25.07.24. A small review from reading and... ours present in the mirrors of history25.07.24.

25.07.24. A small review of the reading and... Ours todayin the mirrors of history

Reader Publishing since 2000 has regularly published translations of books Mr Sándor Márai (1900-1989), originally from Saxons of the Spiš of an outstanding Hungarian author. A fresh translation of his mediocre Schools (Fr. Irena Makarewicz), a satirical essay which at the base has observations concerning the problem of the old in rule as the world, is the perception and appreciation of behaviour of different people due to their wealth. This text was first published in Hungary in 1942. He was absent from the Polish readership. Its beginning, if you “for a taste” quote a passage, is this:

My small work wants to fill a gap. As a practicing mediocre man, I have long sought a textbook that contains instructions for the handling of poverty, which would explain how this condition can be endured with dignity, and without a tense breakdown, and in crisis, miserable moments of life would supply advice to people with average income. I was delirious in front of my soul about a kind of distressed teaching of dance and tact—the principles of good upbringing—something that will teach the mediocre in a simple and applicable way how to behave towards higher layers, if he wants to soothe the world. How to smile. Get up, sit down, ask a woman to dance, peel potatoes, introduce herself or clean cesspools, so as not to make a formal mistake and not origin annoyed criticism from a subtler planet tribunal. If we take a good look at it, we request to see that the mediocre do not only live clumsyly but besides behave badly. Their way of being frequently unbearable, life forms—common, in the pleasures of the poor, deficiency of all moderately higher order, etc. (School..., p. 5).

The text reads well, although the pulsating image of human relationships looks alternatively poor. News, it seems, did not lose either. Like the reality shown in another Márai books...

The reading of this late published essay can so be considered a good impulse for further or rereadable discoveries related to the prose of the Hungarian author we have previously published. It will undoubtedly prove that, regardless of erstwhile and in what context it arose and what circumstantial events it was referring to, compared to what is now happening in our world, in Europe, in front of our eyes, with 1 or another participation, it clearly confirms the meaning of the French proverb quoted by Márai in the introduction to 1 of his novels: “Plus ça change plus c’est la meme choice – "The more it changes, the more it remains unchanged" (Rebellious, p. 10, distinction: cz). This can be applied to different dimensions of reality and different areas of reality. What involves both the human needs of constancy and entrenching in the tradition of culture, and what appears to specify human nature.

Here it is worth mentioning that not further than last year besides the biography of the master developed by Tibora Mészarosa under a crucial titleOdyssey of the 20th century. Sándor Márai – life and work(Col. Irena Makarewicz, November 2023). On the Internet, I would add, there is simply a recording of the program entitled 20th Century Chronicler – Sándor Márai / Zoom. The recording consists of a conversation in which experts of Márai's work participate, including translators of his prose and author of the aforementioned biography. It besides includes a presentation of images from the household Kassa (Koszyc) creator Poor Schools. So if individual wants to start their adventure with reading the works of the Hungarian author, the program indicated here will let them to learn about the literary heritage of Márai, especially his Journal, including of course – Biography...

And this is simply a biography that is truly remarkable. With 2 planet wars, a difficult, variable, entangled in global politics and various political systems the past of the hometown and its culture, with a broader knowing of the past of the home country, Europe and the planet in the background. It is called Márai, the chronicler of the 20th century. For a reason, too, his life course can be characterized as Odyssey. He studied in Budapest and Germany. He has made many trips to Europe and the mediate East. He knew Switzerland, Italy, France. He lived in Naples for a while. He was a writer, but besides a prolific publicist, as well as translator of Kafka's works. He worked on the Radio Free Europe for a while. As a young man, during the communist coup, he published respective texts in a letter called “The Red Flag”, later as an author identifying himself with the bourgeoisie “nominated” he was at the enemy of the people. For political reasons, each time differently marked, he emigrated twice. The first time in 1919-1928 to Germany and France due to the above-mentioned publications in the Red Flag. The journey was fundamentally "voluntary". This emigration was due to Márai knowing foreign-language literature and mastering intellectual tools to view the affairs of his homeland from an external perspective. In 1948, he had to emigrate eventually. In the country he experienced the effects of censorship, the ban on publishing and the situation erstwhile his recently printed books were sent to the ground. He continued to compose in Hungarian with the conviction that the only actual homeland was his native tongue, although he was equally fluent in German, for example. He ended his life in San Diego as a consequence of a weapon shot made with his own hand, having previously passed a course of shooting due to specified intent – carefulness in action has always highly appreciated. After the death of his wife and son, he was left alone and did not want to experience age - related helplessness and to stay dependent on others.

Just as different as biography is Márai's work. In his time, Gustav Herling-Grudziński paid attention to his prose. As a result, a fresh appeared in our reading marketplace Heat (c. Felix Netz, 2000) as the first track from the work of the Hungarian author. Now the list of translations covers nearly 40 items. Including the ones for present Records I want to pay peculiar attention, so it was issued 2 years ago. Kidnapping Europe 2022), and in 2009-2013 – among others – five volumesconsisting ofWorkGarrenMárai considered his top accomplishment (Rebellious – 2009, Jealous – 2010, Alien – 2012, Insulted – 2012, Marauders – 2013, translation, MP in each volume, including explanations on the creation and composition of the full cycle by the author – Teresa Worowska). In this cycle, referred to as saga, the conventional meanings of this concept have been greatly overrated. True, we are dealing with the past of a lineage, but not so much a realistic and chronicle presentation of events. Rather, it is crucial to observe the episodes presented by long lines of essayally-designed communicative commentary on the parabolic tone.

In turn, Márai was an highly urgent observer of the surrounding reality, and with these observations he was associated with his function as creator. For example, in Insulted, erstwhile in 1 of the fresh talks to the question, “What is the writer’s job?” the answer is: “Watch and call” (p. 191). W Marauders We will find a akin issue addressed to Peter Garren, the main character, the writer: “– Watch [...] Follow methodically, Mr. Garren [...] I mercilessly” (p. 333), and a small further the sentence: “The writers do not compose anything by chance” (p. 353). Translator of Márai's works, Teresa Worowska, in the aforementioned program 20th Century Chronicler He will say that this author “saw late fruit in the early seeds”, that is, “certain phenomena that have now intensified, he has already seen in seed.”

And indeed. His works, regardless of erstwhile they were created, turn out to be – let's repeat – at times shockingly current. Costumes change, but any mechanisms, needs, ways of action, and most of all human emotions present are as clearly revealed as they utilized to be, small is different from those expressed by our predecessors and are just as important. The planet seems to change very rapidly on the 1 hand, and on the another hand – highly slowly. What is culture? Identity? For example, what results from the fact that a hypermarket is being built other a cathedral built for decades or even centuries? Or: Which means that “Books are no longer made for readers but for consumers” (Kidnapping Europe, p. 88)? What makes right-wing and openly nationalist groups have human minds that fascism is so easy reborn? We see it all day. And it is hard not to think about specified things erstwhile you perceive to any speeches in the Polish Parliament or in the European Parliament, and then read comments on social media and then in the 1946 text you abruptly find yourself saying, “Classes, confessions, groups, everyone hates... it's hard to live, breathe, stay human...” (Kidnapping Europe, p. 76). Also, erstwhile in the 4th volume of saga Garren Works 1 author discovers this:

Europe's deepest sense is not unity, but diversity, diversity and opposites of life, a tragic and wonderful conflict and dispute between languages and nations. This [...] is not understood by all the mediocre people who perorate a united Europe, a united Europe, a Paneurop. These are sad words, expressions of misunderstanding and ignorance. Europe will not be uniform if they abolish customs borders, introduce common money for all nations, and in any transnational parliament they will decide to destruct trafficking in women, the armed industry, drug smuggling and income tax: I am certain that, according to its inhabitants, Europe will never be little united than erstwhile this artificial unity is realized. Being European does not mean that I am no longer in the first government of France or Switzerland and carry in my pocket a paper confirming that I am European. To be European means to be self-identified, to be Bulgarian or Swedish, and to share awareness of common cultural heritage. That is the point of Europe. Everything else is specialized matters of power, military or administration. Insulted, text from 1947, pp. 68-69).

Today the names Trump, Biden, Putin, Orbán or Xi Jinping are on the lips of the world. We observe events related to elections – here, in another European countries, in America. We hear our native politicians...

Let's take a look at the first part of the volume. Marauders signed by title Stamp and report, including chapters Clothes and Word Becomes Body (pp. 61-114). It's the 1930s. We see the writer, Peter Garren, the main character of the novel, who came to Berlin to effort to see precisely what was happening in Germany at the request of a friend named Emmánuel. There he meets his 30 years younger brother Tamás – who had been in Berlin for any time, and even, to Peter's amazement, wore a “mark” of belonging to national socialist organizations – and has the chance to participate with him in a rally organized at athletics Palast.

A multi-page account in which Peter regularly presents further elements of the event and their assessment is simply a literary complete masterpiece. It concerns scenery, the behaviour of a crowd of tens of thousands of people, their uniformation, the applied elements of political marketing, and then the sense and rhetoric of the speech given by the arrived with any hold of the main character of the meeting. The lighting, music, flags and the full organization of the scene, the way the main character moves, the fact that he is late, how he takes off his coat, how he walks, how he looks at the audience and how he speaks...

The talker is treated like a god. However, in the fresh relation it functions only as the Voice. Peter had the chance to hear it on the radio earlier (see chapter in Insulted, p. 1053). Name doesn't fall. However, it is known that the owner of the Voice wrote an crucial book. Title Mein Kampf He doesn't show up either...

At 1 point in a multi-hour rally, Peter clearly begins to realize that everything that the gathered listens to is in fact a lie. In the final parts of his relationship, he says:

The voice wrapped in the body, but everything was a lie. The word became a body, I saw it with my own eyes, I heard it with my own ears, but the word was the word of a lie [...].

Naturally, he lied well, smoothly – not even in a trained way, but in full recognition with him. He lied not only to the Voice, but besides to the esophagus, to the grit which, in the joy of speaking lies, was alive jumping up and down, besides to the lies of the hands with which he sometimes grabbed the air. It seemed as if he wanted to throw lightning like Zeus or as though with his arms stretched out he was trying to calm the clouds and layers of air shaken by the storm. For it is clear that now that the word has been poured into the body of the lie, the Voice and Character were in their component and as always in specified cases the phenomenon had irresistible strength. [...] I have seen many smiling people who, alternatively of the truth, bitter and unpleasant, have yet received what they have always been waiting for: a truth-packed lie, which has been the answer to everything that has been in their life a tormenting, unresolved problem. He lied, talked about the world, about the natural materials, about the relations of large and tiny nations, most likely lied quite a few truth, too, why not? Nothing simpler than the elements of fact to put together a great, convincing lie, and this false artist knew perfectly well that a good lie must be made of elements of reality. And as the words of the Scriptures can be put together a litany of curses, so he knew that from the elements of hundreds of half-truths it is possible to construct a large Lie, which, in detail, cannot be denied (Word Becomes Body, in: Stamp and report from volume Marauders, pp. 105-107).

The study from the rally concerns, as is known, the time before planet War II. It's a literary shot. However, Márai knew the full event from the autopsy. He was in Berlin then...

In consequence to specified a reminder, however, it could be said that now and not only in us the situation of worshiping the skillful Pinocchios is not lacking. Take, for example, the 2016 study Aliens in their own country American sociologist Arlie Russel Hochschild. It's been mentioned in these before. Records (see text Literary games and reality of 2.05.2024). 1 chapter of this book is simply a reporter study on Donald Trump's election rally at Lakefront Airport in fresh Orleans (see. Not strangers anymore: the power of promises, pp. 335-347). In fact, everything, including the fact that the guest was late, corresponds to the organization and course of the rally in Márai's novel. At the opening, the author emphasizes:

Returning to his earlier studies, I can see that Trump entered a pre-prepared scene – like a match attached to a pre-arranged pile of dry twigs. There were 3 factors. Since 1980, almost all of my interlocutors have felt that the economical ground is being removed from their feet, causing them to bend to the sound of the word "redistribution." Culturally, too, they felt marginalized: mainstream media openly mocked their views on abortion, single-sex marriage, sex roles, race, weapons, Confederate flags, presenting them as a dark garden. They realized that they were besides weakening in the demographic sense; “there are less and less white Christians like us” [...]. These feelings were influenced by the cultural tendency [...] to identify with a ladder-high social grower or oil tycoon and not feel a community with lower levels.

This all belonged to a “deep story”. In this story, aliens push you in line, making you feel anxious, bitter, and afraid. The president supports them, so you can't trust him and you feel betrayed. The guy in front of you insults you, calling you a dark cot. You're humiliated and angry. abruptly you became – economically, demographically and politically – an alien in your own country. The full social context of Louisiana – corporations, state administration, Church and media strengthens deep history. So she was there before the match (Not strangers anymore..., p. 136).

Truth as a packaging for various promises was, in effect, at hand. Later comes the account of the gathering with the presidential candidate. Among another things, we read:

The giant hangar hall is swept by red, white and blue stroboscopes. The snobs of light go up and to the sides, up and to the sides, as if they want to take the captivated masses and kidnap them to the sky. Inside the hangar, there are two, possibly 3,000 Trump devotees, wearing hats and shirts with his name on them. People sway with "TRUMP, RETURN AMERICA BIG" or "MILLING MOST STRUMP". On the main wall hangs the flag of the United States [...] The wandering headlamps halt in place. Donald Trump enters the steps on set in front of the rise flag, turns to an enthusiastic crowd and wave to greet with his hand [...] begins to tell how he gained support.

– First, I had 7 percent, and they thought they were gonna throw me away. Then I had fifteen, then twenty-five... – it goes from “me” to “we” We're getting stronger... America will be powerful, proud, rich... (Not strangers anymore..., pp. 337-338).

And so on. And the same. 1 of the scenes observed at this rally Hochschild writes:

I see a middle-aged man with his hands up like he's in ecstasy. He says to everyone around and to nobody in particular:

– Stay in a man!

The next day Donald Trump gains forty-one percent of the vote in the Republican organization primary in Louisiana, winning with his rival, Christian fundamentalist Ted Cruz (Not strangers anymore..., p. 339).

It was an introduction to Trump's first presidency. The Hochschild book’s title of “the alienity in his own country” clearly active the situation which Márai had built up in his time and elsewhere. School of the Poorand presented in the above mentioned Records of 2.05.24 Barbara Kingsolver published in the fresh David Copperhead (Transition: Kaja Gucio, Poznań 2023). In another tonality he presented akin problems six years ago James David Vance In Elegia for Bidots (in Polish: Tomasz Gałązka, Warsaw 2020). It's being read by all of America.

In Trump's case, we presently have a "fun replay". For Author Elegia... However, who managed to get out of poorness and experience success, the announcement that after winning the election he would become the vice president of America. Jan Smolenski It is mentioned in the latest “Popular Week” in the article entitled New Better Trump. The fact that Vance erstwhile called today's leader "Hitler of America" seems peculiarly crucial in this story...

Hochschild's reporting observations of Trump's erstwhile run leave no illusions as to the repetitive principles characterising the political games described:

Trump is “an emotion candidate”. To a greater degree than any of its predecessors, it focuses on calling – and rewarding – the emotional impulses of its supporters, alternatively than detailing political solutions. His speeches make a sense of dominance, bravado, certainty, national pride and optimism in the audience, leading to emotional change. [...] Trump not only stimulates emotions, but besides makes them an object that gives its supporters as a symbol of collective success (Not strangers anymore..., p. 341).

The thought of narcissism will be useful if we ask about the characteristics of people who tend to induce specified emotions, both in Trump's case and in Hitler's case, as quoted in Márai's novel. It made a career in the 20th century with Freud's popularity. He developed them then. Erich Fromm, giving appropriate explanations in the book entitled The heart of a man.His extraordinary ability to do good and evil (Robert Sajuk, PWN, Warsaw 1996:

A peculiar case of narcissism on the border between wellness and intellectual illness can be found in those who have reached the highest levels of power. Egyptian Pharaohs, Roman emperors, Borgia, Stalin, Hitler, Trujillo – all these people present any common features. They gained absolute power and ruled over all matters, including life and death. There seemed to be no limit to their power to what they wanted. They were any kind of gods [...] a narcissistic individual tends to delegate advanced marks to his opinions, actions and works in any case and the actual value does not play a decisive function in this assessment. [...] The narcissistic individual has a prejudice against anything that is not “him” or belongs to him. Things that are alien to him (belonging to the planet of “non-self”) are worthless, dangerous, immoral. In the end, the deformation that touches his valuable courts comes to tremendous sizes: he overestimates everything that belongs to him, and underestimates everything that is outside of him. [...] It is paradoxical that the component of madness found in these leaders contributed to their success at the same time, as he provided them with assurance and eliminated any doubts, which always exerted a strong impression of an extraordinary individual. It is understood by itself that the realization of this request to transform the planet and to draw with them a multitude of people to share their views and their illusions had to go hand in hand with the talents and talents that the average individual lacks psychotic or non-psychotic (The heart of a man., pp. 61-72.

If in turn, as usual at the end of these Entries, think in this context about the issues of education, it is worth going back to reading Márai's works. The problems of "gathering of the nation" and issues of the humanistic character of specified actions were a constant component of his consideration. Then we would gotta seriously consider why and why read literature as part of the school. This could lead to the conclusion that the fixation to make a list of readings and to emphasize its canonism so frequently and loudly, until there is an impression of any canonade – while in fact it is about the calculation of the various texts belonging mostly to the “magazines of literature” – is rather simply a simple, delicately speaking, misunderstanding and that no ministry should impose specified a list. It could besides propose that it is more crucial than the reading of the school reading to be the starting point for a variety of targeted discussions and attempts to reflect on the planet and oneself in this world, and that sometimes a well-chosen fragment of the literary text and well-chosen contexts to propose categories-tools useful for its analysis would be sufficient. An example of 1 specified contextual compilations could make at least 2 chapters with Peter Garren's relation to the Nazi rally and, among another things, notes from Erich From's book. This would let us to focus both on questions about “how it is done” in this case literature, and on discovering and naming meanings resulting from specified observations, and as a consequence to construct our own imagination of the world, another people and ourselves.

Here, I would add that Márai cites in his novels the figure of Caesar Nero and the fact that he set fire to Rome, but did not rebuild it. Nero features 1 of the heroes Rebellious He besides assigns another character in this fresh (see p. 50). He besides mentions Márai about the defeat of Seneca – a teacher of Nero. Nothing's as certain as you want... Fromm besides mentions Nero in further explanations of the essences of narcissism. In that case, it would be possible to “include” in discussions about these matters by Henryk Sienkiewicz through excellent passages from Quo vadis – (1) preceding the decision to burn Rome and (2) Nero's action to read his poesy while Rome burns.

I mention this because, for example, during the latest "reforms" a lot was said about the senselessness of reading Sienkiewicz in school. Then I propose we conclude today. Entries reading the passages mentioned just now “indecently irrelevant today” Quo vadis. They let to consider the meaning of specified a model of humanist education, which involves choosing reading, and frequently only their fragments precisely, not due to learning, preferably from the cradle, history, or explanation of literature, but on the problems undertaken in these texts which uncover the specificity of human actions and motivation, and make a space for talking about specified subjects, and consequently service to self-knowledge and orientation in the surrounding world. Narcissists, on the another hand, are abundant in our world, not to mention those who environment them and their narcissism can benefit... Not without reason Petronius from Sienkiewicz's fresh compares Nero's poesy with Homer, Ovidius and Vergilius's works. Just as it does not substance that Nero asks Petronius about the alleged grief of burnt Troy. Just like the description of his hand – “fat, covered with rusty hair” – which he reaches “to the golden candelabra, skinned in the Delphis” ...

Once... Caesar read in a tiny ellipse a passage from his TroikiAnd erstwhile he was finished, and erstwhile the cry of delight went out, Petronius, asked by sight by Caesar, said:

– Wicked poems, worthy of being thrown into the fire. The current hearts stopped beating with fear, Nero has never heard a akin conviction from anyone in his childhood; only Tygellin's face has lit up with joy. Vinicius, on the another hand, became pale, reasoning that Petronius, who never got drunk, was drunk this time.

A Nero began to ask with a honey voice, in which all profoundly hurt self-love was shaking:

– What's incorrect with them? Petronius assaulted him.

– Do not believe them," he said with his hand on the present, "they know nothing. What's incorrect with these poems? If you want the truth, I'll tell you, they're good for Vergilius, they're good for Ovidius, they're good for Homer, but not for you. You're not allowed to compose these. That fire you're describing isn't burning enough, your fire isn't burning enough. Don't perceive to Lukan's flattery. I would grant him the same poems as a genius, but not you. You know why? due to the fact that you're bigger than them. To whom the gods have given as much as you have, more can be required. But you're laughing. You'd alternatively sleep on a prandium than sit on a fold. You can make a work the planet has never heard of, and that is why I say to your eyes: compose better!

And he spake it from ignorance, as though he were mocking, and at the same time grumbling, but the eyes of Caesar were a fog of pleasure, and said,

– The gods gave me any talent, but they besides gave me more, due to the fact that a actual expert and a friend who can tell the fact in the eyes.

When he said this, he stretched out his fat, rusted hair-covered hand to a golden candelabra, skinned in the Delfs, to burn the poems.

But Petronius took them from him before the flame touched the papyrus.

– No, no! – he said – even so wicked belong to humanity. Leave them to me.

– Then let me send them back to you in a can of my thought – he replied, clutching him, Nero.

And after a while he started saying,

– Yes, sir. You're right. My fire Troi doesn't shine enough, my fire doesn't burn enough. But I thought erstwhile I leveled Homer, that would be enough. A certain shyness and small knowing of myself always bothered me. You opened my eyes. But do you know why it's like you say? This is erstwhile the sculptor wants to make the form of a god, looking for a pattern, and I had no pattern. I've never seen a burning city, and that's why my deficiency of fact describes it.

– So let me tell you, you should be a large artist to understand.

Nero thought, and then he said,

– Answer me, Petronius, to 1 question: do you regret that Troy burned herself?

Do I regret it? By the lame wife of Venery, by no means! And I'll tell you why. Behold, Troy would not have been burned if Prometheus had not given men fire, and the Greeks had not declared war on Priam; but had there not been fire, Eschilos would not have written his PrometheusHomer wouldn't have written as well as without the war. IliadesAnd I like it to exist. Prometheus and Iliad. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

– This is what it is called to talk wisely," answered Caesar. – For poesy and art are slow and everything should be sacrificed. Happy Achaje, who provided Homer with content to Iliades, and happy Priam, who saw the demolition of his homeland. What about me? I've never seen a burning city.

There was a minute of silence that Tygellinus yet interrupted.

– After all, I have already told you, Caesar—said, command, and I will burn the Antium. Or you know what? If you feel sorry for these villas and palaces, I will make you burn the ships in Ostia or build a wooden town on the foothills of Albanian, in which you will throw a flame yourself. Do you want to?

But Nero gave him a look of contempt.

– I'm expected to look at the burning wooden huts? Your head has completely cleared out, Tygellin! And I can see that you don't truly value my talent and mine. TroikaIf you think any another victim would be besides large for her.

Tygellinus blended, Nero added, after a moment, as if he wanted to change the conversation:

- Summer's coming... Oh, how this Rome must stink now!... And yet for the summertime games, we gotta go back there.

Then Tygellinus said,

– erstwhile you send the Augustians, Caesar, let me stay with you for a while...

***

The city was on fire all the time. In all letter, Tigellin begged the Emperor to come and calm the despairing people with his presence. [...] Tygellinus, having gathered all the forces of the Pretorians, sent a bishop after the bishop to the approaching Caesar, announcing that nothing would lose out of the grandeur of the spectacle, for the fire had yet increased. But Nero wanted to come at night, so that he could be satisfied with the image of a dying city. To this end, he stopped close Aqua Alban and called to the shelter the Tragic Aliturus arranged with the aid of his attitude, face, eyes and learned the right moves, arguing with him fiercely, or with the words, "About a holy bulkhead which seemed more enduring than Ida," he is to lift up both hands, or hold in 1 forminga to leave it along the body, and rise only the other. And the question seemed to him at the minute more crucial than anyone else. Finally, erstwhile he set distant at dusk, he sought the counsel of Petronius, not to place in a poem devoted to defeat a fewer glorious blasphemy against the gods and whether specified blasphemy, taking from the position of art, did not gotta escape themselves from the mouth in a akin position to a man losing his homeland.

Around midnight, he yet approached the walls with his powerful court, made up of full hosts of courtiers, senators, knights, freedmen, slaves, women and children. Sixteen 1000 praetorians, set in combat formation along the way, watched over the peace and safety of his entry, while keeping the people agitated at a appropriate distance. Though the people were cursing, shouting, and whistling at the sight of the procession, they did not dare to strike him. In many places, however, applause was besides given by the noisemaker, who, having nothing, lost nothing in the fire, and expected more generous than usual release of grain, oil, clothing, and money. Finally, both cheering and whistling and applause deafened the sound of the trumpets and horns he had Tygellin in. Nero stopped for a minute after crossing the Ostian gate and said, “Homeless ruler of the homeless people, where I will lay my unfortunate head for the night!” and then, after crossing Clivus Delphini, he stepped up the steps prepared for himself on the Appiian waterworks, and behind him the Augustians and the chorus of the singers carrying the zires, lutes and another musical instruments.

And they all held their breath, waiting to hear what large words they had to remember for their own safety. But he stood solemn, dumb, wearing a purple coat and a wreath of golden laurels, staring into the raging power of flames. erstwhile Terpnos gave him a golden lute, he raised his eyes to the fallen lye of heaven, as if waiting for inspiration.

The people pointed him distant with their hands, covered in blood. In the distance, the serpents of the flames were hesitating, and the most sacred monuments were burned: the temple of Hercules, which was erected by Evander, and the temple of Jupiter Stator, and the temple of Luna, built by Servius Tulius, and the home of Numa Pompilius, and the tabernacle of the West with the pennates of the Roman people; in the mane of the flames the Capitol appeared sometimes, the past and the soul of Rome burned, and he, Caesar, stood with a lute in his hand, with the face of a tragic actor, and with a view not to the dying country, but to the attitude and pathetic words which the best size of the defeat could give, awaken the top admiration and the hottest to gain applause.

He hated this city, hated its inhabitants, loved only his songs and poems; so he rejoiced in his heart that he yet saw a tragedy akin to the 1 he described. The poem was happy, the declave was inspired, the thrill seeker was drenched in a terrible spectacle, and he thought with delight that even the demolition of Troy was nothing compared to the demolition of this immense castle. What else could he have demanded? Here is Rome, the world-powerful Rome, burns, and he stands on the bows of the waterworks, with a golden lute in his hand, visible, purple, admired, magnificent and poetic. Somewhere below, in the darkness, the people are murmuring and storming! But let him murmur. Ages will pass, thousands of years will pass, and people will remember and praise this poet, who sang the fall and the fire of Troy on specified a night. What about him, Homer? What's Apollo doing with his hollow forming? Here he raised his hands and struck the strings and called himself Priam:

– O nest of my fathers, oh dear!...

His voice in the open air, at the roar of the fire and at the far bell of the 1000 crowds, seemed strangely faint, trembling and weak, and the second sound sounded like a buzzing fly. But Senators, officials and Augustians, gathered on the water supply, bowed their heads, listening in silence. But he sang long and became more and more pathetic. In moments erstwhile he stopped breathing, the chorus of singers repeated the last poems, after which Nero threw back a tragic movement from Aliturus's learned arm “syrene”, hit the strings and sang further. Finally, after finishing the song previously arranged, he began to improvise, seeking large comparisons in the view before him. And his face began to look like he was. He was not moved by the demolition of his native city, but he was drunk and moved with a pathos of his own words to specified an degree that he abruptly dropped with the buzz of the lute under his feet and wrapped himself in syrma as fossils, akin to 1 of those statues of Niobides that adorned the courtyard of Palatine.

After a brief minute of silence, there was a thunderstorm of applause. But the crowds answered him from afar. Now no 1 doubted that Caesar had ordered the city to burn down to execute a spectacle and sing songs with him. Nero, proceeding the cry of hundreds of thousands of voices, turned to the Augustians with a sad, full of resignation grin of the man whom they hurt, and said,

– This is how the Kwirists can appreciate me and poesy (Quo vadis, Wyd. Greg, Kraków, pp. 244-245, 276-280).