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Antonio Gallo's Blog: MEDIUM, page 135
April 26, 2017
"Con i Frati della Corda in Terra Santa"
“Chi scrive un diario deve necessariamente aprire il cuore e la mente”, così ha scritto l’autore di questo libro nella dedica a me indirizzata. Un libro che ritengo di non facile lettura, per chi non conosce l’autore. “Lettura” intesa come “comprensione” del percorso umano che ognuno di noi nella vita è destinato a fare. E’ pur sempre vero che ogni uomo è un libro ed ogni libro è un uomo. Se si scrive un diario e lo si tiene per sè, non ci sono problemi. I problemi nascono se si decide di farlo diventare un libro e diffonderlo.
Questo “diario di un pellegrinaggio”, che l’autore ha fatto diversi anni orsono in Terra Santa, è un’occasione per lui di “aprirsi”, sia con il cuore che con la mente. Non solo con se stesso, ma soprattutto aprirsi con gli altri. Operazione sempre ad alto rischio, quando la propria mente e il proprio cuore sono in tumulto. C’è una poesia di un poeta che mi aiuta a scrivere questa nota che non vuole essere una recensione, ma solamente la stesura di alcuni pensieri non so quanto corretti. Ma di sicuro, sono sinceri. Leggerete la poesia di questo poeta russo alla fine perchè, contrariamente a quanto Fëdor Tjutčev (1803-1873) consiglia, cioè di stare attenti a non aprire il proprio cuore e la propria mente, Mario Manzo ha fatto proprio l’operazione opposta. Ed aveva le sue buone ragioni per farlo. Ma andiamo per ordine.
Ogni essere umano porta con sè idee, sogni e sentimenti che sorgono, fermentano e tramontano in ogni istante. Li coltiviamo, portandoli con noi, li difendiamo, li abbandoniamo, tradendoli spesso, mettendoli in discussione e confrontandoli con quelli degli altri. Pretendiamo di averli capiti, soltanto perchè sono nati nella nostra mente e nel nostro cuore. Diamo per scontato che sono quelli giusti, i migliori. Ci aspettiamo, se non pretendiamo addirittura, che gli altri li capiscano e li facciano propri. Speriamo, invano, di essere accettatii, senza accorgerci, come spesso accade, che nel momento in cui li esterniamo, siamo noi i primi a tradirli.
Non ci rendiamo conto che possono essere menzogna per gli altri. Forse sarebbe meglio tenerli chiusi dentro di noi. Essi appartengono a quel mondo che è tutto nostro, nel quale mai nessuno potrà entrare. Non perchè non lo vogliamo, anzi tu lo vorresti, lasceresti entrare chiunque e tutti: amici e nemici, parenti e sconosciuti, perchè credi che tutti siamo figli di un solo Padre, sotto un unico Cielo. Li accoglieresti volentieri nel tuo magico mondo fatto di semplici e lievi pensieri, che tu difendi gelosamente dal frastuono esteriore di un mondo che disperde i suoi raggi piuttosto che distribuirli nella maniera migliore.
L’autore di questo libro, nonostante quanto ho scritto finora, ha deciso invece di dire tutto, di aprire il suo cuore e la sua mente, convinto, come dice nella sua introduzione al libro, che “la vita si sa è un banco di prova, nulla ci appartiene”. L’occasione per intraprendere questo viaggio gliela offre il pellegrinaggio che lui fece quasi venti anni orsono in Terra Santa, insieme ai “Frati della Corda”, alcuni padri francescani che, come si sa, sono i custodi dei luoghi nei quali il Figlio di Dio compì i suoi giorni. Un viaggio che attraversò il Libano, la Siria, la Giordania e la Galilea e poi si concluse a Betlemme e Gerusalemme. L’autore rilegge gli appunti scritti a quel tempo, li riprende poi per registrare le ragioni spirituali di un cammino di fede imprevisto nella mente e nel pensiero. Egli scrive:
“Da quando è sorta in me la sana convinzione di poter mettere per iscritto le ragioni spirituali di un cammino di fede, mai e poi mai mi era balenato nella mente il pensiero che un giorno sarei potuto ritornare in Terra Santa per ricalcare le Orme del Signore nostro Gesù Cristo e della sua Beatissima Madre. Ed invece la Provvidenza, contrariamente alle mie superficiali convinzioni o fragilità di “uomo di poca fede”, a distanza di dieci anni ha provveduto differentemente. Sull’esperienza di quanto avevo vissuto nel 1999, l’essere di nuovo pellegrino in Terra Santa non poteva e non doveva significare una semplice partecipazione emotiva ad un evento dal quale, per una continua tensione dello spirito, non puoi uscire senza sacrificare qualcosa.”Ha inizio così per Mario un secondo pellegrinaggio interiore attraverso le carte, la memoria, gli appunti, i ricordi, il travaglio che solamente chi cerca la verità, chi cerca se stesso e in ultima analisi cerca Dio, può comprendere. Un “rischio”, il grosso “rischio”, come scrisse Giuseppe Prezzolini in un suo libro intitolato appunto “Dio è un rischio” pubblicato mezzo secolo fa. Anche Prezzolini fece in un certo modo lo stesso tipo di percorso. Alla pubblicazione del suo libro che porta questo titolo, fece seguito un altro a seguito degli incontri che lo scrittore ebbe poi con il Cardinale G. B. Montini, quando era divenuto Papa Paolo VI. La ricerca aveva una sola sintesi nella parola chiave: la Fede.
La fede non la si può insegnare. C’è o non c’è. E’ dentro di noi come parte del nostro destino, forse addirittura iscritta nel nostro DNA, dove la nostra storia futura è segnata in maniera fisiologica. Mario, nel voler rifare quel suo viaggio in Terra Santa, questa volta tra le carte dei ricordi e le nebbie della memoria, ha voluto stabilire per se stesso e per la sua esistenza il confine che intercorre tra mondo razionale e mondo della fede. Il primo gli offriva una concatenazione logica poco soddisfacente. Il secondo, quello della Fede, una “presenza” reale che aveva sentito, avvertito, durante la visita del 1999.
Soltanto a distanza di tempo, con la riflessione, la ricerca e anche con l’aiuto dei “frati della corda” era riuscito a trovare. Doveva trovare soltanto il modo di mettere ordine nel caos delle parole degli appunti del suo diario e il tormento dei sentimenti della sua mente e del suo spirito. Il grosso “rischio” di rendersi conto che al di là di ogni viaggio, luogo ed esplorazione, Dio non è in nessun luogo, nemmeno in quei luoghi come quelli della Terra Santa che lui aveva tanto desiderato di visitare. Era soltanto in se stesso. Un Dio impossibile nella logica umana, ma possibile nella preghiera.
Di qui nasce , si comprende e si giustifica il suo impegno di scrittura, di “rischiare” una esperienza creativa imprevista ed imprevedibile, difficile forse da comprendere per molti, ma “ragionevolissima” per lui. Aveva bisogno di aprire il suo cuore e la sua mente, prima a se stesso e poi agli altri. Era lo scotto, il “rischio” da pagare. Lo ha fatto senza curarsi di quanto aveva scritto il poeta russo nella sua poesia che leggerete qui di seguito. Mario Manzo non ha avuto timore di aprirsi a se stesso e poi agli altri in nome della Fede. Il suo secondo appuntamento con i Luoghi Santi gli è servito per “verificare, rafforzare e cementificare i fondamenti in cui crede e professa nella pienezza della Fede, la sola che introduce nell’amore di Dio Padre e che fa gustare nell’intimo il fascino della reale presenza di Cristo”.
Ci si potrebbe chiedere cos’è che spinge un uomo maturo, con famiglia e con i tanti problemi da affrontare e risolvere quotidianamente a fare un’operazione del genere. La risposta ce la dà lo stesso Mario quando scrive:
“Spero che questo rapido “excursus” a ritroso nel tempo possa portare conforto a chi legge, ma, soprattutto , in un contesto sociale che non ha più legami con il sacro, che sia di augurio e di sostegno ai giovani affinchè, riscoprendo le radici del proprio essere cristiani mediante la risurrezione di Gesù Cristo dai morti, i loro occhi si aprano definitivamente a quella speranza viva, per un’eredità che non si corrompe, non si macchia e non marcisce (1Pt 1,3-4)”.
Silentium
Taci, nasconditi ed occultai propri sogni e sentimenti;che nel profondo dell’anima tuasorgano e volgano a tramontosilenti, come nella nottegli astri; contemplali tu e taci.Può palesarsi il cuore mai?Un altro potrà mai capirti?Intenderà di che tu vivi?Pensiero espresso è già menzogna.Torba diviene la sommossaFonte: tu ad essa bevi e taci.Sappi in te stesso vivere soltanto.Dentro te celi tutto un mondod’arcani, magici pensieri,quali il fragore esterno introna,quali il diurno raggio sperde:ascolta il loro canto e taci!
Fëdor Tjutčev (1803-1873) (Tr. Tommaso Landolfi)
April 22, 2017
Review: John Ruskin: The Later Years
John Ruskin: The Later Years by Tim HiltonMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
This morning, John Ruskin (1819-1900) English author and art critic, went into his garden very early ....
He was born in London. His "Modern Painters" in 5 volumes was issued over a period of many years. He helped to establish the Pre-Raphealites. Other notable works include "The Seven Lamps of Architecture", "The Stones of Venice" and "Praeterita". "Unto His Last" develops his views on social problems, and he tried to use his wealth for education. Ruskin College at Oxford is named after him.
"I went into my garden at half-past six on the morning of April 21, 1870, to think over the final order of these examples for you. The air was perfectly calm, the sunlight pure, and falling on the grass through thickets of the standard peach (which had bloomed that year perfectly), and of plum and pear trees, in their first showers of fresh silver, looking more like much-broken and far-tossed spray of fountains than trees; and just at the end of my hawthorn walk, one happy nightingale was singing as much as he could in every moment.
Meantime, in the still air, the roar of the railroads from Clapham Junction, New Cross, and the Crystal Palace (I am between the three), sounded constantly and heavily, like the surf of a strong sea three or four miles distant; and the whistles of the trains passing nearer mixed with the nightingale’s notes. That I could hear her at all, or see the blossoms, or the grass, in the best time of spring, depended on my having been long able to spend a large sum annually in self-indulgence, and in keeping my fellow creatures out of my way.
Of those who were causing all that murmur, like the sea, round me, and of the myriads imprisoned by the English Minotaur of lust for wealth, and condemned to live, if it is to be called life, in the labyrinth of black walls, and loathsome passages between them, which now fills the valley of the Thames, and is called London, no tone could hear, that day, any happy bird sing, or look upon any quiet space of the pure grass that is good for seed ..."
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Review: Past Masters: The Best Of History Today
Past Masters: The Best Of History Today by Daniel SnowmanMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
In the beginning somebody asked: “Is it possible to know everything?”. Now, this question has split into two : “When did it become impossible to know everything? Is it true that nowadays it has become impossible to know all?”
When in April 1952, Alan Lodge and Peter Quennel, both founders of “History Today” the well-known monthly magazine, wrote the presentation article, they expected the answer from their readers. After more than fifty years, now that they have left this world, and I suppose do know everything, we are all left waiting for an answer.
To be honest, their question was deeper and larger. They asked: “When did it become impossible for an educated man to grasp, at least in its broader and more general outlines, the entire extent of European learning?”. They were acting not only as “educated men”, but also like Europeans. Today, this identity would be rather restricted and limited in a world that has become bigger, larger and deeper. I’d like to know from readers of this thread “Today in History” what their answers would be. Thanks to you all.
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April 21, 2017
The birth of Rome - La nascita di Roma
753 BC Rome was founded by Romulus and Remus today.
Believe it or not the epigram “Rome was not built in a day”, meaning that some things cannot be done at once, but require time and patience, was not coined by Romans. As a matter of fact it first appeared in England in John Heywood’s “A Dialogue Containing the Number in Effect of All the Proverbes in the English Tongue” (1546). It was also used in “Don Quixote” (1605) by Miguel de Cervantes. Nowadays modern Romans usually do as they like, and do not expect others do as they do.
The same story of Romulus and Remus is just a story which says that they founded on this day Rome. Read what a famous English historian wrote in his “Lays of Ancient Rome”, a collection of narrative poems, or lays: Thomas Babington Macaulay. Four of these recount heroic episodes from early Roman history with strong dramatic and tragic themes, giving the collection its name. The Lays were composed by Macaulay in his thirties, during his spare time while he was the "legal member" of the Governor-General of India's Supreme Council from 1834 to 1838.
The Roman ballads are preceded by brief introductions, discussing the legends from a scholarly perspective. Macaulay explains that his intention was to write poems resembling those that might have been sung in ancient times.The Lays were first published by Longman in 1842, at the beginning of the Victorian Era. They became immensely popular, and were a regular subject of recitation, then a common pastime. The Lays were standard reading in British public schools for more than a century. Here follows what he says about this legend:
“That what is called the history of the Kings and early Consuls of Rome is to a great extent fabulous, few scholars have, since the time of Beaufort, ventured to deny. It is certain that, more than three hundred and sixty years after the date ordinarily assigned for the foundation of the city, the public records were, with scarcely an exception, destroyed by the Gauls. It is certain that the oldest annals of the commonwealth were compiled more than a century and a half after this destruction of the records.
It is certain, therefore, that the great Latin writers of the Augustan age did not possess those materials, without which a trustworthy account of the infancy of the republic could not possibly be framed. Those writers own, indeed, that the chronicles to which they had access were filled with battles that were never fought, and Consuls that were never inaugurated; and we have abundant proof that, in these chronicles, events of the greatest importance, such as the issue of the war with Porsena and the issue of the war with Brennus, were grossly misrepresented.
Under these circumstances a wise man will look with great suspicion on the legend which has come down to us. He will perhaps be inclined to regard the princes who are said to have founded the civil and religious institutions of Rome, the sons of Mars, and the husband of Egeria, as mere mythological personages, of the same class with Perseus and Ixion. As he draws nearer to the confines of authentic history, he will become less and less hard of belief.
He will admit that the most important parts of the narrative have some foundation in truth. But he will distrust almost all the details, not only because they seldom rest on any solid evidence, but also because he will constantly detect in them, even when they are within the limits of physical possibility, that peculiar character, more easily understood than defined, which distinguishes the creations of the imagination from the realities of the world in which we live.
The early history of Rome is indeed far more poetical than anything else in Latin literature. The loves of the Vestal and the God of War, the cradle laid among the reeds of Tiber, the fig-tree, the she-wolf, the shepherd's cabin, the recognition, the fratricide, the rape of the Sabines, the death of Tarpeia, the fall of Hostus Hostilius, the struggle of Mettus Curtius through the marsh, the women rushing with torn raiment and dishevelled hair between their fathers and their husbands, the nightly meetings of Numa and the Nymph by the well in the sacred grove, the fight of the three Romans and the three Albans, the purchase of the Sibylline books, the crime of Tullia, the simulated madness of Brutus, the ambiguous reply of the Delphian oracle to the Tarquins, the wrongs of Lucretia, the heroic actions of Horatius Cocles, of Scaevola, and of Cloelia, the battle of Regillus won by the aid of Castor and Pollux, the defense of Cremera, the touching story of Coriolanus, the still more touching story of Virginia, the wild legend about the draining of the Alban lake, the combat between Valerius Corvus and the gigantic Gaul, are among the many instances which will at once suggest themselves to every reader.
In the narrative of Livy, who was a man of fine imagination, these stories retain much of their genuine character. Nor could even the tasteless Dionysius distort and mutilate them into mere prose. The poetry shines, in spite of him, through the dreary pedantry of his eleven books. It is discernible in the most tedious and in the most superficial modern works on the early times of Rome. It enlivens the dulness of the Universal History, and gives a charm to the most meagre abridgements of Goldsmith. Even in the age of Plutarch there were discerning men who rejected the popular account of the foundation of Rome, because that account appeared to them to have the air, not of a history, but of a romance or a drama …”
Lays of Ancient Rome Lays of Ancient Rome by Thomas Babington Macaulay
Believe it or not the epigram “Rome was not built in a day”, meaning that some things cannot be done at once, but require time and patience, was not coined by Romans. As a matter of fact it first appeared in England in John Heywood’s “A Dialogue Containing the Number in Effect of All the Proverbes in the English Tongue” (1546). It was also used in “Don Quixote” (1605) by Miguel de Cervantes. Nowadays modern Romans usually do as they like, and do not expect others do as they do.
The same story of Romulus and Remus is just a story which says that they founded on this day Rome. Read what a famous English historian wrote in his “Lays of Ancient Rome”, a collection of narrative poems, or lays: Thomas Babington Macaulay. Four of these recount heroic episodes from early Roman history with strong dramatic and tragic themes, giving the collection its name. The Lays were composed by Macaulay in his thirties, during his spare time while he was the "legal member" of the Governor-General of India's Supreme Council from 1834 to 1838.
The Roman ballads are preceded by brief introductions, discussing the legends from a scholarly perspective. Macaulay explains that his intention was to write poems resembling those that might have been sung in ancient times.The Lays were first published by Longman in 1842, at the beginning of the Victorian Era. They became immensely popular, and were a regular subject of recitation, then a common pastime. The Lays were standard reading in British public schools for more than a century. Here follows what he says about this legend:
“That what is called the history of the Kings and early Consuls of Rome is to a great extent fabulous, few scholars have, since the time of Beaufort, ventured to deny. It is certain that, more than three hundred and sixty years after the date ordinarily assigned for the foundation of the city, the public records were, with scarcely an exception, destroyed by the Gauls. It is certain that the oldest annals of the commonwealth were compiled more than a century and a half after this destruction of the records.
It is certain, therefore, that the great Latin writers of the Augustan age did not possess those materials, without which a trustworthy account of the infancy of the republic could not possibly be framed. Those writers own, indeed, that the chronicles to which they had access were filled with battles that were never fought, and Consuls that were never inaugurated; and we have abundant proof that, in these chronicles, events of the greatest importance, such as the issue of the war with Porsena and the issue of the war with Brennus, were grossly misrepresented.
Under these circumstances a wise man will look with great suspicion on the legend which has come down to us. He will perhaps be inclined to regard the princes who are said to have founded the civil and religious institutions of Rome, the sons of Mars, and the husband of Egeria, as mere mythological personages, of the same class with Perseus and Ixion. As he draws nearer to the confines of authentic history, he will become less and less hard of belief.
He will admit that the most important parts of the narrative have some foundation in truth. But he will distrust almost all the details, not only because they seldom rest on any solid evidence, but also because he will constantly detect in them, even when they are within the limits of physical possibility, that peculiar character, more easily understood than defined, which distinguishes the creations of the imagination from the realities of the world in which we live.
The early history of Rome is indeed far more poetical than anything else in Latin literature. The loves of the Vestal and the God of War, the cradle laid among the reeds of Tiber, the fig-tree, the she-wolf, the shepherd's cabin, the recognition, the fratricide, the rape of the Sabines, the death of Tarpeia, the fall of Hostus Hostilius, the struggle of Mettus Curtius through the marsh, the women rushing with torn raiment and dishevelled hair between their fathers and their husbands, the nightly meetings of Numa and the Nymph by the well in the sacred grove, the fight of the three Romans and the three Albans, the purchase of the Sibylline books, the crime of Tullia, the simulated madness of Brutus, the ambiguous reply of the Delphian oracle to the Tarquins, the wrongs of Lucretia, the heroic actions of Horatius Cocles, of Scaevola, and of Cloelia, the battle of Regillus won by the aid of Castor and Pollux, the defense of Cremera, the touching story of Coriolanus, the still more touching story of Virginia, the wild legend about the draining of the Alban lake, the combat between Valerius Corvus and the gigantic Gaul, are among the many instances which will at once suggest themselves to every reader.
In the narrative of Livy, who was a man of fine imagination, these stories retain much of their genuine character. Nor could even the tasteless Dionysius distort and mutilate them into mere prose. The poetry shines, in spite of him, through the dreary pedantry of his eleven books. It is discernible in the most tedious and in the most superficial modern works on the early times of Rome. It enlivens the dulness of the Universal History, and gives a charm to the most meagre abridgements of Goldsmith. Even in the age of Plutarch there were discerning men who rejected the popular account of the foundation of Rome, because that account appeared to them to have the air, not of a history, but of a romance or a drama …”
Lays of Ancient Rome Lays of Ancient Rome by Thomas Babington Macaulay
Earth Day - Madre Terra
April 22 is Earth Day. It has been celebrated on different days by different groups internationally for almost fifty years. The United Nations officially celebrates it on the vernal equinox, which usually occurs about March 21. The first Earth Day, April 22, 1970, was initiated by Gaylord Nelson, who was a U.S. Senator from Wisconsin and is sometimes called the "father of Earth Day." Nelson's objective was to organize a nationwide public demonstration so large that it would get the attention of politicians and force issues of environmental protection into the legislative forefront. Earth Day has been celebrated every year since its beginning. In many parts of the world Earth Day is observed with marches, teach-ins, rallies, tree-plantings, community cleanups, and celebrations. This is Senator Gaylord Nelson’s actual speech:
“I congratulate you, who by your presence here today demonstrate your concern and commitment to an issue that is more than just a matter of survival. How we survive is the critical question.
Earth Day is dramatic evidence of a broad new national concern that cuts across generations and ideologies. It may be symbolic of a new communication between young and old about our values and priorities.
Take advantage of this broad new agreement. Don't drop out of it. Pull together a new national coalition whose objective is to put Gross National Quality on a par with Gross National Product.
Campaign nationwide to elect an "Ecology Congress" as the 92nd Congress--a Congress that will build bridges between our citizens and between man and nature's systems, instead of building more highways and dams and new weapons systems that escalate the arms race.
Earth Day can--and it must lend a new urgency and a new support to solving the problems that still threaten to tear the fabric of this society... the problems of race, of war, of poverty, of modern-day institutions.
Ecology is a big science, a big concept- -not a copout. It is concerned with the total eco-system not just with how we dispose of our tin cans, bottles and sewage.
Environment is all of America and its problems. It is rats in the ghetto. It is a hungry child in a land of affluence. It is housing that is not worthy of the name; neighborhoods not fit to inhabit.
Environment is a problem perpetuated by the expenditure of 17 billion $ a year on the Vietnam War, instead of on our decaying, crowded, congested, polluted urban areas that are inhumane traps for millions of people.
If our cities don't work, America won't work. And the battle to save them and end the divisiveness that still splits this country won't be won in Vietnam. Winning the environmental war is a whole lot tougher challenge by far than winning any other war in the history of Man.
It will take $20 to $25 billion more a year in Federal money than we are spending or asking for now. Our goal is not just an environment of clean air and water and scenic beauty.
The objective is an environment of decency, quality and mutual respect for all other human beings and all other living creatures.
Our goal is a new American ethic that sets new standards for progress, emphasizing human dignity and well-being rather than an endless parade of technology that produces more gadgets, more waste, more pollution.
Are we able to meet the challenge? Yes. We have the technology and the resources. Are we willing? That is the unanswered question.
Establishing quality on a par with quantity is going to require new national policies that quite frankly will interfere with what many have considered their right to use and abuse the air, the water, the land, just because that is what we have always done.”
Song Of Proserpine
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth,
Thou from whose immortal bosom
Gods and men and beasts have birth,
Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.
If with mists of evening dew
Thou dost nourish these young flowers
Till they grow in scent and hue
Fairest children of the Hours,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.
http://www.earthday.org/earthday/
“I congratulate you, who by your presence here today demonstrate your concern and commitment to an issue that is more than just a matter of survival. How we survive is the critical question.
Earth Day is dramatic evidence of a broad new national concern that cuts across generations and ideologies. It may be symbolic of a new communication between young and old about our values and priorities.
Take advantage of this broad new agreement. Don't drop out of it. Pull together a new national coalition whose objective is to put Gross National Quality on a par with Gross National Product.
Campaign nationwide to elect an "Ecology Congress" as the 92nd Congress--a Congress that will build bridges between our citizens and between man and nature's systems, instead of building more highways and dams and new weapons systems that escalate the arms race.
Earth Day can--and it must lend a new urgency and a new support to solving the problems that still threaten to tear the fabric of this society... the problems of race, of war, of poverty, of modern-day institutions.
Ecology is a big science, a big concept- -not a copout. It is concerned with the total eco-system not just with how we dispose of our tin cans, bottles and sewage.
Environment is all of America and its problems. It is rats in the ghetto. It is a hungry child in a land of affluence. It is housing that is not worthy of the name; neighborhoods not fit to inhabit.
Environment is a problem perpetuated by the expenditure of 17 billion $ a year on the Vietnam War, instead of on our decaying, crowded, congested, polluted urban areas that are inhumane traps for millions of people.
If our cities don't work, America won't work. And the battle to save them and end the divisiveness that still splits this country won't be won in Vietnam. Winning the environmental war is a whole lot tougher challenge by far than winning any other war in the history of Man.
It will take $20 to $25 billion more a year in Federal money than we are spending or asking for now. Our goal is not just an environment of clean air and water and scenic beauty.
The objective is an environment of decency, quality and mutual respect for all other human beings and all other living creatures.
Our goal is a new American ethic that sets new standards for progress, emphasizing human dignity and well-being rather than an endless parade of technology that produces more gadgets, more waste, more pollution.
Are we able to meet the challenge? Yes. We have the technology and the resources. Are we willing? That is the unanswered question.
Establishing quality on a par with quantity is going to require new national policies that quite frankly will interfere with what many have considered their right to use and abuse the air, the water, the land, just because that is what we have always done.”
Song Of Proserpine
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Sacred Goddess, Mother Earth,
Thou from whose immortal bosom
Gods and men and beasts have birth,
Leaf and blade, and bud and blossom,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.
If with mists of evening dew
Thou dost nourish these young flowers
Till they grow in scent and hue
Fairest children of the Hours,
Breathe thine influence most divine
On thine own child, Proserpine.
http://www.earthday.org/earthday/
April 20, 2017
Review: Adolf Hitler: A Life From Beginning to End
Adolf Hitler: A Life From Beginning to End by Hourly HistoryMy rating: 3 of 5 stars
Paraphrasing the Bard on today’s date, we might ask: “what’s in a name?” and “what’s in a date?” In terms of world history, it would be hard to compete with April 20 for the title of “Worst Day of the Year”. Pre-modern people believed in the alignment of the stars and planets being responsible for mankind's collective fate. For example, in Shakespeare's "King Lear," feeling that something is amiss, Gloucester says, "These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us." He wasn't talking about April 20, but he easily could have been. Same for T.S. Eliot when he called April "the cruelest month." On what might otherwise be a fine spring day, it certainly seems that way. Most infamously, today is the birthday of Adolf Hitler, who arrived into this world, much to its eventual chagrin, on April 20, 1889.
At 6:30 p.m. on the evening of April 20, 1889, he was born in the small Austrian village of Braunau Am Inn just across the border from German Bavaria. Adolf Hitler would one day lead a movement that placed supreme importance on a person's family tree even making it a matter of life and death. However, his own family tree was quite mixed up and would be a lifelong source of embarrassment and concern to him.
His father, Alois, was born in 1837. He was the illegitimate son of Maria Anna Schicklgruber and her unknown mate, which may have been someone from the neighborhood or a poor millworker named Johann Georg Hiedler. It is also remotely possible Adolf Hitler's grandfather was Jewish. Maria Schicklgruber was said to have been employed as a cook in the household of a wealthy Jewish family named Frankenberger. There is some speculation their 19-year-old son got her pregnant and regularly sent her money after the birth of Alois.
Adolf Hitler would never know for sure just who his grandfather was. He did know that when his father Alois was about five years old, Maria Schicklgruber married Johann Georg Hiedler. The marriage lasted five years until her death of natural causes, at which time Alois went to live on a small farm with his uncle.
At age thirteen, young Alois had enough of farm life and set out for the city of Vienna to make something of himself. He worked as a shoemaker's apprentice then later enlisted in the Austrian civil service, becoming a junior customs official. He worked hard as a civil servant and eventually became a supervisor.
By 1875 he achieved the rank of Senior Assistant Inspector, a big accomplishment for the former poor farm boy with little formal education. At this time an event occurred that would have big implications for the future. Alois had always used the last name of his mother, Schicklgruber, and thus was always called Alois Schicklgruber. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was illegitimate since it was common in rural Austria.
But after his success in the civil service, his proud uncle from the small farm convinced him to change his last name to match his own, Hiedler, and continue the family name. However, when it came time to write the name down in the record book it was spelled as Hitler. And so in 1876 at age 39, Alois Schicklgruber became Alois Hitler. This is important because it is hard to imagine tens of thousands of Germans shouting "Heil Schicklgruber!" instead of "Heil Hitler!"
In 1885, after numerous affairs and two other marriages ended, the widowed Alois Hitler, 48, married the pregnant Klara Pölzl, 24, the granddaughter of uncle Hiedler. Technically, because of the name change, she was his own niece and so he had to get special permission from the Catholic Church.
The children from his previous marriage, Alois Hitler, Jr., and Angela, attended the wedding and lived with them afterwards. Klara Pölzl eventually gave birth to two boys and a girl, all of whom died. On April 20, 1889, her fourth child, Adolf, was born healthy and was baptized a Roman Catholic. Hitler's father was now 52 years old.
Throughout his early days, young Adolf's mother feared losing him as well and lavished much care and affection on him. His father was busy working most of the time and also spent a lot of time on his main hobby, keeping bees. Baby Adolf had the nickname, Adi. When he was almost five, in 1893, his mother gave birth to a brother, Edmund. In 1896 came a sister, Paula. In May of 1895 at age six, young Adolf Hitler entered first grade in the public school in the village of Fischlham near Linz, Austria.
Source: (adapted) http://www.historyplace.com/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Damnati...
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Review: Lays of Ancient Rome
Lays of Ancient Rome by Thomas Babington MacaulayMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Believe it or not the epigram “Rome was not built in a day”, meaning that some things cannot be done at once, but require time and patience, was not coined by Romans. As a matter of fact it first appeared in England in John Heywood’s “A Dialogue Containing the Number in Effect of All the Proverbes in the English Tongue” (1546). It was also used in “Don Quixote” (1605) by Miguel de Cervantes. Nowadays modern Romans usually do as they like, and do not expect others do as they do.
The same story of Romulus and Remus is just a story which says that they founded on this day Rome. Read what a famous English historian wrote in his “Lays of Ancient Rome”, a collection of narrative poems, or lays: Thomas Babington Macaulay. Four of these recount heroic episodes from early Roman history with strong dramatic and tragic themes, giving the collection its name. The Lays were composed by Macaulay in his thirties, during his spare time while he was the "legal member" of the Governor-General of India's Supreme Council from 1834 to 1838.
The Roman ballads are preceded by brief introductions, discussing the legends from a scholarly perspective. Macaulay explains that his intention was to write poems resembling those that might have been sung in ancient times.The Lays were first published by Longman in 1842, at the beginning of the Victorian Era. They became immensely popular, and were a regular subject of recitation, then a common pastime. The Lays were standard reading in British public schools for more than a century. Here follows what he says about this legend:
“That what is called the history of the Kings and early Consuls of Rome is to a great extent fabulous, few scholars have, since the time of Beaufort, ventured to deny. It is certain that, more than three hundred and sixty years after the date ordinarily assigned for the foundation of the city, the public records were, with scarcely an exception, destroyed by the Gauls. It is certain that the oldest annals of the commonwealth were compiled more than a century and a half after this destruction of the records.
It is certain, therefore, that the great Latin writers of the Augustan age did not possess those materials, without which a trustworthy account of the infancy of the republic could not possibly be framed. Those writers own, indeed, that the chronicles to which they had access were filled with battles that were never fought, and Consuls that were never inaugurated; and we have abundant proof that, in these chronicles, events of the greatest importance, such as the issue of the war with Porsena and the issue of the war with Brennus, were grossly misrepresented.
Under these circumstances a wise man will look with great suspicion on the legend which has come down to us. He will perhaps be inclined to regard the princes who are said to have founded the civil and religious institutions of Rome, the sons of Mars, and the husband of Egeria, as mere mythological personages, of the same class with Perseus and Ixion. As he draws nearer to the confines of authentic history, he will become less and less hard of belief.
He will admit that the most important parts of the narrative have some foundation in truth. But he will distrust almost all the details, not only because they seldom rest on any solid evidence, but also because he will constantly detect in them, even when they are within the limits of physical possibility, that peculiar character, more easily understood than defined, which distinguishes the creations of the imagination from the realities of the world in which we live.
The early history of Rome is indeed far more poetical than anything else in Latin literature. The loves of the Vestal and the God of War, the cradle laid among the reeds of Tiber, the fig-tree, the she-wolf, the shepherd's cabin, the recognition, the fratricide, the rape of the Sabines, the death of Tarpeia, the fall of Hostus Hostilius, the struggle of Mettus Curtius through the marsh, the women rushing with torn raiment and dishevelled hair between their fathers and their husbands, the nightly meetings of Numa and the Nymph by the well in the sacred grove, the fight of the three Romans and the three Albans, the purchase of the Sibylline books, the crime of Tullia, the simulated madness of Brutus, the ambiguous reply of the Delphian oracle to the Tarquins, the wrongs of Lucretia, the heroic actions of Horatius Cocles, of Scaevola, and of Cloelia, the battle of Regillus won by the aid of Castor and Pollux, the defense of Cremera, the touching story of Coriolanus, the still more touching story of Virginia, the wild legend about the draining of the Alban lake, the combat between Valerius Corvus and the gigantic Gaul, are among the many instances which will at once suggest themselves to every reader.
In the narrative of Livy, who was a man of fine imagination, these stories retain much of their genuine character. Nor could even the tasteless Dionysius distort and mutilate them into mere prose. The poetry shines, in spite of him, through the dreary pedantry of his eleven books. It is discernible in the most tedious and in the most superficial modern works on the early times of Rome. It enlivens the dulness of the Universal History, and gives a charm to the most meagre abridgements of Goldsmith. Even in the age of Plutarch there were discerning men who rejected the popular account of the foundation of Rome, because that account appeared to them to have the air, not of a history, but of a romance or a drama …”
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Hitler's birthday - Il compleanno di Hitler
Paraphrasing the Bard on today’s date, we might ask: “what’s in a name?” and “what’s in a date?” In terms of world history, it would be hard to compete with April 20 for the title of “Worst Day of the Year”. Pre-modern people believed in the alignment of the stars and planets being responsible for mankind's collective fate. For example, in Shakespeare's "King Lear," feeling that something is amiss, Gloucester says, "These late eclipses in the sun and moon portend no good to us." He wasn't talking about April 20, but he easily could have been. Same for T.S. Eliot when he called April "the cruelest month." On what might otherwise be a fine spring day, it certainly seems that way. Most infamously, today is the birthday of Adolf Hitler, who arrived into this world, much to its eventual chagrin, on April 20, 1889.
At 6:30 p.m. on the evening of April 20, 1889, he was born in the small Austrian village of Braunau Am Inn just across the border from German Bavaria. Adolf Hitler would one day lead a movement that placed supreme importance on a person's family tree even making it a matter of life and death. However, his own family tree was quite mixed up and would be a lifelong source of embarrassment and concern to him.
His father, Alois, was born in 1837. He was the illegitimate son of Maria Anna Schicklgruber and her unknown mate, which may have been someone from the neighborhood or a poor millworker named Johann Georg Hiedler. It is also remotely possible Adolf Hitler's grandfather was Jewish. Maria Schicklgruber was said to have been employed as a cook in the household of a wealthy Jewish family named Frankenberger. There is some speculation their 19-year-old son got her pregnant and regularly sent her money after the birth of Alois.
Adolf Hitler would never know for sure just who his grandfather was. He did know that when his father Alois was about five years old, Maria Schicklgruber married Johann Georg Hiedler. The marriage lasted five years until her death of natural causes, at which time Alois went to live on a small farm with his uncle.
At age thirteen, young Alois had enough of farm life and set out for the city of Vienna to make something of himself. He worked as a shoemaker's apprentice then later enlisted in the Austrian civil service, becoming a junior customs official. He worked hard as a civil servant and eventually became a supervisor.
By 1875 he achieved the rank of Senior Assistant Inspector, a big accomplishment for the former poor farm boy with little formal education. At this time an event occurred that would have big implications for the future. Alois had always used the last name of his mother, Schicklgruber, and thus was always called Alois Schicklgruber. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was illegitimate since it was common in rural Austria.
But after his success in the civil service, his proud uncle from the small farm convinced him to change his last name to match his own, Hiedler, and continue the family name. However, when it came time to write the name down in the record book it was spelled as Hitler. And so in 1876 at age 39, Alois Schicklgruber became Alois Hitler. This is important because it is hard to imagine tens of thousands of Germans shouting "Heil Schicklgruber!" instead of "Heil Hitler!"
In 1885, after numerous affairs and two other marriages ended, the widowed Alois Hitler, 48, married the pregnant Klara Pölzl, 24, the granddaughter of uncle Hiedler. Technically, because of the name change, she was his own niece and so he had to get special permission from the Catholic Church.
The children from his previous marriage, Alois Hitler, Jr., and Angela, attended the wedding and lived with them afterward. Klara Pölzl eventually gave birth to two boys and a girl, all of whom died. On April 20, 1889, her fourth child, Adolf, was born healthy and was baptized a Roman Catholic. Hitler's father was now 52 years old.
Throughout his early days, young Adolf's mother feared losing him as well and lavished much care and affection on him. His father was busy working most of the time and also spent a lot of time on his main hobby, keeping bees. Baby Adolf had the nickname, Adi. When he was almost five, in 1893, his mother gave birth to a brother, Edmund. In 1896 came a sister, Paula. In May of 1895 at age six, young Adolf Hitler entered first grade in the public school in the village of Fischlham near Linz, Austria.
Source: (adapted) http://www.historyplace.com/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Damnati...
Adolf Hitler A Life From Beginning to End by Hourly History Adolf Hitler: A Life From Beginning to End
At 6:30 p.m. on the evening of April 20, 1889, he was born in the small Austrian village of Braunau Am Inn just across the border from German Bavaria. Adolf Hitler would one day lead a movement that placed supreme importance on a person's family tree even making it a matter of life and death. However, his own family tree was quite mixed up and would be a lifelong source of embarrassment and concern to him.
His father, Alois, was born in 1837. He was the illegitimate son of Maria Anna Schicklgruber and her unknown mate, which may have been someone from the neighborhood or a poor millworker named Johann Georg Hiedler. It is also remotely possible Adolf Hitler's grandfather was Jewish. Maria Schicklgruber was said to have been employed as a cook in the household of a wealthy Jewish family named Frankenberger. There is some speculation their 19-year-old son got her pregnant and regularly sent her money after the birth of Alois.
Adolf Hitler would never know for sure just who his grandfather was. He did know that when his father Alois was about five years old, Maria Schicklgruber married Johann Georg Hiedler. The marriage lasted five years until her death of natural causes, at which time Alois went to live on a small farm with his uncle.
At age thirteen, young Alois had enough of farm life and set out for the city of Vienna to make something of himself. He worked as a shoemaker's apprentice then later enlisted in the Austrian civil service, becoming a junior customs official. He worked hard as a civil servant and eventually became a supervisor.
By 1875 he achieved the rank of Senior Assistant Inspector, a big accomplishment for the former poor farm boy with little formal education. At this time an event occurred that would have big implications for the future. Alois had always used the last name of his mother, Schicklgruber, and thus was always called Alois Schicklgruber. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was illegitimate since it was common in rural Austria.
But after his success in the civil service, his proud uncle from the small farm convinced him to change his last name to match his own, Hiedler, and continue the family name. However, when it came time to write the name down in the record book it was spelled as Hitler. And so in 1876 at age 39, Alois Schicklgruber became Alois Hitler. This is important because it is hard to imagine tens of thousands of Germans shouting "Heil Schicklgruber!" instead of "Heil Hitler!"
In 1885, after numerous affairs and two other marriages ended, the widowed Alois Hitler, 48, married the pregnant Klara Pölzl, 24, the granddaughter of uncle Hiedler. Technically, because of the name change, she was his own niece and so he had to get special permission from the Catholic Church.
The children from his previous marriage, Alois Hitler, Jr., and Angela, attended the wedding and lived with them afterward. Klara Pölzl eventually gave birth to two boys and a girl, all of whom died. On April 20, 1889, her fourth child, Adolf, was born healthy and was baptized a Roman Catholic. Hitler's father was now 52 years old.
Throughout his early days, young Adolf's mother feared losing him as well and lavished much care and affection on him. His father was busy working most of the time and also spent a lot of time on his main hobby, keeping bees. Baby Adolf had the nickname, Adi. When he was almost five, in 1893, his mother gave birth to a brother, Edmund. In 1896 came a sister, Paula. In May of 1895 at age six, young Adolf Hitler entered first grade in the public school in the village of Fischlham near Linz, Austria.
Source: (adapted) http://www.historyplace.com/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Damnati...
Adolf Hitler A Life From Beginning to End by Hourly History Adolf Hitler: A Life From Beginning to End
To know everything ...
In the beginning, somebody asked: “Is it possible to know everything?”. Now, this question has split into two: “When did it become impossible to know everything? Is it true that nowadays it has become impossible to know all?”
When in April 1952, Alan Lodge and Peter Quennel, both founders of “History Today” the well-known monthly magazine, wrote the presentation article, they expected the answer from their readers. After more than fifty years, now that they have left this world, and I suppose do know everything, we are all left waiting for an answer.
To be honest, their question was deeper and larger. They asked: “When did it become impossible for an educated man to grasp, at least in its broader and more general outlines, the entire extent of European learning?”. They were acting not only as “educated men”, but also like Europeans. Today, this identity would be rather restricted and limited in a world that has become bigger, larger and deeper. I’d like to know from readers of this thread “Today in History” what their answers would be. Thanks to you all.
Past Masters: The Best Of History Today
When in April 1952, Alan Lodge and Peter Quennel, both founders of “History Today” the well-known monthly magazine, wrote the presentation article, they expected the answer from their readers. After more than fifty years, now that they have left this world, and I suppose do know everything, we are all left waiting for an answer.
To be honest, their question was deeper and larger. They asked: “When did it become impossible for an educated man to grasp, at least in its broader and more general outlines, the entire extent of European learning?”. They were acting not only as “educated men”, but also like Europeans. Today, this identity would be rather restricted and limited in a world that has become bigger, larger and deeper. I’d like to know from readers of this thread “Today in History” what their answers would be. Thanks to you all.
Past Masters: The Best Of History Today
April 18, 2017
Quid est homo?
Giovanni Leone Sempronio o Semproni (Urbino, 1603 - Urbino, 1646) è stato un poeta, scrittore e letterato italiano. Studiò legge a Bologna, ove frequentò l'Accademia della Notte, assumendo il nome di Vigilante. Ritornato nella città natale, entrò a far parte dell'Accademia degli Assorditi di Urbino, col nome accademico di Fuggitivo. Oltre a una raccolta di sonetti, pubblicati inizialmente nel 1633 e poi in edizione accresciuta nel 1648, vicini agli stilemi di Giovan Battista Marino, e ad alcune rime, compose il poema Boemondo, pubblicato postumo, nel quale agiscono i personaggi della Gerusalemme liberata del Tasso, e la tragedia Il conte Ugolino, ispirata al noto episodio descritto nel canto XXXIII dell'Inferno dantesco.
QUID EST HOMO? Giovan Leone Sempronio
Oh Dio, che cosa è l’uom? L’uom è pitturadi fugaci colori ornata e cinta,che in poca tela e in fragil lin dipintatosto si rompe, e tosto fassi oscura.
O Dio, che cosa è l’uom? L’uom è figuradal tempo e de l’età corrotta e vintache in debil vetro effigiata e finta,a un lieve colpo altrui cade e non dura.
È strale, che da l’arco esce e san passa;è nebbia, che dal suol sorge e sparisce;è spuma, che dal mar s’erge e s’abbassa.
È fior che nell’april nasce e languisce;è balen, che nell’aria arde e trapassa; è fumo, che nel ciel s’alza e svanisce.
----
QUID EST HOMO?Giovan Leone Sempronio (trans. Michael Haldane)
O God, what is this thing, this man? A paintingadorned and framed with fleeting colours; man asbrittle lines on a short reach of canvas;soon dissundered pixels, light soon fainting.
Oh God, what thing is man? A figure feignedin effigy depicting an age vanquishedand the wash of corrupted times; feebly-paned,felled by the lightest blow; to be relinquished.
He is the flighted arrow the pierced breast halls;mist ascending from the soil to vanish;spume on the ocean that rises and falls.
A flower nascent with April, in languish;smoke that soars to the heavens and palls;a lightning-flash blazing, extinguished.
MEDIUM
Nessuno è stato mai me. Può darsi che io sia il primo. Nobody has been me before. Maybe I’m the first one.
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