all different nationalities and beliefs, coming from idiosyncratic backgrounds and are put on the road by fate. Such is a new kind of monomyth: a hero's singular journey in pursuit of self-discovery. Harold saw mostly the ruins and skeletons of the past; his gear was a wealth of history, with which he discovered the similarities and conflicts between worlds, and understood the truth about what human destruction can do to civilizations.

Kino, on the other hand, was exiled from her hometown as a defiant. Determined to see the world instead of being confined in the reclusive village she grew up in, refusing to comply with traditions, she had to go on a path less trotted, hiding her identity. In the story, Kino only stays three days, two nights in each city she passes so that she wouldn't get attached. It's a giant sacrifice not having attachment in life. Harold, disillusioned with his previous situation and aspirations, made similar convictions. In comparison to Harold's relatively easy journey, with entourage and what not, Kino's journey involves with more solitude and calls for independent decisions, and of course, a lot of will power to keep going. 

"The world isn't beautiful, therefor it is. " This sums up what Kino found from her journey. What she found is the imperfection of the world: the evil side of human nature, the conflict-prone societies, the never-ending crimes and vices; yet there's also the angelic side of humanity. This turned out to be a philosophical enlightenment. The peculiar customs and strange encounters Kino had on the road, metaphorically indicates the different cultures in the world. There's no way we can understand them all, but we should still try to accept them. Like the different instruments in a symphony making different sounds individually. They would only create harmony when everyone involved realizes, and honour the diversity amongst themselves.

 

The third solitary hero we have here is Pi, the young Indian child who spent mouths alone in the ocean, battling with his fear and struggling to find ways to co-exist with Richard Parker the tiger.  The tiger is the primal force of destruction. Pi had to be constantly alert so that he doesn't get pull into despair. Harold's journey is more about the past, the natural history of human's interaction with nature; Kino is making an anthropological discovery along the road, going from one fantastical town to another, revealing the raw portraits of an ensemble of the ugly and the cruel. Pi is met with a different kind of challenge. He's making connection with the entire universe through his journey, the only purpose of which was actually to survive! 

 

Yann Martel's novel was more about the strength of spirituality than a real journey in which the hero experience different areas of the world. Although the physical dangers Pi encountered had been incredibly realistic, his journey is the most inward one amongst all three.

Harold, as the literary avatar of Lord Byron, believed in the Greek Muses, sought after the truth of history through poetry. Kino, deprived of her innocence by reality, believed her own will and chased after the freedom of carrying out her own destiny. Pi, prays in all languages believed in the diversity of religions – for him, God is more of a state of mind, an attitude rather than a physical being. The solitary journeys they lead bend time and dimension, connecting those three characters. It's a temping business going on the path of self-discovery. Dangerous, mentally draining and might still eventually leave you completely unfulfilled, yet, its siren song still attracts pilgrims everywhere.

It takes a lot of courage to go on, but the importance of being on the road makes the vices seem ridiculously trivial.

Percy and Mary and John and George Sitting in a Boat

Percy and Mary and John and George sat in their sail boat on Lake Geneva, their imagination floating, their fantasy racing; fast forward 200 years, we are still reading Vampyre and Frankenstein. Those people's collective creativity impregnated their Muses with a new species in the literary menagerie.
 
Villa Diodati had been a place filled with ghosts of literature even before Lord Byron's party spent the summer of 1816 there. Cologny, a small town near Lake Geneva, is surely a place haunted with imagination just by the sound of it.

Irish critic and poet Professor Edward Dowden wrote Life of Shelley, the book accounted for the poet's personal history, and incidentally included the story of the Cologny party. You could see a portion of his work at Gutenberg Project.

Polidori

Of course, a more credible source to look at to figure out what happened at Villa Diodati would be Doctor Polidori's Diary (see the complete text of the diary that archive.org so graciously provided). The good doctor didn't have the best time like the rest of the party because, being the "old man" of the group, he was somewhat isolated and became "that unlikable fella". Byron and Shelly, best buddies at the time, jokingly referred to the doctor as "Polly Dolly". Many a times, according to Byron's own memoir pieces, have the pair went on sailing, leaving Polidori behind.

The significant members of the party were: Lord Byron, the arrogant team leader, genius poet and adventurous traveler; Percy Shelly, the conscientious friend, aspiring writer, who's madly in love with Mary Wollstonecraft (who later became Mary Shelly) while unhappily married to Harriet Westbrook; Doctor John Polidori, physician (need I say more?); and Claire Clairmont, Mary 's cousin without whom the Shellys would probably never meet, and at the same time, Byron's adoring "fangirl" and later became the mother of his short-lived daughter Allegra Byron. 

"Let's write ghost stories, shall we?" Suggested Byron, confined in the villa thanks to the terrible weather of Scandinavian summer, the Lord and his companions had to figure out ways to pass the time.  On June 16th, the party started drafting. When you put a bunch of poets and a physician together, there's no doubt that you'll get some fantastical stories with striking imagination and realism simultaneously. Shelly's poetic Fragment of Ghost Story (see below):

A shovel of his ashes took
From the hearth's obscurest nook,
Muttering mysteries as she went.
Helen and Henry knew that Granny
Was as much afraid of Ghosts as any, 5
And so they followed hard--
But Helen clung to her brother's arm,
And her own spasm made her shake.

Percy B. Shelley

There must have been more to it than a small portion of Percy B. Shelley's spill of wondering (find out more about the poet at the poet.org profile page of Shelley). When you're sitting in an old villa, near the lake, wind blowing outside of the window, it's not difficult to conjure spirits based on earlier experience.

 

The short-lived unfortunate poet was eventually out-shined by her second wife's fame. Mary's Frankenstein, which was a product of the ghost-story-writing-spree, marked the beginning of scientific enlightenment in 19th century. A young girl 19 years of age, created a story about humanity and society: a metaphor and cautionary tale of what we are capable of doing and the danger of playing God. Infinitely relevant it is, Frankenstein is still read by young and aged alike, from which everybody can extract something valuable. In 2011, Nick Dear and Danny Boyle's (Dir. ) production of Frankenstein at National Theatre in London featured Benedict Cumbercatch and Jonny Lee Miller, both of whom alternated as Victor Frankenstein and the creature. Interestingly, Miller had also, early on in 2003, played Byron in the BBC mini series written by Nick Dear. Read Ben Brently's NYTimes review of the production here.

June 18. — My leg much worse. Shelley and party here. Mrs. S called me her brother (younger). Began my ghost-story after tea. Twelve o'clock, really began to talk ghostly. L B re- peated some verses of Coleridge's Christabel, of the witch's breast ; when silence ensued, and Shelley, suddenly shrieking and putting his hands to his head, ran out of the room with a candle. Threw water in his face, and after gave him ether. He was looking at Mrs. S, and suddenly thought of a woman he had heard of who had eyes instead of nipples, which, taking hold of his mind, horrified him...etc. (from Polidori's Diary)

It was believed that John Polidori was the sole author of The Vampyre, yet according to his own diary, Byron's early fragments provided the initial outline.The story went on to inspire later tales including Nosferatu, the template of the ever-so-popular blood-sucking, lustful creatures of the night.

There was a big fall out between Byron, Shelley and Polidori and the physician even threatened to shoot Shelley. Scholars and publishers later on pulled their hairs out trying to determine the true authorship of the Vampyre tale. Of course, all we can say is that there must have been exanges of ideas and mutual inspirations amongst the party of writers and, well, dreamers. That summer in Switzerland, Lake Geneva witnessed the infancy of vampire stories and ghost tales that will go on to haunt  literary world for the centuries to come. The party in Cologney, Villa Diodati might had just been a footnote in the biographies of the late poets and novelists. The room that once housed the brilliant ideas of Milton, Byron and Mrs Shelley, etc, became forever a turning point in the history of literature, and a birthplace of an entirely unique genre.

Here's some important Gothic horror stories that shaped the development of said genre:

• Bram Stoker's Dracula, published in 1897. Indubitably the most influential vampire tale of all time.
• Nosferatu the Vampyre: A German film adaptation of Dracula. Nosferatu means phantom of the night.
• Mary Shelley's Frankenstein from Literature.org. One of my personal favourite piece of literature of immense importance beyond its genre. 
• E-book version of Polidori's Vampyre, believed to be inspired by Lord Byron. I thought it's quite believable.  

(It would be lovely if you could tell me what else to include in the list, for I'm not entirely familiar with the Gothic horror genre save for the few in its infancy.)

Project Adopt a Wiki – A Cyberspace Odyssey

As you might recall, I had a fairly tedious yet brief encounter with Wikipedia trying to stick my nose into the Childe Harold's Pilgrimage Wiki page (read my post from then).

On 25th of January, 2005, the initial page was created with a mere paragraph providing a ridiculously subjective summary of Lord Byron's narrative poem.

It is a poem about masculinity. It deals with the underdog and Military might. Byron uses gothic imagery to get subline nature, representing adventure. Climbing mountains for sport. Previous to this climbing mountains had been thought of as being associated with badness. Engaging and conquering the dark side of nature.

You can see the initial page or its comparison with the latest version. I have to say, it's quite an astonishing experience seeing those two versions side by side, for you can really tell: wow, there are people around the world who care about the same topic, yet holding completely different attitudes towards the subject. A result: these Wiki contributors, myself included, emphasize rather differently what to include in Childe Harold's profile page here.

Joseph Mallord William Turner's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage 1823

A somewhat slap-in-the-face reminder of why you shouldn't use Wikipedia as a credible source: it changes and gets updated so often that you couldn't catch up with it. I revisited the page that I lovingly cultivated, nurtured and trimmed barely a month ago, just to find that wiki vandal Madam A had ripped off Richard Westall's portrait of Ianthe, and wiki vandal Gentleman B had decided that cultural references had been a trivial part and deserves complete demolition.

Thanks to the ever so transparent cyberspace, all Wikipedia editing process is traceable and you can see the complete history of previous editions. In solidarity I clicked undo in those recent editions that offered no apparent reasons, thinking that Asterix in Belgium deserved some spotlights in Wiki-verse. 

At this point I've had an "almost-revelation". A Wikipedia page you created is like your baby. You have to develop it with care and love. Once you decided to abandon it, then forces from outside would start to step in and you would lose complete control over it. Of course you can also adopt the abandoned prodigal son of whatever subject of your interest, like I did with Childe Harold. I've made up my mind that I will now take up to be Harold in Wiki's foster parent, shielding it from all influences without my parental guidance.

And just like what anyone would tell their foster kid: don't let anyone tell you that you're unworthy of redemption. Look how far you've come since the initial shabby state you had been in!

II : XLV - XLIX Cleopatra and Ali Pasha in the Vales of Albania

Here on this site Mark Antony and Cleopatra's league succumbed to the force of Augustus, who enlarged the ancient temple of Apollo Actius to memorialize his victory, or better yet, the guy who turned Roman Republic into Roman Empire. He became the heir of what Julius Caesar conquered over Antony, whose relationship was actually closer, being the son of Caesar's cousin.

Cleopatra by Michelangelo

Now let's talk about Cleopatra, her full title being Cleopatra VII Thea Philopator, the last pharaoh of Ancient Egypt. She shows herself off as the reincarnation of Isis, although actually her family came from Greece, and started their reign over Egypt after the death of Alexander the Great. Unlike her stubborn "Greek to the bone" family, Cleopatra learned to speak Egyptian. In order to solidify her throne, the empress allied with Julius Caesar. They had a son, Caesarion. As far as I'm concerned, this had been quite a political marriage and was done to increase the power on each side.

After the assassination of Caesar, Cleopatra aligned with Mark Antony quite naturally for he was supposed to rise to the shrine as the legal heir. Unfortunately Octavianus aka Augustus proved to be better in battle than anyone else. Antony and Cleopatra ended up both committing suicide.

Augustus, after founding Roman Empire, led the country to a period of relative peace until his death at the age of 75. Impressive life span considering the time! There are two sets of his last words. "Behold, I found Rome of clay, and leave her to you of Marble."were the quotes on public documents, while the better known line was "Have I played the part well? Then applaud as I exit."

 

Groves of Illyria; Dales of Attica; Vales of Tempe; Those were once the favourite hangout places for gods and goddesses like Apollo and Athena. The best advantage of pagan religion is that you can find traces of gods and see the mystified places with your own eyes. It's highly credible when you see the paths Apollo had once take along the river that goes into the Aegean sea, or see the forest where Artemis used to hunt with her sisters.

In the mountains of Parnassus, the oracle of Delphi was pronounced. It was all too easy to believe those fantastical tales and magnificent stories as the glory of nature towering above as your journey carries on.

The Albanian Chief Harold were to meet, was indeed Ali Pasha, the man of Lion that Byron spent some time with in Albania. The infamously cruel and tyrannic ruler of Ottoman Albania was widely known as an alert leader which led Albania against Sultan reign. I'm sure Byron respected what Ali Pasha did and cheerfully accepted his warm welcome and overwhelming gifts and what now, but also disdained his cruelty.

"His Highness is a remorseless tyrant, guilty of the most horrible cruelties, very brave, so good a general that they call him the Mahometan Buonaparte ... but as barbarous as he is successful, roasting rebels, etc, etc.."

In a letter dated Nov. 18th, 1809, Byron included such words to his mother after greeting the notorious ruler. There is, still, some indication of admiration between the lines, as we remember the poet's personal hero Napoleon Bonaparte, became a legendary name Ali Pasha got crowned with.

In Travels In Albania and Other Provinces of Turkey in 1809 & 1810, John Cam Hobhouse also talked about the monks they met in the mountains. Here's a clip from the book:

The 20 something young hermit told the travelers about the life in the monastery, as the conscientious Hobhouse listened in astonishment. Byron would have had a different perspective, having mentioned several convents in the mountains, etc. in the previous canto. See my post about Convento Dos Capuchos in A Laughable Disgrace (Canto I: XXI-XXVI). 

The rude caloyer here, of course, was the same one who threw rocks to anyone who interferes with him and wouldn't talk to anyone all day long. He tends his herds and minds his own business, completely becomes one with nature. An eccentric being to most people, he is indeed living as freely as he wishes... the kind of delight he holds in his heart wouldn't be understood save for few.

II : XLII - XLIV The Lone Eagle and the Wolfpack

If the land of Greece is a giant, then the Pindus is the spine, standing between Greece and Albania.  There are animals in the wilderness of the mountains. The beautiful Aquila chrysaetos (golden eagle) spreads its wings, swoops down with its sharpened beak, snatching a gray wolf (Canis Lupus) by its neck. Crimes of the natural world keep in check the balance in the animal kingdom. So we forgive the killing, and tell the tales of the lonely hunter and the nomadic travellers. 

And so they became symbols, emblemed on seals and armors, reminding humanity our roots.

The golden eagles, such gorgeous and dangerous species, are wildly admired. They travel alone, and prey on equally capable rivals, like the witty foxes or the cunning wolves. They eye on the target, and never let go once they've set their goals. There are men and women throughout history, fictional or not, who would remind me as the golden eagle: Joyce, eccentric he might have been, was a man of grand ambitions. Inspired by Odysseus, the Irish poet wrote the incomparable Ulysses, hence his self exile got on some pigments of legendary as well. 

T'is most lonesome when you feel a discrepancy in communication. Harold obviously couldn't find understanding from either the Christian or the people on the unknown shore. The golden eagle, although suitably present, the symbol of Albania, is also a universal motif representing a sense of pride, and the loneliness brought upon to that pride. Byron himself was one of those "eagle people": he's learned much from the past, which made him understand how limit he is in making a difference; he walked the walk of a pilgrim in search of art in its purist form. He's lamented the falling of empires in previous lifetimes, and paid homage to the ancient bards who sang the songs of heros and tragedies.  

The wolfpacks are different. They move from one place to another, sweeping across the plains and down the mountains. They're powerless against the eagle but together, they are relentless creatures and have always been feared. They are the embodiment of human's primal desires and violent nature.

There are various misunderstandings with the wolves. They are said to be killers without conscience and yet, they've also been known as foster parents of abandoned children. There are magnificent epic films like Dance with Wolf showing the beauty of the canine and their intimacy with mother nature. There are also tales of a more mythical theme: the werewolves comes with the flight of the night. Their howls under the full moon are the sound of  terror.

Yet I've always pictured the wolfpack in a field of golden corn flowers, their speed swift like wind, going back to their rest. Sometimes they'd disturb the birds, who fly off across the stream, ruffling the quite surface of the water.

They stick to their tribes, with their sets of regulations. They fight amongst themselves although the same species. They rip apart each other's fur, break each other's limbs in combats, trying to secure a bit more of the territory.

Isn't that just like men?

People put up images of animals as their totems, their emblems, their symbols of beliefs. They also create stories of animals with either encouraging messages or serve as warnings, telling children to stay at home, and not to take risks. I wonder how much do the wolfpack remind people of themselves. The kills carry on.

There are always people who are like the golden eagle, flying above all, soaring up like Icarus to the sun. It's a cold and lonely place up there, although it seems that they're blazed in the glorious sunlight.

The possession of knowledge can make one quite lonely. To pull yourself apart from a pack, watching over with the understanding of how things are.

To be the golden eagle or to be a wolf in the pack, neither is easy; it's just a choice one makes.

What Would the Abandoned Woman Do?

Previously we were introduced to Calypso, the lonely sea nymph who fell in love with Odysseus and hoped that he would stay with her. She was tragically left behind. She bargained a little after receiving the final decree from Hermes, of course. She had to let go and couldn't do anything to revenge. And still she got called names, got blamed for seducing the hero.

Similarly, theres another woman who got abandoned cold-heartedly with even worse consequences. Queen of Carthage, Dido, took Aeneas under her care when the Trojan Prince was in a desolate state. She heard all of his stories and felt compassion towards him, which gradually turned into love, yet, what did she got in the end? The guy who would later start the ancient Rome civilization left the woman who pretty much offered her everything. She burnt everything that could remind her of Aeneas, and then killed herself with his sword. Virgil gave her a comparatively nice ending where her soul was brought to heaven by Iris, and when she met Aeneas in the underworld, she refused to forgive him.

Some say that Aeneas and Dido's story was to some extent inspired by the legend of Jason and Medea. In the story of Jason and the Argonauts, Medea was the one who possessed the mythical power, the one who essentially helped Jason retrieving the golden fleece hence ensuring his throne at Iolcus. She murdered her own brother and did everything one could possibly imagine, or one COULDN'T possibly imagine, to win Jason's heart, as the man's taking all measures to win his title. Euripides told us that later on Jason fell in love with Glauce, King Creon's daughter, and left Medea on the island of Crete. Medea was engulfed in the fire of jealousy and set off to take revenge. She killed the princess and the king as well as her own two children with Jason! Today Medea's name is usually associated with an evil woman, heartless and remorseless, who would even kill innocent babies. (And don't forget, they are her own babies!)

Of course people couldn't care less about Jason's wrongs. Look, he was definitely a hero and a man of integrity, but also a cheater and a jerk. Medea happened to be a resourceful and powerful woman who wouldn't swallow her humiliation and acted on her emotion. What she had done was unforgivable, but I'd say it's mostly Jason's own fault.

The clip you saw is from Medea, a modern dance show created by Greek avant garde stage director Dimitris Papaioannou. It's a mesmerizing and unique rendition of the ancient story. Papaioannou utilizes human bodies and their contortions to create incredible shapes. His composition and design of the stage is just out of the world. The director is also known for his excellent work for the 2004 Athens Olympics opening and closing ceremonies.    

Dimitris Papaioannou

In this short excerpt, you can see the marching of the Argonauts, although in modern military attire; the majestic forms of a powerful woman, although full of anger and sorrow; Medea's killing of her own children in desperation, etc. It's very hard to appreciate the whole scale of what's going on in this extraordinary production, but I highly suggest you see it in fullscreen, which slightly helps enhancing the visual experience. 

When You Can See the Dimension of Time

It is not uncommon that we read thousands of years of history in one stanza of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage; it's mind-blowing how the concept of time can expand and shrink just like that, and sometimes a few simple words can bring back memories of centuries past, and stories from hinges of history brought to tears, people of all time. Byron's vast knowledge of history made his poetry incomparably rich, with his words floating through time and space, his work pulls together pieces of the wildest imagination. 

Poetry brings to our attention the connection between events in time in a linear fashion. We read through them word by word, line by line and legend of extraordinary individuals create indescribable images in our minds. It's sort of an abstract concept at least, for we couldn't put a frame around it, but rather brew the kaleidoscopic vision in the caldron of our consciousness. 

Visual artists sometimes have the ability to bring us back on our feet, and with their brushes, create one after another aha moments and make us say: indeed this is how the imagination of all collides. 

Gustav Klimt, one of my favourite painters of all time, had been labeled as a symbolic painter. I'd rather think of it as his ability to make the parallel elements apparent between different characteristics in his paintings. The female figures being one of the prominent themes, Klimt's extravagant splashes of gold and generously spread decorative strokes earned his paintings the title "frank eroticism". Personally I don't quite agree with that, for the study of female bodies has been an unavoidable theme in all, maybe save few misfits in the art world, categories of western art. Artists admire perfect proportions and the smooth curves of a female figure, painting them over and over again regardless of their styles or methods. Klimt for one, had been quite versatile, painting traditional realistic figures with a twist in the composition as well as abstract shapes during his "golden phase": those art nouveau paintings drove art connoisseurs wild, and they put those shimmering pieces in living rooms, on furniture, scarves, jewelries, etc. However, Klimt's most admirable accomplishments lies in his symbolic compositions. Being a member of the distinguished Vienna Succession movement, he was, among the like minded fellow artists, aiming to create a style that entirely stands alone from previous influences. 

Allegory of Sculpture

Allegory of Sculpture, completed roughly in 1889, was one of Klimt's best known portraits. Within one canvas, you see layers of sculptures from different periods and cultures. The artist is doing the job of a curator as he was creating this piece, thus creating an early manifestation of augmented reality. It's a masterpiece of a skilled painting, but the most extraordinary character of this painting lies in the fact that there's an entirely different kind of dimension presented in front of us. 

From background to foreground, you can tell vaguely the sculpture in the style of ancient Greek, a traditional bust of Athena with distinguishable facial features; in front of that is another sculpture of Athena in her shiniest armour and glorious helmet, holding her sceptor (although unseen from the painting). Before that, a modern sculpture of a seated female figure, led by a beautiful water colour painting of a female with Egyptian accessories (and some of Klimt's favourite circular motifs in her hair).  The foreground figure is standing on a platform, holding a posture as though she's a sculpture. It's almost as if she's indeed a sculpture yet turning into life by the touch of the artist. It's happened before, if you're familiar with Pygmalion's story. 

There are chunks of empty spaces in the painting, something you wouldn't see in the more traditional pieces. Modern artists have been exploring what they can do within the limitation of a frame, and Klimt here, has indubitably created a sense of infinity through leaving blank the spaces in between the present and the past, the foreground and the background. One thing is certain: Allegory of Sculpture is not a realistic presentation of still life, but a visualized flow of thoughts, a poetry in the form of a picture. 

II : XXXVI - XLI Flowers of Love and War

Entering 19th Century, the power of what used to the Ottoman Empire was diminishing. Albania had been taken over since the end of 14th, and would be under Islamic/Turkish control for another 100 years until the blooming of Albanian nationalism. Beautiful country it is, Albania has been famous for her fearless warriors. Those are the brave ones who managed to keep their identity by escaping to Italy, Egypt, and other surrounding countries. 

State Emblem of Albania

It only makes sense that we are now heading towards Albania, the country of both Islamic and Christian background. On the other hand, being a land historically occupied by both the Greeks and the Turks, Albania has witnessed a past of conflict between the two distinct races.  

Mother nature is generous to Albania. The country has a wealth of extraordinary fossils and rare animal species, some of the most beautiful and unusual, for example, the golden eagle (the country's national symbol), and the Balkan Lynx. Besides biological resources, 1/3 of the land is covered by forestry, and that is indubitably a fortune.

Lynx

When Byron landed Albania, the country was still subordinated to Turkish control, Ali Pasha being its ruler at the time, who was extremely hospitable to his guests, sending them gifts frequently and hosting feasts each night. The poet and his entourage spent some grand time there. He also had a lot of time to emulate the journey he had had up to that point, getting ready to start penning Childe Harold's story.

Ali Pasha

There's this guy who managed to take Albania back from the Turks, well at least for a while. His name is George Kastrioti Skanderbeg (Iskander Bey, which means, literally, lord Alexander); usually people know him as simply Skanderbeg.  Think of him as someone without whom Albania wouldn't exist today. While working for the Ottoman Empire as a governor, Skanderbeg organized a rebellian military force against the Turks, bringing Christianity back to Albania. Ask anyone from that country to name you a national hero, they'll probably give you Skanderbeg, the men whose army won more than 20 battles against Ottoman force. Vivaldi wrote an opera based on his story; Byron was merely one of the many poets who wrote odes to Skanderbeg.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's Scanderbere revealed the characters of the hero quite vividly, as in:

Anon from the castle walls
The crescent banner falls,	150
And the crowd beholds instead,
Like a portent in the sky,
Iskander’s banner fly,
The Black Eagle with double head;
And a shout ascends on high,	155
For men’s souls are tired of the Turks,
And their wicked ways and works,
That have made of Ak-Hissar
A city of the plague;
And the loud, exultant cry	160
That echoes wide and far
Is: “Long live Scanderbeg!”
It was thus Iskander came
Once more unto his own;
And the tidings, like the flame	165
Of a conflagration blown
By the winds of summer, ran,
Till the land was in a blaze,
And the cities far and near,
Sayeth Ben Joshua Ben Meir,	170
In his Book of the Words of the Days,
“Were taken as a man
Would take the tip of his ear.”

During times of its struggle and sorrow, a nation calls for a hero. It takes a lot of courage to be a hero, for the individual must face not only the demanding task of leading the crowd, but also the burden of accusation from those who misunderstand. It's a risky business to be the only who rise up from the crowd. It's never easy to be a leader, for the individual must take up to be responsible for all the followers. The leader's decision can affect too many lives to be taken lightly. Today we write stories about superman and extraordinary individuals who possess distinguished powers; they are the modern time saviours of our society who fight the crimes and intruders and eventually ride off into the sunset, mostly go on without attachment to family. Joseph Campbell calls it monomyth because we all hope someone would rise up above all to be the one who leads., yet rarely does anyone actually take on the job themselves. We all have too much to lose.

War and Love usually come in pair. It's no wonder: just look at the most celebrated and scandalous love affair of all time, the one between Ares and Aphrodite. The goddess of love is unsatisfied with her insufferably dull marriage with the crippled god of fire Hephaestus, so she started seeing the god of war, secret rendezvous and what not. Logical or not, the point is, from the soil that the flowers of war grow, blossoms love as well.

Sappho, Greek lyric poet, or better still, the girl who inspired generations to come; or BETTER STILL, the woman called "the tenth muse" by Plato. Most of her life that we know of are just fragments and traces we estimate from her surviving poetry pieces. I was first introduced to her work by Aaron Poochigian's translation of Stung with Love: Poems and Fragments by Sappho.

Sappho and Alcaeus by Lawrence Alma-Tadema

The kind of love described in Sappho, is no doubt a bigger kind than the heterosexual one in a traditional sense, which ironically made Sappho become earliest example of homosexuality in female, the words sapphic and lesbian being derived from her name and birth place. Scholars suggested that Sappho's love is similar to what was described by Socrates: a universal love that has nothing to do with the attraction between sexes; an appreciation towards all things beautiful, which is the origin of love.

Lefkada, or Leucadia, is the place where Sappho committed suicide. It's also believed to be the original place of Ithaca in Odyssey. According to legends, this island in the middle of Ionian sea is dear to Aphrodite. At the spot from which Sappho fleet to meet her fate, the poet recounted the battles that costed lives and honour. 

Battle of Actium opened the struggle between Octavian and Anthony. Historians lead us to believe in Cleopatra's role in this war as a woman more than her role as a Pharaoh because the affair between her and Mark Anthony somewhat caused the final war of Roman Republic, after which the Egyptians enjoyed a long period (207 years) of Pax Romana.   

Battle of Lepanto, mourned by the Ottoman Empire and cheered by the Christians. Although the victory on the Christian side wasn't an apparent turning point for the course of history, it raised morale and, looking back it from a larger scale, it had been the battle that turned the course around. The Christian navy captured experienced Turkish sailor with superior naval skills and knowledges. They had losses afterwards, but Lepanto was an invisible beginning to the downfall of the Ottoman Empire.

After the Battle of Trafalgar

Battle of Trafalgar, had been more recent to the poet than anything else. England, France and Spain, all out with their vast league of fleets, met at the cape of Trafalgar. This battle ended the French Naval's challenge to the Royal Navy of Britain, although it'd still take another decade for the Napoleon war to cease. 

Those battles, varied in scales and origins as well as the historical backgrounds, share some underlying connections. Obviously they're all naval combats, which is how Leucadia Cape reminded Byron of them. All of them had been subtle turning point of the war of a larger scale. As you can see, the unpredictable nature of history usually make all the contemporary mad with fear and agression, and only 100 years from the present can we figure out a logic connection between events.

Of course, a shortcut would be to understand history, for everything you need to learn about now or the future, you can learn the pattern from the past. 

She sings about love, of the most passionate kind, living at a time of war and turbulence. She dies, or rather, falls from the cliff of time, plunging into the mote of history. In her poem she talks about being remembered and thought of by someone in the future, calling for her lover to stand on her side, to fight as her comrades in all the battles. Her words are the lyrical presentation of how love is stronger than war. It's ironic that throughout history, love appeared to be, many a time, the cause of wars, but that doesn't discredit its power to end the wars.

This particular one of Sappho's few surviving fragments is perfect for the occasion:

“Some say an army of horsemen,
some of footsoldiers, some of ships,
is the fairest thing on the black earth,
but I say it is what one loves.

It's very easy to make this clear
to everyone, for Helen,
by far surpassing mortals in beauty,
left the best of all husbands

and sailed to Troy,
mindful of neither her child
nor her dear parents, but
with one glimpse she was seduced by

Aphrodite. For easily bent...
and nimbly...[missing text]...
has reminded me now
of Anactoria who is not here;

I would much prefer to see the lovely
way she walks and the radiant glance of her face
than the war-chariots of the Lydians or
their footsoldiers in arms.” ― Sappho  

II : XXIX - XXXV Calypso!

After holding Odysseus for 7 years on her island, Calypso was visited by Hermes who ordered her to release the man she had been in love with. Of course, after all that, she was the one accused of being seductive and puling the hero back from his ultimate task. Our hero turned down her offer of immortality, built a raft and left the nymph who took care of him when he was at rock bottom without a drop of hope. Indeed, indeed, we eventually cheer for the reunion of Odysseus and the virtuous Penelope. We sing songs about the King's wisdom and the faithful queen as well as the courageous prince who managed to make out his father in the beggar's clothing... Epics are usually written in favour of the hero, whose purpose is so important that everything along the way that becomes sort of an obstacle would be labeled "evil". I've always been sympathetic towards Calypso. She's like a female CEO that runs the whole island with nothing much exciting going on in her never-ending immortal life, and, forget not, without a companion. Then comes Odysseus, a hero of some sort, a mortal human yes, but look, she has the ability to convert him if they can reach consensus. 

Odysseus and Calypso by Jan Brueghel the Elder. circa 1616

We know what happened in the end. Calypso's name became the synonym of a deceitful and seductive lover. Byron here, is comparing his beautiful "Florence" to the nymph, being self-pitiful about the love he never got. For someone like Byron who's so used to women throwing themselves to him, what he experienced with "Florence" was rare. 

Florence, is the poetical alias for Mrs. Spencer Smith.  In 1830, John Galt penned the memoir: The Life of Lord Byron, reserving one part of chapter 9 for the special incidents in Malta. Our adventurous heroine, was no other than Mrs. Spencer Smith. Her life, almost as equally scandalous and eventful as Byron's, had been indubitably some best topic in town. She'd been arrested by order of Napoleon, had a "romantic escape" with Marquis de Salvo and had wondrous expeditions with said gentleman, as noted in Napoleon's memoir by Laure Junot Abrantes.

It's only understandable that Byron would become affectionate over Mrs. Spencer Smith, although their relationship ended up platonic. It's decided: the lady won this chess game between the pair, beguiling Byron's yellow diamond ring for a keepsake without offering anything in return. Byron, on the other hand, wrote plenty of lines in memory of this chapter of his life.

You can read one example below (with editorial notes by Prothero Coleridge):

I'm not entirely certain if it's proper comparing Mrs. Smith to Calypso. Understandably there's the exaggeration from a Romantic poet. To me, Mrs. Smith was an independent woman in the early 19th century, who possessed unimaginable courage and character. It's rare for a woman to be like that at the time, a pretty risky business too. Byron was undoubtedly bitter that their relationship didn't advance, but his words also revealed much admiration and respect. After all, who doesn't prefer a worthy opponent and enjoy an exciting game to something dull and monotonous?

Diane, Hecate, now Calypso, all of whom possessing indescribable power over nature and men alike. All these goddesses or immortal beings have been appearing in this section of canto ii. There's never a shortage of female characters in Byron's life. They bewildered him since his childhood: his emotionally unstable mother, his childhood crush who ended up pursuing a more reliable marriage... at this point of his life he hasn't encountered the crazier bunch who are yet to occupy his emotional realm, including Caro Lamb, and the revengeful princess of parallelogram, his future wife Annabella Milbanke. At this point of his life, those magnificent women had been simply casting traps with their elegant gestures and soft voices, in which he called himself wasting his youth indulging.

This "lamenting" part of the poem also reminded me of Shakespeare's "Sigh No More" (from Much Ado About Nothing), where the deceitful characters had been men. A reverse relationship here, but equally entertaining. Romance had been, and will always be confusing for both men and women. Words of self-pity and comfort with sarcastic accusations remain to be some of the most interesting elements in literary world:

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more.
Men were deceivers ever,
One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey nonny, nonny. 

Sigh no more ditties, sing no more
Of dumps so dull and heavy.
The fraud of men was ever so
Since summer first was leafy.
Then sigh not so, but let them go,
And be you blithe and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into hey, nonny, nonny.

Unlike Odysseus on Calypso's island, Byron didn't spend too much time in Malta. Of course, the hero from Ithaca would be inspiring to him at least for the determination and loyalty. Byron once wrote that watching over the ocean from the cliff made him homesick. His childhood in Scotland brought him an accent he was always ready to get rid of, as well as many a sweet memory of the carefree years. In previous stanzas the poet has already expressed the desire to start over, lamenting over the cruel and never-pausing flow of time; and here, regretting the years wasted on his "personal Calypso's island", he's telling a cautionary tale to warn his fictional self.

Of course, we must not forget Byron's tendency to exaggerate: his emotional rollercoaster brings him instantly cheery and then suddenly gloomy, mostly because of unfulfilled or overwhelming love. For him it is an addiction that eventually brings more disappointments than joy. Passion established him and made him an everlasting name, yet at the same time, bound to destroy him.