“It will be difficult to please everyone in the audience because everyone has come for different reasons: some for the wit, some for the costumes, some for comedy, some for passion, and some to arrange a lascivious meeting.
But, despite this, I am confident that, as long as everyone can pay attention and understand the play, they will all be satisfactorily entertained.“
(No Wit, No Help Like a Woman’s, Thomas Middleton)
Thomas Middleton (18 April 1580 – 1627) was an English Jacobean playwright and poet.
He, with John Fletcher (1579 – 1825) and Ben Jonson (1572 – 1637), was among the most successful and prolific of playwrights at work in the Jacobean period (1603 – 1625), and among the few to gain equal success in comedy and tragedy.
He was also a prolific writer of masques and pageants.
Above: Thomas Middleton
He was the son of a bricklayer, who had raised himself to the status of a gentleman and owned property adjoining the Curtain Theatre in Shoreditch.
Middleton was five when his father died and his mother’s subsequent remarriage dissolved into a 15-year battle over the inheritance of Thomas and his younger sister – an experience that informed him about the legal system and may have incited his repeated satire against the legal profession.
Middleton attended The Queen’s College, Oxford, matriculating in 1598, but he did not graduate.
Before he left Oxford sometime in 1601, he wrote and published three long poems in popular Elizabethan styles.
None of them appears to have been especially successful, and one, his book of satires, ran foul of an Anglican church ban on verse satire and was burned.
Nevertheless, his literary career was launched.
Above: The Queen’s College, Oxford, England
In the early 17th century, Middleton made a living writing topical pamphlets, including one – Penniless Parliament of Threadbare Poets – that was reprinted several times and became the subject of a parliamentary inquiry.
At the same time, records in the diary of Philip Henslowe (1550 – 1616) show that Middleton was writing for the Admiral’s Men.
Unlike Shakespeare, Middleton remained a free agent, able to write for whichever company hired him.
Above: Thomas Middleton
His early dramatic career was marked by controversy.
His friendship with Thomas Dekker (1572 – 1632) brought him into conflict with Ben Jonson and George Chapman (1559 – 1634) in the War of the Theatres.
(The War of the Theatres is the name commonly applied to a controversy from the later Elizabethan theatre.
Thomas Dekker termed it the Poetomachia.
Because of an actual ban on satire in prose and verse publications in 1599 (the Bishops’ Ban of 1599), the satirical urge had no other remaining outlet than the stage.
The resulting controversy, which unfolded between 1599 and 1602, involved the playwright Ben Jonson on one side and his rivals John Marston (1576 – 1634) and Thomas Dekker (with Thomas Middleton as an ancillary combatant) on the other.
The role Shakespeare (1564 – 1616) played in the conflict, if any, has long been a topic of dispute among scholars.)
The grudge against Jonson continued as late as 1626, when Jonson’s play The Staple of News indulges in a slur on Middleton’s great success, A Game at Chess (1624).
It has been argued that Middleton’s Inner Temple Masque (1619) sneers at Jonson (then absent in Scotland) as a “silenced bricklayer“.
Above: English playwright / poet Ben Jonson (1572 – 1637)
In 1603, Middleton married.
In the same year an outbreak of the plague forced the London theatres to close, while James I came to the English throne.
Above: James I of England / James VI of Scotland (1566 – 1625)
These events marked the beginning of Middleton’s greatest period as a playwright.
Having passed the time during the plague composing prose pamphlets (including a continuation of Thomas Nashe’s Pierce Penniless), he returned to drama with great energy, producing almost a score of plays for several companies and in several genres, notably city comedy and revenge tragedy.
Above: Woodcut of Thomas Nashe (1567 – 1601) in chains
He continued to collaborate with Dekker:
The two produced The Roaring Girl, a biography of the contemporary thief Mary Frith (1584 – 1659).
Above: Image of Mary Frith from title page of The Roaring Girl
In the 1610s, Middleton began a fruitful collaboration with the actor William Rowley, producing Wit at Several Weapons and A Fair Quarrel.
Working alone in 1613, Middleton produced a comic masterpiece:
A Chaste Maid in Cheapside.
He also became increasingly involved with civic pageants.
In 1620 he became officially appointed as chronologist to the City of London, a post he held until his death in 1627, when it passed to Jonson.
Such official duties did not interrupt Middleton’s dramatic writing.
Above: Bank Junction, London
The 1620s saw the production of his and Rowley’s tragedy The Changeling, and of several tragicomedies.
In 1624, he reached a peak of notoriety when his dramatic allegory A Game at Chesswas staged by the King’s Men.
The play used the conceit of a chess game to present and satirise the recent intrigues surrounding the Spanish Match.
Though Middleton’s approach was strongly patriotic, the Privy Council silenced the play after nine performances, having received a complaint from the Spanish Ambassador.
Middleton faced an unknown, probably frightening degree of punishment.
Since no play later than A Game at Chess is recorded, it has been suggested that the sentence included a ban on writing for the stage.
Middleton died at his home at Newington Butts in Southwark in 1627.
He was buried on 4 July in St Mary’s Churchyard.
The old Church of St Mary’s was demolished in 1876 for road-widening.
Its replacement elsewhere in Kennington Park Road was destroyed in WW2, but rebuilt in 1958.
The old churchyard where Middleton was buried survives as a public park in Elephant and Castle.
Above: St Mary’s Churchyard, Newington Butts, Southwark, England
Middleton’s work has long been praised by literary critics, among them Algernon Charles Swinburne and T. S. Eliot.
Above: English writer Algernon C. Swinburne (1837 – 1909)
The latter thought Middleton was second only to Shakespeare.
Above: English writer Thomas Stearns Eliot (1888 – 1965)
Middleton’s plays were staged throughout the 20th century and into the 21st, each decade offering more productions than the last.
Even some less familiar works of his have been staged:
A Fair Quarrel at the National Theatre, and The Old Law by the Royal Shakespeare Company.
Above: The National Theatre, London
The Changeling has been adapted for film several times.
The tragedy Women Beware Women remains a stage favourite.
The Revenger’s Tragedy was adapted for Alex Cox’s film Revengers Tragedy, the opening credits of which attribute the play’s authorship to Middleton.
Middleton wrote in many genres, including tragedy, history and city comedy.
His best-known plays are the tragedies The Changeling (with William Rowley) and Women Beware Women, and the cynically satirical city comedy A Chaste Maid in Cheapside.
Middleton’s work is diverse even by the standards of his age.
He did not have the kind of official relationship with a particular company that Shakespeare or Fletcher had. Instead he appears to have written on a freelance basis for any number of companies.
His output ranges from the “snarling” satire of Michaelmas Term (performed by the Children of Paul’s) to the bleak intrigues of The Revenger’s Tragedy (performed by the King’s Men).
His early work was informed by the flourishing of satire in the late Elizabethan period, while his maturity was influenced by the ascendancy of Fletcherian tragicomedy.
His later work, in which his satirical fury is tempered and broadened, includes three of his acknowledged masterpieces. A Chaste Maid in Cheapside, produced by the Lady Elizabeth’s Men, skilfully combines London life with an expansive view of the power of love to effect reconciliation.
The Changeling, a late tragedy, returns Middleton to an Italianate setting like that of The Revenger’s Tragedy, except that here the central characters are more fully drawn and more compelling as individuals.
Similar development can be seen in Women Beware Women.
Middleton’s plays are marked by often amusingly presented cynicism about the human race.
True heroes are a rarity:
Almost every character is selfish, greedy and self-absorbed.
A Chaste Maid in Cheapside offers a panoramic view of a London populated entirely by sinners, in which no social rank goes unsatirised.
In the tragedies Women Beware Women and The Revenger’s Tragedy, amoral Italian courtiers endlessly plot against each other, resulting in a climactic bloodbath.
When Middleton does portray good people, the characters have small roles and are shown as flawless.
A few descriptions and lines from Middleton’s plays capture my attention.
Falso calls his niece to him and woos her.
She is disgusted at the incest, and says that her heart is Fidelio’s anyway.
She would rather be a beggar than yield.
(The Phoenix, 1604)
(She preferred to be a beggar than to stop being true to herself.)
The Honest Whore begins with a funeral procession for the Duke of Milan’s daughter, Infelice.
The procession is attended by the Duke and several others.
Infelice’s former lover, Hippolito enters.
Extremely upset, he insists that Infelice is not truly dead and demands to see the body.
(I believe that as long as we remember someone that someone is never truly dead for us.)
His friend Matteo holds him back and tries to calm him down.
The procession exits, but the Duke, Hippolito and Matteo stay behind.
The Duke commends Matteo’s efforts to control Hippolito and exits.
Hippolito continues raging.
He swears that he will never love any other woman.
Matteo scoffs at his friend’s oath and predicts that Hippolito will forget about Infelice and visit a brothel within the next ten days.
Above: Milano, Italia
Fustigo has just returned from sea.
He is totally broke.
He sends a porter to fetch his sister, Viola, who has recently married Candido, a wealthy (and very patient) linen-draper.
Viola enters.
Fustigo begs her to give him some money.
Viola agrees to help him out on condition that he do a service for her in return.
She explains that, although she is generally satisfied in her marriage, her husband, Candido, is even-tempered to a fault.
Nothing can move him to anger.
Her greatest wish is to see her husband throw an explosive fit.
With this goal in mind, she instructs Fustigo to pose as a “wide-mouthed swaggerer” and attempt to annoy Candido by stealing things, kissing Viola, etc.
Fustigo agrees to go along with the plan.
But even the loss of millions would not make Candido angry.
Above: Colonne di San Lorenzo, Milano
(Some thoughts here, though they may seem to contradict one another:
It is rather praiseworthy that Candido has mastered himself to such an event that he does not get angry, does not take offence.
His Zen-like nature is quite admirable.
That being said, when it came to his relationship with his wife, I feel that his lack of reaction to his wife’s inappropriate behaviour was not the correct course of action.
I think it is important to stand up to your wife or partner as an equal without intimidating her or being intimidated by her.
Too many men, when faced with their wife’s anger, complaints or general unhappiness, simply submit, mumble an apology (It doesn’t matter if he is blameless.) and tiptoe away.
Sadly, there will always be a small remnant group of men who handle their differences with women through violence and intimidation.
The reader gets the sense that Viola would foolishly prefer the later response to the former response, but the later is abhorrent and the former too ambivalent.
The millions of men who adapt the first stance find that this rarely, if ever, leads to happiness.
Women with this kind of partner are not happy.
They actually become more dissatisfied, more complaining.
Often without even realizing why, the henpecking behaviour escalates – for a simple reason.
Deep down, women want to be met by someone strong.
They want to be debated with, not just agreed with.
They hunger for men who can take the initiative sometimes, make some decisions, tell them when they are not making sense.
It is no fun being the only adult in the house.
Above: Scene from Laws of Attraction
How can a woman relax or feel safe if the man she is teamed with is soft and weak?
Many strong, capable feminist women who finally find the sensitive, caring New Age man they thought they wanted now find themselves bored stiff.
Too many men know they are failing to satisfy the women in their life, have failed to keep their relationships together and don’t know what they have done wrong.
Men may learn to be receptive, but receptivity isn’t always enough to carry a partnership through troubled times.
Above: Scene from Bedazzled
In every relationship, something fierce is needed once in a while.
Both the man and the women need to have it.
But at the point when it was needed, though he was nurturing, something else was required.
A man may learn how to say to a woman:
“I can feel your pain.
I consider your life as important as mine.
I will take care of you and comfort you.“
But he also needs to say what he wants and stick by it.
Resolve of that kind is crucial.
Women are only human.
Sometimes they are dead right and sometimes completely wrong.
Women are neither devils nor saints.
They are normal, fallible human beings.
So a man with a woman needs to keep his head on straight.
You cannot just drift along and let them decide everything.
Marriage is not an excuse to stop thinking.
Not only can she be wrong or immature, perverse or prejudiced, competitive or bloody-minded (just like him), sometimes a man and a woman will just see things differently because you are different.
What is right for her may be wrong for him.
Women often don’t understand men.
(Viola clearly didn’t understand Candido.)
But how can women understand men unless men explain themselves to them?
This doesn’t mean that men and women cannot get along.
It only means that negotiations never end.
Steve Biddulph, Australia’s best-known therapist, has heard hundreds of women say in frustration:
“My husband won’t fight with me.
He won’t even argue.
He just walks away.“
Retreating may be all he knows how to do.
To have a happy marriage, a man has to be able to state his point of view, to debate, to leave aisde hysteria and push on with an argument until something is resolved.
Women need to give up their power in order to experience a really equal relationship, based on intimacy and negotiation, not on emotional dominance.
Both partners need to learn more respect for the other’s need for selfhood.
Couples need to fight in order to root out fixed attitudes or longer term misunderstndings and pull them into the light of day.
A good partnership is therapy, every living day.
Conscious fighting is a great help in relationships between men and women.
When a man and a woman are standing toe-to-toe arguing, what is it that the man wants?
Often he does not know.
He wants the conflict to end because he is afraid, because he doesn’t know how to fight, because he doesn’t believe in fighting, because his boundaries are so poorly maintained that every sword thrust penetrates to the very centre of his being.
It is a paradox that we can only let our feelings flow freely and only be truly passionate when we have certain boundaries laid down.
Trust has to be there.
Never be physical or threatening.
Never walk out mid-fight.
Don’t use put-down language.
Stay on point.
Listen to the other’s point of view while honouring your own.
Take time out, by agreement, if it becomes too heated – to think it over and return to continue the argument.
Above: Scene from Laws of Attraction
Biddulph tells a story of a marriage.
The very first time the wife “threw a fit” (her words) and began to be wildly abusive, the man simply walked quietly to his room and began packing his things.
He refused to fight “dirty” as was being expected.
His words are beautiful:
“I know I am supposed to act like a man now and shout and hit you, but I am not that sort of man.
I will not allow anyone to talk to me in the way you have.
I am leaving.“
The woman was so shocked she apologized.
They are still together.
It is important to point out that if the woman in the story had been making a point, asking for a change, then the man needed to stay put and listen, but this was quite different.
She was “having a fit“.
Men and woman both have a capacity for blind rage, which achieves nothing.
Arising out of centuries of two-way, intergender abuse, there is an archetypal core of rage in us which, if we take it into our relationships, destroys all love and feeling.
“I’ve had it with men!“, says she.
“Women! Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em!“, he cries.
All men hate all women some of the time.
All women hate all men some of the time.
There is a long history of man-bashing by women and woman-bashing by men.
But this isn’t a personal thing and shouldn’t be brought into personal affairs.
Above: Scene from War of the Roses
We must fight, debate and be true to ourselves.
Otherwise our closeness is just an act.
But in fighting, we must show great restraint and always have respect.
Romance is all “Yes!” and heavy breathing.
Marriage is a relationship of trust that is steeped in the primal ambivalence of love and hate.
A third observation I have here is that I wonder if what Viola was searching for was not necessarily anger but rather passion.
Viola wants passion and purpose in Candido.
She carries a weighty desire in her, a passion somewhere between erotic feeling and religious fanaticism.)
Bellafront (the titular “honest whore“) is sitting in front of a mirror as she prepares her make-up.
(Isn’t make-up by its very purpose dishonest?
There is virtually no difference between an unmade-up bald naked woman and an unmade-up bald naked man, except their reporductive organs.
Any other difference between them is artifically produced.
A woman is the author of her own transformation and produces feminity by means of cosmetics, hairstyle and clothes.
This femininity, synthetic in origin, consists of two different components:
Emphasis on secondary sexual characteristics, to make her desirable.
Distancing herself by means of masks, to make her mysterious.
She deliberately keeps men in a state of constant bewilderment.
Woman regards her natural self merely as the raw materal of a woman, as if the raw material is of less value than the mask that conceals it.
It is not the raw material but the end result that has to be judged.
They have the odd idea that unmade-up, without curls and bracelets and necklaces that a woman is not really present.
Amusing themselves with their own bodies has become an end in itself.
For women’s demands on themselves are enormous.
Men have wisely, millennia ago, dropped out of the game.
Every man knows that he himself does not give a damn if a woman wears three colours of eye shadow or one or none, just as he knows he has no need for lace curtains or plants in the living room.
Women are so preoccupied with self and with beautification that men have come to the conclusion that, even if women paid any attention to them at all, they would never be considered handsome.
But men are not driven to wear a mask to pretend a beauty they neither possess nor feel.
What every man of maturity realizes is that woman are only fooling themselves.
If women spent as much time developing their intelligence and character as they do maintaining a mask of beauty than they may truly feel the equality they so desperately claim to crave.)
Hippolito tells her that, if she were his mistress, he would not permit her to carry on with so many different men.
Bellafront sighs longingly and tells Hippolito that it is her dream to be true to a single man.
Hippolito scoffs at this pronouncement and accuses Bellafront of lying to lure him into her web.
He is certain that, if he were to take up with her, she would certainly deceive him, just as all prostitutes always deceive their patrons.
Bellafront swears that she is an “honest whore“.
Claiming that there could never be such a thing, Hippolito offers to “teach” Bellafront “how to loathe” herself.
He proceeds to deliver a long, nasty speech on the sordidness of prostitution.
Bellafront weeps to hear his harsh words, but begs him to continue.
Hippolito continues a little further and exits, even though Bellafront begs him to stay.
Bellafront agonizes over her unrequited love for Hippolito.
She notices that he has left his sword behind, grabs it and prepares to stab herself, but stops when Hippolito re-enters and calls her a “madwoman“.
Hysterical, she begs him to love her or kill her.
Hippolito takes his sword from her and exits without saying another word.
Above: Scene from Wyatt Earp
(In a way, there is a kind of honesty in prostitution.
Every method of manipulation is based on the carrot-and-stick principle.
A man would be above bribery altogether were it not for one basic male need which has to be satisfied.
The need for physical contact.
This need is so strong.
Its fulfillment gives men such intense pleasure.
A man could, of course, condition his sexual needs, but instead of learning to suppress his needs, a man will allow them to be encouraged whenever possible.
Men never dress in such a way as to awaken sexual desire in a woman, but this is very much the contrary with women.
From the moment a girl becomes a woman, she disguises herself as bait.
She offers herself, at a price.
His total subjection to her.
It would be more economical and efficient for a man to satisfy his libido with a prostitute than rushing into marriage, so it is ironic that men consider ordinary prostitutes so very contemptible.
Prostitutes are among the few women who frankly admit that they make money by renting their bodies.
But no man would allow a prostitute to exploit him beyond the bartering of cash for momentary gratification.
Women despise the common prostitute for her stupidity.
A woman who sells her body so ineptly is shockingly stupid by female intelligence standards.
A man with strong sexual needs must be more obedient to women than others.
A woman profits from her body, while a man is slave to his.
The knack of being a good lover is to persist in the chase, without being a pest.
As tenderness, skill and intensity of touch set her alight, he can abandon himself more and more to his passion, cathcing up with her in joyous abandon.
Lovemaking and courtship takes confidence.
Between first meeting a woman and getting where you want to be, there are many chances of rejection, but if you pass the initiation stage, if you view your own sexuality as sacred and are proud of your own gender, then you come to the woman with fascination and respect, but on equal terms.
You respect and desire her but you respect yourself too.
It takes the desperation out of it.
“I am just a poor boy Though my story’s seldom told I have squandered my resistance For a pocketful of mumbles Such are promises All lies and jest Still a man hears what he wants to hear And disregards the rest
When I left my home and my family I was no more than a boy In the company of strangers In the quiet of the railway station Running scared Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters Where the ragged people go Looking for the places only they would know
Asking only workman’s wages, I come looking for a job But I get no offers Just a come-on from the whores on 7th Avenue I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there, la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Then I’m laying out my winter clothes And wishing I was gone, going home Where the New York City winters aren’t bleeding me Leading me, going home
In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of every glove that laid him down Or cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame “I am leaving, I am leaving“ But the fighter still remains
Most contemporary men get together with a woman first and then grow up second.
We fall in love mostly by good luck.
It just happens.
Sadly, maintaining love is often left to luck too.
But love is a craft which takes practice.
Eventually, then, many men and women lose the spark.
They fall out of love.
The man usually denies this to himself and is happy enough as long as his partner stays sexually available, a kind of sedating, sex-as-a-reward-at-the-end-of- the-day.
Sex compensates for his life of quiet desperation.
Mouths to feed, mortgage to pay, the soul-numbing routine of work.
I wake up every mornin’ I stumble out of bed Stretchin’ and yawnin’ Another day ahead It seems to last forever And time goes slowly by ‘Til babe and me’s together Then it starts to fly
‘Cos the moment that he’s with me Time can take a flight The moment that he’s with me Everything’s alright Night time is the right time We make love Then it’s his and my time We take off
My baby takes the morning train He works from nine till five and then He takes another home again To find me waitin’ for him
He takes me to a movie Or to a restaurant, to go Slow dancing Anything I want Only when he’s with me I catch a light Only when he gives me Makes me feel alright
My baby takes the morning train He works from nine till five and then He takes another home again To find me waitin’ for him
All day I think of him Dreamin’ of him constantly I’m crazy mad for him And he’s crazy mad for me (Crazy mad for me) When he steps off that train I’m makin’ a fool, a fight Work all day to earn his pay So we can play all night
My baby takes the morning train He works from nine till five and then He takes another home again To find me waitin’ for him
He’s always on that morning train (He works from nine till five and then) He works so hard (He takes another home again) To find me waiting for him (My baby takes the morning train)
Very often though, today’s woman tires of routine sex.
The very thing that makes him a good husband – his devotion to being a stable provider – wears out his spirit and mkaes him boring.
Finding little reward in their boring live or their sex life, she starts to cool down.
She exerts her perfect right not make love.
The man sulks, suffers, grouches and schemes, to no avail.
This long dark night is the result of a totally mistaken belief that he cannot live without a woman’s love.
But for the man who makes it through the long dark night, the rewards are great.
Comfortable in his solitude, he approaches women as equals.
The irony is that when you can “take it or leave it“, when love and affection are no longer a matter of life and death, then you are finally receptive.
Not needing sex makes you much more attractive.
Bellafront realizes that she wants a man’s constant companionship.
In this regard, she truly is honest.)
In A Trick to Catch the Old One, Theodorus Witgood, a ruined gentleman, enters and tells how, after foolishly wasting away all his money on brothels and drunkenness in the city, he has lost all of his lands to his uncle, Pecunius Lucre a usurer.
According to Witgood, Lucre’s motto is:
“He that doth his youth expose
To brothel, drink and danger
Let him that is nearest kin
Cheat before a stranger.”
Witgood says that he must now find some way to make a living for himself, and hints that he may not be averse to activities “out of the compass of the law” (i.e., illegal).
Witgood’s courtesan (kept lady) enters.
Witgood scolds her for being the cause of his ruin.
The Courtesan replies that the ‘jewel’ she gave him — her virginity — was worth much more than all the lands he has lost.
(Here is where I marvel at the mess mankind has made of sexuality.
Why in Heaven’s name does a woman possess more erogenous zones than a man and yet deny herself the liberty of their enjoyment?
How can it be psychologically healthy to possess such innate desires and yet suppress those desires for the sake of potential profit later?
Certainly, I have to admit there is a sort of reckless courage that a woman possesses in deliberately stoking the fires of men’s desires for physical contact with her.
As well, we live in an age where the use of contraceptives can prevent unwanted pregnancy and minimize the risks of contamination, so a cautious woman can be sexually active without the same intensity of worry that previous generations had.
But the unaccountable stigma that is cast upon a woman if she is too promiscuous must, in my opinion, be a source of frustration for some.
As for the jewel of virginity, ideally she should have as her first lover a person that reciprocates the desire, passion and intensity of feeling that she has.
I think what bothers me is the idea of her sex viewed as a jewel, a bartering of her body.
Certainly, she decides the bedroom fun, but if her goal is a devoted exclusive relationship, she may have to kiss a lot of frogs before she finds her prince.)
Witgood lays out a plan to get his lands back from his uncle.
The plan involves going to London (where his uncle is now located) and passing the Courtesan off as a wealthy widow whom Witgood intends to marry.
The Courtesan agrees to the plan.
Above: London, as seen from Primrose Hill
Joyce might marry Sam Freedom (Lucre’s wife’s son from another marriage), however, the match has not yet been confirmed.
Joyce has two suitors:
Sam, a rich idiot, and Moneylove, an impoverished scholar.
Joyce is currently in London, where she is learning how to become a gentlewoman so that she can catch a wealthy husband.
(Notice the calculating nature of all this.
Joyce is interested in her self development so she can catch a wealthy husband.
In fairness, the horizons of a woman in 1608 were quite different than they are for an Englishwoman of 2024.
But I find myself asking the question:
What makes a woman worthy of a man?
It has been said that a woman merely has to be to get a man, while a man has to become to be considered worthy of a woman.
But is it wrong to desire a woman who is a man’s equal counterpart in strength, intelligence and imagination?
To have a life partner who contributes to the family’s future in a job she wants to do rather than at a job she has to do, because she has yet to find a male sponsor?
Joyce may have lacked the opportunities to explore her potential, but what is modern woman’s excuse?
There is no primary difference in intelligence between the sexes.
It is in the decisions made to develop or let disintegrate one’s intelligence that makes differences between people.
I also find myself wondering how many modern women are like Joyce using her self-development, whether in the world of academia or in the business world, in order to simply find a life partner.
I think part of the problem with academia is that we confuse the memorization of knowledge for the true acquisition of wisdom.
There seems to be an unwritten myth that a woman rarely needs to win through her industry, ambition or perseverance, but simply through an attractive appearance.
Beauty can sleep while waiting for her prince to rouse her.)
You look like A perfect fit For a girl in need Of a tourniquet
But can you save me? Why don’t you save me? If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks that suspect They could never love anyone
‘Cause I can tell You know what it’s like A long farewell Of a hunger strike
But can you save me? Come on and save me If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks that suspect They could never love anyone
You struck me dumb Like radium Like Peter Pan or Superman You will come
To save me Why don’t you save me? If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks who suspect They could never love anyone Except the freaks that suspect They could never love anyone But the freaks that suspect They could never love anyone
Come on and save me Why don’t you save me? If you could save me
From the ranks of the freaks that suspect They could never love anyone Except the freaks who suspect They could never love anyone Except the freaks Who could never love anyone
Witgood tells his friend Host (an innkeeper) that he is about to marry a wealthy widow whom he plans to take to London so that she can be introduced to his uncle (the ‘widow‘ is actually Witgood’s courtesan).
He asks the Host to pose as the ‘widow’s‘ servingman while they are in London.
This favour is necessary,
Witgood claims, because when she ran away with him, the ‘widow’ abandoned all of her servants.
To convince his uncle of her wealth, appearances have to be maintained.
The Host knows that Witgood intends to trick his uncle, but he does not know that the ‘widow’ is, in fact, Witgood’s courtesan.
(“Appearances have to be maintained.”
But what lies beneath the appearances?)
Witgood and the Host arrive in London.
The Host assures Witgood that the ‘widow’ has been provided with good lodgings.
Dampit and Gulf (two usurers) enter.
Witgood tells the Host that Dampit is “the most notorious usurering, blasphemous, atheistical, brothel-vomiting rascal that we have in these latter times.”
(Shakespeare’s insults are good, but Middleton’s may be better.)
Above: Scene from Full Metal Jacket
He also says that, although Dampit dresses like a beggar, he is, in fact, very rich — he earned all his money with the Devil’s help, by cheating and trampling the law.
As much as Dampit is a reprehensible scoundrel I cannot admire, I see wisdom in his choice of attire.
(José Alberto “Pepe” Mujica Cordano (born 20 May 1935) is a Uruguayan politician, former revolutionary and farmer who served as the 40th President of Uruguay from 2010 to 2015.
A former guerrilla with the Tupamaros, he was tortured and imprisoned for 14 years during the military dictatorship in the 1970s and 1980s.
A member of the Broad Front coalition of left-wing parties, Mujica was Minister of Livestock, Agriculture, and Fisheries from 2005 to 2008 and a Senator afterwards.
As the candidate of the Broad Front, he won the 2009 presidential election and took office as President on 1 March 2010.
Mujica has been described as “the world’s humblest head of state” due to his austere lifestyle and his donation of around 90% of his $12,000 monthly salary to charities that benefit poor people and small entrepreneurs.
An outspoken critic of capitalism’s focus on stockpiling material possessions which do not contribute to human happiness, he has been praised by the media and journalists for his philosophical ideologies.
The Times Higher Education referred to him as the “philosopher president” in 2015, a play on words of Plato’s conception of the philosopher king.)
Above: José Alberto “Pepe” Mujica Cordano
I grant you that Dampit is in no way the kind of idealist that Cordano is.
But there is wisdom in not displaying your wealth ostentatiously.
For bling and bounty only create envy and greed in others.
Also the reason that many rich folks have gotten rich and have remained rich is that they are rarely generous with the blessings that good fortune has given them.
In my own travels I have also been impressed by the selfless generosity of those who have littie left to give and yet do so without hesitation nor expectation of reward.
They help others simply because they are compelled to.
Above: The widow with two mites
I am also reminded of the legendary tales of King Arthur and F. W. Woolworth.
“If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten.”
(Rudyard Kipling)
Above: English writer Rudyard Kipling (1865 – 1936)
One of the best known stories in English history is that of King Alfred and the cakes.
Children are taught the story where Alfred is on the run from the Vikings, taking refuge in the home of a peasant woman.
She asks him to watch her cakes – small loaves of bread – baking by the fire, but distracted by his problems, he lets the cakes burn and is roundly scolded by the woman.
Would he have been so roundly scolded had the peasant woman seen Alfred as King?
Above: King Alfred and the cakes
There is the legend of Woolworth visiting his stores disguised as a customer to gauge how customers were being served and then returned as himself to give feedback on the customer service he received (or didn’t receive).
Clearly, he understood that he would be treated quite differently had it been known who he really was.
Above: Frank Winfield Woolworth (1852 – 1919)
I want to be judged by the size of my manners and not by the size of my wallet or bank account.)
Above: Scene from Star Wars: Attack of the Clones
(Dex: These Kamino keep to themselves. They’re cloners. Damn good ones.
Obi-Wan: Are they friendly?
Dex: It depends.
Obi-Wan: Depends on what, Dex?
Dex: On how good your manners are and how big your pocketbook is.)
Dampit greets Witgood and rhapsodises about his rise to wealth, repeatedly referring himself as “a great trampler of time“:
“Thus was poor Harry Dampit made rich by others’ laziness, who, though they would not follow their own suits, I made ’em follow me with their purses.”
I won’t reveal any more of the story here.
Above: Ebenezer Scrooge
In A Mad World, My Masters, Richard Follywit enters with his cohorts, Mawworm (intestinal worm), Hoboy, and other hangers-on.
He jokes with his companions about their wild ways and sarcastically repents and says he is now a man who “swears without number, gulls (to cheat) without mercy and drinks without measure“.
He tells his cohorts of a plan he has hatched to get some more money:
His grandfather, Sir Bounteous Progress (a rich old knight) has left him everything in his will, but refuses to give him as much as £10 while he is still alive.
Despite his frugality concerning Follywit, Bounteous loves to entertain noble guests with extravagant feasts.
Follywit therefore plans to disguise himself as a great lord so that he can capitalize on his grandfather’s hospitality.
As Follywit and companions exit, Penitent Brothel, a country gentleman, enters.
Penitent remarks on Follywit’s reputation as a wild prankster, but notes that he is not so much better because he is subject to “wild passions and deadly follies himself“:
He is in love with Mistress Hairbrain, who is extremely difficult to get to because she is kept under strict guard by her obsessively jealous husband, Mr. Hairbrain.
In order to get to Mistress Hairbrain, Penitent says he has contracted the services of ‘The Courtesan‘, a prostitute who poses as Mistress Hairbrain’s friend and moral instructor but is in fact working to corrupt her.
The Courtesan enters and tells Penitent that Mistress Hairbrain’s corruption is going very well.
The only problem is Mr. Hairbrain, whose excessive jealously is likely to make the project very difficult.
Penitent frets, but the Courtesan tells him not to worry:
She won’t take any money unless the project is a success.
Penitent praises the Courtesan’s business ethic and exits.
The Courtesan’s mother brings the Courtesan a token from Sir Bounteous Progress (the Courtesan is Sir Bounteous Progress’ mistress).
Luxuriating in the subtlety of her own craftiness, the Mother tells how she has prostituted the Courtesan 15 times in order to save up enough money for a good marriage dowry.
She tells the Courtesan it is all worthwhile if, by sinning, she can secure a good name for herself:
“Who gets the opinion of a virtuous name
May sin at pleasure and never think of shame.”
The Courtesan exits.
(Consider this:
The Courtesan suggests that losing one’s virtue is OK if it secures a good name for yourself.
As in the end justifies the means.
How is Follywit any different than the Courtesan?
They both do want ever they want to achieve their aims and both are unshamed of doing so.)
Receptionist: How do you write women so well?
Melvin Udall: I think of a man. And I take away reason and accountability.
Inesse and Possibility enter.
They are the eldest brothers from two different families:
The former holds his lands “in esse” (in actual possession) and the latter holds his lands “in posse” (in anticipated possession) — either of these men could be a prime source of revenue for the Courtesan.
Inesse and Possibility ask the Mother where the Courtesan is;
The Mother tells them she is studying the Bible.
They ask if they can see her.
The Mother says she will only grant permission after they have sworn to refrain from using coarse language.
(Even Trump sells Bibles.)
Obsessing over the possibility that his wife might cheat on him, Harebrain hires two watchmen to guard his house, telling them that he has heard a rumour that he might be robbed.
In an aside, he reveals that the ‘jewel’ he really intends to guard is his wife.
The Courtesan enters (posing, as Mistress Hairbrain’s friend and moral instructor).
Hairbrain tells her that he is very worried about his wife’s chastity and mentions that he has taken away all of her erotic literature (which includes Shakespeare’s narrative poem, Venus and Adonis).
He asks the Courtesan to read some religious literature to Mistress Hairbrain:
“There’s a good chapter on Hell that will terrify her in this cold weather.
So read to her the horrible punishments for itching wantonness.”
The Courtesan exits.
(Literature is moral or immoral depending upon whether thoughts turn to deeds.)
Talking to himself, Hairbrain says that, with the help of the Courtesan, he will keep his wife honest, only performing sexual favors for her husband.
(He regards sex as the payment she owes him for room and board.)
(He will provide for her if she will provide for him?
Sounds more like business than love?)
Mistress Hairbrain and the Courtesan enter.
The Courtesan instructs Mistress Hairbrain in the art of appearing chaste and avoiding any traps her husband might set for her.
Mistress Hairbrain gives the Courtesan a jewel to present to Penitent Brothel as a promise of her love, which she says she will demonstrate as soon as she manages to escape from her husband’s strict guard.
When Hairbrain joins them, the Courtesan tells him that Mistress Hairbrain believes that every sin is damnable — an opinion that the Courtesan has been trying to refute.
Hairbrain laughs at his wife’s alleged moral strictness.
He says that sins such as usury, bribery, sloth, pride and gluttony are permissible — the only truly damnable sin is adultery.
When the Courtesan exits, Hairbrain orders his wife to follow her instructor’s advice faithfully.
Above: An allegorical image depicting the human heart subject to the seven deadly sins, each represented by an animal (clockwise: toad = avarice; snake = envy; lion = wrath; snail = sloth; pig = gluttony; goat = lust; peacock = pride), Taolenn de François-Marie Balanant, 2010
(Is it only sinful if we deem it so?)
I must confess I find a sad sameness to the entire body of Middleton’s work.
Almost every character is greedy, selfish and self-absorbed like characters in a never-ending soap opera.
Middleton’s cynicism is as palpable as a cold puddle splashed from a passing car onto a well-groomed pedestrian.
I have read what I could through Google on this day, but despite my best efforts I could not find an open manuscript of Middleton’s Penniless Parliament of Threadbare Poets, but the title has triggered ideas I wish to share in my next post….
Though the stage is lit, the theatre is shadows.
Though daylight shines through my windows, reading Middleton I feel that I am in the middle of a long dark night.
My mind, that everpresent jukebox, finds Middleton making me think of Leonard Cohen:
Like a bird on the wire Like a drunk in a midnight choir I have tried in my way to be free Like a worm on a hook Like a knight from some old fashioned book I have saved all my ribbons for thee
If I, if I have been unkind I hope that you can just let it go by If I, if I have been untrue I hope you know it was never to you
Oh, like a baby, stillborn Like a beast with his horn I have torn everyone who reached out for me But I swear by this song And by all that I have done wrong I will make it all up to thee
I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch He said to me, “You must not ask for so much.” And a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door She cried to me, “Hey, why not ask for more?“
Oh, like a bird on the wire Like a drunk in a midnight choir I have tried in my way to be free
As the dates below will show, this blog (The Chronicles of Canada Slim) (one of two) has suffered from neglect.
I offer only one explanation:
I have been….distracted.
Above: Flag of Canada
The purpose of The Chronicles of Canada Slim is to capture in writing my adventures prior to the calendar year.
Generally, the Chronicles tells the tales of travels in Alsace, Italy, Lanzarote, London, Porto, Serbia and Switzerland.
Above: Flag of AlsaceAbove: Flag of ItalyAbove: Lanzarote (red) of the Spanish Canary IslandsAbove: London, EnglandAbove: Flag of Porto, PortugalAbove: Flag of SerbiaAbove: Flag of Switzerland
But much has been happening since the finale of my Zwingli Way Walk (recorded here): an accident which broke both my arms, work commitments, a visit to Canada, the Corona virus, and the decision to work here in Turkey.
Please see Canada Slim and…..
the City of Spirits (3 January 2016)
the Push for Reformation (5 January 2016)
the Genius of Glarus (14 August 2016)
the Road to Reformation (12 November 2017)
the Wild Child of Toggenburg (20 November 2017)
the Thundering Hollows (27 November 2017)
the Basel Butterfly Effect (3 December 2017)
the Vienna Waltz (9 December 2017)
the Battle for Switzerland’s Soul (18 December 2017)
the Last Walk of Robert Walser (25 December 2017)
the Monks of the Dark Forest (8 January 2018)
the Privileged Place (26 January 2018)
the Lakeside Pilgrimage (24 April 2018)
the Battlefield Brotherhood (8 July 2018)
the Family of Mann (12 August 2018)
the Anachronic Man (8 October 2018)
the Chocolate Factory of Unhappiness (30 January 2019)
the Third Man (26 June 2019)
the Humanitarian Adventure (10 December 2019)
the Succulent Collection (14 November 2020)
the Zürich Zealots (19 November 2020)
I have tried to contribute regularly to my other blog Building Everest, which tries to relate events of this calendar year along with ongoing accounts of Swiss Miss‘s world wanderings and recollections of my 2020 travels in Canada just prior to Covid-19’s impact being felt globally.
As well, other writing projects have also suffered, but as long as I breathe I will still believe that these too will eventually be accomplished.
Above: Mount Everest
Landschlacht, Switzerland, Thursday 3 December 2020
All things end.
One day these fingers will stop typing and my mind will go silent.
One day one breath will be my last.
Death is the one commonality we all share, regardless of whether pauper or prince, peasant or president, saint or sinner.
And it is accepting this inevitability that all of us must come to grips with, in our own way, in our own time.
Save for the suicidal or the sick, few of us wake up in the morning and think to ourselves:
Perhaps today is a good day to die.
Perhaps an exception to this rule of the suicidal or the painfully sick are the lives of those in risky professions, such as health care, the police force, the military.
Above: St. Leonhard Chapel, Landschlacht, Switzerland
As death is part of, and the end of, life, the question we all ask and the answer we all fear is what, if anything, follows death.
The afterlife (also referred to as life after death or the world to come) is an existence in which the essential part of an individual’s identity or their stream of consciousness continues to live after the death of their physical body.
According to various ideas about the afterlife, the essential aspect of the individual that lives on after death may be some partial element, or the entire soul or spirit, of an individual, which carries with it and may confer personal identity or, on the contrary nirvana.
Belief in an afterlife is in contrast to the belief in oblivion after death.
In some views, this continued existence takes place in a spiritual realm, and in other popular views, the individual may be reborn into this world and begin the life cycle over again, likely with no memory of what they have done in the past. In this latter view, such rebirths and deaths may take place over and over again continuously until the individual gains entry to a spiritual realm or otherworld.
Major views on the afterlife derive from religion, esotericism and metaphysics.
Some belief systems, such as those in the Abrahamic tradition, hold that the dead go to a specific plane of existence after death, as determined by God, or other divine judgment, based on their actions or beliefs during life.
In contrast, in systems of reincarnation, such as those in the Indian religions, the nature of the continued existence is determined directly by the actions of the individual in the ended life.
Above: Danube cemetery, Cernavoda, Romania
The Abrahamic religions, also collectively referred to as the world of Abrahamism, are a group of religions that claim descent from the worship of the God of Abraham, an ancient Semitic religion of the Bronze Age Israelites and the Ishmaelites, the direct predecessor of various ancient Israelite sects, including the remaining two extant Israelite religions of Judaism and Samaritanism, with all other Abrahamic religions descending from Judaism.
The Abrahamic religions are monotheistic, with the term deriving from the patriarch Abraham (a major figure described in the Torah, Tanakh, Bible, and Qu’ran, variously recognized by Jews, Samaritans, Christians, Muslims, and others).
Above: Portrait of Abraham, by Guercino, Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan, Italy
The three major Abrahamic religions trace their origins to the first two sons of Abraham: for Jews and Christians it is his second son Isaac, and for Muslims his elder son Ishmael.
Above: The Angel Hinders the Offering of Isaac, by Rembrandt, Hermitage Museum, Saint Petersburg, Russia
Abrahamic religions spread globally through Christianity being adopted by the Roman Empire in the 4th century and Islam by the Umayyad Empire from the 7th century.
Today the Abrahamic religions are one of the major divisions in comparative religion (along with Indian, Iranian and East Asian religions).
The major Abrahamic religions in chronological order of founding are Judaism (the source of the other two religions) in the 6th century BCE, Christianity in the 1st century CE, and Islam in the 7th century CE.
Christianity, Islam and Judaism are the Abrahamic religions with the greatest numbers of adherents.
Above: The Star of David, symbol of JudaismAbove: The cross of Christ, symbol of ChristianityAbove: The word “Allah” in Arabic calligraphy, symbol of Islam
Christians are people who follow or adhere to Christianity, a monotheistic Abrahamic religion based on the life and teachings of Jesus Christ.
The words Christ and Christian derive from the Koine Greek title Christós (Χριστός), a translation of the Biblical Hebrew term mashiach (מָשִׁיחַ) (usually rendered as messiah in English).
While there are diverse interpretations of Christianity which sometimes conflict, they are united in believing that Jesus has a unique significance.
The term “Christian” used as an adjective is descriptive of anything associated with Christianity or Christian churches, or in a proverbial sense “all that is noble, and good, and Christlike.”
It does not have a meaning of ‘of Christ’ or ‘related or pertaining to Christ‘.
Above: Christ the Saviour (Pantokrator), a 6th-century icon, Saint Catherine’s Monastery, Mount Sinai, Egypt
According to a 2011 Pew Research Center survey, there were 2.2 billion Christians around the world in 2010, up from about 600 million in 1910.
Today, about 37% of all Christians live in the Americas, about 26% live in Europe, 24% live in sub-Saharan Africa, about 13% live in Asia and the Pacific, and 1% live in the Middle East and North Africa.
Christians make up the majority of the population in 158 countries and territories.
280 million Christians live as a minority.
About half of all Christians worldwide are Catholic, while more than a third are Protestant (37%).
Orthodox communions comprise 12% of the world’s Christians.
Other Christian groups make up the remainder.
By 2050, the Christian population is expected to exceed 3 billion.
According to a 2012 Pew Research Center survey, Christianity will remain the world’s largest religion in 2050, if current trends continue.
Christians are the one of the most persecuted religious groups in the world, especially in the Middle East, North Africa, East Asia, and South Asia.
Christianity is an Abrahamic monotheistic religion based on the life and teachings of Jesus of Nazareth.
It is the world’s largest religion, with about 2.4 billion followers.
Its adherents, known as Christians, make up a majority of the population in 157 countries and territories, and believe that Jesus is the Christ, whose coming as the Messiah was prophesied in the Hebrew Bible, called the Old Testament in Christianity, and chronicled in the New Testament.
Christianity remains culturally diverse in its Western and Eastern branches, as well as in its doctrines concerning justification and the nature of salvation, ecclesiology, ordination and Christology.
The creeds of various Christian denominations generally hold in common Jesus as the Son of God who ministered, suffered and died on a cross, but rose from the dead for the salvation of mankind, referred to as the Gospel, meaning the “good news“.
Describing Jesus’ life and teachings are the four canonical gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, with the Old Testament as the Gospel‘s respected background.
Above: Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, by Carl Bloch (1877)
Christianity began as a Judaic sect in the 1st century in the Roman province of Judea.
Jesus’ apostles and their followers spread around the Levant, Europe, Anatolia, Mesopotamia, Transcaucasia, Egypt and Ethiopia, despite initial persecution.
Above: The eastern Mediterranean region in the time of Paul the Apostle (5 – 64 CE)
It soon attracted Gentile (non-Jewish) God-fearers, which led to a departure from Jewish customs, and, after the Fall of Jerusalem (70 CE), which ended the Temple-based Judaism, Christianity slowly separated from Judaism.
Above: Siege and destruction of Jerusalem, by David Roberts (1850)
Emperor Constantine the Great (272 – 337) decriminalized Christianity in the Roman Empire by the Edict of Milan (313), later convening the Council of Nicaea (325) where early Christianity was consolidated into what would become the state church of the Roman Empire (380).
Above: Bust of Constantine, Capitoline Museum, Rome
The early history of Christianity’s united church before major schisms is sometimes referred to as the “Great Church” (though divergent sects existed at the same time, including Gnostics and Jewish Christians).
The Church of the East split after the Council of Ephesus (431) and Oriental Orthodoxy split after the Council of Chalcedon (451) over differences in Christology, while the Eastern Orthodox Church and the Catholic Church separated in the East-West Schism (1054), especially over the authority of the Bishop of Rome.
Protestantism split in numerous denominations from the Catholic Church in the Reformation era (16th century) over theological and ecclesiological disputes, most predominantly on the issue of justification and the primacy of the Bishop of Rome.
Christianity played a prominent role in the development of Western civilization, particularly in Europe from late antiquity and the Middle Ages.
Following the Age of Discovery (15th – 17th century), Christianity was spread into the Americas, Oceania, sub-Saharan Africa, and the rest of the world via missionary work.
Above: Various depictions of Jesus
The four largest branches of Christianity are the Catholic Church (1.3 billion / 50.1%), Protestantism (920 million / 36.7%), the Eastern Orthodox Church (230 million), and the Oriental Orthodox churches (62 million) (Orthodox churches combined at 11.9%), though thousands of smaller church communities exist despite efforts toward unity (ecumenism).
Despite a decline in adherence in the West, Christianity remains the dominant religion in the region, with about 70% of the population identifying as Christian.
Christianity is growing in Africa and Asia, the world’s most populous continents.
Protestantism is a form of Christianity that originated with the 16th-century Reformation, a movement against what its followers perceived to be errors in the Catholic Church.
Protestants originating in the Reformation reject the Roman Catholic doctrine of papal supremacy, but disagree among themselves regarding the number of sacraments, the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, and matters of ecclesiastical polity and apostolic succession.
They emphasize:
the priesthood of all believers
justification by faith (sola fide) rather than by good works
the teaching that salvation comes by divine grace or “unmerited favour” only, not as something merited (sola gratia)
affirm the Bible as being the sole highest authority (sola scriptura / “scripture alone“) or primary authority (primascriptura / “scripture first“) for Christian doctrine, rather than being on parity with sacred tradition.
The five solae of Lutheran and Reformed Christianity summarize basic theological differences in opposition to the Catholic Church.
Protestantism began in Germany in 1517, when Martin Luther published his Ninety-five Theses as a reaction against abuses in the sale of indulgences by the Catholic Church, which purported to offer the remission of the temporal punishment of sins to their purchasers.
Above: Door displaying the Ninety-five Theses, All Saints’ Church, Wittenberg, Germany
The term, however, derives from the letter of protestation from German Lutheran princes in March 1529 against an edict of the Diet of Speyer condemning the teachings of Martin Luther as heretical.
Above: German reformer Martin Luther (1483 – 1546)
Although there were earlier breaks and attempts to reform the Catholic Church — notably by Peter Waldo, John Wycliffe and Jan Hus — only Luther succeeded in sparking a wider, lasting and modern movement.
Above: Statue of French reformer Pierre Vaudès (aka Peter Waldo) (1140 – 1205), Worms, GermanyAbove: English reformer John Wycliffe (1328 – 1384)Above: Portrait of Jan Hus (aka John Hus) (1372 – 1415)
In the 16th century, Lutheranism spread from Germany into Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland, Latvia, Estonia and Iceland.
Above: Lutheranism in the world, 2013 – The darker the region, the more Lutherans therein.
Calvinist churches spread in Germany, Hungary, the Netherlands, Scotland, Switzerland and France by Protestant Reformers, such as John Calvin, Huldrych Zwingli and John Knox.
Above: French reformer Jehan Cauvin (aka John Calvin) (1509 – 1564)Above: Swiss reformer Huldrych Zwingli (1484 – 1531)Above: Scottish reformer John Knox (1514 – 1572)
The political separation of the Church of England from the Pope under King Henry VIII began Anglicanism, bringing England and Wales into this broad Reformation movement.
Above: English King Henry VIII (1491 – 1547)
Today, Protestantism constitutes the second-largest form of Christianity (after Catholicism), with a total of 800 million to 1 billion adherents worldwide or about 37% of all Christians.
Protestants have developed their own culture, with major contributions in education, the humanities and sciences, the political and social order, the economy and the arts and many other fields.
Protestantism is diverse, being more divided theologically and ecclesiastically than the Catholic Church, the Eastern Orthodox Church or Oriental Orthodoxy.
Without structural unity or central human authority, Protestants developed the concept of an invisible church, in contrast to the Catholic, the Eastern Orthodox Church, the Oriental Orthodox Churches, the Assyrian Church of the East and the Ancient Church of the East, which all understand themselves as the one and only original church — the “onetrue church” — founded by Jesus Christ.
Some denominations do have a worldwide scope and distribution of membership, while others are confined to a single country.
A majority of Protestants are members of a handful of Protestant denominational families:
Adventists
Anabaptists
Anglicans / Episcopalians
Baptists
Calvinist / Reformed
Lutherans
Methodists
Pentecostals
Charismatic, Evangelical, Independent and other churches are on the rise and constitute a significant part of Protestantism.
Above: Key figures of the Protestant Reformation: Martin Luther and John Calvin depicted on a church pulpit, Mikolow, Poland. These reformers emphasized preaching and made it a centerpiece of worship.
As regular followers of my blogs know, I have, for quite some time, been writing about my following in the footsteps of Swiss reformer Huldrych Zwingli.
By “following in the footsteps” I do not refer to following the example of Zwingli’s life as a model for my own.
But rather I mean that I have been tracing on foot the life path of Zwingli by walking from his place of birth in Wildhaus in the Toggenburg region to his final resting place in Kappel am Albis – a five-hour / 19 km walk south of Uetliberg overlooking Zürich.
Above: Marcel and Yvonne Steiner
Huldrych Zwingli or Ulrich Zwingli (1484 – 1531) was a leader of the Reformation in Switzerland, born during a time of emerging Swiss patriotism and increasing criticism of the Swiss mercenary system.
Above: Birthplace of Huldrych Zwingli, Wildhaus, Canton St. Gallen, Switzerland
He attended the University of Vienna and the University of Basel, a scholarly center of Renaissance humanism.
Above: Seal of the University of Vienna (Austria)Above: Logo of the University of Basel (Switzerland)
He continued his studies while he served as a pastor in Glarus and later in Einsiedeln, where he was influenced by the writings of Erasmus.
In 1519, Zwingli became the Leutpriester (people’s priest) of the Grossmünster in Zürich where he began to preach ideas on reform of the Catholic Church.
In his first public controversy in 1522, he attacked the custom of fasting during Lent.
In his publications, he noted corruption in the ecclesiastical hierarchy, promoted clerical marriage, and attacked the use of images in places of worship.
Among his most notable contributions to the Reformation was his expository preaching, starting in 1519, through the Gospel of Matthew, before eventually using biblical exegesis to go through the entire New Testament, a radical departure from the Catholic mass.
In 1525, he introduced a new communion liturgy to replace the Mass.
He also clashed with the Anabaptists, which resulted in their persecution.
Historians have debated whether or not he turned Zürich into a theocracy.
The Reformation spread to other parts of the Swiss Confederation, but several cantons resisted, preferring to remain Catholic.
Zwingli formed an alliance of Reformed cantons which divided the Confederation along religious lines.
In 1529, a war was averted at the last moment between the two sides.
Above: Religious map of Switzerland, 1536
Meanwhile, Zwingli’s ideas came to the attention of Martin Luther and other reformers.
They met at the Marburg Colloquy and agreed on many points of doctrine, but they could not reach an accord on the doctrine of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist.
Above: Woodcut illustration of the Marburg Colloquy (1 – 4 October 1529)
In 1531, Zwingli’s alliance applied an unsuccessful food blockade on the Catholic cantons.
The cantons responded with an attack at a moment when Zürich was unprepared….
Above: Battle of Kappel, 11 October 1531
Zwingli wanted to enforce the Reformed sermon in the entire area of the Swiss Confederation.
He tried to break the resistance of central Switzerland by force of arms.
This was his undoing.
The Reformation in Switzerland was unstoppable.
It prevailed in church and state and gave the authorities more power.
But there were also opponents of the Reformation.
Zwingli and his innovations were sharply criticized, but that didn’t detract from its popularity.
The people flocked to the Grossmünster for its services.
Zwingli commented on theological, ecclesiastical and political questions in the pulpit.
He tried to renew the Church from the inside and to abolish the excesses and abuses with the consent of the Bishop and Pope.
His mission was to lead the entire Swiss Confederation to true Christianity.
He could not accept that the five places involved in the pension system continued to withhold the Reformed sermon from the central Swiss.
Above: Switzerland, 1530
The struggle for the right belief, in his opinion, required courageous action.
Zwingli wrote:
“I believe that just as the Church came to life through blood, it can also be renewed through blood, not otherwise.”
The open break with the Pope and the Church became evident on 29 January 1523, when the Zürich Council obliged the pastors to preach the “pure gospel” based on Zwingli’s example.
At Easter 1525, the Evangelical Last Supper formulated by Zwingli was celebrated instead of Mass for the first time.
Above: Zürich, Switzerland
There were similar developments in other parts of the Swiss Confederation.
Zwingli was in contact with like-minded people.
Well-known exponents of the Reformation in the Swiss Confederation were:
Johannes Dörig (1499 – 1526)
Walter Klarer (1500 – 1567)
Johannes Hess (1486 – 1537)
Valentin Tschudi (1499 – 1555)
Fridolin Brunner (1498 – 1570)
Sebastian Hofmeister (1494 – 1533)
Above: Swiss reformer Sebastian Hofmeister
Berchtold Haller (1492 – 1536)
Above: German reformer Berchtold Haller
Niklaus Manuel (1484 – 1530)
Above: Swiss reformer Niklaus Manuel
Konrad Pellikan (1478 – 1556)
Above: German reformer Konrad Pellikan
Wilhelm Reublin (1484 – 1549)
Johannes Oekolampad (1482 – 1531)
Above: German reformer Johannes Oekolampad
Johannes Comander (1484 – 1557)
Jakob Salzmann (1484 – 1526)
Dr. Joachim von Watt (aka Vadian) (1483 – 1551)
Above: Swiss reformer Joachim Vadian
The disputes about what it meant to be a good Christian led to internal political tensions in the Swiss Confederation.
The 1524 Diet did not lead to an audible solution in dealing that the true gospel should be preached to all confederates.
The Swiss Confederation was weakened.
Above: Flag of the Swiss Confederation
The Pope and the French tried to influence.
Johannes Eck (1486 – 1543), who fought on behalf of the Pope, and Martin Luther (1483 – 1546), took part in the 1526 Baden Disputation.
Above: German counter-reformer Johannes Eck
Eck needed nine places in the Confederation to ostracize and ban Zwingli as Emperor Charles V (1500 – 1558) had done with Luther in 1521.
Above: Holy Roman Emperor Charles V
However, the decision was never implemented.
Tensions continued.
Zwingli thought armed conflicts were possible.
He wanted to prevent the Reformed places from being reintegrated into the Catholic Church by military force.
He consulted with Zürich officers and at the beginning of 1526 he drafted a war plan for the attention of the Zürich authorities.
In February 1528, Bern officially converted to the Reformation.
Zwingli took note of this pleasure and satisfaction.
Above: Bern, Switzerland
On Zwingli’s advice, Zürich concluded so-called “Christian castle rights” with the Reformed cities of Bern, Konstanz, St. Gallen, Biel-Bienne, Mühlhausen, Basel and Schaffhausen.
Above: Konstanz, GermanyAbove: St. Gallen, SwitzerlandAbove: Old town, Biel, SwitzerlandAbove: Mühlhausen, GermanyAbove: Basel, SwitzerlandAbove: Schaffhausen, Switzerland
The cities pledged to help each other should they be attacked because of their beliefs.
As a reaction to this, the Catholic towns of Luzern, Uri, Schwyz, Zug and Unterwalden allied themselves with Ferdinand von Habsburg-Austria (1503 – 1564) in the “Christian Association“.
Above: Images of Luzern, SwitzerlandAbove: Flag of the Canton of UriAbove: Schwyz, SwitzerlandAbove: Zug, SwitzerlandAbove: Flag of the Canton of Unterwalden
In the early summer of 1529 the situation came to a head:
Both parties committed attacks, the Unterwaldner in the Bernese Oberland, the Zürichers in St. Gallen, and the Schwyzers by executing Reformed pastor Jakob Kaiser (1485 – 1529).
The Zürich government decided to go to war on 4 June 1529.
On 9 June, 4,000 people in armor and guns were standing in Kappel am Albis on the border with the canton of Zug.
Zwingli and several like-minded pasters were there.
Zwingli wanted to ride of his own accord, but the army commanders would have preferred because of the hospitality against Zwingli that he would have stayed at home.
They appointed another pastor to be the field chaplain.
Above: Kappel am Albis, Switzerland
The troops of the Reformed towns numbered 30.000 men, the central Swiss had an army of 9,000 men.
In view of the great overwhelming power, the people of Zürich saw themselves marching into Zug and Luzern without much bloodshed, thus enforcing the free preaching of the Gospel and the prohibition of mercenaries and pensions throughout the entire Confederation.
Above: Coat of arms of ZugAbove: Coat of arms of Luzern
But shortly before the attack, the Glarner Landammann Hans Aebli suddenly wanted to parley.
The central Swiss troops were not yet fully armed and one should refrain from a brotherly fight.
So a break was agreed and the Zürich authorities informed of the Glarus request.
Above: Flag of Canton Glarus
Zwingli wanted to use the numerical superioriry of the Reformers at all costs.
He wrote from the field to the Zürich Council:
“Be steadfast and do not fear war.
We do not thirst for someone’s blood.
We are only concerned with one thing:
That the nerve of the oligarchs’ policy must be cut.
If that does not happen, neither the truth of the Gospel nor the servants of the Gospel safe with us.
We do not contemplate the cruel, but the good and patriotic.
We want to save people who otherwise perish from ignorance.
We thirst for freedom to be preserved.
So do not be afraid of our plans.“
Above: Flag of Zürich
As a condition for peace he suggested to the Council:
The Gospel should be able to be preached unhindered throughout the Confederation.
No more pensions should be accepted.
Those who brokered pensions in the five towns were to be punished while the Zürich troops were still in Kappel.
The Zürichers were to receive war compensation.
Schwyz had to make amends for the children of Pastor Kaiser of 1,000 guilders.
Zwingli’s admonitions and warnings to the Zürich authorities were not heard.
Above: Flag of Canton Schwyz
In the meantime, the central Swiss were ready to fight, but the fighting spirit waned on both sides.
The federal spirit gained the upper hand.
In addition, the men suffered from shortages on both sides.
The central Swiss lacked bread.
The Zürichers lacked milk.
A couple of people from central Switzerland put a bucket of milk on the border.
The people of Zürich got the hint:
They brought the chunks of bread for the soup, which went down in history as “Kappel milk soup“.
But the wait and the negotiations continued.
Above: Kappel Milk Soup
Since the assembly of 14 June in Aarau did not bring an agreement, the negotiations were conducted at Zwingli’s suggestion in front of the assembled troops in the vicinity of Kappel.
Above: Aarau, Switzerland
The ambassadors of the central Switzerland, Zürich and Zwingli expressed themselves.
Zwingli wrote to the Zürich authorities:
“For God’s sake, do something brave!“
The formulation of a peace agreement progressed resinously and after more than two weeks of negotiations the First Kappeler Landfrieden was finally proclaimed on 26 June 1529:
The Reformed sermon was allowed everywhere and the central Swiss cancelled with the Habsburgs.
This strengthened the “Christian castle rights” of the Reformers who felt themselves to be victorious.
Zwingli was on the one hand satisfied with the bloodless peace.
On the other hand, he did not trust the central Swiss.
Above: Huldrych Zwingli
The wording of the peace treaty left a lot of room for interpretation, which just two months later led to violent disputes at a parliamentary meeting.
In particular, there was a dispute over the sovereignty over belief in the individual areas.
Both sides demanded that the minority bow to the majority.
So it was allowed in Zürich to stick to the old faith and attend Catholic mass.
In central Switzerland, Reformers were not allowed to hold their own church services in communities that remained mostly Catholic.
There was also a quarrel about war compensation.
Instead of the 80,000 guilders demanded by Zürich and Bern, they awarded only 2,500 guilders from both places, which the central Swiss did not want to pay either.
The mutual trust was gone.
The Reformers were suspicious of the central Swiss, despite the contractual ban they were again in contact with the Habsburgs.
Zwingli and Zürich feared that Emperor Charles V and the Habsburgers could attack the Reformed areas in the Confederation and Germany with the support of central Switzerland.
Above: Flag of the Habsburg Monarchy
Zwingli wanted to defend the Reformed areas of the Confederation and tried to forge an alliance with Hesse and other Reformed states in Germany, as well as with Venice and Milan.
His attempts were unsuccessful.
Above: Coat of arms of the German state of HesseAbove: Images of Venice, ItalyAbove: Images of Milan (Milano), Italy (Italia)
At the beginning of 1531, Zürich again asked the central Swiss to allow the Reformer sermon.
They felt their autonomy was threatened and rejected the request.
Zwingli urged the Zürich Council to force the people of central Switzerland to make this concession.
Above: Zürich, Switzerland
They were not convinced by the food boycott either.
At a meeting on 14 June 1531, the two parties – Zürich and Bern on one side, the five central Swiss towns on the other – sat opposite one another.
No agreement could be reached, negotiations were held on 20 June and 11 July with no results.
Zwingli could not stand the hesitation of the people of Zürich and decided on 26 July to leave the city immediately.
The influential lords of the city did not want to allow that to happen.
They literally begged him to stay.
After a period of reflection, Zwingli withdrew his resignation.
Above: Zürich in the time of Zwingli
Since the negotiations between Zürich, Bern and central Switzerland were still going on, Zwingli arranged to meet the Bern representative before the meeting on 11 August and tried to win them over a war against the five central Swiss towns.
Shortly afterwards, Zwingli wrote in a letter:
“I am prepared for more than just one disaster.“
He felt himself at a loss.
“The retirees don’t want to be punished.”
They had too much popular support.
Instead of going to war, Bern advised in September 1531 to lift the supply block against central Switzerland.
Above: The Bern negotiations, 1531
The people of Zürich were informed of the preparations for war by the central Swiss from various quarters, but they remained inactive.
When, on 9 October 1531, a runner from Luzern demanded the delivery of the federal letters, Zürichers did not expect an attack.
Even after the central Swiss had already mobilized their troops, the people of Zürich still did not call their soldiers to arms.
Only when reports came in on 10 October that the central Swiss were at Baar did the Zürich-based vanguard send an advance guard to the border with Zug.
Above: City Hall, Baar, Switzerland
The central Swiss invaded and plundered Freiamt.
Above: Coat of arms of Freiamt, Switzerland
The Grand Council of Zürich now sent its main force to support the vanguard.
Instead of the expected 4,000 men, only 1,000 arrived.
Zwingli rode at their head as field preacher together with the captains.
More troops arrived.
Finally on 11 October 1531, 7,000 central Swiss troops faced 3,500 soldiers in Kappel.
The people of Zürich who hurried up in forced marches were exhausted even before the fight.
When the central Swiss attacked at 4 pm, they fled after a brief resistance.
Zwingli fell in the front ranks.
More than 500 people from Zürich died with him in this second battle of Kappel.
The central Swiss had fewer than a 100 deaths to mourn.
Above: The Battle of Kappel, 11 October 1531
Zwingli did not immediately die, as the Menzinger Jahrezeitenbuch reported:
The central Swiss recognized the wounded man and offered him a confessor.
Zwingli refused.
Then a captain killed him with a halberd.
Above: The murder of Zwingli, by Karl Jauslin
The following day, “martial law was held over the dead body of this dishonourable God and the unfaithful, perjured, vow-breaking arch heretics and seducers of the people“.
As a result, Zwingli was “first cut off as a traitor to the entire Confederation by the Luzern executioner and then burned to ashes as an arch heretic“.
As a resulr, Zwingli was “first cut off as a traitor to the entire Confederation by the Luzern executioner and then burned to ashes as an arch heretic“.
Above: Zwingli memorial, Kappel am Albis, Switzerland
Zwingli’s death triggered a fall in friends and followers in Zürich and raised hope among his opponents, but the majority of the population wanted to hold on to the Reformation.
As a result of Zwingli’s interference in urban and federal politics, a clear separation of religions and politics was sought.
Pastors were instructed not to interfere in politics, but to concentrate on the preaching of God’s word and to work for peace and tranquility.
Anyone who did not comply was dismissed by the Zürich Council.
The Council appointed Heinrich Bullinger (1504 – 1575) as the new pastor at the Grossmünster on 9 December 1531.
In doing so, he fulfilled Zwingli’s wish:
He had recommended Bullinger as his successor if he did not return from Kappel.
Above: Heinrich Bullinger
The Second Kappel War was not ended by Zwingli’s death.
More defeats for the people of Zürich and Bern followed on the battlefield.
After the defeat, the forces of Zürich regrouped and attempted to occupy the Zugerberg, and some of them camped on the Gubel hill near Menzingen.
Following the defeat at Kappel, Bern and other Reformed Cantons marched to rescue Zürich.
Between 15 and 21 October, a large Reformed army marched up the Reuss Valley to outside of Baar.
Above: Reuss River, Luzern, SwitzerlandAbove: Baar today
At the same time, the Catholic army was now encamped on the slopes of the Zugerberg.
Above: Zugerberg and the city of Zug
The combined Zürich-Bern army attempted to send 5,000 men over Sihlbrugg and Menzingen to encircle the army on the Zugerberg.
Above: Babenwaag bridge in Sihlbrugg
However, the Reformed army marched slowly due to poor discipline and looting.
By the night of 23–24 October, they had only reached Gubel at Menzingen.
Above: Coat of arms of Menzingen
That night they were attacked by a small Catholic force from Aegeri and driven off.
Above: Oberaegeri (formerly Aegeri), Switzerland
About 600 Protestant soldiers died in the attack and the panicked retreat that followed.
This defeat destroyed much of the combined Zürich – Bern army and, faced with increasing desertion, it had to retreat on 3 November back down the Reuss to Bremgarten.
Above: Bremgarten, Switzerland
The retreat left much of Lake Zürich (Zürichsee) and Zürich itself unprotected.
Zürich now pushed for a rapid peace settlement.
Above: Map of Lake Zürich
On 20 November 1531, the Second Treaty of Kappel was concluded on the mediation of the federal states that had remained neutral.
It was stipulated that each canton could determine its own denomination.
The Abbey of St. Gallen was taken from Zürich and restored.
Above: Abbey of St. Gall, St. Gallen, Switzerland
The “Christian castle law” of the Reformed cantons repeatedly led to tensions and disputes.
After a long domination of the Catholic towns, the Reformed towns of Bern and Zürich gained the upper hand in the Swiss Confederation in 1712 in the Second Villmerger War (or Toggenburg War) (12 April – 11 August 1712).
Until the French Revolution, there were always new denominational disputes.
Above: The Helvetic Republic (1798 – 1803)
They also played a role in the Sonderbund War (3 – 29 November 1847), which led to the establishment of the Swiss federal state in 1848.
Above: Switzerland, 1847
Zürich to Kappel am Albis, Switzerland, Friday 13 March 2018
I am not a religious man, though I do respect the morality and traditions that religion tries to maintain.
I am considered by statistics as a man without religion, though I do consider myself a fairly moral man who was raised in the tenets of Christianity – my foster mother was a non-practising Baptist, my foster father was a non-practising Catholic, my foster sister and her family are fundamentalist Christians – I do not adhere to the notion that there is only one faith to follow to salvation – if there is indeed salvation at all.
My following in the footsteps of Huldrych Zwingli was far less a pilgrimage of faith as it was a pedestrian project of walking a path divided into many stages and accomplished in separate stages when time and money permitted.
I was not searching for God or holy illumination but rather I simply wished to get a sense of a historical period before my own and I felt that there was no better way to get a sense of Zwingli than to march along with his memory.
I have always preferred walking to any other method of transportation as the slowest of journeys generates the deepest experiences.
I have always held that the moment one puts wheels beneath them the journey loses its significance and the destination becomes the primary goal.
I wanted to imagine what the places I saw now appeared back then.
How did it come to this?
What did the people of yesterday think?
How did they feel?
How different were they from us?
How similar to us were they?
The Steiner book had led me in eight stages since 11 October 2017 from Wildhaus to Wollishofen in downtown Zürich.
Above: WildhausAbove: Wollishofen with the Uetliberg in the background
Today would be the final march that would take me from Zürich to Uetliberg, Hotel Uto Kulm, Balderen, Felsenegg, Buchenegg, Näfenhüser, Albispass, the Albis Hochwacht, Schnabellücken and Kappel am Albis.
Above: Limmat River, ZürichAbove: Uetliberg, seen from Lake ZürichAbove: Hotel Uto Kulm, UetlibergAbove: Balderen houseAbove: FelseneggAbove: Restaurant Chusperhüsli, BucheneggAbove: NäfenhüserAbove: Rüschlikon and AlbispassAbove: Albis Hochwacht (lookout)Above: SchnabellückenAbove: Kappel Monastery, Kappel am Albis
From the Haus zur Sul, at Kirchgasse 22, Zwingli’s official residence from 1522 to 1525, the last three years of his life, I walk from there to the Zürich Hauptbahnhof (Grand Central Station), to catch the Uetliberg train and the official start of this last leg of the Steiner trail.
Above: Haus zur Sul, ZürichAbove: Zürich Hauptbahnhof
The Uetliberg railway line (Uetlibergbahn) is a passenger railway line which runs from the central station in Zürich through the city’s western outskirts to the summit of the Uetliberg.
The route serves as line S10 of the Zürich S-Bahn (street railway/trams) with the Zürcher Verkehrsverband (Zürich Transport Commission)’s (ZVV) standards zonal fares applying.
The line was opened in 1875 and electrified in 1923.
In 1990 it was extended to its current terminus at Zürich Hauptbahnhof (Central Station).
Above: Zürich Hauptbahnhof
Today it is owned by the Sihltal Zürich Uetliberg Bahn, a company that also owns the Sihltal line and operates other transport services.
The line has a maximum gradient of 7.9% and is the steepest standard gauge adhesion railway in Europe.
It carries both leisure and local commuter traffic.
Above: Sihltal Zürich Uetliberg Bahn
The Uetliberg line shares a common terminus with the Sihltal line, utilising a dedicated underground island platform (tracks 21 and 22) at Zürich Hauptbahnhof.
There is no rail connection to the rest of the station, but the platform is served by the same complex of pedestrian subways and subterranean shopping malls that link the station’s other platforms.
From the Hauptbahnhof to Zürich Giesshübel station the two lines share a common twin-track line, initially in tunnel, partly running along and under the Sihl River.
Above: Giesshübel StationAbove: Sihl River near Sihlbrugg
The current Selnau station is located in this under-river tunnel section.
Above: Selnau Station
Although the two lines diverge at Giesshübel station, and the depot for Uetliberg trains is located there, Uetliberg line trains do not stop.
Just beyond Giesshübel, the line serves Zürich Binz station.
Above: Binz Station
The line then commences a long, steep but relatively straight climb through the Zurich suburbs, serving the stations of Zürich Friesenberg, Zürich Schweighof and Zürich Triemli.
Above: Friesenberg StationAbove: Schweighof StationAbove: Triemli Station
This section of line is single track, with a double track section between Binz and Friesenberg.
Triemli station is adjacent to the Triemli Hospital , one of Zürich’s main hospitals, and is the terminus for some trains on the line.
Above: Triemli Hospital
The station has two tracks and two platforms.
Beyond Triemli the line enters a more wooded and hilly environment, and executes a broad U-shaped route to the summit of Uetliberg, which is 5.9 km (3.7 mi) from Triemli by rail, but only 1.5 km (0.93 mi) away in a direct line.
Above: Uetliberg, seen from Felsenegg
This section of line serves Uitikon Waldegg and Ringlikon stations, and is single track, with double track sections between Triemli and Uitikon Waldegg, and at Ringlikon.
Above: Waldegg StationAbove: Ringlikon Station
Uetliberg station lies some 650 m (2,130 ft) from, and 56 m (184 ft) below, the summit of the Uetiberg.
The station has two terminal tracks, and a substantial station building, including a restaurant.
Above: Uetliberg Station
A refuge castle existed on the Uetliberg as early as the Bronze Age or an oppidum in Celtic times.
Various archaeological finds such as ramparts and the Prince’s grave mound Sonnenbühl can still be visited today.
From 1644 it was the location of a high watch.
Above: Sonnenbühl
The Uetliberg and the nearby Albiskamm were the location of six castles in the Middle Ages, of which only remnants are left today: Uetliburg, Sellenbüren, Frisenberg, Baldern, Schnabelburg and Manegg.
Above: Uetliberg Castle Above: Sellenbüren Castle ruinsAbove: Old mill, Friesenberg CastleAbove: Original location of Baldern CastleAbove: Schnabelburg Castle ruinsAbove: Manegg Castle
Uotelenburg was first mentioned in a document in 1210.
In 1267 the people of Zürich allegedly destroyed the Uetliburg under Rudolf von Habsburg (1218 – 1291) in the course of the Regensberg feud (1268 – 1269), but this is not considered historically certain.
Above: Grave slab of Rudolf von Habsburg, Speyer Cathedral, Germany
Twice (perhaps) Zwingli ascended Uetliberg in 1531 en route to battle.
That a man of the church sought bloodshed leaves me disappointed, but lives had already been lost in Zürich in the name of his religious reforms.
Above: Zwingli Monument, Wasserkirche, Zürich
In 1750 the poet Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock (1724 – 1803) climbed the mountain.
He too would cause others to doubt his religious convictions.
Above: Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock
Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock grew up as the eldest of 17 children in a pietistic family.
His father, Gottlieb Heinrich, the son of a lawyer, was a commissioner and had leased the estate of Friedeburg, so that Friedrich Gottlieb spent his childhood here from 1732 until the lease was given up in 1736.
Above: Klopstock birthplace, Quedlinburg, Germany
His mother Anna Maria had the Bad Langensalza council chamberlain and merchant Johann Christoph Schmidt (1659 – 1711) as a father.
Above: Anna Maria Klopstock (née Schmidt)
After attending the Quedlinburg grammar school, Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock came to the Fürstenschule in Schulpforte at the age of 15 , where he received a thorough humanistic education.
Above: Pforta State School (Fürstenschule), Schulpforte, GermanyAbove: Klopstock Memorial Stone, Pforta School
Klopstock read the Greek and Latin classics: Homer, Pindar, Virgil and Horace.
Above: Bust of Homer, Glyptothek, Munich, GermanyAbove: Replica of Pindar (522 – 446 BCE), Capitoline Museum, Rome, Italy Above: Representation of Virgil (70 – 19 BCE), Monnus Mosaic, Trier, Germany
Here he also made his first own poetic attempts and wrote a first plan for the Messiah, a religious epic.
In 1745 he began studying Protestant theology in Jena, where he also wrote the first three chants of the Messiah, which he initially laid out in prose.
After moving to Leipzig, the work was reworked in hexameters the following year.
The appearance of the first parts in the articles in Bremen in 1748 caused a sensation and became the model for the Messiad literature of its era.
In Leipzig, Klopstock also created the first odes.
Above: Messiah, Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock
After completing his theology studies, he took a private tutor in Langensalza (according to the custom of all theology candidates).
During the two years of his stay in Bad Langensalza, Klopstock experienced the passionate love for the girl Maria-Sophia Schmidt, the intoxication of hope, the despair of disappointment, and finally the elegy of renunciation.
Above: Old quarter, Bad Langensalza, Germany
This led to, during these two years, his composing the most beautiful of his earlier odes for the unapproachable lover.
The publication of the odes sparked a storm of enthusiasm among opponents of the “reasonable” poetics of Johann Christoph Gottsched, which had prevailed up until then.
Above: German writer, “the literary pope“, Johann Christoph Gottsched (1700 – 1776)
It was the hour of birth of pure poetry.
Above: Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock
Contacts were made with Johann Jakob Bodmer (1698 – 1783), who invited Klopstock to Zürich in 1750.
Above: Swiss philologist Johann Jakob Bodmer (1698 – 1783)
Klostock gladly accepted the invitation from Bodmer, the Swiss translator of John Milton’s Paradise Lost, where Klopstock was initially treated with every kindness and respect and rapidly recovered his spirits.
Above: English writer John Milton (1608 – 1674)
Bodmer, however, was disappointed to find in the young poet of the Messiah a man of strong worldly interests, and a coolness sprang up between the two men.
After eight months, Klopstock went at the invitation of King Frederick V of Denmark (1723 – 1766).
With Friedrich’s support he was able to complete his work.
This granted him a life pension of 400 (later 800) thalers a year.
He spent three years of his life in Denmark.
Above: King Frederick V of Denmark and Norway (1723 – 1766)
On 10 June 1754, Klopstock married Margreta (Meta) Moller (1728 – 1758), whom he met in Hamburg in 1751 while traveling to Copenhagen.
She died of a stillbirth on 28 November 1758.
For thirty years Klopstock could not forget her and sang about her in his elegies.
It was not until old age (1791) that he married Johanna Elisabeth Dimpfel von Winthem (1747-1821), a niece of Meta Moller.
Above: Johanna Elisabeth von Winthem
From 1759 to 1762 Klopstock lived in Quedlinburg, Braunschweig and Halberstadt, then travelled to Copenhagen, where he stayed until 1771 and exerted a great influence on the cultural life in Denmark.
In addition to the Messiah, which finally appeared in full in 1773, he wrote dramas, including Hermanns Schlacht (Herman’s Battle) (1769).
He then returned to Hamburg.
Above: St. Michaelis Church, Hamburg, Germany
In 1776, he moved temporarily to Karlsruhe at the invitation of Margrave Karl Friedrich von Baden (1728 – 1811).
Above: The statue of Karl Friedrich von Baden, Karlsruhe Castle, Karlsruhe, GermanyAbove: Karl Friedrich von Baden
After his death on 14 March 1803 at the age of 78, Klopstock was buried on 22 March 1803 with great public sympathy in the church cemetery in Ottensen.
Above: Klopstock Grave, Ottensen, Hamburg, GermanyAbove: Klopstock’s grave under the linden tree, Ottensen bei Altona
In Quedlinburg, the Klopstockhaus provides information about the poet.
Above: Klopstockhaus, Quedlinburg, GermanyAbove: Klopstock Memorial, Brühl Park, Quedlinburg, Germany
In 1831, a memorial was inaugurated in the local park in Brühl.
Above: Brühl Park, south of Quedlinburg
As a father of the German nation-state idea, Klopstock was a proponent of the French Revolution, which he described in the 1789 poem Know Yourself as the “noblest deed of the century”.
Klopstock also called on the Germans for a revolution.
In 1792, the French National Assembly accepted him as an honorary citizen.
Later, however, he castigated the excesses of the revolution in the 1793 poem The Jacobins.
Here he criticized the Jacobin regime, which had emerged from the French Revolution, as a snake that winds through all of France.
Above: Jacobin hat, Army History Museum, Vienna, AustriaAbove: Jacobin Club session, January 1792
Klopstock’s enlightened utopia The German Republic of Scholars (1774) is a concept that installs an educated elite in power for the princely rule, which is regarded as incapable of governing.
The republic is to be ruled by “aldermen“, “guilds” and “the people“, whereby the former – as the most learned – should have the greatest powers, and guilds and people accordingly less.
The “rabble”, on the other hand, would only get a “shouter” in the state parliament, because Klopstock did not trust the people to have popular sovereignty.
Education is the highest good in this republic and qualifies its bearer for higher offices.
This republic would do extremely well in accordance with the learned approach and would be pacifistic too:
Klopstock estimates sniffing, scornful laughter and frowning as punishments between the scholars.
This made special demands on the executors:
“Whoever wants to become one of them must have two main characteristics, namely a great skill in being very expressive, and then a very special larval face, whereby the size and shape of the nose come into consideration.
In addition to this, the scornful laugher must have a very strong and at the same time rough voice.
It is customary to release Schreyer from being expelled from the country and to raise him to a sneer if his nose has the necessary properties for this task.”
Klopstock’s conception of Heaven, shaped by the scientific achievements of NIcolaus Copernicus (1473 – 1543) and Johannes Kepler (1571 – 1630), is not that of an ancient sky at rest in itself, whose stars are gods and heroes.
Its celestial sphere is rather a world harmony, a rhythm and symmetry of the spheres.
Above: Polish scientist Nikolaus Kopernikus (1473 – 1543)Above: German mathematician Johannes Kepler (1571 – 1630)
So it says in the first song of the Messiah:
In the middle of this gathering of the suns the sky rises, round, immeasurable, the archetype of the worlds, the abundance of all visible beauty, which, like fleeting brooks, pours out, imitating it through the infinite space. So, under the Eternal, it revolves around itself.
While he is walking, the spherical harmonies resound from him, on the wings of the wind, to the shores of the suns high. The songs of the divine harpists resound with power, as if animating. These agreed tones lead the immortal hearer past many a high praise song.
Above: Kepler’s Platonic model of the Solar System
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749 – 1832) will take up this picture again in Faust.
The “Prologue in Heaven” begins like this:
The sun resounds in the old fashion in the fraternal song of contests, And its prescribed journey completes it with a thunderous walk.
Above: German polymath Johann Wolfgang von GoetheAbove: Faust in his study, by Georg Friedrich Kersting
Klopstock gave the German language new impulses and can be seen as a trailblazer for the generation that followed him.
He was the first to use hexameter in German poetry with his Messiah, and his examination of the “German hexameter“, as he called it, led him to his doctrine of the word foot (the smallest rhythmic unit.
This paved the way for free rhythms such as those used by Goethe and Friedrich Hölderlin (1770 – 1843) for example.
Above: German poet Friedrich Hölderlin
Klopstock also fought against the strict use of rhyme according to the Martin Opitz (1597 – 1639) school.
Opitz’s aim was to elevate German poetry on the basis of humanism and ancient forms to an art object of the highest order, and he succeeded in creating a new kind of poetics.
In his commemorative speech on the 100th anniversary of Opitz’s death in 1739, Johann Christoph Gottsched (1700 – 1766) called him the first who had succeeded in bringing the German language to a level that met all the demands of sophisticated diction and eliminated everyday language, which allowed him to advance of the French.
With his reflections on language, style and verse art, Opitz gave German poetry a formal basis. In doing so, he drew up various laws that served as guidelines and standards for all German poetry for over a century:
He demanded strict observance of the meter, taking into account the natural word accent.
He rejected impure rhymes. (Probably rejected dirty limericks, too!)
He forbade word abbreviations and contractions.
He also excluded foreign words.
Opitz’s aesthetic principles included the Horace (65 – 8 BCE) Principle:
“Poetry, while it is pleasurable, must be useful and instructive at the same time.”
Above: German poet Martin Opitz
Klopstock gave the poet’s profession a new dignity by exemplifying the artistic autonomy of the poet, and thus freed poetry from didactic poems.
Klopstock is considered to be the founder of experiential poetry and German irrationalism.
His work extended over large parts of the age of the Enlightenment.
Unlike most Enlighteners, however, he was not committed to reason, but to sensitivity.
In 1779 he coined the term inwardness, which he called one of nine elements of poetic representation:
“Inwardness, or highlighting the actual innermost nature of the thing.”
Furthermore, he is considered an important pioneer for the movement of Sturm und Drang – literally “storm and desire”, though usually translated as “storm and stress“, where individual subjectivity and, in particular, extremes of emotion were given free expression.
Above: Friedrich Schiller’s The Robbers, an example of “Sturm und Drang“
In The Sorrows of Young Werther, Klopstock’s effect is felt in the writing of Goethe:
“We went to the window, it thundered to the side and the wonderful rain rustled on the land, and the most refreshing fragrance rose to us in the fullness of warm air.
She stood on her elbow and her eyes penetrated the area, she looked up at the sky and at me, I saw her eyes full of tears, she put her hand on mine and said – “Klopstock!”
I sank into the stream of sensations which she poured out on me in this loosing.
I could not stand, leaned on her hand and kissed it with the most delightful tears.
And looked at her eye again –
Noble!
You would have seen your admiration in this look, and now I would never hear your name, which has so often been desecrated, mentioned again.“
In spite of all this, the young Lessing registers:
“Who will not praise a Klopstock? But will everyone read it? – No! We want to be less exalted and read more diligently.”
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther
Above: Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther
Klopstock reminds me of Zwingli.
Both strong men, both well-educated, both advocating radical change.
In 1812 the Uetliberg watch was erected.
Above: Lookout Tower, UetlibergAbove: The view from Uetliberg
The Alt Uetliberg is a small farm west below the former Annaburg.
Mentioned in a document 400 years ago and probably much older, the mountain home is a witness of old farming culture on the Uetliberg.
In 1984 the canton of Zürich wanted to demolish the building.
A petition successfully opposed this.
Today the buildings serve as a scout home.
Above: Alt Üetliberg
A wooden ski jump was built in 1954 south of the Alt Uetliberg farmhouse .
A hill record of 41.5 meters was achieved in the 1970s.
Due to the frequent lack of snow and decreasing public interest, the ski jump was demolished in 1994.
Above: Ski jump, Uetliberg
During the Second World War, the Uetliberg and Waldegg area was fortified with over 100 bunkered shelters as part of the first army position.
Above: Waldegg tank trench
In 1815 an inn opened in the former Hochwacht.
In 1838 Friedlich Bluntschli acquired the summit area from his cousin Gerber Bluntschli
The Zürich architect Johann Caspar Breitinger built the first spa house for Friedlich Bluntschli.
In 1840 Friedrich Beyel opened the Uetliberg guest house and spa.
Above: Hotel Uto Kulm, Uetliberg
Friedrich von Dürler was the son of Xaver von Dürler, a businessman from Lucerne, and Barbara Gossweiler from Zurich.
Above: Friedrich von Dürler (1804 – 1840)
After the early death of his father, he trained as a businessman, but soon gave up the profession to devote himself to archeology and gymnastics.
He was close friends with Ferdinand Keller, the founder of the Antiquarian Society of Zürich, and as treasurer of the association took part in excavations on the Lindenhof in Zurich and the Uetliberg.
Above: Swiss archaeologist Ferdinand Keller (1800 – 1881)
Together with the theologian Alexander Schweizer, Dürler was one of the early promoters of gymnastics based on the ideas of the father of German gymnastics Friedrich Ludwig Jahn.
Above: German educator Friedrich Ludwig Jahn (1778 – 1852)
From 1836 the bachelor served as secretary for the Zurich poor relief.
In September 1838 Dürler became a member of the Swiss Society for Natural Research.
On 19 August 1837, he had the chamois hunters and mountain farmers Bernhard and Gabriel Vögeli and Thomas Thut from Linthal take him up to the Glarner Tödi to prove their first ascent of the peak from the north on 11 August 1837.
Dürler is still honored today with a plaque in Linthal.
Above: Tödi Mountain, Canton Glarus, Switzerland
Dürler and friends climbed the Uetliberg, where the first restaurant had just opened.
On 8 March 1840, this mountaineer, naturalist and Zürich secretary for the poor, Friedrich von Dürler (1804 – 1840) fell to his death after visiting the inn while descending.
On the basis of a bet, he slipped down a steep gully on his alpine stick, fell over a rock and died.
The friends erected a memorial stone with a plaque on the ridge east of today’s Uto Staffel Restaurant, the Dürlerstein.
Inscription:
Here Friedrich von Dürler fell down and died on March 8th MDCCCXL Mourning friends set this stone for him
Above: The Dürler Stone, Uetliberg
In 1873 the hotelier Caspar Fürst bought the mountain inn.
The existing house was enlarged and a hotel was built to the north of it.
In 1927 the Uetliberg Hotel was taken over by the City of Zürich and the ETH Zürich-Lehrwald (teaching forest) was established.
Above: Logo of the Swiss Federal Institute of Technology
In 1935 the Niedermann brothers, both major butchers in Zürich, bought the hotel.
In 1943 it was closed.
In 1973 the hotel came into the possession of the general contractor Karl Steiner.
In 1983 the Swiss Bank Corporation bought the Uto Kulm mountain inn.
In 1999 Giusep Fry bought the hotel with a lookout tower.
He subsequently carried out various modifications that were declared illegal by the Federal Supreme Court.
Tourist development began in the 19th century with the Uetlibergbahn (opened in 1875) and the construction of various hotels and guest houses on the Uetliberg and the Albis chain.
Today the traditional Hotel Uto Kulm and the Uetliberg observation tower, open to the public all year round, stand on the summit of the Uetliberg.
Above: Hotel Uto Kulm and observation tower, Uetliberg
Car-free Üetliberg is accessed by the S10 line of the Sihital-Zürich-Uetliberg Bahn, which is part of the Zurich S-Bahn network, is Europe’s steepest standard-gauge adhesion railway, running from Zürich Main Station to the Uetliberg station – a ten-minute walk below the summit.
Above: Uetliberg, by Hans Leu the Elder
From the train station, the Uetliberg – Felsenegg Planet Path leads to Felsenegg, where the Adliswil – Felsenegg aerial cableway leads down to Adliswil.
Various hiking trails lead from the city of Zurich to the summit in around an hour:
The varied Denzlerweg leads from Albisguetli (tram line 13 terminus) in a fairly straight direction to the summit. It is named after a baker Denzler who is said to have brought his rolls to the Hotel on the summit every morning on this route and is said to have made this route about 4,000 times.
Above: The Denzler Path
Also from Albisgüetli, the Laternenweg leads a little further west onto the ridge. It takes its name from its earlier gas lantern lighting, which has been electrified since 2003.
Above: Lantern Path in winter
From Triemli (tram line 14 terminus) the Hohensteinweg leads up a mountain shoulder, which is particularly popular as a toboggan run in winter.
Above: The High Stone Path
A forest road leads from Uitikon-Waldegg (parking lot) to the summit. This path has the least incline.
The Uetliberg is particularly popular in winter, as its summit is often above the Zürich fog.
In the past, in such inversion weather conditions, the tram lines that go to the foot of the Uetliberg carried the sign “Uetliberg hell”.
In winter, some of the hiking trails are used as toboggan runs.
Swisscom operates an important telecommunications system on the Uetliberg (the Uetliberg television tower) for the transmission of radio and television programs.
The Uetliberg offers – especially from the Uetliberg observation tower on the mountain top – a view of the entire city and Lake Zürich.
When the weather is good, the view extends to the north as far as Hohentwiel, and from east to south to Glarus, Graubünden and the Bernese Alps.
Other mountain ranges in Germany (the Black Forest / Schwarzwald), France (Vosges) and Austria can also be seen.
Above: Uetliberg
The Felsenegg (810m) is a lookout point on the Albis chain and the mountain station of the Adliswil – Felsenegg aerial cableway southwest of Zürich.
The Albis is one of the most important local recreation and hiking areas in the greater Zürich area.
Via the Felsenegg, the hiking trail from Uetliberg leads along the Albis ridge in an easterly direction to the Albis Pass, starting with the Uetliberg – Felsenegg Planet Trail.
Above: Felsenegg
The Uetliberg – Felsenegg PlanetTrail is a hiking trail in the canton of Zürich on the Albis.
The path leads from the Uetliberg railway station of the Uetlibergbahn to Staffel, Annaburg, above the Fallätsche via Mädikon to the Felsenegg station of the Adliswil – Felsenegg aerial cableway, via Felsenegg to Buchenegg.
The duration of the hike is around two hours.
The trail was designed by Arnold von Rotz and opened on 26 April 1979.
The patronage was taken over by the Astronomical Society Urania Zürich.
Above: Urania Observatory, Zürich
The path is laid out on a scale of 1:1 billion and thus offers a clear representation of the sizes and distances in the solar system.
One meter of the model corresponds to one million kilometers in reality.
The planetary path includes not only the Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune, planets Mercury, but also the dwarf planets Ceres and Pluto.
Above: Representation of the Solar System – We are the third rock from the Sun.
The planet models are attached to boulders on the Linth or Reuss glacier along the way.
Above: Reuss glacier boulder with model of Jupiter
The smaller planet models were poured into glass and set into a niche in the boulder, the larger ones attached to the top of the boulder.
Above: Venus model in a Malmkalk boulder
A board on each planet provides information about its position in the solar system and additional information, such as equatorial diameter, rotational speed, orbital speed, orbit circumference, and the like.
As a model of the sun, a yellow sphere with a diameter of 1.39 meters was attached to a pole, which can be seen clearly from the first planetary models .
Above: Sun model with two Reuss glacier boulders
Dwarf planet Pluto is represented with three stations because of its strongly elliptical orbit:
Above: Pluto
The first position corresponds to the perihelion, while it lies ahead of Neptune.
Above: Model of Neptune with view of Uetliberg
The second position at Felsenegg corresponds to the mean distance and the third station near Buchenegg corresponds to the aphelion.
The next star, Proxima Centauri, would be around 40,113 kilometers away on the same scale.
Above: Proxima Centauri, as seen from the Hubble Space Telescope
(For comparison: the circumference of the Earth is around 40,030 kilometers).
Above: Earth
A steep forest path built between 1908 and 1912 leads from Adliswil up to Felsenegg.
Above: Uetliberg
Adliswil is located in the lower Sihl valley between Albis and Zimmerberg on the border with the city of Zürich.
The forest covers a third of the municipal area, the settlement area and traffic almost half, 20% are still used for agriculture.
The graves from the early Middle Ages, which were found in the Grüt near the border with the city of Zurich, give evidence of settlements.
The slopes of Zimmerberg and Albis were settled first, as the valley floor along the Sihl was repeatedly endangered by floods.
Above: Adliswil and the Sihl Valley
A bridge over the Sihl has been documented since 1475.
The first mill with a weir (dam) is also mentioned in the 15th century.
The manorial power lay with the Grossmünster and Frauminister of Zürich, as well as the monasteries of Muri and Rüti, and passed to the city of Zürich in 1406.
Above: Grossmünster, ZürichAbove: Fraumünster, ZürichAbove: Müri MonasteryAbove: Rüti Monastery before the fire of 1706
From 1942 to 1945, the second largest internment camp in Switzerland, which was set up as a result of the German occupation of southern France, was located in Adliswil.
It was housed in the rooms of a disused mechanical silk weaving mill.
In particular, German Jews who had previously found refuge in southern France tried to escape to Switzerland afterwards.
The transit camp, which, despite its size, was little known among the population because it was shielded by the military, offered space for around 500 people.
The community experienced a strong growth spurt in the 19th century through industrialization, during which a large spinning company, the Mechanische Seidenweberei Adliswil (MSA), was built.
Above: The Mechanical Silk Manufacturing Company, Adliswil
The village was also home to the chocolate manufacturer Norma, which later became part of the Cima – Norma SA company in Dangio – Torre.
Above: Buildings of Cima-Norma SA, Dangio-Torre, Canton Ticino, Switzerland
Today many of the residents work in Zürich.
The majority of the resident companies operate in the tertiary sector.
In particular, insurance companies (Generali, Swiss Reinsurance Company) have located part of their administration in Adliswil.
The Liechtenstein tool manufacturer Hilti has its Swiss headquarters in Adliswil.
A total of around 5,000 people in all sectors work in Adliswil.
Above: Coat of arms of Adliswil
Some personalities of Adliswil:
Stefan Bachmann is a Swiss-American author of novels and short stories.
Above: Stefan Bachmann
His debut novel The Peculiar was published in 2012.
Bachmann was born in Colorado, but soon moved with his family to Adliswil.
He was home schooled by his American mother and four siblings through high school.
Above: Adliswil
He attended the Zürich Conservatory since he was 11, and then the Zürich University of the Arts, where he studied organ and composition.
His first novel was published when he was 19 years old.
He writes his books in English.
The Peculiar is about the opening of a portal to the fairy world, as a result of which a multitude of magical creatures come into the human world.
Since the portal closed, the fairies and elves have been prevented from returning and have to live side by side with the humans.
Children of a human and a fairy are called “the Peculiar” and are especially outlawed as crossbreeds on both sides.
Bartholomew and his little sister Henrietta “Hettie” Kettle are mixed race whose fairy father has left the family.
They live with their mother on Krähengasse in Bath and are almost never allowed to leave the house, as very few people shy away from killing “mixed race children”.
One day Bartholomew observes a lady in a plum-colored dress from the window of a secret attic room who is picking up another mongrel boy from the neighbors.
When Bartholomew follows her, he is magically wrapped in feathers and taken into a distant, noble room, which he leaves shortly afterwards in the same way.
Arthur Jelliby is a parliamentarian and member of the Council of State in London, which also includes a fairy elite.
For some time now, mongrels have been mysteriously disappearing and then found dead, which most of the Members of Parliament don’t care much.
When Jelliby is invited to the fairy attorney general Lickerish, he gets lost in his house in a corridor and is tracked down by Lickerish’s fairy butler, who suspects him to have spied.
By chance, Jelliby overhears Lickerish in an office and comes across a diabolical plan to open the portal to the fairy world in order to deliver England to the fairies.
To do this, Lickerish needs a certain mixed-race child that the lady in the plum-colored dress named Melusine is supposed to get for him.
In the meantime, Bartholomew has tried to conjure up a house ghost and instead leads Lickerish’s henchmen to him, who kidnap Hettie.
At the same time, Jelliby arrives in Crow Alley and comes across Bartholomew, who is desperately looking for his sister.
Together they make their way to the fairy market to get weapons for defense, and then to a lonely place in the forest where an old fairy lives in a trailer and tells them about Lickerish’s plans.
He wants to invade all magical beings from the fairy world to England in order to subdue people and to rule over them.
Bartholomew and Jelliby travel back to London, where they locate an old warehouse with access to an airship over the city.
That is where Lickerish is holding Hettie.
He is responsible for the disappearance and death of the other mixed race children because he was looking for the right one.
Hettie is the portal to the fairy world and is supposed to open it that night.
When it happens, Bartholomew and Jelliby join them.
They want to prevent the portal from opening, but fail, and Hettie disappears into the fairy world together with the fairy butler.
The story ends with Bartholomew’s decision to bring Hettie home at all costs.
Bachmann wrote The Peculiar in English at the age of 16, inspired by The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia, among others.
Above: J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings
According to his own information, he needed six months for the first version with 400 pages, plus another six months for the revision.
Above: Bachmann at the time of the publishing of The Peculiar
An agent sent the manuscript to US publisher Harper Collins, who published it on 18 September 2012.
According to some media reports, the novel quickly became a bestseller in the US, which also led to the film industry’s interest in film rights.
Along with the publication, a book trailer was produced, the musical accompaniment of which was composed by Bachmann himself.
A reading tour through the USA and a blog tour through Asia followed in 2013 and brought the author an income in the six-figure range.
The book has been translated into seven languages, including Czech, Polish, and Spanish.
The German translation was published on 26 February 2014 by the Swiss Diogenes Verlag.
Both the press, as well as representatives of fantasy literature judged The Peculiar mainly positive.
The New York Times wrote in September 2012 that The Peculiar was “a story young fantasy buffs are sure to enjoy”.
The Los Angeles Times wrote “Bachmann’s prose is so elegantly witty.”
Publishers Weekly described the novel as “limitless reading pleasure for readers of all ages.”
Christopher Paolini, author of the fantasy series Eragon, praised the book as “swift, strong and entertaining, highly recommanded”.
Above: Christopher Paolini
Percy Jackson author Rick Riordan said:
“Stefan Bachmann breathes fresh life into ancient magic.”
Above: Rick Riordan
Margrit Baur (1937 – 2017) was a Swiss writer and secretary.
She was born and raised in Adliswil.
After teachers’ college, she attended a drama school in Vienna, where she also appeared in small theatres for a few years after completing her training.
Back in Switzerland, she worked in various “bread and butter” jobs in order to be able to devote herself freely to writing.
She brought up this juxtaposition of professional life and “real” life above all in Survival (1981) and Downtime(1983)
Baur lived in Gattikon near Zürich until 2017.
Above: Margrit Baur
Franz Fassbind (1919 – 2003) was a Swiss writer, playwright and journalist.
Franz Fassbind was the son of photographer and small publisher Bernardin Fassbind (1887 – 1954) and Lina Fassbind-Marty (1884 – 1931) in Unteriberg in the canton of Schwyz.
Above: Unteriberg
He grew up in poor conditions, first in the Engadine, then in Zürich’s industrial district and in Wipkingen.
Above: The course of the Inn River – Within Swiss territory the Inn (En) River Valley is called the Engadine.Above: Zürich’s Industrial QuarterAbove: Wipkingen
Later he attended the collegiate school of Einsiedeln Monastery and the Jesuit college in Feldkirch.
Above: Einsiedeln MonasteryAbove: The former Jesuit college, Stella Matutina (today: the Vorarlberg State Conservatory), Feldkirch, Austria
During these years Franz Fassbind wrote his first poems and small compositions.
After dropping out of high school, he studied music at the Zürich Conservatory from 1936 and German studies at the University of Zürich.
Above: The Zürich Conservatory (today: Zürich University of the Arts)
Without ever finishing a degree, he worked as a freelance journalist, writer and composer.
His first poems were published in 1936, Radio Beromünster broadcast his first radio play at Christmas 1938, and his first novel was published three years later.
Above: Landesender Beromünster, home of Radio Beromünster, Gunzwil, Canton Luzern, Switzerland
Franz Fassbind became known primarily for his work for Swiss Radio.
His radio plays and features had a formative effect on the medium from 1938 to 1974.
Just as important was the series of programs he initiated, “The International Forum”, in which he allowed well-known scientists to have their say.
His radio reviews in the Neue Zürcher Zeitung found a wide readership.
His journalistic work is also an expression of the spiritual defense movement.
Above: Logo for Swiss Radio
(The spiritual defense movement is the cross-party strengthening of values and customs perceived as “Swiss” in order to ward off totalitarian ideologies.
At first it was directed primarily against National Socialism (Nazism) and Facism, later during the Cold War against Communism.
Even when intellectual national defense was no longer actively pursued by the authorities, the cultural, anti-totalitarian values remained in effect.
Swiss politicians still use the terms and metaphors of intellectual national defense today.)
Above: Marble sculpture Readiness for military service, Ramisstrasse, Zürich
In the Dramaturgy of the Radio Play published in 1943 , he also reflected on his radio work theoretically.
In 1956 he turned to the medium of film.
For The Art of the Etruscanshe provided both the script and the music.
The work earned him the 1st Film Prize of the City of Zürich.
From 1948 Fassbind’s main poetic work, Die Hohe Messe (The High Mass), was published in demanding terzins – an Italian rhyming scheme wherein each stanza consists of three verses – based on Dante.
There, as in his novels from the post war period, the focus is on dealing with Catholicism in today’s world.
Above: Dante Alighieri (1265 – 1321)
Fassbind married Gertrud Schmucki in 1941.
Their only child, a daughter, Ursula was born in 1943.
The family lived in Adliswil near Zürich, where Franz Fassbind died on 9 July 2003 at the age of 84.
Peter Wild published an edition of his work at Walter Verlag in Olten.
Above: Fassbind’s Zeitloses Leben (Timeless Life)
Hannes Gruber (1928 – 2016) was a Swiss painter.
Above: Hannes Gruber
Hannes Gruber was the second son of Paul and Erna Gruber-Hartmann.
He spent his youth and school days in Oberrieden on Lake Zürich.
Above: Oberrieden
In 1943 – 1944 he attended the Zürich School of Applied Arts (1883 – 2007).
From 1944 to 1948 he did an apprenticeship with Swiss bookseller Orell Füssli in Zürich, at the same time he attended courses in the painting at the Zürich School of Applied Arts.
After moving to Grevasalvas in the Upper Engadine (1948) he worked there as a freelance painter.
In 1953 his son Stefan (now known as filmmaker Steff Gruber) was born.
Above: Grevasalvas, Upper Engadine
After returning to Zürich (1954), Hannes Gruber opened his own graphic studio.
In 1957 his daughter Ursina was born.
In 1968 his daughter Sandrina was born.
Above: Hannes Gruber painting
The next year Gruber opened a studio on the Hirzel, a Swiss pass in the foothills of cantons Zürich and Zug, between Wadenswil and Sihlbrugg.
Above: Hirzelpass
In 1972 he moved to the Engadin again, this time to Sils Baselgia.
Above: The towns of Sils Maria (left) and Sils Baselgia (right)
He moved into a studio in Bondo.
Above: Bondo
Gruber made his first painting trip to Northern Italy in 1949.
Above: Flag of Italy
A study trip took him to the Netherlands in 1950 and another painting trip to Denmark in 1952.
Above: Flag of the NetherlandsAbove: Flag of Denmark
He made further trips to Italy (1958) to Bergamo and Verona, then to Sicily (1966) and Tuscany (1967).
Above: Bergamo, ItalyAbove: Images of Verona, ItalyAbove: Flag of SicilyAbove: Flag of Tuscany (Toscana)
A summer stay in Spain (1969) earned him a commission for several wall paintings on a building on Ibiza.
Above: Mediterranean Spanish island of Ibiza
He travelled to New York in 1974.
Above: Images of New York City
Another summer stay in Italy took place in 1977..
Above: Emblem of Italy
His first watercolours of landscapes from the area around Oberrieden were created in 1940.
He painted in oil for the first time in 1942.
Above: Oberrieden
Above: Oberrieden, by Hannes Gruber
In 1950 he received an order for large murals for the Olma – the annual agricultural fair in St. Gallen.
Above: OLMA (Swiss Fair for Agriculture and Food) halls, St. Gallen
In 1966 he illustrated an edition of Tristan by Thomas Mann (1875 – 1955).
In 1971 he was commissioned with a three-dimensional wall design in the Fuhr schoolhouse in Wädenswil.
Above: Fuhr Schulhaus, Wadenswil
Peter Holenstein (1946 – 2019) was a Swiss journalist and author.
Above: Peter Holenstein
In his journalistic work, for example in the Swiss weekly magazine Weltwoche, Peter Holenstein dealt in particular with topics relating to criminal justice and crime, the perpetrator-victim problem and the causes of violent crimes.
His book The Incredible: The Murderous Lifeof Werner Ferrari in 2007 led to a review of the child murder case of Ruth Steinmann at the Baden District Court, which ended in Ferrari’s acquittal.
Werner Ferrari is a Swiss serial killer.
As a five-time child murderer, he is one of the most famous prison inmates in Switzerland.
For example, he kidnapped or lured children away from public festivals, abused some of the victims and strangled them.
Ferrari grew up in various children’s and youth homes and was considered an introvert.
He performed various jobs as an unskilled worker.
In 1971 Ferrari committed his first infanticide:
In Reinach (BL), he murdered 10-year-old Daniel Schwan.
Above: Daniel Schwan (1961 – 1971)
Ferrari was sentenced to ten years in prison and released early after eight years in prison from the Zürich prison in Regensdorf.
Above: Regensdorf Prison
Between 1980 and 1989, 21 children disappeared in Switzerland, 14 of whom were found abused and murdered.
Seven children, including Peter Roth (8) from Mogelsberg (SG), Sarah Oberson (5) from Saxon (VS), and Edith Trittenbass (9) from Gass-Wetzikon (TG), are still missing today despite intensive searches.
Above: Peter RothAbove: Edith Trittenbass
On 30 August 1989, four days after Fabienne Imhof’s murder, Werner Ferrari called the police – and stated that he had nothing to do with her death.
Above: Fabienne Imhof
Shortly afterwards he was arrested in his apartment in Olten, and he made confessions in four cases.
Above: Olten
Ferrari vehemently denied the murder of 12-year-old Ruth Steinmann, who was found on 16 May 1980 in a wooded area near Würenlos (AG).
In 1995 Ferrari was sentenced to life imprisonment by the Baden District Court for fivefold murder, including for the crime committed against Ruth Steinmann.
Seven years later, research by journalist and book author Peter Holenstein discovered evidence that Ferrari could not be responsible for the murder of Ruth Steinmann.
Among other things, a DNA analysis initiated by the journalist revealed that a pubic hair that could be secured on Ruth Steinmann’s corpse did not come from Ferrari.
On the basis of Holenstein’s research, the higher court of the canton of Aargau overturned the judgment against Ferrari in the Ruth Steinmann case in 2004 and referred it back to the Baden District Court for reassessment.
As a result, a suspect on Ruth Steinmann was exhumed in March 1983 in Wolfhalden (AG) who had committed suicide.
A dental report from the Scientific Service of the Zürich City Police showed that the bite marks on the girl’s body were definitely not from Ferrari, but from the man who died in 1983 and who looked very similar to Ferrari.
In a national appeal, Werner Ferrari was found innocent on 10 April 2007 by the Baden District Court for the murder of Ruth Steinmann and acquitted of this crime.
However, he remains detained for the other four cases.
Above: Ruth Steinmann (1968 – 1980)
As early as 1979, Holenstein succeeded in resolving a murder case in Italy with his research:
After he was able to convict the right perpetrator and he made a confession, the 46-year-old Swiss Werner Rudolf Meier was declared innocent in Elba Prison after 24 years served and was pardoned by Italy’s President Sandro Pertini.
Above: Sandro Pertini (1896 – 1990), 7th Italian President (1978 – 1985)
From Dominique Strebel and Christoph Schilling, Beobachter, 28 December 2006
The fortnightly Swiss magazine Beobachter (The Observer) reveals grievances where state arbitrariness is worst: in educational, reformatory or penal institutions.
Everywhere where the individual is exposed to state power without protection.
And this is most glaringly shown in the case of errors of justice, to which the Beobachter repeatedly points out.
Take the case of the Zürich furniture maker Werner Rudolf Meier, who was imprisoned in Italy for 24 years – for a murder that he demonstrably did not commit.
Only when the journalist Peter Holenstein researched meticulously did the matter move.
Holenstein convicted the real murderer, who made a full confession.
A revision procedure failed, because the court declared the confessing perpetrator to be insane.
Holenstein continued to write about the case until Federal Councilors Willi Ritschard and Pierre Aubert spoke directly to the Italian President Sandro Pertini on behalf of Meier.
He was finally released in 1979.
“Without the Beobachter, this would not have been possible,” said Holenstein.
“It played a decisive role in putting pressure on us.”
Meier was not acquitted, but pardoned.
Therefore, he did not receive any compensation for unlawful detention.
Even now, the Beobachter does not let Meier fall and “participates in the necessary health, professional and human integration efforts with advice and action”.
Above: Logo of the Beobachter (Observer)
In 2001, Holenstein was awarded the German Regino Prize for the best judicial report of the year for Der Verdacht (TheSuspicion), published in the magazine Tages-Anzeiger (Daily Indicator).
Above: Logo of Das Magazin (formerly Tages-Anzeiger)
Peter Holenstein was a member of the Swiss Working Group for Criminology (SAK) and the Swiss CriminologicalSociety (SKG / SSDP).
At the age of 72, he died in Zürich in January 2019 as a result of a heart attack.
Pjotr Kraska, actually Peter Johannes Kraska, also known as Kraska rex (1946 – 2016) was a Swiss action artist, writer, visual artist, critic of the authorities and a Zürich original.
Above: Pjotr Kraska
In the late 60s he appeared, sometimes together with Dieter Meier, in experimental theatre and in avant-garde shows that startled the bourgeoisie at the time.
Above: Dieter Meier
His book, The Big Throw, reflects on speaking and writing.
One poem (1978/79) was partly enthusiastically discussed.
In 1980 he declared himself “King of Zürich and Bilbao, ruler of the Zen and A-centric empires” and from then on fought a bitter but unsuccessful dispute over free travel on the Zürich public transport network (ZVV).
Above: Kraska’s “Triumphal Arch Card” for the entire transport network in the canton of ZürichAbove: ZVV logo
Kraska, the son of East Prussian parents, grew up as the third of four children in Oberleimbach (Adliswil).
Above: Adliswil
After leaving school, he attended the Appenzell-Ausserrhoden (AR) cantonal school in Trogen, but took off before completion, deciding that he was an actor.
Above: The Kantonsschule Trogen
He later lived in Zürich’s old town in Niederdorf.
In 1966, Kraska began writing and performing experimental plays.
He made his first public appearance on the occasion of the performance of Ladislav Kupkovic’s Písmená by the Zürich Chamber Choir in Fred Barth’s piece Forum Concert .
Above: Slovak musician Ladislav Kupkovic (1936 – 2016)
In 1968 the 22-year-old Kraska founded the Wath-Tholl-Theater, where he performed the Darkroom play the same year:
“What can be admired in the non-stop, two and a half hour Darkroom piece is the concentration of the actors, the consistency with which the audience is alluded to that openly expressing incomprehension, and above all the virtuoso leadership of a – if one may say so – musical perceived arc to which the text is subordinated.
Kraska’s problem is – and in this piece, in this nightmare, in any case in an annoying way, he chokes it out of himself – the lack of relationships, the groping in the pitch dark.
Must this artistically inadequate examination of what may afflict a sensitive young man today take place in public and on a stage? “
Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 16 June 1968
Above: The King of Zürich’s 1968 passport
In 1969 Kraska took part with the Wath-Tholl-Theater in the avant-garde show Underground Explosions, which was performed in Munich (München), Zürich and Cologne (Köln), among others, together with the rock groups Amon Düül and Guru Guru Groove, the Bavarians Paul and Limpe Fuchs (aka Anima) with experimental primal scream music, as well the Viennese performance artists Valie Export and Peter Weibel.
Above: Austrian artist Waltraud Stockinger (née Lehner) (aka Valie Export)Above: Austrian artist Peter Weibel
The Zürich concept artist Dieter Meier and Munich film activist Karl Heinz organized the shows, which culminated in student revolts, pop revolts and avant-garde culture, which grew into tangible scandal.
Der Spiegel (The Mirror) devoted a whole page to the occasion after the performance in the Munich Circus Krone (which claims to be the biggest circus in the world) and in the Zürich Volkshaus, led to panic and chaos.
The Wath Tholl theatre of Zürich actor Pjotr Kraska (22):
The group of twelve, aged between 16 and 24, spent the winter at an Andalusian farm honing their style.
The Kraska clan entered the Krone Circus with animal screams, attacked each other in combat ballets and ecstatic Blocksberg hugs.
Kraska, who uses his pants as a notepad, wants to achieve “unity between mind and body”.
When a spectator kissed a Kraska girl, she fell to the ground as if touched by lightning.
Der Spiegel, 21 April 1969
Above: Pjotr Kraska
Even later, Kraska appeared as an action artist.
For example, in 1982 he invited to a “simple monarchical-clerical celebration” on the Pestalozziwiese in Zürich , where Kristin T. Schnider was supposed to “let go“, as was announced – apparently with little public success:
Above: Swiss educator Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi Monument, Pestalozziwiese (park), Bahnhofstrasse, Zürich
“Now Kristin T. Schnider is no longer black-haired and no longer a poet, but rather bald and, as one hears, the first court poet to Kraska’s spiritual monarchy.
And the actors pull away.
The honoured audience sinks back into the grass and into boredom.“
Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 24 – 25 July 1982
Above: Swiss writer Kristin T. Schnider
From the 1970s, Kraska shifted increasingly to writing and worked as a publicist.
In 1979 his first book, The Big Throw, was published.
A poemwas enthusiastically reviewed by some of the critics and reprinted in 2000:
“The Big Throw is a ‘narrative‘ (246 pages) about writing, about language itself, which is rare in the linguistic landscape of Switzerland and which has so far hardly been heard of reflexive density, biblical form of language and metalinguistic stubbornness.
Stubbornness repeatedly brought back the litter before it could still hit.
Sounds fall silent in meaning, profundity evaporates in letters:
In every way language is driven out of language, but hollowness and fullness now fall back all the more into the words.
Here there is no commitment to this or that, here is total commitment to the language.
There is an intelligent and at the same time eloquent talent at work.”
Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 2 May 1978
Above: Kraska’s Der Grosse Wurf (The Big Throw)
In 1981 the novella Death in Napleswas followedin 1982 by the novel The Hand in the Clong, and Buddha smiles forever.
Above: Images of Naples (Napoli), Italy (Italia)Above: Buddha statue, Sarnath Museum, India
Kraska also published several articles in the Neue Zürcher Zeitiung on bullfighting and flamenco.
Above: Matador and bull, Cancun, MexicoAbove: Flamenco dancers, Cordoba, Spain
He had an ambivalent relationship with the Kunsthaus Zürich.
Above: Kunsthaus Zürich (Zürich Arthouse)
For the exhibition Dada Global(1994) he was allowed to design a showcase as a “contemporary representativeof Dadaism.”
In 2013 the Kunsthaus acquired two Swiss banknotes painted by Kraska, and the museum library owns a complete collection of Court News.
Conversely, the latter refused to include the “royal coat of arms” designed by Peter Fischli in the Fischli / Weiss retrospective, whereupon Kraska burned it in a public staging in front of the Kunsthaus.
Above: Peter Fischli (b. 1952) and David Weiss (1946 – 2012)
Most recently, Kraska bequeathed his urn with the ashes to the Kunsthaus – a gift that was not accepted.
Above: Kraska burns the coat of arms, Kunsthaus Zürich
During the Zürich youth riots of 1980, Kraska declared himself “His Majesty King Kraskaof Zurich and Bilbao, ruler ofthe Central and A-Central Empire“.
Above: Images of Bilboa, Spain
During this time, he published the Crown’s Official Court News every nine months.
In this glossy magazine he printed, among other things, excerpts from his numerous disputes in court, wrote instructions for the production of blank stamp cards, glorified the Spanish bullfight and rounded off everything with numerous photographs of himself and his followers.
In 2015 he laid down the “crown”.
In the 80s and 90s he quarreled with the Zürich transport company (ZVV) and the responsible city councilor, Jürg Kaufmann:
Above: Jürg Kaufmann
The “King” took the right to travel without a ticket and declared himself a “green driver” (“in the service of theenvironment”) and fought a bitter dispute through all court instances until the Federal Court upheld a sentence of 30 days in prison in 1987.
Above: Federal Courthouse, Lausanne, Switzerland
In another trial, the Zürich District Council sentenced Kraska to three months’ imprisonment for “continued fraudulentactivity“.
Above: District Courthouse, Zürich
Kraska unsuccessfully sued the Zürich city councilman Jürg Kaufmann for “insulting”, as he had described him in the magazine Bonus 24 as a “total weirdo”.
Kraska’s defense attorney was temporarily the politically committed lawyer Barbara Hug, who had also represented the “escape king” Walter Stürm , the “sprayer of Zürich” Harald Naegeli and the alleged terrorist Giorgio Bellini in court.
Above: Walter Stürm (1942 – 1999)Above: Harald NaegeliAbove: Giorgio Bellini
As the quotations interspersed here show, Kraska’s work was controversial.
In a résumé, the Tages Anzeiger wrote:
“In fact, King Kraska, together with Dieter Meier and other Dadaists, took up what had moved the 1960s: the liberation from authority and bourgeois morals.
Today, the 67-year-old’s art and subjects are outdated.
The civil fright has degenerated into a civil servant fright.“
Tages-Anzeiger, 26 June 2014
Above: Pjotr Kraska
His work as an artist faded increasingly into the background in the public perception, and from the 1980s his persistent fight for free use of public transport was at the center (“Schwarzfahrer-König“), which occupied all court instances.
For the Beobachter, Kraska was therefore “a prominent example of the type of the modern resister“.
In the obituaries published in 2016, Kraska was drawn primarily as a city original.
Above: Pjotr Kraska (right), Cabaret Voltaire, Zürich, 2007
Kamil Krejčí is a Czech-Swiss actor, director and author who has lived in Switzerland since 1968.
Above: Kamil Krejčí
Kamil Krejčí attended the Zürich Acting Academy, where he trained as an actor and director.
Since 1987 he has been active on the stage and in film.
After a permanent engagement at the Stadttheater St. Gallen and the Stadt Bühnen Münster, he was a freelance actor and director.
Above: Stadt Theater, St. GallenAbove: Theater Münster, Germany
Krejčí worked on many stages in Switzerland and Germany, for example, the B. Fritz Rémond Theater, comedy in the Bayerischer Hof (Bavarian Court), Stadttheater Bern, Luzern and Solothurn.
Above: The B. Fritz Rémond Theater, Frankfurt am Main, GermanyAbove: The Bavarian Court, Munich, GermanyAbove: Stadt Theater, Bern, SwitzerlandAbove: Stadt Theater, Bern, SwitzerlandAbove: Stadt Theater Solothurn, Switzerland
He also played Erwin Imhof in Mannezimmer (Swiss television) in 65 episodes.
He was the founder of various theater companies, such as BIM Stage, Artsi Fartsi or Take Theater.
Above: Bühne Imst Mitte (BIM)(Stage in the middle), Zürich
Kamil Krejčí was responsible for the text editing of Der kleine Horrorladen (Little Shop of Horrors), as well as the Swiss-German version of the musical Elternabend (Parents’ Night) for the Theater am Hechtplatz or s’Dschungelbuech (TheJungle Book) for the Bernhardtheater.
Above: Virginia Theater, Broadway, New York CityAbove: Theater am Hechtplatz, ZürichAbove: Bernhard Theater, Zürich
The family musicals Der Zauberlehrling (The Sorcerer’s Apprentice), De chli Isbär (The Little PolarBear), s’Dschungelbuech (The Jungle Book) and D’Schatzinsle (Treasure Island) toured Switzerland for several years.
Krejci wrote the scripts for TheSorcerer’s Apprentice, The LittlePolar Bear and Treasure Island.
For Dschungelbuch he was responsible for the direction and the text version.
Above: First page of Der Zauberling by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Kamil Krejčí is the “inventor” of the “Adliswil Christmas Calendar”.
From 2001 to 2018 he organized and hosted his living Christmas calendar in Adliswil.
Together with Brigitte Schmidlin and Beat Gärtner (Stadt Theater) he told his own and adapted Christmas stories every day of Advent.
Krejci now has a “story pool” of more than 200 Christmas fairy tales written in Swiss German.
Above: The Adliswil Christmas Calendar
From 2005 he wrote columns for the Zürcher Tages Anzeiger, then until 2016 in the newspaper “Züri 2”.
In addition, a number of radio plays were created both under his direction and under his pen, for example, various Schreckmümpfeli (horror stories), but also several CDs with Papa Moll stories produced by SRF.
In many other radio plays he acts as a speaker.
Above: Papa Moll and son
Felix Mettler (1945 – 2019) was a Swiss writer.
Above: Felix Mettler
Mettler studied veterinary medicine and worked for several years as a senior assistant at the Institute for Veterinary Pathology at the University of Zürich.
His first work, The Wild Boar, was translated into English and Italian.
The novel also served as the basis for the film Death of a Boar (2006) with Joachim Król.
The 73-metre high transmission tower Felsenegg – Girstel transmission tower of Swisscom is visible from afar and is around 300 metres from the mountain station of the Felseneggbahn cable car.
The tower was built in 1959 to broadcast radio and television programs in the region.
With the completion of the directional tower in 1963, radio and television broadcasting began in Switzerland.
The Felsenegg station was the most important national technical center for television broadcasting.
It was the control centre for many private Swiss television stations and allowed national and international distribution.
Above: Felsenegg transmission tower, 1963
With the introduction of the REAL system, several transmission systems were distributed to 27 other Swisscom towers.
As a result, the tower lost its originally outstanding central importance.
The Felsenegg transmission tower is now integrated in the general network of transmission towers.
Since fiber optics became popular, conventional broadcasting of radio programs has also declined.
The tower shone until 10 December 200 as VHF radio from Radio Zürisee before it was switched to the Üetliberg.
In 2020 the Felsenegg Tower was released from the canton’s inventory of historical monuments.
In 2021 the dilapidated Felsenegg tower will be replaced by a 73-meter high lattice mast tower.
The old concrete tower is to be dismantled by the end of 2022.
Above: Felsenegg transmission tower seen from Adliswil
Skyguide – the air traffic control company that monitors Swiss airspace and adjacent airspace – has been operating a radio receiving station there since 2005.
The directional beam tower was built by Zürich architect Edwin Schoch.
It is 51 meters high and was made of reinforced concrete and clad with aluminum.
This cladding not only has significant technical advantages, but also has a special play of light that adapts the tower’s color to the changing moods of the day and the weather.
By choosing a consistently slim tower shape, it was possible to avoid a forest fall on the narrow ridge of the Felsenegg.
A triangular floor plan with cut corners makes the tower light and at the same time allows the large antennas mounted on special platforms outside the tower to be placed in the desired main beam directions without difficulty.
At the top there is a 22-meter high dipole antenna made of steel.
The tower has 16 floors and one underground floor in which the operating rooms are located.
The antennas are mounted on the top five platforms and the roof.
This includes parabolic and directional antennas.
The maximum radiated power to the Nods Chasseral transmitter 111.3 kilometers away, as the crow flies, is 10 watts.
Above: Felsenegg transmission tower
The Türlersee (Türler Lake) is located in the Säuliamt in the canton of Zürich, on the border of the communities Aeugst and Hausen am Albis at 643 metres above sea level.
Above: Türler Lake
The Türlersee lies for the most part in the municipality of Aeugst.
The lake is around 1.4 kilometers long and around 500 meters wide.
On the southeastern bank there is a campsite and the Türlen Lido.
Above: Türler Lake, Türlen
Türlen is a hamlet that belongs to the municipality of Hausen am Albis and is located on the Türlersee, west of the Albis in the canton of Zürich.
Türlen has a bus stop where regional buses run to and from Wiedikon, Hausen am Albis, Ebertswil and Affoltern am Albis, a restaurant and the outdoor pool on the Türlersee.
The only campsite on the Türlersee is near Türlen, where on 26 May 2009, 17 caravans burned out due to a gas explosion and fire.
Sixteen people were injured.
In the north the River Reppisch leaves the lake.
Above: Reppisch River at Dönibach
A landslide on the Aeugsterberg changed the landscape at the end of the last ice age around 10,000 years ago.
The Aeugsterberg, made up of molasse (sedimentary rock), rose like an island out of the ice masses formed by the Reuss and Linth glaciers.
Above: Molasse rock
After the glacier melted, the pressure on the mountain flank eased, and at the same time the meltwater streams increased the erosion at the foot of the mountain.
The slope lost its stability and 60 million cubic meters of rock slid into the valley and dammed the Reppisch to the Türlersee.
Above: Aeugsterberg and Türlersee
First the Türlersee flowed over the Hexengraben (witches’ pit) towards the Reuss, only later over the Reppisch into the Limmat.
Above: The Hexengraben
With a path around the lake and through the surrounding forests, the lake is a popular local recreation area.
A lido, as well as other beaches and jetties, offers bathing opportunities.
First and foremost, the landscape at the Türlersee is a diverse nature and landscape protection area with natural banks, species-rich flat and sloping moors and dry meadows.
The lake is of cantonal importance as a spawning area for common frogs and toads.
Above: TürlerseeAbove: Common frogAbove: Common toad
In 1786 a coal seam was discovered north of the Aeugsterberg near Gottert, which led to the construction of the Riedhof Mine, in which coal was mined during the periods of 1786–1814, 1917–1921 and 1942–1947.
In 1944 the first ordinance for the protection of the Türlersee was issued, which was adjusted due to the steadily increasing influx of visitors in 1998 and 2001 (Protection Ordinance of December 17, 2001).
For this reason, intensive recreational use is only possible in the demarcated areas:
In the area of the campsite, near the cantonal road at the northern end of the Lake and at the Hexengraben.
Above: Türlersee
The Türlersee was frozen over in January 2009 and January 2012, with an accessible layer of ice.
Because of its sheltered location between Albis and Aeugsterberg, the water of the Türlersee is hardly circulated.
Therefore, the water circulation in winter is supported by a circulation system.
The Türlersee is easy to reach by public transport:
From the city of Zürich, take tram 14 to Triemli and Postbus 235 or take the S5 Zürich S-Bahn to Affoltern am Albis, then Bus 223 via Hausen am Albis to Türlersee.
Above: Zürich tram symbolAbove: Logo of the Zürich Transportation Authority
The Türlersee is on the regional cycling route 51 Säuliamt – Schwyz – Zurich – Schwyz.
There is a legend about the origin of the water:
Where the Türlersee now spreads, there used to be a beautiful farm with fertile fields.
The owner had an only child, a graceful, dear daughter.
She caught the eye of the young lord of Schnabel Castle, and he pursued her passionately.
But the honorable child persistently refused all his promises.
Then the lord of the castle persuaded the father to bring the girl to the Castle at midnight under all sorts of pretenses.
He opened the gate himself and pulled the reluctant daughter in.
As he was about to close the gate, she noticed what was being played and uttered a cry of curse on her traitorous father.
At that moment lightning flashed from the sky and struck her parents’ house.
She saw how a fiery chasm opened and the neat and once so blessed courtyard with all its fields disappeared into it.
In the morning, however, there was a lake in its place.
Above: Türlersee
The Affoltern district is a district in the southwest of Canton Zürich.
It lies between the Albis chain and the Reuss with borders in the west and northwest with Canton Aargau, in the south with Canton Zug.
The district is identical to the Knonaueramt region (or Knonauer Amt) and is popularly called Säuliamt .
The name Zürcher Freiamt , which was also used in earlier centuries, is virtually unknown today.
Above: Coat of arms of Affoltern
From the beginning of the 15th century until the Reformation, the city of Zürich gradually gained control over the areas between Albis and Reuss.
Already in 1406 the heirs of John of Hallwyl sold Langnau, Kappel, Rifferswil, Maschwanden, Ottenbach, and portions of today’s Obfeldens to Switzerland’s largest city.
In the course of the Swiss conquest of Aargau in 1415, Zürich then annexed the Freiamt Affoltern and jurisdiction over Steinhausen, the Maschwanderamt and the Kelleramt.
During the Old Zürich War (1440 – 1446), the entire region was severely affected by acts of war and was administered by Schwyz, Glarus, Lucerne and Zug between 1443 and 1450.
Above: Knonau Castle
One of the traditional autonomy rights of the Freiamt was its own jurisdiction.
The courts handed down from the Habsburg era (1173 – 1415) were Rifferswil, Affoltern am Albis and Berikon.
Above: Old courthouse, Affoltern am Albis
The Freiamtsgemeinde met in the Mettmenstein church.
It met for the last time on 26 March 1795, but had to be moved to Rüteli near today’s train station because the church was too small for the large number of visitors.
Above: Reformed Church, Mettmenstetten
From 1507 to 1512, the Zürich government combined the abovementioned areas to form the Knonau bailiff and standardized the legal system.
The centralization efforts of the city of Zürich’s guild regime provoked the resistance of the Ämtler population, for example in the Waldmann trade in 1489, in the Wädenswil uprising in 1646 (a tax revolt in Wädenswil and in the Knonaueramt, which Zürich condemned with military actions, executions and heavy fines), in Ämtlerhandel (1794 – 1795), and in the Bock War (1804).
Above: Wädenswil and the Zürichsee
This last uprising ended the Knonaueramt with the disarmament and military occupation of the villages, imprisonment and fines as well as the execution under martial law of two revolutionaries, Jakob Schneebeli from Affltern am Albis and Heinrich Häberling from Knonau.
Their names (together with those of the also executed Hans Jakob Willi from Horgen and Jakob Kleinert from Schönenberg) are immortalized on a memorial stone at Affoltern train station.
Above: Affoltern Station
Hans Jakob Willi was born in Horgen as the son of the shoemaker Johann Jakob Willi and his wife Anna Maria Leuthold.
After completing his apprenticeship as a shoemaker in his father’s workshop, Willi started working as a mercenary in Spain and France at the age of 15.
After escaping from British captivity, he returned to Horgen in 1801.
On 28 March 1803 he married Anna Anton von Horgen.
Above: Horgen
The Mediation Constitution of 1803 shifted the balance of power in favor of the city of Zürich.
Above: The Mediation Constitution
Willi, with his war experience, became the leader of the rebels in the countryside.
The battles were named Bockenkrieg (Bock War) after the Bocken inn in Arn bei Horgen.
Above: Bocken Inn, Arn bei Horgen
Three warships were used to bombard Horgen from Lake Zürich.
The insurgents won the battle, but Willi had to retire injured.
The uprising now collapsed very quickly.
After the battle at the Bocken, Hans Jakob Willi stayed in hiding until he was caught in Stäfa after seven days.
An unconstitutional court martial condemned him despite the intervention of Napoleon Bonaparte.
Above: Napoleon Bonaparte (1769 – 1821)
On 25 April 1804 at 2 p.m. Willi was executed in Zürich along with two co-defendants.
Above: Old city, Zürich
“We are free Swiss, citizens with equal rights throughout.
If our government does not want to hear the voice of the people, it is tyrannical.“
Hans Jakob Willi
Above: Willi memorial plaque, Horgen
In 1798 the authorities of the Helvetic Republic created the district of Mettmenstetten, which included the core area of the Landvogtei Knonau, as well as Aesch, Birmensdorf, Oberurdorf, Wettswil, Stallikon and Bonstetten.
Langnau was assigned to the Hirgen district on this occasion.
Steinhausen came to Canton Zug and Canton Baden, which in turn became part of the new Aaargau in 1803.
In its current boundaries, the district emerged as the Knonau Oberamt after the end of the Mediation Constitution in 1814.
The district capital was relocated in 1837 from the former bailiff’s seat of Knonau to the more centrally located Affoltern am Albis.
This gave the district its current name.
Above: Coat of arms of Affoltern am Albis
After the turmoil and crises of the beginning of the century, a strong industrialization set in around the middle of the 19th century, which also found its expression in transport technology with the opening of the Zürich – Zug railway in 1864.
The opening of National Highway 4 in 2009 marked another important turning point, as Affoltern am Albis could now be reached from Zürich and Zug in less than 15 minutes.
In the 1980s a regional protest movement postponed the construction of the motorway for more than twenty years with growth-critical and ecological arguments, but ultimately could not stop the suburbanization of large parts of the district.
In 2012 almost 50,000 people lived in the Affoltern district and there were 16,000 jobs.
In the last ten years, the district has recorded a population growth of 16.1% (compared to 14%, the cantonal average).
Above: Affoltern train and bus station
Hausen am Albis is located in the south of the canton of Zürich in the Affoltern district, on the south side of the Albis.
The community, located in the upper Jonental Valley, consists of the villages of Hausen am Albis and Ebertswil and the hamlets of Türlen, Vollenweid, Tüfenbach, Hinter-, Mittel- and Oberalbis, Husertal, Hirzwangen and Schweikhof.
The municipality extends from Sihlbrugg to the Türlersee.
This makes Hausen am Albis the largest municipality in the district with a total of 13.64 km².
The highest point in the municipality is 916 metres above sea level.
Bürglen is the lowest point at 532 metres above sea level.
Hausen am Albis is located between the cities of Zürich and Zug.
Above: Hausen am Albis
Hausen am Albis was first mentioned in a document in 869 as Huson, today’s district of Heisch in 1184 as Heinsche.
During this time the lords of Hausen were the Barons of Eschenbach.
It was they who built the Schnabelburg on the Albis ridge in 1150 and founded the Cistercian Abbey of Kappel in 1185 .
Above: Kappel Monastery
The Schnabelburg is the ruin of a hilltop castle on the beak-like elevation north of the Schnabellücke near the village of Hausen am Albis.
In 1185 Walter I, Baron von Eschenbach, named himself after the newly built castle.
Above: Eschenbach coat of arms
However, it is not known for sure whether it was really the same castle, the ruin of which is known today.
Archaeological investigations of the castle complex have shown that the castle was probably built in the 13th century, and that it was built very hastily.
However, no traces have been found in the vicinity of the ruins that are visible today, which would suggest that another castle was built first.
In 1218 the last Duke of the Zähringen family, with whom the castle owners were connected, died, and the economic decline of the family of the Lords of Eschenbach-Schnabelburg began with Berchtold II.
Above: Zähringen coat of arms, New City Hall, Freiburg im Breisgau, Germany
In 1270 von Eschenbach became a friend of Rudolf I von Habsburg, the new lord of the castle of Schnabelburg.
Berchtold II fought with the Habsburg in the decisive battle – one of the largest knight battles in Europe – on the Marchfeld (26 August) against Ottokar von Böhmen in 1278.
Above: The iron and gold king of Bohemia, Ottokar II Přemysl (1232 – 1278)Above: Memorial stone of the battle, Dürnkrutfeld, Austria
It can be assumed that the Eschenbach knight fell in the decisive battle near Göllheim in 1298, as he disappeared from documents at that time.
Above: Göllheim, Germany
A son of Berchtold, Walter von Eschenbach, helped murder King Albrecht I of Habsburg in 1308.
After that, he was given the imperial ban.
Above: Equestrian seal of Albrecht I (1255 – 1308)
In August 1309, the Habsburgs then besieged and conquered the Schnabelburg in revenge for the regicide.
According to archaeological findings, the castle was either not destroyed during the siege or was later rebuilt.
In 1955, Hugo Schneider carried out excavation work and conservation measures at the ruins.
Above: Ruins of Schnabel Castle
In 1309 Eschenbach rule was ended by the destruction of the Schnabelburg, because Walther von Eschenbach was involved in the murder of King Albrecht.
Albrecht I was the first legitimate son of the Roman – German King Rudolf I of Habsburg, born in wedlock, from his first marriage to Gertrud Anna von Hohenberg (died 1281).
His older half-brother Albrecht von Schenkenberg, who received the Grafschaft Löwenstein from his father, was born out of wedlock.
His motto were “Fugam victoria nescit” (“The victory knows no flight.”) and “Quod optimum idem jucundissimum” (“The best is the most pleasant.”)
From 1273 he officiated as Landgrave in the Landgraviate of Upper Alsace.
After the 1278 victory in the Battle of Marchfeld over King Ottokar Premysl of Bohemia, he was appointed by his father in May 1281, when he left the conquered Vienna again, as imperial administrator over the imperial fiefs of the Duchy of Austria and the Duchy of Styria.
The office had been vacant in the turmoil of the Austrian Interregnum since June 1278 because the Wittelsbach Heinrich XIII, had defected from Bavaria to the enemy.
On 17 December 1282, at the Reichstag of Augsburg, he was appointed Duke of Austria and Styria together with his brother Rudolf.
One year later on 1 June 1283 in the Treaty of Rheinfelden, he ruled alone in these rights.
Above: King Albrecht I sends a messenger to Pope Boniface
Rudolf was to be compensated for this with other territories in southwest Germany, but this did not happen until his death in 1290.
Albrecht quickly made himself unpopular with his policy of pushing back the natives through his Swabian clientele, especially the Lords of Walsee.
Above: Coat of arms of the Lords of Walsee
In 1291 – 1292, the Landsberger Bund revolted in Styria, against whom Albrecht was able to quickly assert himself.
Above: Deutschlandsberg Castle (1681), Styria, Austria, from whence the Landsperger Bund (conspiracy of nobles) was derived
In 1295 the Austrian nobility rose up as well.
In Vienna, too, Ottokar Přemysl remained much more popular for a long time – not least because of economic relations with the Bohemian region.
After all, Vienna got a new city charter in 1296.
Above: Coat of arms of Vienna (Wien), Austria (Österreich)
Rudolf I tried to make Albrecht co-king during his own lifetime in order to make the royal dignity in the House of Habsburg hereditary.
Above: Habsburg Castle, Habsburg, Canton Aargau, Switzerland
However, the Electors, especially the Count Palatine (officials and representatives of the King or Emperor) and the clerical Electors, did not allow this to happen.
An elector was one of the originally seven, later nine and finally ten highest-ranking princes of the Holy Roman Empire (modern Germany), who had had the sole right to elect the Roman (German) King since the 13th century.
This royal title was traditionally associated with the right to be crowned Emperor by the Pope.
Above: The Codex Balduineus (1340) contains the first known pictorial representation of the college of electors: Here the electors elect Heinrich of Luxembourg (1278 – 1313) as King. The Electors are, recognizable by their coats of arms (from left to right), the Archbishops of Cologne, Mainz and Trier, the Count Palatine of the Rhine, the Duke of Saxony, the Margrave of Brandenburg and the King of Bohemia, who was actually not present when Heinrich was elected.
In 1290 Rudolf wanted to put his son on the throne of Hungary, which after the assassination of Ladislaus IV was regarded as a reverted fiefdom, but his death in 1291 thwarted this plan.
Above: King of Hungary and Croatia Ladislaus IV (1262 – 1290)
As Rudolf’s successor, Adolf von Nassau was elected the new Roman (German) king in 1292.
Above: King Adolf von Nassau (1250 – 1298)
In the following years Albrecht hardly intervened in imperial politics, as he was bound by revolts by various nobles in his Austrian lands.
In 1295 he was seriously poisoned, the reason for which remained unclear.
Maybe the kitchen had processed slightly spoiled food or an assassin had mixed poison in the food.
In any case, Albrecht collapsed from convulsions.
His doctors gave him laxatives.
After the colic, when he got angry, he lost consciousness and, faced with the fear of death, was hung upside down on both legs so that the poison could flow out of his body.
The patient survived this procedure, but one eye was destroyed.
Above: Statue of Albrecht I, Army History Museum, Vienna, Austria
When Adolf was deposed again in 1298, Albrecht was elected as his successor as King on 23 June 1298.
In the Knight’s Battle of Göllheim (Battle of the Hasenbühel) on 2 July 1298, Adolf fell while fighting the Habsburgs.
On 27 July, Albrecht was elected a second time and then crowned King in Aachen on 24 August 1298.
Above: Modern Aachen, Germany
On his first court day in Nuremberg in the same year he enfeoffed (gave) his sons – Rudolf, Fredrich the Beautiful and Leopold the Glorious – Austria and Styria.
Above: Stained glass depiction of Rudolf I (1282 – 1307), St. Stephan’s Church, ViennaAbove: Seal of Frederick the Beautiful and his wife Isabella, Duke (#1) and King’s seal of Frederick (#5), Queen’s seal of Isabella (#9). Friedrich is shown enthroned frontally on the king’s seal with a crown and scepter. His feet rest on a lion.Above: Stained glass depiction of Leopold I (1290 – 1326), Königsfelden Monastery
Through a marriage connection with France, Albrecht I achieved peace with Philip IV the Fair, with whom he had previously been in dispute over the course of the border.
Above: French King Philippe IV (1268 – 1314)
Albrecht also reached an agreement with Wenceslaus II (Vaclav) of Bohemia in the dispute over rule over Poland:
The Bohemian king added the most important parts of the recently re-established kingdom to a new collapse into his territory, but recognized Albrecht’s suzerainty onwards.
Above: Wenceslas II (1271 1305) with the Bohemian and Polish crowns, illustration from the Chronicon Aulae Regiae
Opponents of Habsburg power, however, remained the Rhenish Electors, including Pope Boniface VIII.
The papal approbation was only obtained in 1303 in return for far-reaching concessions which severely restricted the King’s power, especially in Italy, and which could have been understood as an oath of subjection towards the papacy.
However, Albrecht refused the coronation offered by Boniface.
Above: Pope Boniface VIII (né Benedetto Caetani) (1235 – 1303)
In 1304 Albrecht and his son Rudolf moved together against Wenceslaus II, who, after the death of Andreas III the Venetian, his son Wenceslaus III became the Hungarian king.
Above: King of Hungary and Croatia Andreas III the Venetian (1265 – 1301)Above: King of Hungary, Bohemia and Poland Wenceslaus III (1289 – 1306)
Since the Pope would have liked to see another Italian on the Hungarian throne in the form of the Neapolitan Prince Karl Robert, he asked Albrecht for help.
Albrecht made the strangest demands on Wenceslaus II.
When this did not fulfill them, the imperial ban was imposed on him.
Wenceslaus then transferred the Hungarian crown jewels from Ofen to Prague.
Above: King of Hungary and Croatia Karl I (1288 – 1342)Above: The Hungarian Crown Jewels
On the following campaign Albrecht and Rudolf Kuttenberg besieged Kutná Hora, the silver mine in Bohemia.
Their Cuman auxiliaries committed terrible atrocities in the country.
At the beginning of winter, hunger broke out in their army and they withdrew.
Above: modern Kutná Hora, Czech Republic
A political unification of Central Europe under the leadership of the Habsburgs seemed within reach.
Albrecht succeeded after the death of the childless King Wenceslaus III on 4 August 1306, who himself became king in Bohemia after the death of his father in 1305, installed his son Rudolf as King of Bohemia.
But then the Bohemian estates rebelled and decided to depose the king.
Albrecht quickly forced them to recognize his sovereignty.
However, 1307 brought a serious setback for the Habsburg hegemonic plans.
After Rudolf’s early death, Heinrich von Carinthia from Meinhardingen became the new King of Bohemia.
Above: Seal of Heinrich von Carinthia (1265 – 1335)
In connection with a controversial reverted fiefdom in Thuringia and Meißen, Albrecht also lost the Battle of Lucka against the sons of Albrecht the Degenerate from the House of Wettin.
Above: Coinage of Albrecht the Degenerate (1288–1307), Margrave of Meißen and Landgrave of Thuringia
When King Albrecht invaded with a large army, the Margraves Dietrich IV of Lausitz and Friedrich I of Meißen fought him, at the head of armed citizens and peasants as well as Braunschweig cavalry bands, Albrecht suffered a complete defeat on 31 May 1307.
Above: Friedrich I the Bitten (1257 – 1323) and Dietrich IV (1260 – 1307)Above: Wettinger Fountain commemorating the Battle, Lucka, Germany
In the dispute over the customs posts of German princes, Albrecht soon cracked down on them until the archbishops and Rudolf, the Count Palatine near the Rhine, surrendered.
However, Pope Boniface stood in the way of breaking up the Kurkollegium.
Unrest in Swabia, Baden, Alsace and Switzerland also increased again during this period.
Peace remained elusive.
Above: The Electors in the royal election in 1308: From left – Peter von Mainz (1245 – 1320), Balduin von Trier (1285 – 1354) and Rudolf I (1274 – 1319)
Albrecht was murdered in 1308 near Windisch, now in Switzerland, not far from his ancestral castle.
The murderers were his nephew Johann von Schwaben – who was nicknamed Parricida (relative murderer) because of his deed – Baron Rudolf von Wart (1274 – 1309), Baron Rudolf von Balm, Baron Walter von Eschenbach and Baron Konrad von Tegerfelden.
Above: Johann Parricuda (1290 – 1313)Above: BaronRudolf von Wart’s wife Gertrud von Balm (1286 – 1322) pleads with Albrecht’s daughter Agnes of Hungary (1281 – 1364) for her husband’s life, by August Weckesser
The exact course of the murder is presented differently by the chroniclers.
Albrecht was probably on the way from Baden to his wife in Rheinfelden.
In the morning, Duke Johann had claimed his inheritance at Stein Castle – as he had often done before – which led to a scandal.
Above: Johann Parricida and his accomplices murder Albrecht after crossing the Reuss River. In the background are the cities of Brugg and Königsfelden as well as Habsburg Castle. Coloured pen drawing, The Chronicle of 95 Dominions (1480), City Library, BernAbove: Stein Castle, Aargau Canton, Switzerland
According to the chronicler Matthias von Neuenburg (1295 – 1364) the first sword cut that pierced Albrecht’s neck was received from his nephew Johann, then Rudolf von Wart pierced him with his sword, while Rudolf von Balm split the King’s skull in two.
Johann was the son of Albrecht’s early deceased brother Rudolf II, who had renounced the regency in Austria in the Treaty of Rheinfelden and had become Duke of Swabia, Alsace and Aargau.
Above: The murder of Albrecht in Königsfelden, Windisch, Switzerland, 1308
According to Chronicle reports, the failure to pay Johann in compensation was the main motive.
Depending on the sources, Johann’s blood lust is also given as the motive for murder.
The successor as Duke was Albrecht’s son Friedrich the Fair, but he did not succeed as King.
The royal dignity went to the House of Luxembourg with Henrich VII (1278 – 1313), where it remained until 1437 – interrupted by the governments of Ludwig of Bavaria (1282 – 1347) and Ruprecht of the Palatinate.
Above: Statue of Heinrich VII, Pisa Cathedral, Pisa, ItalyAbove: Emperor Ludwig the Bavarian, Frauenkirche, Munich, GermanyAbove: Ruprecht (1352 – 1410) with his wife Elisabeth von Hohenzollern-Nürnberg (1358 – 1411) in a miniature copy of a now-lost mural in Heidelberg Castle, Germany
King Albrecht was first buried in the Wettingen monastery (in today’s Switzerland).
Above: Wettingen Monastery
In 1309, at the instigation of Henrich VII, his body was transferred to Speyer, where he was buried side by side with his former rival Adolf von Nassau in the Speyer Cathedral.
Above: Speyer Cathedral, Speyer, Germany
As a result of Eschenbach’s treachery Hausen am Albis was subordinated to the Hallwylers, who ceded it to the city of Zürich in 1406.
Above: Coat of arms of Hausen am Albis
It is said that the storyline of The Game of Thrones franchise was inspired by England’s Wars of the Roses, but I submit that the story of Albrecht I and his assassination is also worthy of dramatic accounts.
Kappel am Albis is first mentioned in 1185 as de Capella.
The settlement was founded in 1185 as a Cistercian monastery which today houses a seminar centre, hotel, cafe and a restaurant.
Above: Kappel am Albis
It was the location of the Wars of Kappel in 1529 and 1531, during the turmoil that accompanied the Reformation of Huldrych Zwingli.
Above: Huldrych Zwingli
A monument to Zwingli is located nearby at the hamlet of Näfenhäuser, marking the spot where he met his fatal end.
Above: Zwingli Monument, Näfenhäuser
In 1185 the Monastery was founded by the Barons of Eschenbach – Scnabelburg and confirmed by the Bishop of Konstanz Hermann II.
Above: Coat of arms of the Diocese of Konstanz
A chapel was available to the first abbot Wilhelm and his monks to build a Cistercian monastery.
The mother monastery of Kappel was Altenryf (Hauterive) Abbey (Freiburg Canton).
Above: Hauterive Abbey, Posieux, Canton Freiburg, Switzerland
Through Pope Innocent III, the monastery received the Privilegium commune Cisterciense and it was placed under the protection of the Papacy in 1211.
Above: Pope Innocent III (né Lotario dei Conti di Segni) (1161 – 1216), San Benedetto Monastery, Subiaco, Italy
Until the end of the 14th century, the Monastery received donations from the founding family and other noble families, especially in the Knouauer Amt, in Zugerland (today’s Aargau), in Luzern Canton, on Lake Zürich (Zürichsee) and in the Zürich Lowlands (Zürich Unterland).
There were also isolated lands in central Switzerland.
The Monastery got into financial difficulties through the social development, especially the emerging money economy, the upswing of the cities and through the competition of the mendicant orders.
In addition, the Monastery came more and more under the influence of secular lords, especially after the assassination of King Albrecht in 1308.
Above: Kappel Monastery
In 1344 the Monastery concluded a permanent alliance with the city of Zug in 1344 and a similar one with Zürich in 1403.
Through these alliances, the Monastery got between the fronts in the Old Zürich War (1440 – 1446) and was plundered by the Confederates in 1443.
On 15 January 1493, a fire devastated the convent building, which the then Abbot Ulrich had rebuilt.
Due to his dissolute lifestyle, Abbot Ulrich was forced to resign in 1508.
Above: Kappel Monastery
A new spirit arrived under Abbot Ulrich’s successor, Wolfgang Joner.
In 1523 he summoned Heinrich Bullinger, who was only nineteen, to Kappel, where he taught the monks and young men from the area as a private tutor.
Through Bullinger, the teachings of the Reformation found their way to Kappel, and so pictures (icons) were removed from the Monastery Church on 9 March 1525.
Holy Mass was abolished on 4 September of the same year.
A year later, on 29 March 1526, the monks celebrated the Lord’s Supper for the first time according to the Reformed order and took off their robes.
Many left the Monastery and turned to a trade or became preachers.
The convent finally handed the Monastery over to the city of Zürich in 1527.
Wolfgang Joner, Heinrich Bullinger and four other men stayed in Kappel and continued to run the school as a boarding school for boys.
The previous monastery church became the parish church of Kappel.
Above: Statue of Heinrich Bullinger, Grossmünster, Zürich
During the First Kappel War in 1529, Kappel became the scene of the June deployment of the Reformed and Catholic troops, which came to a peaceful end with the legendary Kappel milk soup.
Above: The Milk Soup Stone Memorial, Kappel am Albis
At the end of June 1529, the Zürich troops marched against the central Swiss cantons.
In this First Kappel War, thanks to the mediation of the neutral towns, a fratricidal war among the Confederates was prevented.
According to the reports, the common footmen of the two armies used the time while the leaders were negotiating to fraternize and put a large saucepan on a fire near Kappel am Albis, exactly on the border between the two cantons.
The people of Zug are said to have contributed the milk and the people of Zurich the bread for a milk soup, which was then eaten by both armies together.
Today the “Milchsuppenstein” (milk soup stone) is located on a hill southwest of Ebertswil.
The large pot from which everyone ate together was of great symbolic value for the later historiography and identification of Switzerland.
Above: Kappel milk soup
In memory of this event, Kappeler milk soup is still served today when a dispute can be settled through negotiation, for example by Federal Councilor Pascal Couchpin at the conclusion of the St. Gallen cultural property dispute in 2006.
Above: Pascal Couchepin
It was entirely different on 11 October 1531, when the Zurich reformer Zwingli was killed in the second battle near Kappel.
Above: The death of ZwingliAbove: Zwingli’s helmet
After the Reformation, the Monastery remained Zürich’s domain.
Above: Kappel Monastery, 1741
From 1834 the buildings were used for social purposes, and since 1983 by the Zürcher Landeskirche (Zürich Canton Church) as a seminar hotel and educational center called the House of Silence and Encounter.
Since 2008 it has been called Kloster Kappelagain.
The Monastery has been renovated since 2009.
The Monastery Church shows a glass painting work by the Swiss graphic artist and painter Max Hunziker in the choir .
The Kappel Monastery Association (formerly the Kappelerhof Association) is the owner of the Kappel Monastery domain (real estate, land, forest).
The 14 association members are the 13 parishes of the Affoltern district and the Evangelical Reformed Church of the Canton of Zürich.
The church and rectory belong to the Canton of Zürich.
Above: Kappel Monastery
As personalities go, Zwingli is not the sole person to get recognized when one speaks of Kappel am Albis.
Above: Coat of arms of Kappel am Albis
Josias Simler (1530 – 1576), Swiss Reformed theologian and historian, known among other things for his works on Swiss regional studies and history, was born in Kappel am Albis.
In 1544 Josias Simler went to Zürich to study under his godfather and sponsor Heinrich Bullinger.
In 1546 he continued his studies in theology, languages and natural sciences in Basel, and from 1547 to 1549 in arithmetic and geometry in Strasbourg.
He then completed his theology studies in Zürich, worked as a pastor and occasionally as a mathematics teacher for Swiss physician/polymath/encyclopedist Conrad Gessner (1516 – 1565).
Above: Conrad Gesner
In 1552 he became professor at the Carolinum for instruction in the New Testament in Zürich and in 1560 for theology.
In that year he temporarily took over the chair of the dismissed Theodor Bibliander (1505 – 1564), who represented the views of Erasmus of Rotterdam and not those of the Reformed Church.
Above: Theodor BiblianderAbove: Desiderius Erasmus (1466 – 1536)
From 1555 he began to re-publish Conrad Gessner’s Bibliotheca universalis.
Above: Bibliotheca Universalis
In his work De Alpibus Commentarius (Commentary of the Alps)(1574), the first work that dealt extensively with the Alps, he collected all information about the mountains from the works of various other authors with comments from his own experience.
In the process, he developed new insights into the nature of avalanches, the difference between firn and ice, the low temperature at high altitudes and the plant endism in the Alps, in this the oldest description of the Alps in Latin.
In his childhood and youth in Kappel am Albis, Simler had the panorama of the Glarus, Uri and Bernese Alps on his doorstep.
Above: Kappel Monastery and the Alps
Later he was unable to travel because of his gout.
He had to draw his information from literary sources.
The “Commentary of theAlps” is a first attempt to give an overview of the natural and cultural history of the Alps and their individual mountain ranges.
It is a collection of experiences from Swiss scientists that they personally gained in the Alps.
An abundance of quotes from the classical tradition underlines the humanistic orientation of the text.
Above: De Alpibus Commentarius (1574)
Simler also wrote other works on Swiss cultural studies, such as De Republica Helvetiorum (1548) (abstract of the Chronicle by Johannes Stumpf: 1500 – 1578) or Vallesiae Descriptio.
Above: Swiss historian Johannes Stumpf
He also advised Ulrich Campell (1510 – 1582) in formulating his Raetiae alpestris descriptioTopographica (Topographical Description of Alpine Raetia) (1573).
The Simler Snowfield in Antarctica is named in his honour.
Above: Location of the Simler Snowfield, Antarctica
I tour the Monastery of Kappel am Albis, sit in its cafeteria and dine on soup and salad and cola, and I make notes as I try to assess my feelings at this, the final end of this unreligious pilgrim’s progress.
Above: Descent into the cloister cafeteria
I have followed the life of one man, from his birthplace to the spot where he fell, and now I feel I must take stock of this man and decide for myself what is my opinion of this man who has garnered so much respect for his role in the Reformation in Switzerland.
I cannot claim to be wise in the understanding of Christianity, for it seems to be too often that they who profess to be Christian fail too often to act in a manner which Christ would have.
Above: Crucifixion of Christ, by Diego Velázquez
In fairness, I suspect that there are Buddhists who do not live in the way Buddha intended or Muslims who do not practice the teachings of Muhammad.
Above: The Buddha teaching the Four Noble Truths, Sanskrit manuscript, Nalanda, Bihar, IndiaAbove: The Kaaba, Mecca, Saudi Arabia – the direction of prayer and destination of pilgrimage for Muslims
Religious affiliation checked on a census poll does not mean religious practice.
If that were so then Trump would not have been the candidate of choice for American evangelical Christians.
Above: Donald Trump
Trump went to Sunday school and was confirmed in 1959 at the First Presbyterian Church in Jamaica, Queens, New York City.
In the 1970s, his parents joined the Marble Collegiate Church in Manhattan.
In 2015, the Church stated Trump “is not an active member“.
Above: Marble Collegiate Church, Manhattan, New York City
In 2019, he appointed his personal pastor, televangelist Paula White, to the White House Office of Public Liaison.
Above: Paula White
In 2020, he said he identified as a non-denominational Christian.
Above: The cross symbol of Christianity
On 1 June 2020, federal law enforcement officials used batons, rubber bullets, pepper spray projectiles, stun grenades, and smoke to remove a largely peaceful crowd of protesters from Lafayette Square, outside the White House.
Trump then walked to St. John’s Episcopal Church, where protesters had set a small fire the night before.
Above: St. John’s Episcopal Church, Washington DC
He posed for photographs holding a Bible upside down, with senior administration officials later joining him in photos.
Above: The “Christian” Donald Trump
Trump said on 3 June that the protesters were cleared because “they tried to burn down the church on 31 May and almost succeeded“, describing the Church as “badly hurt“.
Above: George Floyd protest, Washington DC, 31 May 2020
Religious leaders condemned the treatment of protesters and the photo opportunity itself.
Many retired military leaders and defense officials condemned Trump’s proposal to use the US military against anti-police brutality protesters.
Above: George Floyd protest, Washington DC, 1 June 2020
The chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Mark A. Milley, later apologized for accompanying Trump on the walk and thereby “creating the perception of the military involved in domestic politics.”
Above: The walk from the White House to St. John’s, 1 June 2020 – Milley is in military uniform
As a candidate and as President, Trump frequently made false statements in public speeches and remarks to an extent unprecedented in American politics.
His falsehoods became a distinctive part of his political identity.
Trump’s false and misleading statements were documented by fact checkers, including at the WashingtonPost, which tallied a total of 30,573 false or misleading statements made by Trump over his four-year term.
Trump’s falsehoods increased in frequency over time, rising from about 6 false or misleading claims per day in his first year as president to 16 per day in his second year to 22 per day in his third year to 39 per day in his final year.
He reached 10,000 false or misleading claims 27 months into his term, 20,000 false or misleading claims 14 months later, and 30,000 false or misleading claims five months later.
Many of Trump’s comments and actions have been considered racist.
He has repeatedly denied this, asserting:
“I am the least racist person there is anywhere in the world.“
In national polling, about half of respondents say that Trump is racist.
A greater proportion believe that he has emboldened racists.
Several studies and surveys have found that racist attitudes fueled Trump’s political ascent and have been more important than economic factors in determining the allegiance of Trump voters.
Racist and Islamophobic attitudes are a strong indicator of support for Trump.
Trump’s comment on the 2017 Unite the Right Rally in Charlottesville, Virginia — that there were “veryfine people on both sides” — was widely criticized as implying a moral equivalence between the white supremacist demonstrators and the counter-protesters at the rally.
Above: Donald Trump
In a January 2018 Oval Office meeting to discuss immigration legislation, Trump reportedly referred to El Salvador, Haiti, Honduras, and African nations as “shithole countries“.
His remarks were condemned as racist.
Above: Flag of El SalvadorAbove: Flag of HaitiAbove: Flag of HondurasAbove: Africa (in green)
In July 2019, Trump tweeted that four Democratic congresswomen — all minorities, three of whom are native-born Americans — should “go back” to the countries they “came from“.
He was referring to Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, Ayanna Pressley, Ilhan Omar and Rashida Tlaib.
“So interesting to see “Progressive” Democrat Congresswomen, who originally came from countries whose governments are a complete and total catastrophe, the worst, most corrupt and inept anywhere in the world (if they even have a functioning government at all), now loudly and viciously telling the people of the United States, the greatest and most powerful nation on Earth, how our government is to be run.
Why don’t they go back and help fix the totally broken and crime infested places from which they came?
Then come back and show us how it is done.
These places need your help badly.
You can’t leave fast enough.
I’m sure that (Speaker of the House) Nancy Pelosi would be very happy to quickly work out free travel arrangements!
Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump on Twitter, 14 July 2019)
Above: Logo for Twitter
Two days later the House of Representatives voted 240–187, mostly along party lines, to condemn his “racist comments“.
Above: House of Representatives Speaker Congresswoman Nancy Pelosi
White nationalist publications and social media sites praised his remarks, which continued over the following days.
Trump continued to make similar remarks during his 2020 campaign.
Trump has a history of insulting and belittling women when speaking to media and on social media.
He made lewd comments, demeaned women’s looks, and called them names like ‘dog‘, ‘crazed‘, ‘cryinglowlife‘, ‘face of a pig‘, or ‘horseface‘.
In October 2016, two days before the second presidential debate, a 2005 “hot mike” Access Hollywood recording surfaced in which Trump was heard bragging about kissing and groping women without their consent, saying:
“When you’re a star, they let you do it, you can do anything… grab ’em by the pussy.”
The incident’s widespread media exposure led to Trump’s first public apology during the campaign and caused outrage across the political spectrum.
At least 26 women have publicly accused Trump of sexual misconduct as of September 2020, including his then-wife Ivana.
Above: Ivana Marie Trump (née Zelníčková)Above: Jill HarthAbove: E. Jean CarrollAbove: Summer ZervosAbove: Alva JohnsonAbove: Jessica LeedsAbove: Kristin AndersonAbove: Lisa BoyneAbove: Cathy HellerAbove: Temple Taggart McDowellAbove: Amy DorrisAbove: Karena VirginiaAbove: Karen JohnsonAbove: Mindy McGillivrayAbove: Rachel CrooksAbove: Natasha StoynoffAbove: Juliet HuddyAbove: Jessica DrakeAbove: Ninni LaaksonenAbove: Cassandra SearlesAbove: Faith Daniels
There were allegations of rape, violence, being kissed and groped without consent, looking under women’s skirts, and walking in on naked women.
Above: Logo of the Miss Universe beauty pagents
In 2016, he denied all accusations, calling them “false smears” and alleged there was a conspiracy against him.
There is very little that is Christ-like about this so-called “Christian”.
I am in no way suggesting that Zwingli resembled in any way the former US President, save in one respect.
Acting in a very un-Christ-like manner unbecoming to a Christian…..
Certainly Zwingli was an educated man and scholarship is something I deeply respect.
His studies led him to see the need for reform in the Catholic Church and this impulse to improve current systems is a wise and necessary impulse anywhere at all times.
Above: St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City – the largest church in the world and a symbol of the Catholic Church
There is room for improvement in all things, though that being said I do not believe in simply progress for the sake of progress.
Changes should be considered not just for their potential profit but as well soberly assessed as to the cost of their consequences.
And it is here that the Reformation erred.
Certainly the Church was at this time truly a corrupt institution that the faithful found difficult to swear fealty towards.
But in freeing themselves from the rule of Rome they allowed the powerful within their groups to dominate them with the same sort of abuse from which they had fought to free themselves.
Voltaire wrote about Calvin, Luther and Zwingli:
“If they condemned celibacy in the priests and opened the gates of the convents, it was only to turn all society into a convent.
Shows and entertainments were expressly forbidden by their religion, and for more than two hundred years there was not a single musical instrument allowed in the city of Geneva.
They condemned auricular confession, but they enjoined a public one.
And in Switzerland, Scotland and Geneva, it was performed the same as penance.“
Above: French writer François-Marie Arouet (aka Voltaire) (1694 – 1778)
The Church dictated when a man should eat and when he should restrain himself from eating.
Ulrich Zwingli was a pastor in Zurich and was dedicated to the Reformation ideology of Martin Luther.
His first rift with the established religious authorities in Switzerland occurred during the Lenten fast of 1522, when he was present during the eating of sausages at the house of Christoph Froschauer, a printer in the city who later published Zwingli’s translation of the Bible.
Above: Christoph Froschauer (1490 – 1564)Above: The Zwingli Bible
According to William Roscoe Estep, Zwingli already held Reformation-oriented convictions for some time before the incident now known as the Affair of the Sausages.
In March 1522, he was invited to partake in a sausage supper that Froschauer served to his workers – who, Froschauer later claimed, were exhausted from putting out the new edition of The Epistles of St. Paul – and to various dignitaries and priests.
Leo Jud, Klaus Hottinger and Lorenz Hochrütiner were present at the supper and later gained notoriety for their part in the Swiss Reformation.
Above: Klaus Hottinger (d. 1524)
The meal involved Swiss Fasnachtskiechli and some slices of sharp smoked hard sausage, which had been stored for more than a year.
Because the eating of meat during Lent was prohibited, the event caused public outcry and led to Froschauer being arrested.
Though he himself did not eat the sausages, Zwingli was quick to defend Froschauer from allegations of heresy.
In a sermon titled Von Erkiesen und Freiheit der Speisen (Regarding the Choice and Freedom of Foods), Zwingli argued that fasting should be entirely voluntary, not mandatory.
According to Michael Reeves, Zwingli was advancing the Reformation position that Lent was subject to individual rule, rather than the discipline which was upheld at the time by the Catholic Church.
The Zürich Sausage Affair was interpreted as a demonstration of Christian liberty and is considered to be of similar importance for Switzerland as Martin Luther’s 95 Theses in Wittenberg for the German Reformation.
Above: Smoked sausages
The Catholic Church historically observes the disciplines of fasting and abstinence at various times each year.
For Catholics, fasting is the reduction of one’s intake of food, while abstinence refers to refraining from something that is good, and not inherently sinful, such as meat.
The Catholic Church teaches that all people are obliged by God to perform some penance for their sins, and that these acts of penance are both personal and corporeal.
Bodily fasting is meaningless unless it is joined with a spiritual avoidance of sin.
Basil of Caesarea gives the following exhortation regarding fasting:
Let us fast an acceptable and very pleasing fast to the Lord.
True fasting is the estrangement from evil, temperance of tongue, abstinence from anger, separation from desires, slander, falsehood and perjury.
Privation of these is true fasting.
Above: Basil of Caesarea (330 – 379)
As a man who struggles with self discipline when it comes to his diet I can see a certain wisdom in dietary directives while I simultaneously differ with the notion of someone telling me when and what I should eat.
The Church demanded that the clergy remain single and celibate, which is not natural for all men despite their religious inclinations.
Certainly women and sex distract a man from his devotion to God, but wasn’t the point of Christ that we live our lives to the fullest if we do no harm to others?
In the Old Testament it is suggested that God is a jealous god insisting on total allegiance to Him, but I doubt that the intention of allegiance was the total denial of our biological imperatives.
Certainly there is a kind of freedom for a man to remove himself from the imperatives of woman.
Certainly sex is often not practiced in the life-affirming and mutually satisfactory and freely consented manner in which I believe it was intended.
But whether Zwingli was as chaste a man as he should have been and whether he acted responsibly towards women has come into question when his life prior to Zürich is examined.
On the topic of religious imagery I find myself ambivalent.
Images are representations of reality, but they were never meant to replace reality.
Though faith is, to a certain degree, an abandonment of reason to religion, I think the confusion of image with the intended recipient of devotion is a phenomenon too rare to be relatable a worry.
I think an image of the divine makes it easier to believe in the existence of that which is intangible and invisible to the human senses.
Imagery makes the voyeur more easily accept the existence of God whose sole proof of existence is our inability to prove His non-existence.
Imagery makes the unexplainable more palatable and acceptable to the incredulous.
Above: Destruction of icons in Zürich, 1524
As much as I respect the Islamic prohibition of images being made of Muhammad, I sincerely doubt whether viewing Muhammad as a man could ever possibly detract the Islamic faithful from fealty to his teachings.
Above: Logo of the French satirical weekly Charlie Hebdo – The magazine has been the target of three terrorist attacks: in 2011, 2015, and 2020. All of them were presumed to be in response to a number of cartoons that it published controversially depicting Muhammad. On 7 January 2015, in the second of these attacks, 12 people were killed.
Let me repeat myself:
Murderers and terrorists are not true followers of faith.
Above: Commemorative plaque, Paris
Someone once said:
“Don’t try to be a ‘great’ man.
Just be a man and let history make its own judgments.”
Letting our moral leaders be visible human beings, does this diminish the value of what it is they had to teach?
I am uncertain.
Above: The Vitruvian Man, by Leonardo da Vinci (1490)
Zwingli’s notion of Bible study as opposed to simply a routine of rituals is a practice I approve of.
Our faith should be examined, should be questioned.
If a faith is true it can stand up to examination and questioning.
We are not only impulse and emotion.
We are also capable of reason and rationale.
An infallible and all-powerful God need never fear the legitimate desire for understanding that makes worship more possible.
Where I truly find myself at odds with the man who was Zwingli was in his persecution of those who disagreed with him.
Many in the radical wing of the Reformation became convinced that Zwingli was making too many concessions to the Zürich Council.
They rejected the role of civil government and demanded the immediate establishment of a congregation of the faithful.
Above: Coat of arms, Zürich City Hall
Konrad Grebel (1498 – 1526), the leader of the radicals and the emerging Anabaptist movement, spoke disparagingly of Zwingli in private.
On 15 August 1524 the Council insisted on the obligation to baptise all newborn infants.
Zwingli secretly conferred with Grebel’s group and late in 1524, the Council called for official discussions.
When talks were broken off, Zwingli published Wer Ursache gebe zu Aufruhr (Whoever Causes Unrest) clarifying the opposing points-of-view.
On 17 January 1525 a public debate was held and the Council decided in favour of Zwingli.
Anyone refusing to have their children baptised was required to leave Zürich.
Above: Commemoration of Konrad Grebel’s home, Zürich
The radicals ignored these measures and on 21 January, they met at the house of the mother of another radical leader, Felix Manz (1498 – 1527).
Above: Felix Manz
Grebel and a third leader, George Blaurock (1491 – 1529), performed the first recorded Anabaptist adult baptisms.
On 2 February, the Council repeated the requirement on the baptism of all babies and some who failed to comply were arrested and fined, Manz and Blaurock among them.
Zwingli and Jud interviewed them and more debates were held before the Zürich council.
Meanwhile, the new teachings continued to spread to other parts of the Swiss Confederation as well as a number of Swabian towns in southwestern Germany.
On 6 – 8 November, the last debate on the subject of baptism took place in the Grossmünster.
Grebel, Manz, and Blaurock defended their cause before Zwingli, Leo Jud and other reformers.
Above: Swiss reformer Leo Jud (1482 – 1542)
There was no serious exchange of views as each side would not move from their positions and the debates degenerated into an uproar, each side shouting abuse at the other.
The Zürich council decided that no compromise was possible.
On 7 March 1526 it released the notorious mandate that no one shall re-baptise another under the penalty of death.
Although Zwingli, technically, had nothing to do with the mandate, there is no indication that he disapproved.
Felix Manz, who had sworn to leave Zürich and not to baptise any more, had deliberately returned and continued the practice.
After he was arrested and tried, he was executed on 5 January 1527 by being drowned in the Limmat River.
He was the first Anabaptist martyr.
Three more were to follow, after which all others either fled or were expelled from Zürich.
Above: Memorial plate on the river wall opposite 43 Schipfe, Zürich, in remembrance of Manz and other Anabaptists executed in the early 16th century by the Zürich city government
Historians have debated whether or not Zwingli turned Zürich into a theocracy.
Certainly it seems that he did not discourage the tendency.
Above: Zwingli statue, Wasserkirche, Zürich
The problem I have with religion is not with the faith itself but with the so-called practitioners of religion, for they divide the world into Us and Them camps, then turn upon their own to dispute the details of that faith causing further division amongst themselves.
The Reformation spread to other parts of the Swiss Confederation, but several cantons resisted, preferring to remain Catholic.
Zwingli formed an alliance of Reformed cantons which divided the Swiss Confederation along religious lines.
In 1529, a war was averted at the last moment between the two sides.
Above: The Swiss Confederation, 1530
Meanwhile, Zwingli’s ideas came to the attention of Martin Luther (1483 – 1546) and other reformers.
They met at the Marburg Colloquy (1 – 4 October 1529) and agreed on many points of doctrine, but they could not reach an accord on the doctrine of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist (holy communion wherein wine and bread are symbolically consumed to represent the body and blood of Christ).
Above: Woodcut illustration of the Marburg Colloquy
The leading Protestant reformers of the time attended at the behest of Philip I of Hesse (1504 – 1567).
Philip’s primary motivation for this conference was political.
He wished to unite the Protestant states in political alliance, and to this end, religious harmony was an important consideration.
Philip I felt the need to reconcile the diverging views of Martin Luther and Huldrych Zwingli in order to develop a unified Protestant theology.
If Philip wanted the meeting to be a symbol of Protestant unity he was disappointed.
Above: Philip I of Hesse
Both Luther and Zwingli fell out over the sacrament of the Eucharist.
Above: Stained glass illustration of the Eucharist, St. Michael the Archangel Church, Findlay, Ohio
Luther believed that the human body of Christ was ubiquitous (present in all places) and so present in the bread and wine.
This was possible because the attributes of God infused Christ’s human nature.
Luther emphasized the oneness of Christ’s person.
Above: Martin Luther
Zwingli, who emphasized the distinction of the natures, believed that while Christ in his deity was omnipresent, Christ’s human body could only be present in one place, that is, at the right hand of the Father.
Above: Huldrych Zwingli
The executive editor for Christianity Today magazine carefully detailed the two views that would forever divide the Lutheran and Reformed view of the Last Supper:
“Luther claimed that the Body of Christ was not eaten in a gross, material way but rather in some mysterious way, which is beyond human understanding.
Yet, Zwingli replied, if the words were taken in their literal sense, the Body had to be eaten in the most grossly material way.
“For this is the meaning they carry:
This bread is that Body of Mine which is given for you.
It was given for us in grossly material form, subject to wounds, blows and death.
As such, therefore, it must be the material of the Last Supper.”
Indeed, to press the literal meaning of the text even farther, it follows that Christ would have again to suffer pain, as his Body was broken again — this time by the teeth of communicants.
Even more absurdly, Christ’s Body would have to be swallowed, digested, even eliminated through the bowels!
Such thoughts were repulsive to Zwingli.
They smacked of cannibalism on the one hand and of the pagan mystery religions on the other.
The main issue for Zwingli, however, was not the irrationality or exegetical fallacy of Luther’s views.
It was rather that Luther put “the chief point of salvation in physically eating the body of Christ,” for he connected it with the forgiveness of sins.
The same motive that had moved Zwingli so strongly to oppose images, the invocation of saints, and baptismal regeneration was present also in the struggle over the Supper: the fear of idolatry.
Salvation was by Christ alone, through faith alone, not through faith and bread.
The object of faith was that which is not seen (Hebrews 11:1) and which therefore cannot be eaten except, again, in a nonliteral, figurative sense.
“Credere est edere,” said Zwingli:
“To believe is to eat.”
To eat the Body and to drink the Blood of Christ in the Supper, then, simply meant to have the Body and Blood of Christ present in the mind.
Near the end of the Colloquy when it was clear an agreement would not be reached, Philipp asked Luther to draft a list of doctrines all that both sides agreed upon.
The Marburg Articles had 15 points and every person at the Colloquy could agree on the first fourteen.
The 15th article of the Marburg Articles reads:
Fifteenth, regarding the Last Supper of our dear Lord Jesus Christ, we believe and hold that one should practice the use of both species as Christ Himself did, and that the Sacrament at the Altar is a Sacrament of the true Body and Blood of Jesus Christ and the spiritual enjoyment of this very Body and Blood is proper and necessary for every Christian.
Furthermore, that the practice of the Sacrament is given and ordered by God the Almighty like the Word, so that our weak conscience might be moved to faith through the Holy Spirit.
And although we have not been able to agree at this time, whether the true Body and Blood of Christ are corporally present in the bread and wine of Communion, each party should display towards the other Christian love, as far as each respective conscience allows, and both should persistently ask God the Almighty for guidance so that through His Spirit He might bring us to a proper understanding.
The failure to find agreement resulted in strong emotions on both sides.
Above: Marburg Castle, Marburg, Germany
When the two sides departed, Zwingli cried out in tears:
“There are no people on Earth with whom I would rather be at one than the Lutheran Wittenbergers.”
Because of the differences, Luther initially refused to acknowledge Zwingli and his followers as Christians, though following the Colloquy the two Reformers showed relatively more mutual respect in their writings.
Luther and Zwingli were more concerned with being “right” than being united in a common cause.
Above: Coat of arms of Marburg
In 1531, Zwingli’s alliance applied an unsuccessful food blockade on the Catholic cantons.
Starve or comply.
On 9 October 1531, in a surprise move, the Five States declared war on Zürich.
Zürich’s mobilisation was slow due to internal squabbling.
On 11 October, 3,500 poorly deployed men encountered a Five States force nearly double their size near Kappel.
Many pastors, including Zwingli, were among the soldiers.
The battle lasted less than one hour and Zwingli was among the 500 casualties in the Zürich army.
Zwingli had considered himself first and foremost a soldier of Christ, second a defender of his country, the Swiss Confederation, and third a leader of his city, Zürich, where he had lived for the previous twelve years.
Ironically, he died at the age of 47, not for Christ nor for the Confederation, but for Zürich.
Above: The death of Zwingli, Kappel am Albis, Switzerland, 11 October 1531
In Table Talk, Luther is recorded saying:
“They say that Zwingli recently died thus.
If his error had prevailed, we would have perished, and our church with us.
It was a judgment of God.
That was always a proud people.
The others, the Papists, will probably also be dealt with by our Lord God.”
Above: Martin Luther’s grave, Schlosskirche, Wittenberg, Germany
Erasmus (1466 – 1536) wrote:
“We are freed from great fear by the death of the two preachers, Zwingli and Oecolampadius, whose fate has wrought an incredible change in the mind of many.
This is the wonderful hand of God on high.”
Johannes Oecolampadius (1482 – 1531) had died on 24 November.
Erasmus also wrote:
“If Bellona (Roman goddess of war) had favoured them, it would have been all over with us.“
Above: Basel Minster, Basel, Switzerland, where Erasmus is buried
Such arrogance!
Such lack of sympathy!
Religious division seems to me as pointless as two bald men fighting over a comb.
If there is indeed a God and each of us has been given an individual mind then I believe that faith must be individual choice.
I believe that religion has its place in teaching us morality and in giving significance through rituals to the various stages of our lives.
It is here where I draw the distinction between individual faith and communal religion.
Above: Praying Hands, by Albrecht Dürer (1508)
I desire in no way, shape or form for anyone to follow my example on faith or lack thereof.
That being said, I equally resist anyone trying to force me to follow the rules of a religion which I myself do not practice.
Simply put, I live and let live.
I presently live in a predominantly Muslim nation.
Above: Reşadiye Camii (mosque), Eskişehir, Turkey
I was raised in a predominantly Christian country.
Above: Église de St-Philippe, Brownsburg-Chatham, Québec, Canada
I would never presume to tell others how to live nor will I willingly submit to others telling me how to live (except where my actions cause harm to others).
In all humility I mourn the loss of anyone past or present, whether I would have agreed with them or not.
Every death diminishes us even if we are unaware of their passing.
I will never celebrate the death of anyone no matter what evils they may have perpetuated, even men as reprehensible as terrorists or tyrants.
That said I will not celebrate the lives of everyone to whom life was given, for we do judge people by the acts that they do.
That a man of religious principle died in battle at the mere age of 47 is cause for sadness.
That a man of religious principle accepted the executions of Anabaptists and a food blockade against Catholic cantons is not cause for commemoration.
My journey, my walk, sought to understand Zwingli and what he represents to the Swiss celebrating his legacy.
I respect his legacy that lives on in the confessions, liturgy, and church orders of the Swiss Reformed churches of today, but I sincerely doubt that had we met that I would have liked him.
In my own way I did get a sense of what his life was like by visiting the places where he once lived.
I do not know in absolute certainty whether I would have acted as he, had my life experience been his.
I do know that Zwingli’s life was remarkable enough to relate it to my readers in the hopes that they might better understand his significance to the Swiss people with whom I lived with for a decade.
I believe that every person is my superior in that I may learn from them.
And the Zwingli walk was certainly…..
Educational.
Sources: Wikipedia / Google / Yvonne and Marcel Steiner, Zwingli-Wege: Zu Füss von Wildhaus nach Kappel am Albis – Ein Wander- und Lesebuch
Above from the top left corner clockwise: Clérigos Church and Tower; Avenida dos Aliados; Casa da Música concert hall; Ribeira district; Avenida da Boavista business hub; Luiz I bridge and Porto from Vila Nova de Gaia
“The facades of the colourful houses line the streets, displaying their elegance in full sight of the sweet and beloved River Douro.
It is the tale of a platonic love with no end in sight and so each house adopts its own adornment with clothes on the balcony or flowerpots in the windows, impressing those who pass.
These facades, accompanied by their beloved River, the narrow lanes bearing the marks of time, the majestic Clérigos Tower and the rabelo boats are part of this unique place, captured by the lenses of tourists.
I know of what I speak, for I have often witnessed admiring glances being exchanged and heard flattering phrases in many languages of the world.
I myself feel special to be part of this space, belonging to mankind.
I know also that one day it will be my turn to leave and by then my duty will be done, for I will take with me a piece of this city, made of mists and smiles.
Ever since I was brought here, every single morning I am placed outside, within view of visitors.
During the night I rest in a dark shop surrounded by objects that show the city photographed, illustrated, magnetized, embroidered, carved and even spiritualized.
Whilst I repose, I think how much I will miss the authentic warmth of the population, who welcome people with smiles of gold and gruff voices.
Even so, I am prepared to be removed quite soon from the postcard display and be sent, with a message, to a distant place, where I will continue to display the facades of my colourful and aligned houses, eternally in love with a golden river.”
(Susana Fonseca)
It is true.
It is hard to hate Porto.
Yes, it is a large city, but it is also a beguiling one, with a lengthy history and a constant Catholicism, but where Coimbra is Saint Augustine, Braga the Virgin Mary and Lisbon Mary Magdelene, Porto is Martha.
In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus visits the home of two sisters named Mary and Martha.
The two sisters are contrasted:
Martha was “encumbered about many things” while Jesus was their guest, while Mary had chosen “the better part“, that of listening to the master’s discourse.
Above: Jesus at the house of Mary and Martha, Harold Copping, 1927
As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, He came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him.
She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said.
But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made.
She came to Him and asked,
“Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself?
Tell her to help me!”
“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered,“you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed.
Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken away from her.”
Above: Christ with Martha and Maria, by Henryk Siemiradzki, 1886
Perhaps it is my manual labour background, but I find myself more sympathetic towards Martha than I do towards Mary, and, by extension in this city-to-Biblical-personality analogy, more sympathetic towards Porto than Lisbon.
For me, this wee Biblical passage sums up Porto’s attitude towards the rest of Portugal.
Above: Flag of Portugal
Porto may never feel it is properly rewarded for all the hard work it provides, because Porto is more than just another prettified tourist destination, it is a busy commercial city whose fascination lies in its riverside setting and day-to-day life.
Porto is cramped streets and ancient alleys and antiquated shops.
During our week’s sojourn in this northern Portuguese metropolis, my wife and I did all the touristy things that tourists are advised to do.
And of Porto I have described much already in this blog:
Canada Slim and the War of the Oranges (6 August 2018)
Canada Slim and the Station Sanctuary (19 January 2019)
Canada Slim and the Voices without Echo (3 June 2019)
Canada Slim and the Harry Potter Fado (11 October 2019)
As well, there is much more to be said about Porto in the months and years to come.
(My wife and I have already spent time on the Algarve and in Lisboa, but as these visits occurred prior to the commencement of this blog I have not described my two previous visits to Portugal – a land I love with a passion fierce.)
Above: Coat of arms of Portugal
In my last Porto post I described the sites within the city that Harry Potter fans flock to and some to where we followed the flock of Potterheads.
I mention this Potter post, for the sole reason that the bookshop (Livraria Lello) that Ms. Rowling once haunted and wherein her books are perpetually offered for sale, therein I discovered a Portuguese poet’s work.
And as French author Jacques Salomé so wisely wrote:
“Un livre à toujours deux auteurs: celui dui l’écrit et celui qui le lit.”
(A book always has two authors: he who writes it and he who reads it.)
Above: Jacques Salomé
Fernando Pessoa (1888 – 1935) was a Portuguese poet and writer born in Lisbon, but whom I did not discover until this trip to Porto.
Pessoa is considered one of the greatest poets to have ever written in the Portuguese language and a giant of world literature.
Above: Fernando Pessoa, 1914
At the age of six, Pessoa moved to Durban, South Africa where for nine years he learned to read and write English perfectly.
Of the four books he published in his lifetime, three were written in English.
Above: Modern Durban, South Africa
On leaving South Africa Pessoa returned to Lisbon, wherein he spent much of the rest of his life.
Above: Images of Lisbon
During his life, Pessoa worked in various places as an English and French language correspondent.
He also worked as a businessman, editor, literary critic, journalist, political commentator, translator, inventor, astrologer and advertiser while producing his works in verse and prose.
And yet, despite this, during his life, Pessoa was virtually unknown, avoiding society and the literary world.
As a poet, Pessoa was known for his multiple pseudonyms, what came to be known as “heteronyms“, which were and still are today the subject of many of the studies produced on his life and work.
On 29 November 1935, Pessoa was taken to Lisbon’s Hospital de Sao Luis, suffering from abdominal pain and a high fever.
There he wrote, in English, his last words:
“I know not what tomorrow will bring.”
He died the next day, 30 November 1935, around 8 pm, aged 47.
Above: Pessoa’s tomb in Lisbon, at the cloister of the Hieronymites Monastery since 1985.
In his lifetime, he published four books in English and one in Portuguese.
However, he left a lifetime of unpublished, unfinished or simply sketchy work in a domed, wooden truck (25,574 manuscript and typed pages, which have been housed in the Portuguese National Library since 1988).
To get a grasp on this unusual man, one diary entry stands out:
“8 March 1914
I found myself standing before a tall chest of drawers, took up a piece of paper, began to write, remaining upright all the while since I always stand when I can.
I wrote some 30 poems in a row, all in a kind of ecstasy, the nature of which I shall never fathom.
It was the triumphant day of my life and I shall never have another like it.
I began with a title, “The Keeper of Sheep”, and what followed was the appearance of someone within me to whom I promptly assigned the name of Alberto Caeiro.
Please excuse the absurdity of what I am about to say, but there had appeared within me, then and there, my own master.
It was my immediate sensation.
So much so that, with those 30 odd poems written, I immediately took up another sheet of paper and wrote as well, in a row, the six poems that make up “Oblique Rain” by Fernando Pessoa.
Immediately and totally….
It was the return from Fernando Pessoa / Alberto Caeiro to Fernando Pessoa alone.
Or better still, it was Fernando Pessoa’s reaction to his own inexistence as Alberto Caeiro.”
In a sense this duality – (or in Pessoa’s case, multiplicity) – is something I can identify with.
Sometimes I write as purely and simply myself.
Within these blogposts I am both Canada Slim and myself, for the censor and critic that is the latter persona, the pseudonym persona liberates from myself the self-expression I need.
Just six hours from the moment I began this post (4 July 2020) I posted this on Facebook:
In preparation to write my much-interrupted, long-intervalled “Chronicles of Canada Slim”, I found again, like the passion one possesses for someone who is loved, some collected works purchased the last time I was in Portugal.
A Portuguese poet, Fernando Pessoa, speaks to me in sonnets that sing and poems that praise and persuade a person of the majesty of existence.
He writes:
“I have in me all the dreams of the world.”
And to dream seems to be lacking within the soul of too many in Deutschschweiz and Deutschland.
“Sad is he who dwells in pleasure,
Content with his abode,
Without a dream, as it ruffles a feather,
Fanning the glow of the embers
In the fire as it doth erode.
Sad is he who lives contented!
He lives because life doth endure.
Nothing in his soul ever suggested,
More than the basic truth imparted,
That of only one’s grave can one be sure.“
And this it seems to be the be-all and end-all of those I have known in the lands where German (or variations thereof) is spoken.
Make one’s fortune, secure one’s comfort, do the practical and know one’s limits.
But I say with Pessoa, that I am misjudged and misunderstood in these lands (where I followed my passion for a woman far wiser in the ways of her language-linked companions than I could ever be)….
“Because I am the size of what I see and not the size of my height“.
I am as I see, not as I am seen.
It saddens me that we judge one another by standards that mean so little: the size of a bank account, the coziness of one’s castle, the reputation that precedes and follows a fellow far beyond his reach, the illusion of beauty, the prejudices of one’s age.
We see only the green of our sofas not the blue of jazz in the ether.
We hear only chaos from without and fear the calm from within, for the former we comprehend, the latter is a land too quiet and thus disquieting.
The wisdom and power of words are the worlds I see and they fill a universe that defines me far beyond how I am seen.“
Such is how Pessoa inspires me.
This maverick, this undefinable, undeniable spirit wrapped up in a carapace of conformity has been described by Mexican poet Octavio Paz (1914 – 1998) as a “solemn investigator of futile things“, the epitome of an empty man who, in his helplessness, creates a world in order to discover his true identity.
Above: Octavio Paz
In a sense I see myself as a funhouse mirror of Pessoa, not so much an echo of his disquiet about life and the world we occupy, but rather I see the world as an echo of myself.
The world I see in the places I describe is less a reality of what is, but rather is more a reflection of who I am.
A regular follower of my writing responded almost immediately to the aforementioned Facebook post:
“If I may be allowed to offer an uninvited opinion as a sincere reader, writing teacher, professional editor and translator, your secret mentor, and increasingly your appreciative, possibly infatuated fan girl.
You have really found your voice and your writing has become effortless, more honest and less contrived and therefore so much more relatable.
There are fewer experimental verbal arabesques and palpably more consolidated content and purified emotion.“
High praise indeed, from a woman for whom I have nothing but a universe’s worth of respect.
But praise I am uncertain of whether I am worthy to be given.
There is still so much I have to learn.
There is still so much I have yet to say without the expertise and experience so critical for expression.
How I long to be able to capture the beating of a heart, the symphony of a soul that Pessoa so eloquently elucidates!
Oh, to write as Anthony Trollope, whom Henry James describes as:
“He felt all daily and immediate things as well as saw them.
He felt them in a simple, direct salubrious way, with their sadness, their gladness, their charm, their comedy, all their obvious and measureable meanings.“
Above: Anthony Trollope (1815 – 1882)
I am reminded of another writing hero of mine, Hermann Hesse (1877 – 1962) and the manner in which he describes himself and how he is described:
“He does not want to follow the path trodden by many, but to resolutely plow his own furrow.
He is not made for the collective life.“
“I have been, and still am, a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books.
I have begun to listen to the teachings my blood whispers to me.
My story is not a pleasant one.
It is neither sweet nor harmonious as invented stories are.
It has the taste of nonsense and chaos, of madness and dreams, like the lives of all men who stop deceiving themselves.“
“What torments Hesse is the difficulty of being authentic – of staying true to who you really are, despite the enormous pressures of alienation and conformity.“
“If I search retrospectively for a common thread of meaning, then I can indeed find one.
A defense of (sometimes even a desperate plea on behalf of) human personality, the individual.“
“Hesse was forced to confront the entire weight of the institutions ranged against him – family, church, school, society – and to do battle with them in the name of defending his individuality.“
“The only way I can conceive of writing is an act of confession.“
When I describe a place I am not describing what it is, but rather how I see it.
I am not describing a place, as much as I am describing how that place makes me feel.
Of who I am rather than where I am.
I am, in some ways, very Portuguese, at least when I try to write.
I am reserved.
I leave gesticulating exuberance to others.
I am mild-mannered, gentle and homely, and yet my vision seeks to encompass the world.
I seem placid and harmless and it takes much to provoke me, but much lies beneath the surface, where there is a temperament one would expect from a land of mist and bogs.
I am not one for golden descriptions of sandy beaches, but instead I possess like my Portuguese brethren an eternal saudade, a feeling of longing for what could have been, a nostalgia for what has gone, when I sit at my keyboard and try to inadequately capture a sense of what a place really is (or at least myreality through which I see it).
Above: Saudade (1899), by Almeida Júnior
Oh, to write as one born Portuguese!
To write in a manner akin to how a Portuguese farmer farms, with a knack of conjuring a harvest even from the most barren of ground.
And so I stare at my screen seeking seeds of expression from the blank face of an unsympathetic computer.
Sometimes I think I will never leave Schulstrasse here in Landschlacht, that my mind like my body remains a prisoner of the choices I have made.
Once written down, words captured for eternity, are forever frozen in paralytic prose.
Above: Landschlacht, Switzerland, as seen on a clear day from the German shore of Lake Constance
When I consider much that is travel writing….
When I consider how Pessoa viewed life….
When I consider how I have on occasion viewed life….
Above: Saudades de Nápoles (Missing Naples), 1895, by Bertha Worms
I think about “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty“.
“The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” (1939) is a short story by James Thurber.
The most famous of Thurber’s stories, it first appeared in The New Yorker on 18 March 1939, and was first collected in his book My World and Welcome to It (Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1942).
It has since been reprinted in James Thurber: Writings and Drawings (The Library of America, 1996, ISBN 1-883011-22-1), is available on-line on the New Yorker website and is one of the most anthologized short stories in American literature.
The story is considered one of Thurber’s “acknowledged masterpieces“.
Above: James Thurber (1894 – 1961)
It was made into a 1947 movie of the same name, with Danny Kaye in the title role, though the movie is very different from the original story.
It was also adapted into a 2013 film, which is again very different from the original.
The name Walter Mitty and the derivative word “Mittyesque“have entered the English language, denoting an ineffectual person who spends more time in heroic daydreams than paying attention to the real world, or more seriously, one who intentionally attempts to mislead or convince others that he is something that he is not.
The short story deals with a vague and mild-mannered man who drives into Waterbury, Connecticut, with his wife for their regular weekly shopping and his wife’s visit to the beauty parlor.
During this time he has five heroic daydream episodes.
The first is as a pilot of a US Navy flying boat in a storm, then he is a magnificent surgeon performing a one-of-a-kind surgery, then as a deadly assassin testifying in a courtroom, and then as a Royal Air Force pilot volunteering for a daring, secret suicide mission to bomb an ammunition dump.
As the story ends, Mitty imagines himself facing a firing squad, “inscrutable to the last.”
Each of the fantasies is inspired by some detail of Mitty’s mundane surroundings.
In a way, it is like inventing a clear day from a dark reality, a hero out of an ordinary human, a Paradise out of Purgatory.
Above: Expulsion from Paradise, painting by James Tissot (1902)
From Fernando Pessoa’s The Book of Disquiet:
“The journey in my head
In the plausible intimacy of approaching evening, as I stand waiting for the stars to begin at the window of this 4th floor room that looks out on the infinite, my dreams move to the rhythm required by long journeys to countries as yet unknown, or to countries that are simply hypothetical or impossible.
Above: Pessoa’s birthplace: a large flat at São Carlos Square, just in front of Lisbon’s opera
Today, during one of those periods of daydreaming which, though devoid of either purpose or dignity, still constitute the greater part of the spiritual substance of my life, I imagined myself free forever of Rua dos Douradores, of my boss Vasques, of Moreira the bookkeeper, of all the other employees, the errand boy, the post boy, even the cat.
Above: Pessoa’s last home, from 1920 till his death, in 1935, currently the Fernando Pessoa Museum
In dreams, that freedom felt to me as if the South Seas had proferred up a gift of marvellous islands as yet undiscovered.
Freedom would mean rest, artistic achievement, the intellectual fulfillment of my being.
But suddenly, even as I imagined this (during the brief holiday afforded by my lunch break), a feeling of displeasure erupted into the dream:
I would be sad.
Yes, I say it quite seriously:
I would be sad.
For my boss Vasques, Moreira the bookkeeper, Borges the cashier, all the lads, the cheery boy who takes the letters to the post office, the errand boy, the friendly cat….
They have all become part of my life.
I could never leave all that behind without weeping, without realizing, however displeasing the thought, that part of me would remain with them and that losing them would be akin to death.
Moreover, if I left them all tomorrow and discarded this Rua dos Douradores suit of clothes I wear, what else would I do?
Because I would have to do something.
And what suit would I wear?
Because I would have to wear another suit.
We all have a Senhor Vasques.
Sometimes he is a tangible human being, sometimes not.
In my case he really is called Vasques and he is a pleasant, healthy chap, a bit brusque at times but he is no doubledealer.
He is selfish but basically fair, much fairer than many of the great geniuses and many of the human marvels of civilization on both left and right.
For many people Vasques takes the form of vanity, a desire for greater wealth, for glory or immortality….
Personally I prefer to have Vasques as my real life boss since, in times of difficulty, he is easier to deal with than any abstraction the world has to offer….
Above: Actor Steve Carell, Emmy Awards 2010, for his role as boss Michael Scott, in US series The Office
And I return to an other’s house, to the spacious office in the Rua dos Douradores, the way some return to their homes.
I approach my desk as if it were a bulwark against life.
I feel such an overwhelming sense of tenderness that my eyes fill with tears for my books that are in reality the books of other people whose accounts I keep, for the inkwell I use, for Sergio’s stooped shoulders as, not far from me, he sits writing out bills of lading.
I feel love for all of this, perhaps because I have nothing else to love or perhaps too, because even though nothing truly merits the love of any soul, if, out of sentiment, we must give it, I might just as well lavish it on the smallness of an inkwell as on the grand indifference of the stars….
With the soul’s equivalent of a wry smile, I calmly confront the prospect that my life will consist of nothing more than being shut up for ever in Rua dos Douradores, in this office, surrounded by these people.
I have enough money tp buy food and drink, I have somewhere to live and enough free time in which to dream, write – and sleep – what more can I ask of the gods or hope for from Fate?
I had great ambitions and extravagant dreams, but so did the errand boy and the seamstress, for everyone has dreams.
The only thing that distinguishes me from them is that I can write.
Yes, that is an activity, a real fact about myseof that distinguishes me from them.
But in my soul I am just the same.
I know that there are islands in the South and grand cosmopolitan passions and….
I am sure that even if I held the world in my hand, I would exchange it all for a tram ticket back to Rua dos Douradores.
Perhaps it is my destiny to remain a bookkeeper forever and for poetry and literature to remain simply butterflies that alight on my head and merely underline my own ridiculousness by their very beauty.”
Above: Crimson Assurance, Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life
Porto, Portugal, Wednesday 25 July 2018
The morning has begun, poorly.
Somehow, in all our running around the day previously, our one city-specific, Porto-focused guidebook, specially ordered for this trip, the book has vanished.
We stumble across a bookshop (Leya) that sells English language materials and we fortuitously find a copy of the lost travel guide.
The Swabian soul of my wife, as thrifty as a Scot, is displeased with this development and thus the tone of the day is set, with much of the morning lost.
After a visit to the Sé (Cathedral) we discover that though not quite all roads lead to the city centre’s Avenida dos Aliados, ours do.
At the foot of the Avenida – in the area known as Praca da Liberdade – are a couple of sidewalk cafés and an equestrian statue of Dom Pedro IV.
Dom Pedro I (1798 – 1834), nicknamed “the Liberator“, was the founder and first ruler of the Empire of Brazil.
As King Dom Pedro IV, he reigned briefly over Portugal, where he also became known as “the Liberator” as well as “the Soldier King“.
Born in Lisbon, Pedro I was the fourth child of King Dom João VI of Portugal and Queen Carlota Joaquina, and thus a member of the House of Braganza.
When the country was invaded by French troops in 1807, he and his family fled to Portugal’s largest and wealthiest colony, Brazil.
The outbreak of the Liberal Revolution of 1820 in Lisbon compelled Pedro I’s father to return to Portugal in April 1821, leaving him to rule Brazil as regent.
He had to deal with threats from revolutionaries and insubordination by Portuguese troops, all of which he subdued.
The Portuguese government’s threat to revoke the political autonomy that Brazil had enjoyed since 1808 was met with widespread discontent in Brazil.
Pedro I chose the Brazilian side and declared Brazil’s independence from Portugal on 7 September 1822.
On 12 October, he was acclaimed Brazilian Emperor and by March 1824 had defeated all armies loyal to Portugal.
A few months later, Pedro I crushed the short-lived Confederation of the Equator, a failed secession attempt by provincial rebels in Brazil’s northeast.
A secessionist rebellion in the southern province of Cisplatina in early 1825, and the subsequent attempt by the United Provinces of the Río de la Plata to annex it, led the Empire into the Cisplatine War.
In March 1826, Pedro I briefly became king of Portugal before abdicating in favor of his eldest daughter, Dona Maria II (1819 – 1853).
The situation worsened in 1828 when the war in the south resulted in Brazil’s loss of Cisplatina.
During the same year in Lisbon, Maria II’s throne was usurped by Prince Dom Miguel (1802 – 1866), Pedro I’s younger brother.
The Emperor’s concurrent and scandalous sexual affair with a female courtier tarnished his reputation.
Other difficulties arose in the Brazilian parliament, where a struggle over whether the government would be chosen by the monarch or by the legislature dominated political debates from 1826 to 1831.
Unable to deal with problems in both Brazil and Portugal simultaneously, on 7 April 1831 Pedro I abdicated in favor of his son Dom Pedro II, and sailed for Europe.
Pedro I invaded Portugal at the head of an army in July 1832.
Faced at first with what seemed a national civil war, he soon became involved in a wider conflict that enveloped the Iberian Peninsula in a struggle between proponents of liberalism and those seeking a return to absolutism.
Pedro I died of tuberculosis on 24 September 1834, just a few months after he and the liberals had emerged victorious.
He was hailed by both contemporaries and posterity as a key figure who helped spread the liberal ideals that allowed Brazil and Portugal to move from absolutist regimes to representative forms of government.
Above. Monument to the Independence of Brazil where Pedro I and his two wives are buried
I am told, by the sheer fact that a statue stands here to honour him, that we should regard Pedro as a hero, but I find myself wondering….
How much blood was spilled to realize his goals?
At the head of the Avenida dos Aliados stands another statue of another man we are meant to honour and this one is of less difficulty.
João Baptista da Silva Leitão de Almeida Garrett, 1st Viscount of Almeida Garrett (1799 – 1854) was a Portuguese poet, orator, playwright, novelist, journalist, politician and a peer of the realm.
A major promoter of theatre in Portugal he is considered the greatest figure of Portuguese Romanticism and a true revolutionary and humanist.
He proposed the construction of the Dona Maria II National Theatre and the creation of the Conservatory of Dramatic Art.
Garrett was born in Porto, the son of António Bernardo da Silva Garrett (1739–1834), a fidalgo of the Royal Household and Knight of the Order of Christ, and his wife (they were married in 1796) Ana Augusta de Almeida Leitão (b. 1770), the daughter of an Irish father born in exile in France and an Italian mother born in Spain.
At an early age, Garrett changed his name to João Baptista da Silva Leitão, adding a name from his godfather and altering the order of his surnames.
In 1809, his family fled the second French invasion carried out by Soult’s troops, seeking refuge in Angra do Heroísmo, Terceira Island, Azores.
While in the Azores, Garrett was taught by his uncle, Dom Frei Alexandre da Sagrada Família (1737 – 1818), the Bishop of Angra.
In childhood, his mulatto Brazilian nanny Rosa de Lima taught him some traditional stories that later influenced his work.
In 1818, Garrett moved to Coimbra to study at the University law school.
In 1818, he published O Retrato de Vénus, a work for which was soon to be prosecuted, as it was considered “materialist, atheist and immoral“.
It was during this period that he adopted his pen name Almeida Garrett, seen as more aristocratic.
Although Garrett did not take active part in the Liberal Revolution that broke out in Porto in 1820, he contributed with two patriotic verses, the Hymno Constitucional and the Hymno Patriótico, which his friends copied and distributed in the streets of Porto.
After the “Vilafrancada“, a reactionary coup d’état led by the Infante Dom Miguel in 1823, he was forced to seek exile in England.
Above: Prince Miguel saluting soldiers on arrival at Vila Franca
Garrett had just married the beautiful Luísa Cândida Midosi who was only 12 or 13 years old at the time and was the sister of his friend Luís Frederico Midosi.
While in England, in Edgbaston, Warwickshire, he began his association with Romanticism, being subject to the first-hand influences of William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616) and Walter Scott (1771 – 1832), as well as to that of Gothic aesthetics.
Above: House on Farquhar Road, typical of the Edgbaston area, demonstrating the affluence
In the beginning of 1825, Garrett left for France where he wrote Camões (1825) and Dona Branca (1826), poems that are usually considered the first Romantic works in Portuguese literature.
In 1826, he returned to Portugal, where he settled for two years and founded the newspapers O Portuguez and O Chronista.
In 1828, under the rule of King Miguel of Portugal, he was again forced to settle in England, publishing Adozinda and performing his tragedy Catão at the Theatre Royal in Plymouth.
Together with Alexandre Herculano (1810 – 1877) and Joaquim António de Aguiar (1792 – 1884), Garrett took part in the Landing of Mindelo, carried out during the Liberal Wars (1828 – 1834).
Above: Landing of the liberal forces in Porto on 8 July 1832
When a constitutional monarchy was established, he briefly served as its Consul General to Brussels.
Upon his return, he was acclaimed as one of the major orators of Liberalism, and took the initiative in the creation of a new Portuguese theatre (during the period, he wrote his historical plays Gil Vicente, Dona Filipa de Vilhena, andO Alfageme de Santarém).
In 1843, Garrett published Romanceiro e Cancioneiro Geral, a collection of folklore.
Two years later, he wrote the first volume of his historical novel O Arco de Santana (fully published in 1850, it took inspiration from Victor Hugo’s The Hunchback of Notre Dame).
O Arco de Santana signified a change in Garrett’s style, leading to a more complex and subjective prose with which he experimented at length in Viagens na Minha Terra (Travels in My Homeland, 1846).
His innovative manner was also felt in his poem collections Flores sem Fruto (Flowers without Fruit, 1844) and Folhas Caídas (Fallen Leaves, 1853).
Nobled by Dona Maria II of Portugal in 1852 with the title of 1st Viscount of Almeida Garrett, he was Minister of Foreign Affairs for only a few days in the same year (in the cabinet of the Duke of Saldanha).
Almeida Garrett ended his relationship with Luísa Midosi and divorced in 1835 to join 17-year-old Adelaide Deville Pastor in 1836.
She was to remain his partner until her early death in 1839, leaving a daughter named Maria Adelaide, whose early life tragedy and illegitimacy inspired her father to write the play Frei Luís de Sousa.
Later in his life he became the lover of Rosa de Montúfar y Infante, whom he celebrated at his last and probably best poetry book Folhas Caídas.
Garrett died of cancer in Lisbon at 6:30 in the afternoon of 9 December 1854.
He was buried at the Cemetery of Prazeres and, on 3 May 1903, his remains were transferred to the national pantheon in Lisbon’s Jerónimos Monastery.
I find myself more forgiving of those that write over those that rule.
Behind Garrett stands Porto’s city hall, the Câmara Municipal.
(The metropolitan area is governed by the Junta Metropolitana do Porto (JMP), headquartered in Avenida dos Aliados, in downtown Porto under the presidency of Hermínio Loureiro, also the mayor of Oliveira de Azeméis municipality, since the Municipal Elections held in 2013, when he succeeded Rui Rio, mayor of Porto.
The Assembleia Metropolitana do Porto (Porto Metropolitan Assembly) is composed of 43 MPs, the PSD (Social Democratic Party) party has 20 seats, the PS (Socialist Party) 16, the CDS (the People’s Party) three, CDU (Unitarian Democratic Coalition) three, and the BE (Left Bloc), one.
Although the government has halted the intention of creating new metropolitan areas and urban communities, it is keen to ensure greater autonomy to Porto and Lisbon metropolitan areas.
Greater Porto is the second largest metropolitan area of Portugal, with about 1.7 million people.
It groups the larger Porto Urban Area, the second largest in the country, assembled by the municipalities of Porto, Matosinhos, Vila Nova de Gaia, Gondomar, Valongo and Maia.
A smaller urban area of Póvoa de Varzim and Vila do Conde, which ranks as the six largest in continental Portugal.
The new regional spatial planning program (PROT-Norte) recognizes both urban areas and engages in their development.
There are some intentions to merge the municipalities of Porto with Gaia and Matosinhos into a single and greater municipality, and there is an ongoing civil requisition for that objective.
The government also started to discuss the merging of some municipalities due to conurbations, but gave up.
There is a similar idea for the conurbation of Póvoa de Varzim and Vila do Conde, and both municipalities have decided to work as if both are the same city, cooperating in health, education, transports and other areas.
Several municipalities of the metropolitan area also moved closer, thus becoming a cohesive group.
The urban-metropolitan agglomeration known as the Northwestern Urban-Metropolitan Agglomeration or Porto Metropolitan Arch is a regional urban system of polycentric nature that stretches far beyond the metropolitan borders, and includes circa 3 million people, which takes in other main urban areas such as Braga and Guimarães, the 3rd and 8th largest cities (as defined by urban areas) of Portugal.
One should also note that the entire region of Northwestern Portugal is, in fact, a single agglomeration, linking Porto and Braga to Vigo in Galicia, Spain.)
“I went up towards the Town Hall.
The sky rumbled and opened onto Porto, unleashing laments that included steady rainfall.
One could barely distinguish the white pedestrian crossings under the downpour that shook my poor umbrella, already twisted by other storms.
As soon as I reached the door of Guarany Café, I walked in on an impulse, leaving trails of water wherever I passed.
Thus I remained for a few moments, drenched and momentarily wretched.
As if by magic a cup of hot coffee eased my discomfort.
I watched the storm and the dark morning.
I remembered the story a friend had told me about an Englishman (John Whitehead: 1726 – 1802) who had lived at Porto (1756 – 1802) in the 18th century.
He is believed to have been responsible for supervising and executing several urban works in the city, but people also considered that he had made a pact with the devil, for he was able to attract the grey lightning-bearing clouds to his gardens.
No doubt, today would have been a perfect day for his experiments with the lightning conductor, which certainly involved science rather than witchcraft.
What would he think of this avenue he never knew?
This avenue which welcomes the rain and the sun with the same generosity?
All these cars, which pass by taking people to their destinations, or these buses which carry tourists to the Palácio da Bolsa, to the Church of Sao Francisco and to the Torre dos Clérigos?
All these imposing buildings which stretch granitically upwards to the sky?
This set paving?
Would he call us witches?
Eccentrics?
I looked at my watch and I let out a scream that crashed against its face.
I was late!
Outside, the sky calmed its fury, making the pedestrian crossings visible….”
(Susana Fonseca)
It seems on every street corner, the defeated, but undaunted, People-Animals-Nature Party (one sole MP) has young people standing with clipboard petitions that seek support to continue their battle against bullfighting, a bid beaten in Parliament on 6 July.
From the Câmara to the Mercado to the Torre dos Clérigos to the Café Majestic, the morning and much of the afternoon pass quickly.
West of the Torre we find ourselves threading our way between the faculty Buildings of the Universidade do Porto.
Below the main University building spreads the Jardim da Cordoaria (garden of the ropemakers), also known as the Jardim de Joao Chagas, sheltering impromptu card and chess schools beneath giant plane trees.
It is a small, historic urban park with a serene vibe featuring a variety of trees, plants & sculptures.
The garden was founded by the Viscount of Vilar d’Allen in 1865 and was designed by the German landscaper Émile David (1839 – 1873).
In 1941, a cyclone altered the appearance of this romantic garden.
In preparation for the celebrations of Porto as the 2001 European Capital of Culture, the garden was the target of an intervention by the architect Camilo Cortesao.
His work was highly contested by some celebrities and associations in Porto, because it implied a major change in the space in question.
In the garden space are the sculptures:
Rapto de Ganimedes (the rapture of Ganimedes)(1898) by Fernandes de Sá (1874 – 1959)
Flora (1904) by Antonio Teixeria Lopes (1866 – 1942)
Ramalho Ortigao (1909) by Leopoldo Almeida (1898 – 1975)
Antonio Nobre (1926) by Tómas Costa
Thirteen to laugh at each other (2001) by Juan Munoz (1953 – 2001)
The garden’s namesake João Pinheiro Chagas (1863 – 1925) was a Portuguese journalist and politician.
He was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, of Portuguese parents who soon moved back to Portugal.
He was an editor at the newspapers O Primeiro de Janeiro, Correio do Norte, O Tempo and O Dia.
After becoming a republican, he also founded the República Portuguesa and was the director of O País(1898).
The monarchist government’s reaction to the British Ultimatum of January 1890 (that forced Portugal to renounce its extravagant claims to the territories that lay between Portuguese Angola and Portuguese Mozambique), made him a fierce republican and one of Portugal’s most fervent anti-monarchy journalists and propagandists.
After the proclamation of the republic, on 5 October 1910, he was appointed minister in Paris, and, the following year, after the end of the term of the provisional government, he was chosen to lead the first constitutional government of the Portuguese First Republic.
It was in power for only two months, from 4 September to 13 November 1911.
This was a sad prelude to the political instability of the First Republic.
On 17 May 1915, he was again appointed President of the Ministry (Prime Minister), but he didn’t take office.
He remained a diplomat until his retirement in 1923.
He died in Estoril, aged 60.
Above: Joao Chagas
Two of the garden’s statues are of Portuguese literature, the writer Ortigao and the poet Nobre….
If there is one art form the Portuguese are proud of, it is literature.
You cannot be Portuguese unless you have read The Lusiads, Luis de Camoes‘ (1524 – 1580) epic poem narrating Vasco da Gama’s sea voyage to India, complete with tales of sea monsters.
Portugal’s Jane Austin is Eca de Queirós (1845 – 1900), whose studied portraits of life in 19th century Lisbon are every bit as witty.
Then came Fernando Pessoa, despite a multiple personality disorder, who with his musings on the meaning of life is remembered as a Modernist genius.
José Saramago (1922 – 2010) carried the torch of experimentalism, writing whole books without punctuation, and one, Blindness, without naming a single character.
The current golden boy of Portuguese literature is José Luís Peixoto who writes fractured mosaics of books that are like assembling a jigsaw puzzle.
Portugal’s greatest writers are glorified wherever you go in the country.
Statues commemorate their places of birth and death.
Even the town of Barcelos’ football team is named after a writer, Gil Vicente (1465 – 1536).
The garden’s Ramalho Ortigão (1836 – 1915) spent his early years with his maternal grandmother in Porto.
He studied law in the University of Coimbra, but he did not complete his studies.
After returning to his home town, he taught French at a college run by his father.
Among his students was Eça de Queiros.
In 1862 he dedicated himself to journalism and became a literary critic at the Diário do Porto and contributed to several literary magazines.
At this period, romanticism was the dominant trend in Portuguese literature, led by several major writers, including Camilo Castelo Branco (1825 – 1890) and António Augusto Soares de Passos (1826 – 1860), who influenced Ortigão.
Above: Camilo Castelo Branco
Above: António Augusto Soares de Passos
In the 1870s, a group of students from Coimbra began to promote new ideas in a reaction against romanticism.
This group, eventually called the 70s Generation, was to have a major influence on Portuguese literature.
As a supporter of romanticism, Ortigão became involved in a struggle against them and even fought a duel with Antero de Quental (1842 – 1891).
Above: Antero de Quental
In spite of this early opposition, Ortigão afterwards became friendly with some members of the group.
It was at this period that he wrote The Mystery of the Sintra Road and created the satirical journal As Farpas, both in collaboration with Eça de Queiros.
When Queiros became a diplomat, initially in Cuba, Ortigão continued As Farpasalone.
Ortigão also worked as a translator.
In 1874 he produced a Portuguese translation of the English satirical novel Ginx’s Baby by Edward Jenkins (1838 – 1910).
Above: “Ginx’s Baby” Jenkins as caricatured by Spy (Leslie Ward) in Vanity Fair, August 1878
Ramalho Ortigão died in Lisbon on 27 September 1915.
The second literary person honoured by a statue in the garden, António Nobre (1867 – 1900) was a member of a wealthy family.
He was born in Porto, and spent his childhood in Trás-os-Montes and in Póvoa de Varzim.
Above: Images of modern Póvoa de Varzim
He studied law unsuccessfully at the University of Coimbra from 1888 to 1890 when he dropped out.
As a student in Coimbra, and according to his own words, he only felt at ease in his “tower” (referring to the Torre de Anto – Anto Tower, in upper Coimbra, where he lived) during the “sinister period” he spent studying law at the University of Coimbra.
An unknown fiancée more fictitious than concrete, his friend Alberto de Oliveira, and a brief intervention in the literary life, through some magazines, did not conciliate him with the academic city of Coimbra where this predestined poet flunked twice.
He went to Paris where he earned a degree in political science at the École Libre des Sciences Politiques.
There, he came in contact with the French coeval poetry, where he met Paul Verlaine (1844 – 1896) and Jean Moréas (1856 – 1910), among others.
Above: Paul Verlaine
Above: Jean Moréas
He also met the famous Portuguese writer Eça de Queiros in Paris, who was a Portuguese diplomat in the city.
It was from 1890 to 1895, that Nobre studied political science in Paris, where he was influenced by the French Symbolist poets and it was there that he wrote the greater part of the only book he published.
The Paris exile, sad by his own words (poor Lusitanian, the wretched, lost in the crowd that does not know him), was not a time for happiness.
The aristocratic shutting up caused nausea or indifference.
Frustrated and always marginal experiences made him bitter.
He was far from the sweat and from all sorts of fraternity, from desire and hate, and from the wailing of the breed, a childlike, lost, instinctive and princely life, a souvenir of the sweet old landscape that memory seems to encourage.
In his tender but never rhetorical mourning Nobre manifests himself and mourns over himself as a doomed poet, with a hard soul and a maiden’s heart, which carried the sponge of gall in former processions.
His verse marked a departure from objective realism and social commitment to subjective lyricism and an aesthetic point of view, walking more towards symbolism – one of the various modernist literary currents.
The lack of means, aggravated by his father’s death, made him morbidly reject the present and the future, following a pessimistic romantic attitude that led him to denounce his tedium.
However excessive, this is a controlled attitude, due to a clear aesthetic mind and a real sense of ridicule.
He learned the colloquial tone from Almeida Garrett and Júlio Dinis (1839 – 1871), and also from Jules Laforgue (1860 – 1887), but he exceeded them all in the peculiar compromise between irony and a refined puerility, a fountain of happiness because it represents a return to his happiest of times — a kingdom of his own from where he resuscitates characters and enchanted places, manipulating, as a virtuoso of nostalgia, the picturesque of popular festivals and of fishermen, the simple magic of toponyms and the language of the people.
Above: Jules Laforgue
In his prescience of pain, in his spiritual anticipation of disease and of agony, in his taste for sadness, in his unmeasured pride of isolation, António (from Torre de Anto, at the centre of old Coimbra where the poet lived an enchanted life, everywhere writing his mythical and literary name: Anto) keeps an artist’s composure, always expressing the cult of the aesthetic life and of the elegant personality.
In his courtship of death (to whose imminent threat he would later answer with dignity), he takes his spiritual dandyism to extremes, like in the “Balada do Caixão” (The Coffin Ballad).
His poetry translates the lack of a total maturation, an adolescent “angelism” present in fabulous confirmations:
He is “the moon”, “the saint”, “the snake”, “the sorcerer”, “the afflicted”, “the inspired”, “the unprecedented”, “the medium”, “the bizarre”, “the fool”, “the nauseated”, “the tortured”, “D. Enguiço”, “a supernatural poet.”
Above: The Divine Comedy, Paradise, illustration by Gustave Doré
Narcissus in permanent soliloquy, whether he writes nostalgic verses to Manuel or speaks to his own pipe….
Above: “La Trahison des Images” (“The Treachery of Images”) (1928-9) or “Ceci n’est pas une pipe” (“This is not a pipe”) by René Magritte, 1898-1967.
António Nobre (A. N.) makes poetry out of the real.
He covers what is prosaic with a soft mantle of legend (“My neighbour is a carpenter/he is a second-hand trader of Mrs. Death”) and creates, with a rare balance between intuition and critique, his familiar “fantastic” (“When the Moon, a beautiful milkmaid / goes deliver milk at the houses of Infinity”).
His catholic imaginary world is the same as in a fairy tale, a crib of simple words, but with an imaginative audacity in the scheming of those words that separate him from the consecrated lyrical language.
His power of “invention” comes forth in the inspired, yet conscious, use of the verbal material (“Moons of Summer! Black moons of velvet!” or “The Abbey of my past”).
Between the Garrettian and the symbolic aesthetic, the most personal and revealing feature of his vocabulary is naturally — even for his longing for the childhood aesthetical retrieval – the diminutive.
A man of sensibility rather than of reflection, he took from French symbolism, whose mystery and deep sense he could never penetrate, the repelling of oratory and of formal procedures, original imagery (“Trás-os-Montes of water”, “slaughter house of the planets”), the cult of synaesthesia, rhythmic freedom and musical research.
Above: In the slaughterhouse, Lovis Corinth, 1893
A. N. had a very thick ear.
All his poetry is rigorously written to be heard, full of parallelisms, melodic repetitions, and onomatopoeias, and is extremely malleable.
Its syllabic division depends on the rhythm that obeys feeling.
However, the images or the words of his sentences rarely have the precious touch of symbolic jewelry.
Evidently, in “Poentes de França”, the planets drink in silver chalices in the “tavern of sunset”.
However, his transfiguration of reality almost always obeys not a purpose of sumptuous embellishment, like in Eugénio de Castro, but an essentially affectionate eager desire of an intimism of things (“the skinny and hunchbacked poplars”).
António Nobre died of tuberculosis in Foz do Douro, Porto, on 18 March 1900, after trying to recover from the disease in Switzerland, Madeira and New York City.
Other than Só (Paris, 1892), two other posthumous works were published: Despedidas (1st edition, 1902), with a fragment from O Desejado, and Primeiros Versos (1st edition, 1921).
António Nobre’s correspondence is compiled in several volumes:
Cartas Inéditas a A.N., with an introduction and notes by A. Casais Monteiro
Cartas e Bilhetes-Postais a Justino de Montalvão with a foreword and notes by Alberto de Serpa, Porto, 1956
Correspondência, with an introduction and notes by Guilherme de Castilho, Lisbon, 1967 (a compilation of 244 letters, 56 of which were unpublished).
“When he (Nobre) was born, we all were born.
The sadness that each one of us brings with him, even in the sense of his joy, still is him, and his life, never perfectly real and certainly not lived, is, after all, the summary of the life we live – fatherless and motherless, lost from God, in the middle of the forest, and weeping, weeping uselessly, with no other consolation than this, childish, knowing that it is uselessly weeping.”
Fernando Pessoa, February 1915
The artist that made Nobre’s garden statue has been called “the most significant of the first generation of artists to achieve maturity in post-Franco Spain, and one of the most complex and individual artists working today.”
Juan Muñoz (1953– 2001) was a Spanish sculptor, working primarily in paper maché, resin and bronze.
He was also interested in the auditory arts and created compositions for the radio.
He was a self-described “storyteller“.
In 2000, Muñoz was awarded Spain’s major Premio Nacional de Bellas Artes in recognition of his work.
He died shortly after, in 2001.
His works are displayed in such galleries as the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao, Guggenheim Museum New York, Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden in Washington D.C., the Art Institute of Chicago, and the Tate Modern in London.
In one unpublished radio program (Third Ear, 1992), Juan Muñoz proposed that there are two things which are impossible to represent:
The present and death.
The only way to arrive at them was by their absence.
Above: Created by Juan Munoz in 1999, this work celebrates the Tyne Salmon. The 2008 Tyne Bluetooth Salmon Trail Cubes are seen with the 22 bronze life-size figures that command a view of South Shields Harbour and the Tyne Piers.
The ropemakers’ garden, this garden in memory of Joao Chagas, is close to the Torre dos Clérigos, the General Hospital of Santo António and the Portuguese Centre of Photography.
The Portuguese Centre of Photography was founded in 1997.
The first exhibitions were held in December of that same year on the ground floor of the building until 2000.
The building was temporarily closed for renovation and reopened in 2001.
Following the advice of the working group established by the Minister Manuel Maria Carrilho, in 1996, the then Ministry of Culture created the Portuguese Centre of Photography.
The photographic culture began then to revive by the appearance of photography schools, festivals and galleries attracting photographers that were exiled during the Salazar regime, publishing internationally relevant work.
The exhibition rooms of the ground floor were used that year, starting in December, but the building would only be occupied entirely by the CPF in 2001.
I do not know why the Centre in 2018 (6 July – 4 November) decided to focus on her photographs, but I do know why my wife needed to visit the Centre:
My wife has always been a huge fan of Mexican artiste Frida Kahlo.
The attraction for me, besides keeping my significant other happy, is Kahlo’s ability to invent herself.
Frida Kahlo (née Magdalena Carmen Frida Kahlo y Calderón) (1907 – 1954) was a Mexican painter known for her many portraits, self-portraits, and works inspired by the nature and artifacts of Mexico.
Inspired by the country’s popular culture, she employed a naïve folk art style to explore questions of identity, postcolonialism, gender, class, and race in Mexican society.
Her paintings often had strong autobiographical elements and mixed realism with fantasy.
In addition to belonging to the post-revolutionary Mexicayotl movement, which sought to define a Mexican identity, Kahlo has been described as a surrealist or magical realist.
Born to a German father and a mestiza mother, Kahlo spent most of her childhood and adult life at La Casa Azul, her family home in Coyoacán—now publicly accessible as the Frida Kahlo Museum.
Although she was disabled by polio as a child, Kahlo had been a promising student headed for medical school until she suffered a bus accident at the age of eighteen, which caused her lifelong pain and medical problems.
During her recovery she returned to her childhood hobby of art with the idea of becoming an artist.
Kahlo’s interests in politics and art led her to join the Mexican Communist Party in 1927, through which she met fellow Mexican artist Diego Rivera (1886 – 1957).
The couple married in 1929, and spent the late 1920s and early 1930s travelling in Mexico and the United States together.
During this time, she developed her artistic style, drawing her main inspiration from Mexican folk culture, and painted mostly small self-portraits which mixed elements from pre-Columbian and Catholic beliefs.
Her paintings raised the interest of Surrealist artist André Breton, who arranged for Kahlo’s first solo exhibition at the Julien Levy Gallery in New York in 1938.
Above: André Breton (1896 – 1966)
The exhibition was a success and was followed by another in Paris in 1939.
While the French exhibition was less successful, the Louvre (pictured above) purchased a painting from Kahlo, The Frame, making her the first Mexican artist to be featured in their collection.
Throughout the 1940s, Kahlo participated in exhibitions in Mexico and the United States and worked as an art teacher.
She taught at the Escuela Nacional de Pintura, Escultura y Grabado “La Esmeralda” and was a founding member of the Seminario de Cultura Mexicana.
Kahlo’s always-fragile health began to decline in the same decade.
She had her first solo exhibition in Mexico in 1953, shortly before her death in 1954 at the age of 47.
Above: Kahlo’s death mask on her bed in La Casa Azul
Kahlo’s work as an artist remained relatively unknown until the late 1970s, when her work was rediscovered by art historians and political activists.
By the early 1990s, she had become not only a recognized figure in art history, but also regarded as an icon for Chicanos, the feminism movement and the LGBTQ+ movement.
Kahlo’s work has been celebrated internationally as emblematic of Mexican national and indigenous traditions and by feminists for what is seen as its uncompromising depiction of the female experience and form.
Above: Frieda and Diego Rivera by Frieda Khalo (1931)
Frida is a 2002 American biographical drama film, directed by Julie Taymor, which depicts the professional and private life of the surrealist Mexican artist Frida Kahlo.
(In an interview, Taynor said this about Kahlo:
“She painted what she painted because she had to, because she was passionate about it.
She didn’t care at all if people bought her paintings.
As she said, she painted her reality.“)
Above: Julie Taymor
Frida begins just before the traumatic accident Frida Kahlo (Salma Hayek) suffered at the age of 18 when the wooden-bodied bus she was riding in collided with a streetcar.
She is impaled by a metal pole and the injuries she sustains plague her for the rest of her life.
To help her through convalescence, her father brings her a canvas upon which to start painting.
Throughout the film, a scene starts as a painting, then slowly dissolves into a live action scene with actors.
Frida also details the artist’s dysfunctional relationship with the muralist Diego Rivera (Alfred Molina).
When Rivera proposes to Kahlo, she tells him she expects from him loyalty if not fidelity.
Diego’s appraisal of her painting ability is one of the reasons that she continues to paint.
Throughout the marriage, Rivera has affairs with a wide array of women, while the bisexual Kahlo takes on male and female lovers, including in one case having an affair with the same woman as Rivera.
The two travel to New York City so that he may paint the mural Man at the Crossroads at the Rockefeller Center.
While in the United States, Kahlo suffers a miscarriage, and her mother dies in Mexico.
Rivera refuses to compromise his communist vision of the work to the needs of the patron, Nelson Rockefeller (Edward Norton).
As a result, the mural is destroyed.
The pair return to Mexico, with Rivera the more reluctant of the two.
Kahlo’s sister Cristina (Mia Maestro) moves in with the two at their San Ángel studio home to work as Rivera’s assistant.
Soon afterward, Kahlo discovers that Rivera and Cristina are having an affair.
She leaves him and subsequently sinks into alcoholism.
The couple reunite when he asks her to welcome and house Leon Trotsky(Geoffrey Rush), who has been granted political asylum in Mexico.
She and Trotsky begin an affair, which forces the married Trotsky to leave the safety of his Coyoacán home.
Kahlo leaves for Paris after Diego realizes she was unfaithful to him with Trotsky.
Although Rivera had little problem with Kahlo’s other affairs, Trotsky was too important to Rivera to be intimately involved with his wife.
When she returns to Mexico, he asks for a divorce.
Soon afterwards, Trotsky is murdered in Mexico City.
Rivera is temporarily a suspect and Kahlo is incarcerated in his place when he is not found.
Rivera helps get her released.
Kahlo has her toes removed when they become gangrenous.
Rivera asks her to remarry him and she agrees.
Her health continues to worsen, including the amputation of a leg, and she ultimately dies after finally having a solo exhibition of her paintings in Mexico.
Being a photography museum, the focus of the Kahlo exhibition was not so much upon her paintings as it was on photos she took or were taken of her.
(Later, across the Douro River, we would stumble across a small gallery where her art was displayed and duplicated.)
And, though Kahlo wasn’t Portuguese and possibly never set foot on Portuguese soil, her life story somehow fits into our Porto experience seamlessly.
Art is open to individual perception, but words offer individual definition in far starker forms.
Some of what Kahlo wrote in preserved letters and diaries strikes me closer to the core of who she was far more powerfully than the visual impact of her vibrant paintings or expressive photographs.
“They thought I was a Surrealist, but I wasn’t.
I never painted dreams.
I painted my own reality.”
“I drank because I wanted to drown my sorrows, but now the damned things have learned to swim.”
“I paint self-portraits because I am so often alone, because I am the person I know best.”
“His (Diego Rivera’s) supposed mythomania is in direct relation to his tremendous imagination.
That is to say, he is as much of a liar as the poets or as the children who have not yet been turned into idiots by school or mothers.
I have heard him tell all kinds of lies: from the most innocent, to the most complicated stories about people whom his imagination combined in a fantastic situation or actions, always with a great sense of humour and a marvelous critical sense.
But I have never heard him say a single stupid thing or banal lie.
Lying, or playing at lying, he unmasks many people.
He learns the interior mechanism of others who are much more ingenuously liars than he.
And the most curious thing about the supposed lies of Diego is that in the long and short of it, those who are involved in the imaginary combination become angry, not because of the lie, but because of the truth contained in the lie that always comes to the surface.”
The overall message that this day taught me is the solitude of individuality.
We may be within the crowd of a famous bookstore (Livraria Lello) or walking together in the intimacy of a married couple’s strolling through a park.
And yet each of us is alone.
Above: René and Georgette Magritte with their dog after the war
We live alone and we die alone, for we are prisoners within our bodies and exiles within our minds.
Above: Thomas Wolfe (1900 – 1938) who in an often quoted passage stated: “The whole conviction of my life now rests upon the belief that loneliness, far from being a rare and curious phenomenon, is the central and inevitable fact of human existence.”
I may know my wife better than any other person in my life, and yet is there any man who can truly say that a woman cannot still continually surprise him?
My wife is convinced to her core that she knows exactly who I am, but how can she, when I am continually discovering myself as I evolve within the passages of life and time?
Perception is the expression of that solitude of individuality.
The Porto I see and feel is a universe removed from the Porto that my wife sees and feels.
Though we share the same experience, we see and feel that experience through the prism of our own individual selves.
As we wind our way through some of Porto’s oldest and most atmospheric streets, ascending from the Baixa (lower town) to the Sé (cathedral) that looms high above the city like a guardian god, then down to the Ribiera (riverside) where we are magnetically drawn to the historic heart of the harbour hub….
We are together, hand-in-hand.
We are apart, mind from mind, emotions unspoken as words fail miserably to adequately express the thoughts that flood our souls unbidden.
We descend with the setting sun, down to the chaos of hotch-potch houses that breathe in the vibrancy of cafés and restaurants replete with tired tourists and working waiters, bustling buskers and enthusiastic entertainers.
We dine beside the river on a shore between bridges.
We share a bottle of port wine, for this is what is done in the birthplace of this beverage.
The waiter defines what we are drinking as one would explain electricity to an infant.
Words like ruby and reserve, LBV and colheita fill the air and cross our consciousness, all to no avail.
We are no gourmets, no vintners nor clever connaisseurs.
We have seen so much and learned so much and felt so much, in this our first full day in Porto, and yet have understood so little.
Husband and wife share a meal and a bottle, unable or unwilling to share souls.
How can she politely express her annoyance with some of her husband’s boorish bumbling behaviours without causing a beastly reaction by expressing this?
How can I lovingly criticize her impatience while simultaneously admiring her imagination in the usurped planning of our days, without a contradiction that confuses more than it cooperates?
We are together.
We are apart.
How very human.
How ironic it is that the individuality of Each binds the Every together.
We are united by our separateness.
The Douro defines the night.
A river shared by two shores, binding and blessing while dividing and differentiating.
The river rushes beside us and through us.
There is wisdom in wine and knowledge at night.
(Update: Sunday 5 July 2020
The COVID-19 pandemic in Portugal is part of the worldwide pandemic of coronavirus disease 2019 (COVID-19) caused by severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2).
Above: Corona Virus cases in Portugal (the darker the area, the more cases therein)
On 2 March 2020, the virus was confirmed to have reached Portugal, when it was reported that two men, a 60 year-old doctor who travelled to the north of Italy on vacation and a 33 year-old man working in Spain, tested positive for COVID-19.
March 12: The Portuguese government declared the highest level of alert because of COVID-19 and said it would be maintained until 9 April.
Portugal entered a mitigation phase as community transmission was detected.
Above: São Bento Palace, Lisbon, is the seat of the Portuguese Legislature.
March 18: The President of the Republic, Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa, declared the entirety of the Portuguese territory in a State of Emergency for the following 15 days, with the possibility of renewal, the first since the Carnation Revolution in 1974.
In response to the COVID-19 pandemic President Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa declares that a national state of emergency will take effect from the next day, with Finance Minister Mário Centeno unveiling €9.2 billion in economic assistance to households and companies.
As of this day there have been 642 confirmed cases of COVID-19 with two deaths.
March 24: The Portuguese government admitted that the country could not contain the virus any longer.
March 26: The country entered the “mitigation stage”.
The health care sites dedicated to fighting the disease started.
The Bank of Portugal estimates that the economy will contract by between 3.7% and 5.7% of GDP in 2020 in light of the COVID-19 pandemic, with unemployment rising to between 10.1% and 11.7%.
April 2: Parliament approved the extension of the State of Emergency, as requested by the President.
The State of Emergency will remain until 17 April, subject to further extensions of similar duration.
Under the new regulations, for the Easter celebrations, from 9 April (Maundy Thursday) to 13 April (Easter Monday) the Portuguese government decreed special measures in restricting people movements between municipalities with very few exceptions, closing all airports to civil transportation and increased control in the national borders.
Above: Letter from the Portuguese President, Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa, to the Speaker of the Assembly of the Republic, Eduardo Ferro Rodrigues, requesting Parliament for authorisation under the terms of the Constitution, for a declaration of the state of emergency in the context of the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic.
4 April – Government figures indicate that more than 500,000 workers are in danger of temporarily losing their jobs due to the COVID-19 pandemic, after almost 32,000 businesses apply to the government to furlough employees.
The day also sees the total number of COVID-19 cases surpass 10,000, with 10,524 cases and 266 deaths reported.
12 April – Reuters reports that one in eight of Portugal’s 504 deaths from COVID-19 to date have occurred in care homes, with officials concerned about the spread of the corona virus among the elderly residents.
As of this day there have been 16,585 recorded cases in the country.
14 April – The International Monetary Fund forecasts an 8.0% drop in Portuguese GDP for 2020 as a consequence of the COVID-19 pandemic, with unemployment predicted to rise to 13.9%.
The economy is forecast to recover in 2021 with unemployment falling to 8.7%.
16 April – MPs vote to further extend the national state of emergency until the beginning of May.
The vote comes amid a declining growth in infections, prompting the Health Secretary Antonio Sales to praise the “excellent behaviour and civic-mindedness of the Portuguese people“.
The number of confirmed cases of COVID-19 to date stands at 18,841 with 629 deaths.
28 April – President Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa announces that the national state of emergency in place since 18 March will begin to be lifted from 3 May.
April 30: The Portuguese Ministers’ Council approved a plan to start releasing the country from the COVID-19 container measures and cancelling the State of Emergency.
The Automóvel Club de Portugal confirms the cancellation of the 2020 Rally de Portugal due to the COVID-19 pandemic, abandoning plans to reschedule the event’s planned 21–24 May date to October.
1 May – The Directorate-General of Health confirms that the number of fatalities from COVID-19 in Portugal has surpassed 1,000, with eighteen deaths in the preceding 24 hours bringing the country’s total to 1,007.
As of this date there have been 25,531 recorded cases and 1,647 recoveries.
2 May – The State of Emergency was cancelled.
3 May – The national state of emergency is lifted after six weeks, with the country downgraded to the lesser state of “calamity“.
4 May – A three-phase re-opening plan for the country begins, with small retail businesses allowed to open and the Lisbon and Porto Metro systems resuming at a reduced capacity.
The use of face masks is made compulsory for those using public transport and visiting enclosed public premises such as supermarkets.
9 May – Organisers of the Vuelta a Espana announce that the two stages of the 2020 bicycle race set to take place in Portugal will not go ahead.
May 18: Portugal entered the second phase in easing restrictions.
Nurseries and the last two years of the secondary school reopened, along with restaurants, cafés, medium-sized street stores and some museums, all with mandatory usage of mask and distance rules.
20 May – Data from the Institute for Employment and Vocational Training reveals that the number of people registering as unemployed across the country increased by 48,500 in April, a rise of 22% compared to April 2019.
The total number of people out of work now stands at approximately 392,000.
1 June – The government reveals a four-fold increase to €108 million to the total funds made available to companies shifting production towards tackling the COVID-19 pandemic.
Above: Portuguese €1.00 coin
As of this date there have been 32,700 cases and 1,424 deaths from COVID-19 recorded in the country.
3 June– The Primeira Liga resumes competition with all remaining matches of the 2019–20 season set to take place without spectators.
6 June – Thousands attend anti-racism protests in Lisbon and Porto in response to the death of George Floyd in the United States on 25 May.
As of 6 June 2020, there have been:
43,156 confirmed Covid-19 cases
20,475 active cases
386,926 suspected cases
6,500 critical cases
39,500 hospitalized cases
28,424 recovered cases
1,598 deaths
9 June – Finance Minister Mario Centeno announces his resignation from the government for reasons undisclosed.
Joao Leao, the current Budget Minister, is confirmed by Prime Minister António Costa as Centeno’s replacement beginning on 15 June.
The Assembly officially recognises diplomat Aristides de Sousa Mendes (1885 – 1954), who in his capacity as consul to France in June 1940 issued thousands of visas to Jewish refugees in Bordeaux, allowing them to escape the advancing German army by crossing south into neutral Spain.
In recognition of his actions, a monument dedicated to him within the National Pantheon is also planned.
Above: Aristides de Sousa Mendes
10 June – The European Commission approves a €1.2 billion loan from the government to TAP Air, the nation’s flag carrier airline, whose debt at the end of 2019 amounted to €800 million.
25 June – A rise in the recorded number of cases of COVID-19 in Lisbon prompts the government to re-impose certain restrictions in 19 of the capital’s parishes to stem transmissions.
From 1 July, measures such as restrictions on travel, an 8 pm curfew for businesses, and limiting the size of social gatherings to five people will be enforced.
1 July – After being shut for more than three months due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the Spanish-Portuguese border is formally re-opened in a ceremony attended by President Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa, Prime Minister António Costa, King Felipe VI, and the Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez.)
I find myself wondering if I will ever return to Portugal, ever return to Porto.
Perhaps I don’t need to, for in the attempt to capture what they mean to me, within me they live.
“Do I contradict myself?
Very well, then I contradict myself.
I am large.
I contain multitudes.” (Walt Whitman)
Sources: Wikipedia / Google/ Susana Fonseca, Porto and Northern Portugal: Journeys and Stories / Matthew Hancock and Amanda Tomlin, Pocket Rough Guide Porto / Lonely Planet Portugal / Rough Guide Portugal/ Jürgen Strohmeyer, Nordportugal (Müller Verlag) / Matthew Hancock, Xenophobe’s Guide to the Portuguese / Fernando Pessoa, Message / Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet
Landschlacht, Switzerland, Tuesday 10 December 2019
There are things in Switzerland (and in our existence) that we simply take for granted:
And the thing about Swiss stereotypes is that some of them are true.
Diplomatic?
Yes.
Efficient?
Absolutely.
Boring?
Only at first glance.
Despite being one of the most visited countries in Europe, Switzerland remains one of the least understood.
It is more than simply the well-ordered land of cheese, chocolate, banks and watches.
It is more than a warm summer mountain holiday upon a cobalt blue lake, more than skiing down the slopes of some vertiginous Alp, more than postcard pristine beauty.
It is easy for the tourist to remain blissfully unaware of Swiss community spirit, that it speaks four official languages, that it possesses stark regional differences from canton to canton, that it has exubrant carnivals, culinary traditions and sophisticated urban centres.
With its beautiful lakeside setting, Geneva (Genève) is a cosmopolitan city whose modest size belies its wealth and importance on the world stage.
French-speaking and Calvinistic it is a dynamic centre of business with an outward-looking character tempered by a certain reserve.
Geneva’s major sights are split by the Rhône River that flows into Lake Geneva (Lac Léman) and through the city’s several distinct neighbourhoods.
On the south bank (rive gauche), mainstream shopping districts Rive and Eaux-Vives climb from the water’s edge to Plainpalais and Vieille Ville, while the north bank (rive droite) holds grungy bars and hot clubbing Pâquis, the train station area and some world organizations.
A little over 1 km north of the train station is the international area, home to dozens of international organizations that are based in Geneva – everything from the World Council of Churches to Eurovision.
Trains and buses roll up to the Place des Nations.
Gates on the Place des Nations open to the Palais des Nations, now occupied by UNOG, the United Nations Office at Geneva, the European headquarters of the United Nations, accessible only to visitors who sign up for a tour.
The huge monolith just off the square to the west, that looks like a bent playing card on its edge, is WIPO (the World Intellectual Property Organization), the highrise to the south is ITU (the International Telecommunications Union), just to the east is UNHCR (the United Nations High Commission for Refugees), and so on, and so on, and so on, an infinite combination of letters of the alphabet in an infinite variety of abbreviations and acronyms.
The giant Broken Chair which looms over the square was installed in 1997 for the international conference in Ottawa (Canada’s capital) banning the use of land mines, a graphic symbol of the victims of such weapons.
Geneva is also the birthplace of the International Red Cross / Crescent / Crystal Movement.
And it was the latter, along with the International Museum of the Reformation, that compelled me to visit Geneva.
(For details about the Musée Internationale de la Réforme, please see Canada Slim and the Third Man in my other blog, The Chronicles of Canada Slim.)
Genevè, Suisse, mardi le 23 janvier 2018
Housed within the HQ of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), the Musée International de la Croix-Rouge et du Croissant Rougechronicles the history of modern conflict and the role the Red Cross has played in providing aid to combatants and civilians caught up in war and natural disasters.
Enter through a trench in the hillside opposite the public entrance of UNOG and emerge into an enclosed glass courtyard beside a group of bound and blindfolded stone figures.
The stone gathering represents the continual worldwide violation of human rights.
Inside, above the ticket desk, is a quotation in French from Dostoevsky:
“Everyone is responsible to everyone else for everything.”
Above: Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821 – 1881)
A free audioguide takes you through the Museum.
Twenty-five years ago, Laurent Marti, a former ICRC delegate, had the idea of creating the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Museum.
Above: Laurent Marti
Marti won the wives of US President Ronald Reagan and Soviet Premier Gorbachev over to his cause in a bid to obtain the support of their respective countries, together with that of local and international societies and personages and of various multinational companies representing a full range of human activities.
The goal of the Museum is to emanate a very powerful atmosphere where no one leaves without having been shaken and deeply moved by what they had seen.
Suffering, death, wounds and mutiliations can be followed by a time of healing, restoration, reunification and an opportunity to be happy again, a right that seemed to have been withdrawn.
Of course, the scars remain deep within the human soul, but the hope of restoration and of a return to normalcy is the message of the Museum.
The International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement is dedicated to preventing and alleviating human suffering in warfare and in emergencies, such as earthquakes, epidemics and floods.
The Movement is composed of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies, and the 188 individual national societies.
Each has its own legal identity and role, but they are all united by seven fundamental principles:
humanity
impartiality
neutrality
independence
voluntary service
unity
universality
The interactive chronology covers one and a half centuries of history, starting with the creation of the Red Cross.
For each year, the events listed include:
armed conflicts which caused the death of more than 10,000 people and/or affected more than one million people
epidemics and disasters that caused the deaths of more than 1,000 people and/or affected more than one million people
significant events in the history of the Movement
cultural and scientific milestones
In 1859 Henri Dunant was travelling on business through northern Italy.
Above: Henri Dunant (1828 – 1910)
He found himself close to the Solferino battlefield just after the fighting.
The battle of Solferino was a key episode in the Italian Wars.
With the support of France under Napoleon III, Victor Emmanuel II of Savoy, King of Piedmont, endeavoured to unite the different Italian states.
In spring 1859 the Piedmont forces clashed with the Austrian Empire, which had control over Lombardy and Venetia.
On 24 June 1859, the Franco-Piedmontese troops defeated the Austrians at Solferino, in a battle that left more than 40,000 dead and wounded.
Overwhelmed by the sight of thousands of wounded soldiers left without medical care, Dunant organized basic relief with the assistance of the local people.
“On that memorable 24th of June 1859, more than 300,000 men stood facing each other.
The fighting continued for more than 15 hours.
No quarter is given.
It is a sheer butchery, a struggle between savage beasts.
The poor wounded men that were picked up all day long were ghastly pale and exhausted.
Some, who had been the most badly hurt, had a stupified look.
How many brave soldiers, undettered by their first wounds, kept pressing on until a fresh shot brought them to earth.
Men of all nations lay side by side on the flagstone floors of the churches of Castiglione.
The shortage of assistants, orderlies and helpers was cruelly felt.
I sought to organize as best I could relief.
The women of Castiglione, seeing that I made no distinction between nationalities, followed my example.
“Siamo tutti fratelli” (we are all brothers), they repeated feelingly.
Above: Ossuary of Solferino
But why have I told of all these scenes of pain and distress?
Is it not a matter of urgency to press forward to prevent or at least alleviate the horrors of war?
Would it not be possible, in time of peace and quiet, to form relief societies given to the wounded in wartime?
Societies of this kind, once formed and their permanent existence assured, would be always organized and ready for the possibility of war.
Would it not be desirable to formulate some international principle, sanctioned by a Convention inviolate in character, which, once agreed upon and ratified, might constitute the basis for societies for the relief of the wounded?”
Above: Ossuary of Solferino
Back home in Geneva, Dunant wrote A Memory of Solferino.
The book was published in 1862 and was an immediate success.
In it, Dunant made two proposals:
the formation of relief societies which would care for wounded soldiers
the establishment of an international convention to guarantee their safety
Those ideas led, the following year, to the foundation of the Red Cross, and ten months later to the first Geneva Convention.
In 1863, in response to Dunant’s appeal, Gustave Moynier persuaded the Geneva Public Welfare Society to consider the possibility of training groups of volunteer nurses to provide relief for the wounded.
A committee was set up, the International Committee for Relief to the Wounded, the future ICRC, was born.
Above: Gustave Moynier (1826 – 1910)
The need to defend human dignity has been a constant concern throughout history.
From the Code of Hammurabi (1750 BC) to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948), texts from all periods and cultures exist to testify to that.
Those texts were frequently written in response to incidents in which human dignity was shown no consideration – slavery, chemical weapons, civilian bombing, concentration camps, atomic bombing, sexual violence, landmines, child soldiers, prisoners with no legal status.
Throughout time mankind has determined:
that the strong should not suppress the weak (Code of Hammurabi – Mwaopotamia 1750 BC)
Above: Stele of the Code of Hammurabi
that peace is possible between warring nations (Treaty of Kadesh, the oldest peace treaty known to man and the first written international treaty – Egypt 1279 BC)
Above: Treaty of Kadesh
that we should be free to practice our own religions (Cyrus Cylinder – Persia 539 BC)
Above: Cyrus Cylinder
that we should not do unto others what we don’t wish done to ourselves (The Analects of Confucius – China 480 BC)
Above: The Analects
that we should live lives of non-violence with respect towards all (The Edicts of Ashoka– India 260 BC)
Above: The Edicts of Ashoka
that power should not be used arbitrarily nor imprisonment without just cause (The Magna Carta – England 1215)
Above: Magna Carta
that all persons are free and that no one is a slave to another (The Manden Charter – Mali 1222)
Above: The Manden Charter
that women and children and the insane have dignity and rights that must be respected (The Viqayet – Muslim Spain 1280)
that mankind has natural and inalienable rights (freedom, equality, justice, community) (Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen – France 1789)
that the wounded need to be treated regardless of nationality, that all human beings are free and equal in dignity and in rights (Universal Declaration of Human Rights – United Nations 1948)
The original title of the initial Geneva Convention was the Convention for the Amelioration of the Condition of the Wounded in Armies in the Field.
It had only ten articles and one sole objective:
To limit the suffering caused by war.
Article 7 provided for the creation of the protective emblem of the red cross.
This document laid the foundations of international humanitarian law, marks the start of the humanitarian adventure.
By 2013, 194 nations are party to the Geneva Conventions of 12 August 1949.
The Museum explains how the Geneva Conventions developed from one man’s battlefield encounter.
After Dunant’s publication of A Memory of Solferino in November 1862, Gustave Moynier (1826 – 1910), chairman of the Geneva Public Welfare Society, in response to Dunant’s appeal, persuaded Society members the following February to consider the possibility of training groups of volunteer nurses to provide relief for the war wounded.
An ad hoc committee was set up – the International Committee for Relief to the Wounded.
The future ICRC was born.
Above: ICRC Headquarters, Geneva
“Ambulances and military hospitals shall be recognized as neutral and as such protected and respected by the belligerants as long as they accommodate wounded and sick.” (Article 1)
“Inhabitants of the country who bring help to the wounded shall be respected and shall remain free.” (Article 5)
“Wounded or sick combatants, to whatever nation they may belong, shall be collected and cared for.” (Article 6)
“A distinctive and uniform flag shall be adopted for hospitals, ambulances and evacuation parties.” (Article 7)
A red cross on a white background was adopted in 1863, followed by a red crescent, a red lion and red sun (1929) and a red crystal (2005).
To protect the victims of conflict, the ICRC has at its disposal several instruments defined by international humanitarian law.
“At all times, parties to the conflict shall, without delay, take all possible measures to search for and collect the wounded and sick.”
“The civilian population as such, as well as individual civilians, shall not be the object of attack.”
“The parties to the conflict shall endeavour to conclude local agreements for the passage of medical personnel and medical equipment.”
“Civilian hospitals may in no circumstances be the object of attack.”
“It is prohibited to commit any acts of hostility directed against historic monuments, works of art or places of worship.”
“Works or installations containing dangerous forces, namely dams, dykes and nuclear stations shall not be made the object of attack.”
“It is prohibited to attack, destroy, remove or render useless objects indispensible to the survival of the civilian population.”
Above: The Red Cross in action, 1864
The Second World War (1939 – 1945) involved 61 countries in war and caused the death of around 60 million people, more than half of whom were civilians.
In 1945 more than 20 million people had been displaced.
In 1995 the ICRC publicly described its attitude to the Second World War Holocaust as a “moral failure“.
Above: Images of World War II (1939 – 1945)
The persecution of the Jews by the Nazis began shortly after Hitler came to power in 1933 and subsequently continued to intensify, culminating in systematic extermination from 1942 onwards.
Above: Auschwitz, Poland, May 1944
At the time, the ICRC had no legal instrument to protect civilians.
The 1929 Convention relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War applied only to members of the armed forces.
The organization thus considered itself powerless in the face of the anti-Semitic fury of the Nazi dictatorship.
Thus in October 1942 the Committee refused, in particular, to launch a public appeal on behalf of civilians affected by the conflict.
Although the International Red Cross endeavoured to provide aid for Jewish civilians, it erred on the side of caution.
Above: Jewish women, occupied Paris, June 1942
It was not until the spring of 1944 that a change of strategy took shape.
As Germany’s war efforts collapsed, ICRC delegates belatedly managed to enter some concentration camps, becoming voluntary hostages in order to prevent the further massacre or forced evacution of the prisoners.
Above: Auschwitz, May 1944
The harsh lesson of the Second World War had been learned.
In 1949 the Fourth Geneva Convention was adopted:
It provides protection for civilians during armed conflict.
It was complemented in 1977 by additional protocols which reinforce the protection given to victims of armed conflicts, international or domestic.
In particular, the additional protocols established the distinction between civilians and combatants.
In an armed conflict, the ICRC’s mandate is to ensure respect for the Geneva Conventions.
When the ICRC observes serious violations of the Conventions, it points them out to the countries concerned in confidential reports.
However, on occasion, that information has been published in the press:
Le Monde during the Algerian War
Above: Images of the Algerian War (1954 – 1962)
The Wall Street Journal about Abu Ghraib Prison
Above: Lynndie England with “Gus“, Abu Ghraib Prison, Iraq
The New York Review of Books / Wikileaks about Guantanamo Prison
Above: Guantanamo “Gitmo” Prison, Cuba
Such leaks put the ICRC in a difficult position as discretion is a necessary part of its work and its discussions with the authorities.
Its confidentialiy policy actually facilitates access to detainees, wounded people and groups of civilians.
When humanitarian diplomacy fails, the ICRC then resorts to a more open form of communication.
It then issues press releases publicly condemning serious violations of the Conventions.
In the 1980s the United Nations Security Council set up ad hoc tribunals to judge the crimes committed in former Yugoslavia and in Rwanda.
In 1998 the International Criminal Court (ICC) was established.
It was a permanent institution with the power to open investigations, to prosecute and to try people accused of committing war crimes, genocide or crimes against humanity.
The ICC began its work in 2005 by opening three investigations into crimes:
in the Democratic Republic of the Congo
in Uganda
in the Sudan
The existence of a permanent international court gives the world the means of determining facts and of punishing those responsible for the crimes.
It gives victims an opportunity to have their voice heard.
Above: Logo of the International Criminal Court
Poverty, migration, urban violence….
All of them are present-day threats to human dignity.
All over the world, large sections of the population are living in extremely precarious hygenic conditions.
Economic changes are forcing more and more people to emigrate.
Those migrants, who frequently have no identity documents, are exploited and ostracized.
In some megacities, whole districts are at the mercy of armed groups which terrorize the inhabitants.
Each of those situations presents a challenge to which a response must be found.
Above: Syrian refugees, Ramtha, Jordan, August 2013
Since the First World War, the ICRC has had the right to visit prisoners of war and civilian detainees during an international armed conflict.
In other situations, the right to meet prisoners must be negotiated with the authorities.
Visiting prisons, talking to the detainees and making lists of their names are ways of preventing disappearances and ill treatment.
After each prison visit, ICRC delegates write a report.
They must have access to all places of detention and be allowed to repeat their visits as often as necessary.
The visits always follow the same procedure.
Following a meeting with those in charge of the prison, the delegates inspect the premises: cells, dormitories, toilets, the exercise yard, the kitchen and any workshops.
They draw up a list of prisoners and interview them in private without witnesses.
At the end of the visit, the delegates inform those in charge of the prison of their observations.
They then prepare a confidential report for the authorities.
The visitor sees many photographs of prison visits, including those to a German POW camp in Morocco, to French POWs in a German Stalag, political detainees in Chile, detainees in Djibouti….
But it is items from these visits given by prisoners to the ICRC delegates that tell far more emotional stories.
Some examples:
a model village showing ICRC activities in Rwanda
a doll figure of a female delegate made in an Argentinian prison
a pearl snake made by Ottoman prisoners
a necklace with a Red Cross pendant made by a lady prisoner in Lebanon
a ciborium (a container for Catholic mass hosts – symbols of the body of Christ) made of bread by Polish prisoners of conscience
a bar of soap carved into the shape of a detainee in a cell made by a Burmese artist imprisoned for suspected ties to the opposition party
An installation in the Museum that followed seemed somewhat incongruous….
Therein the visitor can change and produce large flows of different colours by touching a wall.
The idea is that the larger the number of visitors, the richer the flow of colours, so as to provide an interactive experience that appeals to people’s senses, emotions and feelings, thus all visitors become part of a colourful celebration of human dignity.
Honestly….
This felt more like a gimmick to capture children’s hyperactive attention than an exhibit that strengthens human unity, designed more to entertain than educate.
Human beings are social beings who are defined by their links with others.
When those links are broken, we lose part of our identity and our bearings.
Of the many activities the ICRC performs, the giving and receiving of news and finding one’s loved ones again are understood to be elements of stability that are critical during crisis situations.
This Museum has, like the Reformation Museum in this city, as other museums in other cities and countries I have visited, its own Chamber of Witnesses – video testimonials whose lifelike likenesses are meant to invoke within the voyeur a sense of how we are not unlike those speaking with us electronically.
We see Toshihiko Suzuki, a dentist and specialist in craniofacial anatomy, tell us how he identified victims of the 2011 tsunami.
We learn of the experience of Sami El Haj, an Al Jazeera journalist held in Guantanamo from 2002 to 2008.
We consider the life of Liliose Iraguha, a survivor of the Rwandan genocide.
We marvel at the resilience of human beings by listening to Boris Cyrulnik, a French neuropsychiatrist and ethologist.
During a conflict or a natural disaster, many people are cut off from their families – by capitivity, separation or disappearance.
Tracing one’s loved ones and passing on one’s news become basic needs.
Originally intended for victims of war, the ICRC tracing services subsequently expanded to include persecuted civilians.
More recently, tracing activities have been extended to families who have become separated as a result of natural disasters or migration.
The International Prisoners of War Agency (1914 – 1923) was established by the ICRC, shortly after the start of the First World War – which involved 44 states and their colonies and caused the death of more than 8 million people, 20 million wounded and in the immediate post-war period of epidemics, famine and destitution another 30 million deaths.
Organised in national sections, its archives contain six million index cards that document what happened to two million people: prisoners of war, civilian internees and missing civilians from occupied areas.
The cards contain information about individual detainees. when they were taken captive, where they were held and, if relevant, when they died.
People who were without news of a loved one could present a request to the Agency, which would then send them what information it had.
Today the Agency’s documents are still used to reply to requests from families as well as to enquiries from historians.
And, as far as I could tell, the Agency is now in the Museum.
It contains:
5,119 boxes with 6 million index cards
2,413 files containing information provided by the belligerents
600,000 pages filling 20 linear metres of general files
This location is fitting for it was in the Rath Museum in Geneva where the Agency once was.
In all, more than 3,000 volunteers, most of them women, worked there during the conflict.
During the War, the Agency dispatched 20 million messages between detainees and their families and forwarded nearly 2 million individual parcels as well as several tonnes of collective relief.
The Agency’s role was also to obtain the repatriation of prisoners who had been taken captive in breach of the Geneva Conventions: doctors, nurses, stretcher bearers and military chaplains.
It helped to ensure that the wounded were returned home or interned in neutral countries.
The pacifist writer Romain Rolland was one of the Agency’s first volunteers:
“Its peaceful work, its impartial knowledge of the actual facts in the belligerent countries, contribute to modify the hatred which wild stories have exasperated and to reveal what remains of humanity in the most envenomed enemy.”
Above: Romain Rolland (1866 – 1944)
It was not until the end of the Second World War that Europe realized the extent of the tragedy affecting civilians.
The International Tracing Service (ITS) was then established.
The ITS has files on more than 17 million people: civilians persecuted by the Nazis, displaced persons, children under the age of 18 who had become separated from their families, forced labourers and people held in concentration camps or labour camps.
The ITS was set up in Bad Arolsen, Germany, and has helped millions of people to trace their loved ones.
Above: International Tracing Services, Bad Arolsen, Germany
Nowadays, the need to trace missing people also extends to the victims of natural disasters and to migrants, using not only index cards, but photo tracing (used to find nearly 20,000 children missing during the 1994 genocide in Rwanda), distributions of name lists (for example, the Angola Gazette – a list of people who went missing during the Angolan Civil War from 1975 to 2002) and the Internet (for example, http://www.familylinks.icrc.org).
Despite all tracing efforts, sometimes missing people do not get found, do not go home.
In that case, receiving confirmation of death puts an end to uncertainty and enables families to begin the process of mourning and to start to rebuild their lives.
The erection of memorials is one way of honouring the dead and of giving them a place of dignity in the collective memory.
For example, in 1995 the city of Srebrenica was attacked by forces under the command of General Radko Mladic.
Mladic had the women and children of this refuge of hounded Muslim civilians separated from the men and forced to leave Srebrenica.
The men were hunted down and killed.
More than 8,000 people went missing.
By 2010 only 4,500 victims had been identified and buried.
When faced with a collective tragedy and without a dead body, families are completely at a loss.
A memorial is sometimes their only means of paying tribute to the dead, of giving them a place in the collective consciousness and of recalling the events that led to those disappearances.
Examples include victims from:
the 1945 atomic bombing of Hiroshima
Above: Hiroshima Peace Memorial (Genbuko Dome)
the deportation of Jews from France
the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia
the Soviet gulags
the nuclear disaster in Chernobyl, Ukraine
the civil war in Peru
the earthquake in Sichuan, China
the 9/11 attack in New York City
Communication is often disrupted during a conflict or a natural disaster.
In circumstances like that, receiving news from one’s family is a source of joy and relief.
There are different ways of sending news:
Red Cross messages (in use for more than a century)
Radio messages
Videoconferencing
Satellite telephones
A Red Cross message is a short personal missive that was first used in the Franco-Prussian War (1870 – 1871).
It is still in use today.
Each year, thousands of messages are distributed in more than 65 countries with the help of the ICRC.
To make sure that they reach the addressees, messengers sometimes travel long distances to extremely remote areas.
The messages themselves are generally very simple.
The main thing is to enable people to pass brief news on to their loved ones – their state of health, their place of shelter or detention.
For example, the Museum shows messages:
sent by a French POW to his godmother in Switzerland
exchanged by a French POW in Morocco and Algeria and his family in France
written by aircraft passengers taken hostage in Jordan in 1970
illustrated by children during the Yugoslav conflict in 1994
by a Sudanese detainee in Guantanamo
from a Greek child refugee following the Cyprus conflict of 1974
from a mother to her son in Liberia
from a little girl writing to her parents in the Congo
written by a woman to her brother in prison in Kirghizstan
In Columbia, the radio programme Las voces del secuestro broadcasts family messages to people held hostage in the jungle, enabling more than 18,000 people to send news to their loved ones.
In Bagram Prison in Afghanistan, no family visits are allowed, so in 2008 the ICRC and the American authorities developed a videoconferencing system to enable the detainees to communicate with their loved ones.
In the space of just a few months, 70% of the detainees were able to contact their families.
And finally the Restoring Family Links exhibition concludes with works by Congolese artist Chuck Ledy and Benin artist Romuald Hazouma.
Humanity has progressed by refusing to accept the inevitability of the phenomena that endanger it.
In the face of natural disasters and epidemics, communities take action to prevent the worst, to save lives and to preserve resources.
Another Chamber of Witnesses:
Benter Aoko Odhiambo, the head of a Kenyan orphanage and the initiator of a market gardening programme
Abul Hasnat, a Bangladeshi school teacher and a Red Crescent volunteer
Madeleen Helmer, the Dutch head of the ICRC Climate Centre
Jiaqi Kang, a Chinese student in Switzerland
After all, prevention concerns us all.
Blast Theory, a group of British artists, designed the game Hurricane to test the effectiveness of natural disaster preparedness activities.
Planting mangroves, constructing high-level shelters, building up reserve stocks of food and organizing evacuation exercises are all part of the game and involve actors such as ICRC delegates, village leaders, experts and volunteers.
As the hurricane strikes, the players have to evacuate the villagers.
At the end of the game tells us how many lives were saved.
Posters are key communication instruments in prevention initiatives.
The link between pictures and text makes the messages easy for everyone to understand.
The Museum’s collection of some 12,000 posters from more than 120 countries tells of the many different activities developed by the ICRC.
Nowadays, as the impact of global warming becomes clearer, the ICRC is increasingly involved in natural disaster preparedness.
The ICRC was very quick to perceive the role that the cinema could play in promoting its activities.
Some films focused on prevention – hygiene, epidemics and accidents.
Others on training volunteers in first aid or life saving.
While preventing illnesses and accidents is ancient history, the management of risks associated with natural disasters is a more recent development.
A workshop at the Haute école d’art et de design (Gèneve) was given a free hand to create new montages using more than 1,000 films from the Museum’s collection.
Above: Haute école d’art et de design, Genève
Prevention is first and foremost about saving lives.
A number of different measures can be taken to provide protection: building shelters, installing early warning systems, carrying out evacuation exercises and providing hygiene education.
All these activities mobilize the local communities and the humanitarian organizations.
They sometimes call for substantial investment.
It is easy to raise funds during disasters when emotions are running high.
It is more difficult to raise funds for longer-term work.
Nonetheless, one dollar invested in prevention is two to ten dollars saved in emergency relief and reconstruction work.
All of this is brought into sharp focus by the three “théâtres optiques” (Cyclone, Tsunami and Latrines), created for the Museum by the French artist Pierrick Sorin.
Above: Pierrick Sorin
Let’s take, for example, Bangladesh.
Above: Flag of Bangladesh
In 1970, Cyclone Bhola caused one of the worst natural disasters in history.
A 10-metre high wave and winds of 220 km/hour caused the death of 500,000 people here.
A cyclone preparedness programme was then launched, which included an early warning system, the construction of shelters and the training of evacuation volunteers.
In November 2007, Cyclone Sidr, one of the most powerful ever recorded, hit parts of Bengal and Bangladesh, affecting nearly 9 million people and causing vast economic damage.
1.5 million people were evacuated before the Cyclone struck.
Although 3,500 people died, this number of deaths was far below the 1970 disaster.
Or let’s consider Brazil.
Above: Flag of Brazil
Infectious diarrhoea can affect people throughout the world.
It is most frequently caused by water that has been contaminated by faeces.
Around 2 million people die from diarrhoea every year, most of them children in developing countries.
In 2008 more than 2 billion individuals were without suitable latrines.
Almost half of them defecated in the open air.
In 1997, the authorities in Salvador de Bahia in Brazil launched a water purification programme in the city.
A university team monitored 2,000 children under the age of 3, most of whome were living in impoverished urban districts.
The results showed that water purification had a direct impact on health:
The overall number of cases of diarrhoea fell by 22% in the city and by 43% in the poorest areas.
Above: Images of Salvador de Bahia, Brazil
The Museum was never designed with the intention of casting blame or lavishing praise upon particular countries or particular individuals, but rather it shows the situations, both general and particular, in which the ICRC functions and to further a better understanding of what they do.
The ICRC aids victims, not on account of their particular nationality or their particular cause, but purely and simply because they are human beings who are suffering and are in need of help.
It strives to assuage all human distress which has no hope of effective aid from other sources.
The ICRC desires to relieve above all that suffering which is brought about by man, brought about by man’s inhumanity to man, and is more painful on that account and more difficult to relieve.
The most terrible form of man’s inhumanity to man is war and that is why the idea of the Red Cross was born in the field of battle.
The Red Cross is a third front above and across two belligerent fronts, a third front directed against neither of them but for the benefit of both.
The combatants in this third front are interested only in the suffering of the defenceless human being, irrespective of his nationality, his convictions or his past.
The ICRC fights wherever they can against all inhumanity, against every degradation of the human personality, against all injustice directed against the defenceless.
These neutrals on this humanitarian front are free of the prejudice and hostility which is so natural to men engaged in warfare.
The dominant idea and the essence of the Geneva Convention is equality of treatment for all sick and wounded persons whether they are friends or enemies.
It is the fulfilment of the cry of Solferine:
Siamo tutti fratelli.
We are all brothers.
The Museum is a living embodiment of that humanitarian adventure.
It is an edifice of humanity working for humanity.
And it is good.
Sources: Wikipedia / Google / Lonely Planet Switzerland / Rough Guide to Switzerland / Red Cross Museum, The Humanitarian Adventure / The International Committee of the Red Cross, Basic Rules of the Geneva Conventions and their Additional Protocols / Dr. Marcel Junod, Warrior without Weapons
Portugal’s most famous musical form, fado (Portuguese for “fate“) is urban music, of night and bars, of a yearning that is beautiful and melancholic, accompanied by guitarra and viola.
Above: Fado, José Malhoa (1910)
To the south, fado is feminine.
But in the north, fado is a man’s music, full of lusty lyrics and soaring vocals, and usually the most memorable fado of all is performed by the least advertised, the most anonymous, performer of all, where one’s identity is overwhelmed by one’s soul.
Fado is to the Portuguese soul as rich, deep and satisfying as a cup of Portuguese coffee or a glass of Porto port.
Fado is played on the radio, on buses, in taxis, cafés and restaurants, on TV and drifting down darkened streets from shadowy clubs.
Fado is fate and how fate has foiled the lover in love and in life.
Fado is the homeland that is missed or the longing for a lover that has left.
To sing fado, the singer must become fadista with an attitude that cries out:
“I am a pessimist, a nihilist and everything that fado demands from me is me.”
It is the mourning of a devil cast out of heaven, a broken heart beyond repair, a spirit beyond redemption….
What the hell was she thinking?
This is a question that American Catholic theologians are asking J.K. Rowling the creator of the Harry Potter franchise….
Above: Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, Washington DC – the largest enclosed church building in the world
Religious debates over the Harry Potter series of books by J. K. Rowling are based on claims that the novels contain occult or Satanic subtexts.
A number of Protestant, Catholic and Orthodox Christians have argued against the series, as have some Shia and Sunni Muslims.
Above: The Kaaba, Mecca, Saudi Arabia – the Muslim destination of pilgrimage
Supporters of the series have said that the magic in Harry Potter bears little resemblance to occultism, being more in the vein of fairy tales such as Cinderella and Snow White, or to the works of C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien, both of whom are known for writing fantasy novels with Christian subtexts.
Far from promoting a particular religion, some argue, the Harry Potter novels go out of their way to avoid discussing religion at all.
However, the author of the series, J. K. Rowling, describes herself as a practising Christian, and many have noted the Christian references which she includes in the final novel Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
In the United States, calls for the books to be banned from schools have led to legal challenges often on the grounds that witchcraft is a government-recognised religion and that to allow the books to be held in public schools violates the separation of church and state.
The Orthodox church of Bulgaria and a diocese of the Orthodox Church of Greece have also campaigned against the series, and some Catholic writers and officials have voiced a critical stance.
Above: Patriarchal Cathedral of St. George, Istanbul (Constantinople)
The books have been banned from all schools in the United Arab Emirates.
Above: Flag of the United Arab Emirates
Religious responses to Harry Potter have not all been negative.
Rowling notes:
“At least as much as they’ve been attacked from a theological point of view the books have been lauded and taken into pulpit, and most interesting and satisfying for me, it’s been by several different faiths.“
Above: J.K. Rowling, 2010
From The Times, 3 December 2018
The Harry Potter books gave birth to a global franchise, provided steady work to grateful British actors and created millions of new readers, convinced of the magical properties of a good book.
Above: Crowd outside a bookshop awaiting the midnight release of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
They also created a generation of Americans who are more likely to believe that they are possessed by the Devil, with Catholic priests reporting that they are overwhelmed with requests to perform exorcisms.
“When I was appointed 13 years ago, I probably received maybe 100 inquiries a year.“, said Vincent Lampert, the official exorcist for the Archdiocese of Indianapolis.
“Now I receive about 1,700 inquiries a year.”
He thinks the Harry Potter books and films, which spurred a broad interest in magic, are partly to blame.
“Magic is the focus on the individual, rather than having to deal with God.“, he said.
It encouraged “the belief that somehow the power is within them.
Even within the world of exorcism, the premise would be that God is not a bystander.
God is the main actor.”
Priests who conduct exorcisms say occult practices and symbols can serve as doorways for a demon.
The Harry Potter books “disarmed Americans from thinking that all magic is darkness“, one unnamed exorcist recently told The Atlanticmagazine.
Above: St. Francis Borgia performing an exorcism, Goya
Adam Jortner, a historian of religion in American life at Auburn University, Alabama, said it was not the first time that members of the church had feared the influence of children’s books.
“The church had a go at C.S. Lewis for the Narnia books, a powerful allegory of Christianity itself.“, he said.
Jortner agreed that interest in the occult had grown.
“Harry Potter is responsible for mainstreaming magic.“, he said.
Exorcism had a clear history within the church and it sought to treat magic with respect.
He added:
“The Catholic church has some of the most stringent rules about exorcism in the world.
Most Catholic exorcists are required to go through this long list of things to ensure that it is not a neurological problem.”
Father Lampert said that all who sought his help were required to undergo an assessment by a medical professional, which ended most applications….
Above: St. Francis exorcising the demons of Arezzo, Giotto
When I read an article like this I am shocked to find that this sort of folly is taken seriously.
Putting aside for the moment the question of the existence of God, for which the largest defence is that God’s non-existence cannot be proven, and grasping with the notion that God possesses a team (angels) to battle another team (demons) led by His most bitter opponent (the Devil), then to further suggest that demons possess people….
This pushes rational credibility.
But then to blame the author of a series of children’s books for the rise in exorcism applications is utter poppycock in my opinion.
To play the Catholic advocate for a moment it can certainly be argued that children are gullible, easily influenced and misled.
But it insults the intelligence of our young people to suggest that they cannot discern the difference between a clever storyline and reality.
Could they believe in magic?
Sure, for there is much about existence that is difficult to explain.
But it stretches my incredulity that children, those poor deluded Muggles, would assume from a story that they too possess magical powers as the alumni and staff of Hogwarts do.
Above: Model of Hogwarts, Warner Bros. Studio, Leavesden, England
Nonetheless, let us humour these men of the cloth for a moment….
Let us imagine (if that is even possible) that Harry Potter leads to the need for exorcism.
Over the years, some religious people, particularly Christians, have decried Rowling’s books for supposedly promoting witchcraft.
Rowling identifies as a Christian.
She once said:
“I believe in God, not magic.”
Early on, she felt that if readers knew of her Christian beliefs they would be able to predict plot lines of characters in her books.
In 2007, Rowling said she was the only one in her family who went regularly to church.
She was an adherent of the Church of England.
As a student she became annoyed at the “smugness of religious people” and attended less often.
Later, she started to attend a Church of Scotland congregation at the time she was writing Harry Potter.
Her eldest daughter, Jessica, was baptised there.
Above: Logo of the Church of Scotland
In a 2006 interview with Tatler magazine, Rowling noted:
“Like Graham Greene, my faith is sometimes about if my faith will return.
It’s important to me.”
Above: Graham Greene (1904 – 1991)
She has said that she has struggled with doubt, that she believes in an afterlife and that her faith plays a part in her books.
In a 2012 radio interview, she said that she was a member of the Scottish Episcopal Church, a province of the Anglican Communion.
In 2015, following the referendum on same-sex marriage in Ireland, Rowling joked that if Ireland legalised same-sex marriage, Dumbledore (Headmaster of Hogwarts) and Gandalf (of the Lord of the Rings series) could get married there.
Above: Flag of the Republic of Ireland
The Westboro Baptist Church, in response, stated that if the two got married, they would picket.
Rowling responded:
“Alas, the sheer awesomeness of such a union in such a place would blow your tiny bigoted minds out of your thick sloping skulls.“
Above: Westboro Baptist Church, Topeka, Kansas
Is Rowling then guilty of intellectual or spiritual manslaughter by unintentionally killing children’s beliefs in God?
Or taking the concept to its ultimate crazy extreme….
Was this death of the divine within our children pre-meditated by Ms. Rowling?
Is she guilty of spiritual murder?
To answer this question with any certainty we must ask ourselves how and why did Rowling write the Harry Potter series.
To answer this question, come with me, back in time, both in Rowling’s past and my own….
Joanne Rowling (born 31 July 1965), better known by her pen name J. K. Rowling, is a British author, film producer, television producer, screenwriter, and philanthropist.
Above: J.K. Rowling, 1999
She is best known for writing the Harry Potter fantasy series, which has won multiple awards and sold more than 500 million copies, becoming the best-selling book series in history.
The books are the basis of a popular film series, over which Rowling had overall approval on the scripts and was a producer on the final films.
She also writes crime fiction under the name Robert Galbraith.
Born in Yate, Gloucestershire, Rowling was working as a researcher and bilingual secretary for Amnesty International when she conceived the idea for the Harry Potter series while on a delayed train from Manchester to London in 1990.
The seven-year period that followed saw the death of her mother, birth of her first child, divorce from her first husband, and relative poverty until the first novel in the series, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, was published in 1997.
There were six sequels, of which the last, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, was released in 2007.
Since then, Rowling has written five books for adult readers: The Casual Vacancy (2012) and—under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith—the crime fiction Cormoran Strike series, which consists of The Cuckoo’s Calling (2013), The Silkworm (2014), Career of Evil (2015), and Lethal White (2018).
Rowling has lived a “rags to riches” life in which she progressed from living on benefits to being the world’s first billionaire author.
She lost her billionaire status after giving away much of her earnings to charity but remains one of the wealthiest people in the world.
She is the UK’s best-selling living author, with sales in excess of £238 million.
The 2016 Sunday Times Rich List estimated Rowling’s fortune at £600 million, ranking her as the joint 197th richest person in the UK.
Time named her a runner-up for its 2007 Person of the Year, noting the social, moral and political inspiration she has given her fans.
In October 2010, Rowling was named the “Most Influential Woman in Britain” by leading magazine editors.
She has supported multiple charities, including Comic Relief, One Parent Families, and Multiple Sclerosis Society of Great Britain, as well as launching her own charity, Lumos.
Joanne Rowling was born in Yate, Gloucestershire, the daughter of science technician Anne (née Volant) and Rolls-Royce aircraft engineer Peter James Rowling.
Above: View of Yate, Gloucestershire, England
Her parents first met on a train departing from King’s Cross Station bound for Arbroath in 1964.
They married on 14 March 1965.
One of Rowling’s maternal great-grandfathers, Dugald Campbell, was a Scottish man from Lamlash.
Her mother’s French paternal grandfather, Louis Volant, was awarded the War Cross for exceptional bravery in defending the village of Courcelles-le-Comte during World War I.
Rowling originally believed Volant had won the Legion of Honour during the war, as she said when she received it herself in 2009.
She later discovered the truth when featured in an episode of the UK genealogy series Who Do You Think You Are? in which she found out it was a different Louis Volant who won the Legion of Honour.
When she heard her grandfather’s story of bravery and discovered that the War Cross was for “ordinary” soldiers like her grandfather, who had been a waiter, she stated the War Cross was “better” to her than the Legion of Honour.
Rowling’s sister Dianne was born at their home when Rowling was 23 months old.
The family moved to the nearby village Winterbourne when Rowling was four.
As a child, Rowling often wrote fantasy stories which she frequently read to her sister.
Above: Duck pond, Winterbourne, Gloucestershire
Aged nine, Rowling moved to Church Cottage in the Gloucestershire village of Tutshill, close to Chepstow, Wales.
Above: Church Cottage, Tutshill, Gloucestershire
When she was a young teenager, her great-aunt gave her a copy of Jessica Mitford’s autobiography, Hons and Rebels.
Mitford became Rowling’s heroine and Rowling read all of her books.
Rowling has said that her teenage years were unhappy.
Her home life was complicated by her mother’s diagnosis with multiple sclerosis and a strained relationship with her father, with whom she is not on speaking terms.
Rowling later said that she based the character of Hermione Granger on herself when she was eleven.
Above: Emma Watson as Hermione Granger, poster for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Sean Harris, her best friend in the Upper Sixth, owned a turquoise Ford Anglia which she says inspired a flying version that appeared in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
Like many teenagers, she became interested in rock music, listening to the Clash, the Smiths and Siouxsie Sioux, adopting the look of the latter with back-combed hair and black eyeliner, a look that she would still sport when beginning university.
Above: Siouxsie Sioux, 1980
As a child, Rowling attended St Michael’s Primary School, a school founded by abolitionist William Wilberforce and education reformer Hannah More.
Her headmaster at St Michael’s, Alfred Dunn, has been suggested as the inspiration for the Harry Potter headmaster Albus Dumbledore.
Above: Richard Harris (1930 – 2002) as Albus Dumbledore in Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone and Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
She attended secondary school at Wyedean School and College, where her mother worked in the science department.
Steve Eddy, her first secondary school English teacher, remembers her as “not exceptional” but “one of a group of girls who were bright, and quite good at English“.
Rowling took A-levels in English, French and German, achieving two As and a B, and was Head Girl.
Above: Logo of Wyeburn School, Sedbury, Gloucestershire
In 1982, Rowling took the entrance exams for Oxford University but was not accepted and earned a BA in French and Classics at the University of Exeter.
Martin Sorrell, a French professor at Exeter, remembers “a quietly competent student, with a denim jacket and dark hair, who, in academic terms, gave the appearance of doing what was necessary“.
Rowling recalls doing little work, preferring to read Dickens and Tolkien.
After a year of study in Paris, Rowling graduated from Exeter in 1986.
In 1988, Rowling wrote a short essay about her time studying Classics titled “What was the Name of that Nymph Again? or Greek and Roman Studies Recalled“.
It was published by the University of Exeter’s journal Pegasus.
After working as a researcher and bilingual secretary in London for Amnesty International, Rowling moved with her then boyfriend to Manchester, where she worked at the Chamber of Commerce.
In 1990, while she was on a four-hour-delayed train trip from Manchester to London, the idea for a story of a young boy attending a school of wizardry “came fully formed” into her mind.
When she had reached her Clapham Junction flat, she began to write immediately.
Above: Clapham Junction Railway Station
In December, Rowling’s mother, Anne, died after ten years suffering from multiple sclerosis.
Rowling was writing Harry Potter at the time and had never told her mother about it.
Her mother’s death heavily affected Rowling’s writing and she channelled her own feelings of loss by writing about Harry’s own feelings of loss in greater detail in the first book.
An advertisement in The Guardian led Rowling to move to Porto, Portugal, to teach English as a foreign language.
JK Rowling moved to Porto in 1991.
Above: Porto
This was a difficult time in her life, as her mother had recently passed away after a long battle with multiple sclerosis.
And to rub salt in the wound, her house in Manchester had been burgled, and everything her mother had left her was stolen.
Eager for a change of scenery, she accepted a job teaching English as a second language in Porto at a private language school on Avenida de Fernão de Magalhães called Encounter English.
Rowling spent her evenings teaching English to young teenagers, business people and housewives and spent her days working on the manuscript of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.
The time Rowling spent in Portugal was in many ways a dark and painful period of her life, and one that she rarely talks about.
For this reason, it’s hard to know for sure exactly which elements of the Harry Potter saga were inspired by her experiences in Porto.
Nevertheless, the influence is clearly there.
Many people have speculated that Rowling took inspiration from certain Porto landmarks, shops and cafés.
Some of these supposed inspiration locations almost certainly did inspire her, while others require a stretch of the imagination.
Rowling may have been subconsciously influenced by them, even if she didn’t recognize it at the time.
She taught English-as-a-foreign language at the Encounter English School at night and began writing in the day while listening to Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto.
Above: Pyotr Tchaikovsky (1840 – 1893)
After 18 months in Porto, she met Portuguese journalist Jorge Arantes at a café and found they shared an interest in Jane Austen.
Arantes would later tell London’s Daily Express newspaper the story of his whirlwind romance and doomed marriage to the then-unknown Joanne Rowling.
Above: Jorge Arrantes
It was a sexually passionate relationship that ended in violence and bitterness.
She was a 25-year-old teacher, he was a 23-year-old journalism student.
He spotted her drinking with some friends in a café, was drawn to her piercing, aquamarine eyes and tried to pick her up.
“Immediately there was a connection between us.“, Arrantes said.
“Joanne could not speak any Portuguese, but my English was good.
We both realized we had a great deal in common with our love of books.
I remember her saying she was re-reading Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, which I had also read.”
Arrantes said she told him about an affair she had had with another Portuguese man and about a love affair with a man in England.
When the night ended, they exchanged telephone numbers – and a kiss.
Two days later, he said, they had their first date – and ended up in bed.
“Before we knew what was happening, she was back at my flat and we spent the night together.
There was nothing sordid about it.
We were simply two young, independent people enjoying life.
After that night, Joanne and I saw each other two or three times a week.
It was an intense and passionate relationship.”
It was also tempestous.
Their frenetic lovemaking was punctuated with furious arguments.
“We were always either in Heaven or in Hell.”
They moved into his mother’s apartment, a shabby two-bedroom flat with a tiny kitchen, on Rua do Duque de Saldanha.
Above: Entry to Arantes flat, Rua do Duque de Saldanha, Porto
Arantes later claimed he had helped her come up with ideas for the Harry Potter novels, though she denies this.
Among the belongings she brought to their home, according to Arantes, was a well-thumbed copy of J.R.R. Tolkien’s classic The Lord of the Rings.
Several months later, Joanne discovered she was pregnant.
It was unplanned and both were afraid of the responsibilities parenthood might bring.
According to Arantes, Rowling began writing her first Harry Potter book during this pregnancy.
She kept her writing secret for a time, then showed her work in progress to Arantes.
“I am proud to say that I was the first person to read about Harry Potter.
It was obvious to me straight away that this was the work of a genius.
I can still remember telling Joanne:
‘Whoa! I am in love with a great, great writer.’
Even in those days, Joanne had a great talent for structure.
I never doubted it would be a success.”
Arantes says they discussed the stories, which Rowling found helpful.
“We studied each other’s work and made suggestions.
When I told Joanne to change something, she would usually make an alteration.”
He claims she had planned the full series of seven books, because she believed the number 7 has magical associations.
But just as they had begun to look forward to the birth of their child, tragedy struck.
Joanne miscarried.
They married on 16 October 1992 and their child, Jessica Isabel Rowling Arantes (named after Jessica Mitford), was born on 27 July 1993 in Portugal.
Above: Joanne and Jorge Arantes with baby Jessica
Two months after Jessica’s birth, Arantes admits, he ordered Joanne out of their apartment.
“She refused to go without Jessica and, despite my saying she could come back for her in the morning, there was a violent struggle.
I had to drag her out of the house at 5 in the morning and I admit I slapped her very hard in the street.”
The couple separated on 17 November 1993.
Biographers have suggested that Rowling suffered domestic abuse during her marriage, although the extent is unknown.
In December 1993, Rowling and her then infant daughter moved to Edinburgh, Scotland, to be near Rowling’s sister with three chapters of what would become Harry Potter in her suitcase.
Seven years after graduating from university, Rowling saw herself as a failure.
Her marriage had failed and she was jobless with a dependent child, but she described her failure as liberating and allowing her to focus on writing.
During this period, Rowling was diagnosed with clinical depression and contemplated suicide.
Her illness inspired the characters known as Dementors, soul-sucking creatures introduced in the third book.
Rowling signed up for welfare benefits, describing her economic status as being “poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain without being homeless.”
Rowling was left in despair after her estranged husband arrived in Scotland, seeking both her and her daughter.
She obtained an Order of Restraint and Arantes returned to Portugal, with Rowling filing for divorce in August 1994.
She began a teacher training course in August 1995 at the Moray House School of Education, at Edinburgh University, after completing her first novel while living on state benefits.
She wrote in many cafés, especially Nicolson’s Café (owned by her brother-in-law) and the Elephant House, wherever she could get Jessica to fall asleep.
Meanwhile Arantes’ life was falling apart.
He lost his job as a television journalist and descended into a nightmare of drug addiction.
His 70-year-old mother, Marilia Rodrigues, told the London Daily Mailthat Arantes stole family heirlooms and jewellery to feed his drug habit.
“He still loved her very much and was heartbroken when they parted.“, Rodrigues said.
“He still believes they could get together again and he would take her back at the drop of a hat.
He just wants her and his daughter.”
Arantes says he has recovered from his drug addiction and lives in a small apartment in the Paris suburb of Clichy with his brother Justino, a travel agent.
Rowling rarely talks about her first marriage, but once told the Times of London:
“I married on 16 October 1992.
I left on 17 November 1993.
So that was the duration of what I considered to be the marriage.
Obviously, you do not leave a marriage after that very short period of time unless there are serious problems.
I’m not the kind of person who bales out without there being serious problems.
My relationship before that lasted seven years.
I’m a long-term girl.
And I had a baby with this man.
But it didn’t work.
And it was clear to me that it was time to go, and so I went.
I never regretted it.”
In a 2001 BBC interview, Rowling denied the rumour that she wrote in local cafés to escape from her unheated flat, pointing out that it had heating.
One of the reasons she wrote in cafés was that taking her baby out for a walk was the best way to make her fall asleep.
In 1995, Rowling finished her manuscript for Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stonewhich was typed on an old manual typewriter.
Upon the enthusiastic response of Bryony Evens, a reader who had been asked to review the book’s first three chapters, the Fulham-based Christopher Little Literary Agency agreed to represent Rowling in her quest for a publisher.
The book was submitted to twelve publishing houses, all of which rejected the manuscript.
A year later she was finally given the green light by editor Barry Cunningham from Bloomsbury, a publishing house in London.
The decision to publish Rowling’s book owes much to Alice Newton, the eight-year-old daughter of Bloomsbury’s chairman, who was given the first chapter to review by her father and immediately demanded the next.
Although Bloomsbury agreed to publish the book, Cunningham says that he advised Rowling to get a day job, since she had little chance of making money in children’s books.
Harry Potter is now a global brand worth an estimated US$15 billion and the last four Harry Potter books have consecutively set records as the fastest-selling books in history.
The series, totalling 4,195 pages, has been translated, in whole or in part, into 65 languages.
The Harry Potter books have also gained recognition for sparking an interest in reading among the young at a time when children were thought to be abandoning books for computers and television, although it is reported that despite the huge uptake of the books, adolescent reading has continued to decline.
On 26 December 2001, Rowling married Neil Murray (born 1971), a Scottish doctor, in a private ceremony at her home, Killiechassie House in Scotland.
Their son, David Gordon Rowling Murray, was born on 24 March 2003.
Above: Joanne and Neil Murray
Shortly after Rowling began writing Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, she ceased working on the novel to care for David in his early infancy.
Rowling’s youngest child, daughter Mackenzie Jean Rowling Murray, to whom she dedicated Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, was born on 23 January 2005.
Regarding Jessica’s career, she can best be described as an Instagram model who posts beautiful photos of herself as well as videos with her family and friends.
Jessica started her Instagram account in 2013 and instantly started sharing photos.
She has now managed to gather almost 7,000 followers.
Apart from that, Jessica owns a clothing line called Jc.closefit.
She also loves travelling and taking photos while on her exotic tours.
Above: Jessica Arantes
Rowling’s life in Portugal clearly influenced aspects of the books:
Many of Potter’s spells can be easily understood by Portuguese speakers:
aguamenti (bring out water)
duro (make things hard)
protego (protect people)
silencio (to silence people)
One of Hogwart’s founding professors was Salazar Slytherin.
Dr. António de Oliveira Salazar was Portugal’s notorious dictator for much of the 20th century.
Above: António de Oliveira Salazar (1889 – 1970)
There are also many similarities between Porto’s most colourful buildings and elements of Hogwarts, and as my wife (Ute) and I explored the city of Porto, I found myself trying to imagine Joanne Rowling’s life pre-Harry Potter fame and fortune.
I also found myself marvelling at her choice of a dictator’s name for one of the school’s founders.
Was her deciding to take the name of Salazar suggesting that despite his nature he was partially responsible for making the place possible?
Without a Salazar could it have become what it eventually became?
Rowling’s relationship with Arantes did not end well though their union resulted in Jessica’s birth.
Perhaps Arantes was Rowling’s Salazar?
Perhaps the rumours of domestic violence are true, but perhaps Arantes’s claims of inspiring Rowling’s ideas are also credible.
What would Porto, through a Rowling lens, tell me about writing and inspiration?
What would it tell me about myself?
Above: Images of Porto
Porto, Portugal, Thursday 26 July 2018
There are a number of sites in Porto frequently mentioned on Potterhead blogs that my mentioning will surprise no one.
The only difference I can offer is my perspective of them.
I shall briefly list them here and then offer my perspective:
Livraria Lello
Escovaria de Belomonte
Universidade do Porto
Café Majestic
Fonte dos Leones
Torre dos Clerigos
The Livraria Lello, Porto’s famous galleried Art Nouveau bookshop, with its neo-Gothic exterior and inner staircase just begging for a grand entrance, is a visual delight beyond words.
It was founded by the well-to-do Lello intellectual brothers in 1906 and specialized in limited edition books – many of which are still here.
The brothers now appear as bas-reliefs on the walls, alongside busts of great writers, including Eca de Queiroz and Miguel Cervantes.
The Lellos commissioned an engineer and fellow bibliophile Francisco Xavier Esteves to design the interior, which is simply stunning.
The ground level even has rails set into the floor for transporting book “carriages“.
The impressive double, freestanding staircase (actually made of concrete) lures people upstairs where you can admire the extraordinary plasterwork ceiling, which resembles ornately carved wood.
Columns and a stained glass roof light add to the air of something far grander than a bookshop, the whole design having an almost organic feel, as if the walls and ceiling are the ribs and bones of a living creature.
The first floor was the traditional meeting point of artists and intellectuals and was frequented by Rowling during her time in Porto in the 1990s.
It is this, and the similiarity of the shop’s decor to some of Hogwarts’ more outlandish design characteristics, that has put the bookshop firmly on the tourist circuit, with up to 4,000 people visiting daily.
There are often queues to get in, but if you come first thing in the morning or in the evening shortly before closing time, you may be able to experience the place more as a bookshop than a tourist site.
Porto’s famous galleried Art Nouveau shop has become a tourist site in its own right, but behind the crowds this still remains one of the city’s best bookshops.
There’s general fiction on the ground floor (including the Harry Potter stories in many languages), much of it in English, with reference and non-fiction (including travel) on the upper floor.
You can also find rare editions of Portuguese books.
Look out for the original till, made in 1881, the first in Portugal to issue paper receipts and with prices in reis (the currency before the escudo and the euro).
You get your €5.00 entry fee back on any purchase.
In 1869, the Livraria Internacional de Ernesto Chardron was founded, from a shop on Rua dos Clérigos by the Frenchman Ernesto Chardron.
Following its founder’s death, at the age of 45, the firm was sold to Lugan & Genelioux Sucessores.
Alternately, in 1881, José Lello along with his brother-in-law created the firm David Pereira & Lello.
But, the following year, after the death of David Lourenço Pereira, the establishment began to be operated as José Pinto de Sousa Lello & Irmão, when he partnered with his younger brother (António Lello).
The brothers both became prominent members of Porto’s intellectual bourgeoisie by the turn of the century.
The brothers hired engineer Francisco Xavier Esteves (1864-1944) to construct the new bookstore on Rua das Carmelitas.
In 1906, the Livraria Lello was inaugurated.
By 1919, the bookstore was simply designated as the Lello & Irmão, Lda.
With the 1930 addition of José Pereira da Costa, the bookstore began to be known simply as Livraria Lello.
But, between 1930 and 1940, it once again became designated Lello & Irmão.
Beginning in July 2015, the bookstore began requesting entrance fees for visitors.
On 21 April 2016, an artistic mural was erected to conceal the scaffolding placed on the facade of the building, during its restoration, by graffiti writer Dheo and colleague Pariz One.
Dheo painted the central area of the mural with a pile of old books, a lit candle and a bottle of Port wine, while the rest was painted by Pariz One with geometric shapes, referring to the stained glass inside the bookstore.
The work took two months to produce.
On 31 July, following the restoration, the main facade of the building was uncovered, showing the laboratory-tested recovered primitive gray.
There is no denying that the woodwork and the glass art and the red winding staircase do make the Livraria Lello a beautiful place to visit and certainly there is a good case to argue that Hogwarts’ moving staircases and the interior of the Diagon Alley bookstore Flourish and Blogs were inspired by the Livraria.
Above: Hogwarts’ moving staircases
But therein lies the problem.
It attracts too many tourists and it knows it.
As a passionate bibliophile I certainly admire the architecture, but for me a bookshop should in some ways resemble a library, a sanctuary of literature, a temple of tomes, rather than a marketplace for mobs.
A person cannot linger in any one spot too long before some impatient patron will jostle and push you about the place.
One could make a grand entrance if the store were a little less crowded, but one loses one’s regal bearing very quickly after enduring long queues to get in, for the indignity of paying an entrance fee just to view the shop, down each and every aisle, up and down the staircase, and at the cash register….
This is not the place for those who dislike crowds in enclosed spaces.
And though the Livraria does offer rare Portuguese books I am not so certain the Lello brothers would have liked the changes that time and fame have wrought, for as wonderful as it is to see people eagerly seeking books to read in this awkward age of automation and animation, a sense of intellectualism no longer pervades this establishment.
The place feels like a souvenir shop at one of Walt Disney’s magic kingdoms of artificiality than it does a sacred reminder of Portugal’s literary past.
Above: Disney World, Orlando, Florida
I doubt the American tourists who came to or left the Livraria had any conception of, or compassion for, the existence of a Portuguese literary history.
For the place is populated with Potterheads and nothing else seems to matter.
But suggesting such sacrilege to these Rowling fanatics is akin to being Cervantes’ Don Quixote tilting at thick stone windmills.
Pointlessly defending an honour long gone.
The Livrario made me think of St. Gallen’s Stiftbibliothek (Abbey Library) with its hefty admission fee and cramped interior when crowds congregate.
It is my hope that Rowling (or those of her ilk) never visit the Abbey Library and over-popularize the place with their writing, for the Library at least still maintains an aura of the sacred which the Livrario has long ago lost.
Above: The Abbey Library of St. Gallen
I was seeking a Porto version of Paris’ Shakespeare & Co., but got instead an amusement park souvenir shop.
It was worth a visit for the heart but at a cost to the mind and soul.
The Escovaria de Belomonte (Brushes of Belomonte), founded by Antonio da Silva on 29 January 1927, is not, at present, part of guidebook description, but it is most definitively part of Potter lore and appears on every blog where Rowling and Porto are mentioned in the same breath.
Though the Escovaria de Belomonte has only existed for 82 years, they excel in the manufacture and restoration of industrial brushes.
Why buy new brushes when you can have your old ones renewed?
The Escovaria de Belomonte replenishes and renews any type of brush.
They create brushes for every kind of customized applications for all types of industries, including industrial factories, textile production, footwear producers, jewelry stores, cast moulding manufacturers, grinding establishments, water treatment plants, car washes, typographical firms, gastronomy, and the list goes on….
They make any and every kind of brush and broom.
Whatever your needs, Escovaria de Belomonte will help you find a solution.
The handsome Belomonte brooms with their rustic luxurious look, many of them hanging from the store ceiling, handmade with high-quality wood and natural fibres, bear a striking resemblance to Harry Potter’s flying broom, the Nimbus 2000.
It has also been suggested that the name of Harry Potter that graces the front cover of every Potter novel bears a striking resemblance to the lettering and design of Escovaria de Belomonte‘s street sign.
Visually it is a great store to visit, but I wonder whether Potterheads actually make a purchase here.
There is no entrance fee and I am certain the place is much photographed by Potterheads, but whether the Escovaria is pleased with being a tourist attraction more than a serious business establishment is debatable.
It has been suggested by Potterhead blogs that the outfit worn by Universidade do Porto (University of Porto) students was the inspiration for the outfits that Hogwarts students were required to wear during academic hours.
The wife and I were not able to fit in a visit to the University, saw no one on the streets dressed in such attire and found very few photos of students dressed in this manner.
What can be said about the University:
Founded on 22 March 1911, it is the 2nd largest Portuguese university by enrolled students (after the University of Lisbon) and has one of the most noted research outputs in Portugal.
It is ranked among the best Portuguese universities, is among the 100 universities in Europe and ranked 328th of the best 400 universities in the world.
Today, about 28,000 students (11,000 postgraduates) attend the programmes and courses provided by the University of Porto’s 15 schools (13 faculties, a biomedical sciences institute and a business school) each with a considerable degree of autonomy.
It offers 63 graduate degree courses, over 160 master courses and several doctoral degree courses and other specialization courses, supported by 2,300 lecturers and a technical and administrative staff of over 1,600 people.
Of those who can call themselves alumni or staff of the University are:
Richard Zimler (journalist / writer / professor)
Julio Dinis (1839 – 1871)(writer)
Jorge de Sena (1919 – 1978)(doctor / writer)
José Neves (billionaire businessman / founder of Farfetch)
Marisa Ferreira (artist)
Camilo Castelo Bianco (1825 – 1890)(writer)
Agostinho da Silva (1906 – 1994)(writer)
(This last mentioned I find inspirational:
“What you need, above all, is to not remember what I said.
Never think for me.
Think always for yourself.
Be sure that all your mistakes that you commit are, according to your own thinking and deciding, all more valuable than all your correct actions made according to my thinking, not yours.
If the Creator wanted to put us together we perhaps couldn’t have two different bodies and two different heads.
My counselling should serve you to confront it.
It is possible that, after this confrontation, you come to think like me, but, at this time, your thought is yours.
My disciples, if I have any, are the ones who oppose me, because in their deep soul they guard what truly animates and what I most want to transmit to them.
The wish is to not conform.“)
Above: Agostinho da Silva
It is more likely that Rowling was inspired not by the University of Porto, but rather by the University of Coimbra – 1.5 hours south of Porto – whose students do indeed wear academic robes similiar to those of Hogwarts students.
We did not get to Coimbra.
We did not need to.
Above: University of Coimbra students in ceremonial robes
There are hundreds of places to eat and drink in Porto, from old town tascas and Art Nouveau cafés to riverfront designer restaurants.
Of these, the one place that attracts the Potterhead is the Café Majestic.
In 1916, Rua de Santa Catarina 12 was built on a paved shopping street.
Opened in 1921, the Café Elite was designed in Art Nouveau style.
The then Bohemian quarter of the city did not think the name “Elite” was appropriate as it was not part of the Zeitgeist that was the post-1910 revolutionary Portuguese Republic.
The coffee house was subsequently given the name it is still known by.
The Majestic became over time a place frequented by intellectuals and literary legends, including Gago Coutinho, Beatriz Costa, Júlio Resende, José Régio and Teixeira de Pascoaes.
(Carlos Viegas Gago Coutinho, generally known simply as Gago Coutinho (1869 – 1959) was a Portuguese geographer, cartographer, naval officer, historian and aviator.
An aviation pioneer, Gago Coutinho and Sacadura Cabral were the first to cross the South Atlantic Ocean by air, from March to June 1922, from Lisbon, Portugal, to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.)
Above: Coutinho (right) and Cabral (left) on the Lusitánia
(Beatriz Costa (born Beatriz da Conceição; 1907 – 1996) was a Portuguese actress, the best-known actress of the golden age of Portuguese cinema.)
Above: Beatriz Costa
(Júlio Resende is a Portuguese pianist and composer.
He is active as a jazz musician (both as a bandleader and as a sideman for other artists) and is also involved in the Fado scene, having recorded a solo piano tribute to Amália Rodrigues and collaborating with singers like António Zambujo, Ana Moura and Aldina Duarte.
He is also the leader of Alexander Search, a rock band fronted by Eurovision Song Contest 2017 winner Salvador Sobral and inspired by Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa.)
(José Maria dos Reis Pereira, better known by the pen name José Régio (1901 – 1969), was a Portuguese writer.
José Régio was the author of novels, plays, poetry and essays.
His works are strongly focused on the theme of conflict between man and God and between the individual and society, a critical analysis of solitude and human relations.)
Above: José Régio
(Joaquim Pereira Teixeira de Vasconcelos (1877 – 1952), better known by his pen name Teixeira de Pascoaes, was a Portuguese poet.
He was nominated five times for the Nobel Prize in Literature.)
Above: Painting of Teixeira de Pascoaes
In the 1960s, the Café experienced a decline, parallel to the increasingly repressive social situation of Portugal under the authoritarian regime of António de Oliveria Salazar’s Estado Novo (“New State“).
In 1992 the Barrias family decided to extensively restore the Majestic.
Using old photographs as their guide, the restoration was completed, a new floor laid and the Café reopened in 1994.
In the year prior to the commencement of the Majestic’s renovations, Rowling often visited the Café, writing her thoughts for her first Harry Potternovel on Majestic napkins.
The Majestic today is the best known of Porto’s belle époque cafés, with a perfectly preserved decor of celestial cherubs, bevelled mirrors, carved chairs and wood panelling.
Waiters float to the strains of The Blue Danube.
Come for coffee or afternoon tea as we did.
The Fountain of the Lions (Portuguese: Fonte dos Leões), is a 19th-century fountain built by French company Compagnie Générale des Eaux pour l’Etranger.
Cast by the Val d’Osne foundry in France, it is a copy, in most part, of the fountain in the Town Hall Square of Leicester, England.
The fountain is located in an urban, isolated location, within the gardened Praça de Gomes Teixeira.
The central fountain has a cruciform layout with a group of sculptures at the base supported by four seated lions on the extremes.
Between each lion, the axis of the source has a column with base, shaft and capital.
To top, two central, circular cups superimposed and staggered, with a pine cone surmounting all.
The octagonal shaped granite tank has rounded edges.
The outer profile of the tank walls is corrugated.
The edge of the lower plane bowl is outlined in relief by a frieze with plant elements interrupted only by four cornets from which water flows.
It is thought by Potterheads that this fountain inspired Rowling’s choice of logo for the House of Gryffindor at Hogwarts.
The Clérigos Church (Portuguese: Igreja dos Clérigos,”Church of the Clergymen“) is a Baroque church with its tall bell tower, the Torre dos Clérigos, seen from various points of the city and is one of Porto’s most characteristic symbols.
The main façade of the church is heavily decorated with baroque motifs (such as garlands and shells) and an indented broken pediment.
This was based on an early 17th-century Roman scheme.
The central frieze above the windows present symbols of worship and an incense boat.
The lateral façades reveal the almost elliptic floorplan of the church nave.
The Clérigos Church was one of the first baroque churches in Portugal to adopt a typical baroque elliptic floor plan.
The monumental tower of the church, located at the back of the building, was only built between 1754 and 1763.
The baroque decoration here also shows influence from the Roman Baroque, while the whole design was inspired by Tuscan campaniles.
The tower is 75.6 metres high, dominating the city.
There are 240 steps to be climbed to reach the top of its six floors.
This great structure has become the symbol of the city.
Did the Torre dos Clerigos inspire Hogwarts’ Astronomy Tower?
Potterheads like to think so.
At all of these sites, especially atop the Torre dos Clerigos, the visitor, headphones on, fado playing, can ponder how fado, Arantes, Rowling and yours truly all interconnect.
We have learned that Arantes probably abused Rowling as possibly did her father.
Fans who re-read Harry Potter as adults quickly realize that the behaviour of the Dursleys reads like child abuse: starvation, forced labour and confinement.
Starvation has been a stranger to me, but forced labour and confinement I did know.
In the Harry Potter series, more explicit abuse is described when Harry learns through a Pensieve memory that Severus Snape’s father beat his son and wife.
Porto is a Pensieve for me….
And then there is Rowling’s post-Potter writing….
In her novel The Casual Vacancy, Andrew is a restless teen who lives with his abusive, degrading father.
Rowling once told The New Yorker that Andrew represented her mindset as a teen, and although Andrew was not exactly based on her father, she said:
“I did not have an easy relationship with my father.”
Above: Andrew Price, The Casual Vacancy
Abuse also finds its way into Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
Credence has an adopted mother who hits him with a belt.
That resentment from his mother’s frequent beatings turns him into an Obscurial, a repressed being that the evil Gellert Grindelwald wants to use for dark magic.
Often, but certainly not always, children who were abused by their parents often abuse their children when they become parents.
Perhaps this was the case in the behaviour of Arantes.
And, lest we forget, why Rowling chose António de Oliveira Salazar as the inspiration for the repressive Hogwarts co-founder Salazar Slitherin….
One overriding criticism of Salazar’s regime is that stability was bought and maintained at the expense of suppression of human rights and liberties.
Abuse on a national level.
Under Salazar’s authoritarian rule, he brought stability and prosperity to Portugal, but at enormous cost: censorship, imprisonment and torture.
Above: Salazar, 1939
Arantes was born in 1967.
Salazar’s Estado Nova lasted from 1932 to 1974.
Arantes’ father knew abuse and repression and so would Arantes.
It is hard to sympathize with those that abuse unless we realize that they were probably a product of abuse themselves.
Arantes lost the mother of his child and his daughter as well.
In the quiet of night as Arantes lies in his solitary bed in his brother’s Clichy apartment fado music plays inside his head.
Arantes is a pessimist, a nihilist, alone, and forever known for his greatest failure:
Losing the world’s most famous novelist as his lover and the child they made together.
We quietly walk through the wonders of Porto.
Fado fills the streets.
Sadness of memory fills my soul.
And sits upon my shoulders like an invisibility cloak.
Above: Porto, night
Sources: Wikipedia / Google / Facebook / Pocket Rough Guide Porto / Lonely Planet Portugal / Rough Guide Portugal / Matthew Hancock, Xenophobe’s Guide to the Portuguese / A.H. de Oliveira Marques, A Very Short History of Portugal
To understand something alien to one’s self it becomes necessary to make time and effort to learn and study that which one does not already know.
I have often considered it a sign of wisdom and maturity when one does not only admit when one does not know something but as well makes no pretense that he does.
For the past year I have been following, as literally as possible, in the footsteps of Huldrych Zwingli, the Swiss Reformer, from his birthplace in Wildhaus to the site of his death in Kappel am Albis, using Yvonne and Marcel Steiner’s excellent guidebook, Zwingli-Wege: Zu Fuss von Wildhaus nach Kappel am Albis: Ein Wander- und Lesebuch.
(Please see:
Canada Slim and….
the Road to Reformation
the Wild Child of Toggenburg
the Thundering Hollows
the Basel Butterfly Effect
the Vienna Waltz
the Battle for Switzerland’s Soul
the Monks of the Dark Forest
the Privileged Place
the Lakeside Pilgrimage
the Family of Mann
the Anachronic Man
the Chocolate Factory of Unhappiness
….of this blog for an account of these adventures and discoveries.)
(Zwingli and Zürich are also mentioned in:
Canada Slim and….
the Rush for Reformation
the City of Spirits)
I have written of Zwingli’s life and my retracing of that life from Wildhaus to Kilchberg.
Above: Huldrych Zwingli (1484 – 1531)
In Canada Slim and the Rush for Reformation, I described a tour through Reformation-time Zürich that takes the reader to the most important places in Zwingli’s life and in those of his successors, starting at the Wasserkirche (Water Church) where the Zwingli Monument stands to the Rathaus (City Hall) where the political decisions of the Reformation were decided, for the Reformation was not only a transformation of church government but as well as civic government.
I visited and described my visit to the Wasserkirche and the Grossmünster with its Cloister where the Prophesy took place, the Zwingli Portal depicting 16 scenes from Zwingli’s life and Zwingli’s successor Heinrich Bullinger’s statue.
I visited the Haus zur Sel where Zwingli once lived and the Froschau Fountain named after Christoph Froschau, who had a major impact on the Reformation in Zürich.
I visited the Preacher’s Church, a former Dominician convent abolished in the Reformation that was first converted into a bread line for the poor and a hospital and then later the parish church of the neighhourhood of Niederdorf.
I saw the Schipfe where the first Anabaptist was martyred and St. Peter’s with Europe’s largest church tower clock.
I visited the Fraumünster and its amazing stained glass windows created by Marc Chagall.
I also visited the City Hall where religion and civic government met.
I came to the realization on 23 January 2018 that I could not make Zwingli’s actions, most significantly in Zürich, understandable, if I couldn’t explain why the Reformation actually matters, then and now.
So I went to Geneva (Genève) to finally see two Museums I had not as yet seen but had always wanted to see:
The International Museum of the Reformation
The International Red Cross Museum
Above: Musée Internationale de la Reforme, Geneva
Above: International Museum of the Red Cross and Red Crescent, Geneva
(The latter will appear in a future blog post.)
Genève, Suisse, Mardi le 23 Janvier 2018
The airy Musée International de la Reforme is housed in the handsome 18th century Maison Mallet, which backs onto the Cathedral.
The Museum explores the ideas behind 500 years of Protestantism, from early theological debates to the influential charismatic preachers who today lead many churches around the world.
State-of-the-art exhibits and audiovisuals bring to life everything from the earliest printed Bibles to the emergence of Geneva as “Protestant Rome” in the 16th century, from John Calvin all the way to the 21st century.
The causes that led to the break between Roman Catholicism and what came to be known as Protestantism are complex and are still in dispute.
Political economy, nationalism, Renaissance individualism, and a rising concern over ecclesiastical abuses all played their part.
They do not, however, camouflage the fact that the basic cause was theological, a difference in Christian perspective between Rome and those that did not share her views.
Above: St. Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City
This is what I learned from my tour of the Museum….
Above: The Calvin Room, International Museum of the Reformation
View the 16th century, when most of the events we now call the Reformation took place, as a vast tunnel.
The Western Church entered that tunnel whole and emerged from it in several sections, or movements of churches.
The two great enduring themes which split the Western Church apart were justification by faith and the principle of idolatry.
Faith, in the Protestant conception, is not simply a matter of belief – an acceptance of knowledge held with certainty to be true yet not based on evidence.
Faith is a response of the total self – a totality act of the whole personality.
As such it is not only a conviction of God’s limitless, omnipresent creative power, but as well it is a movement of the affections in love and trust and a decision of the will in a desire to be an instrument of God’s redeeming love.
When Protestants say that human beings are justified by faith, they are saying that faith requires a movement of the total self, in mind, will and affections.
It is a mark of the strength of the ecumenical movement in the 20th century that Roman Catholic theologians, including the present Pope Francis, now increasingly understand faith in the same way.
Above: Jorge Mario Bergoglio (aka Pope Francis)
Thus defined, faith is a personal phenomenon.
“Right beliefs” or “sound doctrine” can be accepted secondhand and largely by rote, but service and love cannot.
Faith is the response by which God becomes God for me, my God.
This is what Martin Luther meant when he said:
“Everyone must do his own believing as he will have to do his own dying.”
Above: Martin Luther (1483 – 1546)
To feel the force of the Protestant emphasis on faith as the response of the entire self, we need to see it as a passionate repudiation of religious perfunctoriness, the unthinking repetition of routine.
Luther’s protest against indulgences – a kind of “she’s buying a stairway to Heaven” – which were thought to help reduce the buyer’s time in Purgatory – is only a symbol of this wider protest.
No number of religious observances, no record of good deeds, no roster of doctrines believed, could guarantee that an individual would reach their desired state.
Though such things are not irrelevant to the Christian life, unless they help to transform the believer’s heart (his attitudes and response to life), these things were inadequate.
This is the meaning of the Protestant rallying cry:
“Justification by faith alone.”
It does not mean that creeds or sacraments are unimportant, but unless they are accompanied by the experience of God’s love and a returning love for God, they are insufficient.
The same goes for good works.
Creeds, sacraments and good works are the consequences of faith, not the prerequisites.
If one really has faith, good works will flow from it naturally.
The reverse cannot be assumed.
Good works do not necessarily lead to faith.
To a large extent both Paul and Luther had been driven to their emphasis on faith precisely because a respectable string of good works, doggedly performed, had not succeeded in transforming their hearts.
Above: Paul the Apostle, Rembrandt
The other controlling perspective in Protestantism, often called the Protestant Principle, comes to its conclusions in the following fashion:
Human allegiance belongs to God – this all religions will affirm.
God, however, is beyond nature and history.
While God is not removed from nature and history, the divine cannot be equated with either or any of these parts, for while the world is finite, God is infinite.
With these truths all the great religions agree.
But these truths are very hard to keep in mind.
So hard, in fact, that people continually let them slip and proceed to equate God with something they can see or touch or at least conceptualize more precisely than the infinite.
Early on mankind equated God with statues, until prophets (protesters on this score) rose up to denounce these substitutions.
Though much of mankind would stop deifying wood and Stone images, the secular world proceeded to absolutize the state or the self or human intellect, while Christians fell to absolutizing dogmas, the Sacraments, the Church, the Bible or personal religious experience.
Protestants don’t devalue these, but it does insist that none of them are God.
All, being involved in history, contain something of the human.
Since the human is always imperfect, then these instruments are also to some degree imperfect.
Therefore any human claim to absolute truth or finality must be rejected.
So, for example, Protestants cannot accept the dogma of papal infallibility because this would remove from criticism forever opinions that, having been channeled through human minds, can never wholly escape the risk of limitation and partial error.
Creeds and pronouncements can be believed, but to place them beyond the cleansing crossfire of challenge and criticism is to absolutize something finite to the position that should be reserved for God alone.
Protestants believe that God speaks to people through the Bible, but to elevate the Bible to a point beyond criticism is to insist that every word and letter was dictated directly by God and so can contain no historical, scientific or other inaccuracies, is to forget that in entering the world, God’s word must speak through human minds.
The problem with Protestantism is that this concept of the word of God speaking to each individual soul directly is that it creates two dangers:
First, there is the danger of misconstruing God’s word, for if all things human are imperfect, than each individual’s vision of God is limited and sometimes erroneous.
Second, each person derives a different individual truth, which explains why Protestantism has split into more than 900 different denominations in the United States alone.
To be fair, 85% of all Protestants belong to 12 denominations and considering the freedom of belief Protestantism affirms, the wonder is not the diversity that exists but the extent to which Protestants have managed to stay together at all.
The divisions that do exist in Protestantism are more a reflection of differing national origins or differing social groups rather than differing theologies.
And one could argue whether diversity is actually such a bad thing.
People and their historical circumstances create life-affecting differences that must be taken seriously.
New occasions teach new duties.
Protestants believe that life and history are too fluid to allow God’s redeeming word to be enclosed in a single form, whether it is doctrinal or institutional.
Though they take steps to mend differences that are no longer meaningful, they do not believe that people should congregate together just for comfort.
Protestants prefer precarious freedom to the security of doctrines or institutions that remain fallible.
It is their faith that, in the end, bolsters them.
Asked where he would stand if the Church excommunicated him, Luther replied:
“Under the sky.”
Above: Luther’s rose standard
Although the Reformation began during the 16th century, the need for reform within the Western Church had been felt already.
Several attempts for reform took place, especially during the 15th century, such as the one led by Jan Hus in Bohemia, which ended with his burning at the stake during the Council of Constance in 1415.
Above: Execution of Jan Hus, 1415
(Please see Canada Slim and the City of Broken Promises of this blog for the story of Jan Hus and the Council of Constance.)
Other Councils of this period tried to limit the abuses plaguing the Church, which seemed more concerned with its own temporal power than with the salvation of the faithful, but these measures did little more than the skim the surface.
Although ecclesiastic institutions were established in an effort to reform the clergy, such measures did little to satisfy the spiritual craving of late medieval Christians.
The Reformation took place not only because the Church was living badly, but because it was also believing badly.
It had allowed the message of the Gospel to become distorted.
The purpose of the reformers was to reconnect with the original message of Christianity – the Gospel – as preached by Jesus Christ and his apostles in the first years of the Christian era.
As they saw it, over the centuries the Church had obscured this message.
Thus, in an era that was haunted by the fear of Hell and sustained by the hope of salvation, these men turned to the Bible, where they found that God was revealed not as a judge who pursued men with His wrath, but as a Father who sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to offer salvation.
They found the Gospel offered greater comfort against the terror of damnation than did the purchase of indulgences.
Reformers argued that Heaven could neither be bought or sold.
Christ, who had died and then risen, graciously allowed anyone who believed in Him to enter.
Reformers were rediscovering the true sense of Paul’s message – that one is saved through belief in Christ rather than by attracting God’s grace with good works.
Faith, not works, justified salvation.
As reformers returned to their original sources of their faith, they naturally began questioning the legitimacy of the Church.
They accused the Church of hijacking salvation.
From this point on, the battle lines were drawn.
On one side, the Church which saw itself as the sole guardian of the gates of Heaven.
On the other, reformers who called for believers to return to the Bible – the word of God that announced free salvation in Christ.
The Reformation thus took place in a climate of controversy.
Humanist scholar Erasmus warned Luther that attacking the “bellies of the monks” would earn him no end of trouble.
The Reformation was not born in Paris or Rome, the great cities where fashionable ideas usually originated, but in Wittenberg, a small university town in Saxony where a well-known doctor of theology named Martin Luther taught.
Luther launched the Reformation with the publication, in November 1517, of a treatise arguing that divine grace was a more effective means of securing salvation than the purchase of indulgences.
This was a direct attack on the authority of the Pope.
Luther’s ideas were soon debated far and wide.
Above: Luther’s Ninety-five Theses
Young humanist intellectuals were inspired by Luther.
He also had a following in convents and monasteries, many of which emptied after reading his works.
Above all, Luther’s ideas answered the aspirations of a population preoccupied with the existential question of their final destiny.
The sudden success of his movement was due in part to the appearance of a new media that disseminated information without distorting it, namely, the printing press.
Several princes sympathetic to Luther encouraged the dissemination of his ideas by creating national churches that opposed or even replaced the Roman Catholic Church.
Their support was a decisive factor in establishing the Reformation.
The face of the Reformation changed from a spontaneous popular movement to a contest between princes and city-states.
A complex figure, Huldrych Zwingli was active and influential in many related areas, all of which are important for our understanding of the man: a self-taught humanist, a religious thinker and reformer, he is also considered to be a patriot and Swiss national hero.
Zwingli was a humanist and a scholar with many devoted friends and disciples.
He communicated as easily with the ordinary people of his congregation as with rulers such as Philip of Hesse.
His reputation as a stern, stolid reformer is counterbalanced by the fact that he had an excellent sense of humour and used satiric fables, spoofing, and puns in his writings.
He was more conscious of social obligations than Luther and he genuinely believed that the masses would accept a government guided by God’s word.
He tirelessly promoted assistance to the poor, who he believed should be cared for by a truly Christian community.
Zwingli’s life and the history of Switzerland are closely linked.
Outside of Switzerland, no church counts Zwingli as its founder.
Scholars speculate as to why Zwinglianism has not diffused more widely,even though Zwingli’s theology is considered the first expression of Reformed theology.
Although his name is not widely recognised, Zwingli’s legacy lives on in the basic confessions of the Reformed churches of today.
He is often called, after Martin Luther and John Calvin, the “Third Man of the Reformation“.
In 1516, Zwingli adopted Erasmus’s view of Christ as the source of every good and the idea that God calls Christians to master their passions.
As soon as he arrived in 1519 to assume his position as preacher and minister of Zürich Cathedral, Zwingli attempted to reform the city in the spirit of Erasmus without breaking with the Church as Luther had done.
Above: Grossmünster, Zürich
Nonetheless, Zwingli’s criticism of the Church and his ideas on justification by faith betray the influence of the monk of Wittenberg.
In 1522, Zwingli openly affirmed the primacy of the Gospel as the only basis for the doctrine and the life of the Church.
He rejected both doctrine and worship of anything that seemed to be a human addition.
That same year, he defended several friends (primarily book printer Christoph Froschauer) who had broken the Lent fast by eating sausages – the Church banned the consumption of meat during Lent – by preaching about a Christian’s freedom to choose one’s own diet.
The Council of Zürich organized a disputation (discussion) of Zwingli’s teachings and, being convinced completely changed the laws on fasting.
In July 1522, Zwingli questioned the celibacy of priests, which he himself had previously broken by secretly marrying Anna Reinhart the previous spring.
Above: Anna Reinhart-Zwingli (1484 – 1538)
He addressed a petition on behalf of himself and eleven other priests to the Bishop of Constance requesting the right for priests to marry.
The Bishop in turn wrote to the Zürich city authorities, demanding that they take action against these “disorders“.
Above: Konstanz (Constance) Cathedral
The following year, on 29 January 1523, the first Dispute of Zürich took place at the request of the city council.
The Bishop’s delegate dismissed the authority of the Council, but attended nevertheless.
Completely outmatched, he witnessed the strength of the ideas of Zwingli and his allies.
Zwingli presented a list of 67 theses as a basis for discussion.
His doctrine was derived principally from the Epistles of Paul and claimed that faith was granted by the Holy Spirit.
Zwingli asserted the equality of all Christians and added that civilian authorities, provided they were Christian, should take charge of church affairs, but could also be disposed if they failed to follow the teachings of Christ.
He called for the Reformation to take place in an orderly fashion with the support of the magistrates, but some of his followers rushed matters and destroyed images and statues in churches.
A second Dispute focusing exclusively on the Mass and images was organized in October 1523 to resolve the issue.
Images were finally abolished in 1524 after a third Dispute.
Relations between the Bishop of Constance and the city of Zürich broke off at the end of the summer of 1524.
Convents were secularized and their possessions sold to endow the poorhouses.
A school of Biblical education, The Prophesy, opened in 1525 with the mission of presenting its findings to the people, in German, during five weekly lectures.
Students and scholars met in the Choir of the Grossmünster Cathedral to translate the Bible and preach to the people.
Theirs was the first complete German translation of the scriptures, called the Froschauer Bible after the sausage-eating bookbinder who printed it.
It was the first school of its kind and a model for Reformed academies everywhere.
The Prophesy would become a school of theology which in turn would lead to the establishment of the University of Zürich.
Above: Logo of the University of Zürich
That same year, the Council abolished Mass, replacing it by a a very sparse service without music, distinct from the Communion service, which was celebrated only four times a year.
Communion was understood as a communal meal in memory of Christ’s death, through which the faithful expressed their desire to belong to Him.
Meanwhile, the establishment of a matrimonial court extended the spirit of the Reformation to the area of public morality.
Some of Zwingli’s followers demanded a more radical Reformation.
The common features of this community was the rejection of child baptism as a sign of entry into the Christian faith (for which they were labelled “Anabaptists“), as well as the refusal to conduct the oath of allegiance to local government authorities and the law.
Under the influence of Conrad Grebel and Felix Manz, they accused Zwingli of subordinating church reform to the approval of the political authorities.
Zwingli tried to win them over to his views through several pamphlets and debates, but was unsuccessful.
The Council feared that the Anabaptist movement could eventually lead to a general revolution.
Felix Manz was sentenced to death and drowned in the Limmat River for “rebellion against the Christian bourgeosie, destruction of the Christian community and perjury“.
Five more Anabaptist executions would take place before 1532.
The worldwide Anabaptist-Mennonite movement considers Zürich one of its prime places of origin, though the executions rang the death knoll of Anabaptism in Zürich itself.
Zwingli’s other great adversary was Martin Luther, for although Zwingli admired the German reformer, he could not endorse Luther’s position on the real presence of Christ in the bread and wine during Communion.
For Zwingli the presence of Christ was purely symbolic.
The two theologians met at the Colloquy of Marburg in 1529, but could not agree.
Meanwhile, the onslaught of the Reformation split Switzerland in two.
On one side, the Cantons that remained faithful to Roman Catholicism – Luzern, Uri, Schwyz, Unterwald and Zug.
On the other, those that followed the new ideas – Zürich, Basel, Bern and St. Gallen.
In 1524, the Catholic Cantons came together to form the Beckenried Alliance and began to present a real threat to Zürich.
Zwingli tried to appease the tensions, but in 1526 the Alliance decided to resolve the religious questions in a Diet.
They organized a Dispute in Baden that lasted four weeks from late May to early July 1526.
Johann Eck, an opponent of Luther, was invited to defend the Catholic faith and very skillfully sowed discord amid the Reformed camp by exposing the disagreement between Luther and Zwingli over Communion.
Above: Johann Maier von Eck (1486 – 1543)
The Catholics won.
Zwingli was excommunicated.
Yet the Zürich authorities refused to give up their Reformer, despite the threats of exclusion of Zürich from the Swiss Confederation.
Zürich obtained the support of Basel, Bern and Schaffhausen.
War was coming.
Meanwhile the Reformation had been slow to establish itself in Geneva.
Introduced in 1526 by German merchants, the Reformation did not reach an impact on Geneva until 1533 with the preaching of Guillaume Farel and was not officially adopted until 21 May 1536.
Above: Guillaume Farel (1489 – 1565)
John Calvin would not arrive in Geneva until later that summer.
Above: Jehan Calvin (1509 – 1564)
Too late to assist Zürich and her allies.
Too late to save Zwingli.
Understanding the background made me understand the events that would lead to Zwingli’s death at Kappel am Albis.
And that final chapter of the Zwengli Trail Chronicles will follow soon in an upcoming post….
Of course, there is much more that could be said and much more was learned in the Museum about the Reformation and its many players and events that shaped the world: Théodore de Bèze, the Edict of Nantes, Frederick the Wise, Philip Melanchton, Martin Bucer, Johannes Hussgen, Pierre Viret, Moise Amyraut, Francois Turrettini, Bénédict Pictet, Jean Le Clerc, Jean-Alphonse Turrettini and Karl Barth, and so on.
And we all know the names of famous Protestants who inherited the struggle the aforementioned Reformers passed on to them: George Bush and George W., Desmond Tutu and Queen Elizabeth II, Albert Schweitzer, Oliver Cromwell and William of Orange, to name a few.
Some more faithful in name than in practice.
But this is a story of two men: your faithful blogger and Huldrych Zwingli, the man whose footsteps I followed based on a guidebook that intrigued me.
(Of course, as my travels coincide with some of the aforementioned people and events not as yet detailed, they shall be mentioned.)
Earlier I mentioned that there is much I don’t know, much I don’t understand.
But there is one thing I am sure of….
It is not enough for me to see.
I want to understand what I am seeing.
I hope you share that same impulse.
Sources: Wikipedia / Google / Huston Smith, The World’s Religions / International Museum of the Reformation, Understanding the Reformation / Yvonne and Marcel Steiner, Zwingli-Wege: Zu Fuss von Wildhaus nach Kappel am Albis: Ein Wander- und Lesebuch
In everyone’s life there are marker moments that separate who you were from who you are, as significant to the individual as BC and AD are to the Western calendar.
I have had my share of such moments in my own life.
Some are as obvious as scar tissue from accidents and operations.
Others are so subtle, so intimate, that they are as soft as a lover’s whisper in the night, and are no less important, nay, sometimes are far more important, than moments that clearly marked and marred you in the eyes of others.
Who we were, who we are and who we will become are often determined by what happens where we happen to be.
Certainly there are those who argue that we make our own destiny, that we create our own karma, but it is usually those who have known little hardship who wax poetically upon how they would have acted differently had they been in situations alien to their experience and understanding.
Their songs of self-praise usually play to the tune of “had I been there I would have….“.
“If I had been living in Germany during the Second World War I would have sheltered Jews.”
“If my country suffered a famine I would not remain.”
“If I lived in North Korea I would rise in revolt against the Kim dynasty.”
Truth be told, we may have the potential to freely make such brave decisions, but in the harsh chill of grim reality whether we would actually possess the needed courage and have the opportunity to successfully act is highly debatable.
If the consequence of helping others might lead to your death and the death of your loved ones, would you really risk everything to shelter those whom your government deems enemies of the state?
Would you be able to abandon your family to famine to save yourself?
Would you really defy your entire country’s military might to speak truth to power and say that what is being done in the name of nationalism is wrong for the nation?
It is easy to condemn the Germans of the National Socialist nightmare, the starving masses in Africa and India, the North Koreans under the Kims, and suggest that they were weak to allow themselves to be dominated by circumstances.
The self-righteous will argue with such platitudes like “Evil can only triumph when the good stay silent.“, but martyrdom’s recklessness is not easily embraced by everyone.
I was born in an age and have lived in places where I have never personally experienced the ravages of war firsthand.
I have known hunger and thirst but have never been hungry or thirsty to the brink of my own demise.
I have been fortunate to live in places where democracy, though imperfectly applied at times, dominated society rather than being sacrificed for security.
As a Canadian born in the 60s, who has never been in a military conflict, it is not easy for me to fully appreciate the difficulties of others that I myself have never experienced.
I count former refugees among my circle of friends, but I cannot claim to fully comprehend what they have endured or what they continue to quietly endure.
I have known those who chose not to be part of a military machine, despite the accusation of treason and disloyalty to their nation this suggests, because they chose not to act in the name of a nation that does not respect a person’s rights to choose not to kill their fellow human beings.
I love my homeland of Canada but I have never been called to defend her, have never had to choose between patriotism and humanity.
Canada’s leaders I have known may not have been great statesmen, but neither have they been as reprehensible as the leadership of other nations.
Can it be easy to be a true believer in Turkey under a tyrant like Erdogan?
Can it be easy to be a patriotic American with an amateur like Trump?
Can it be easy to call yourself a native of a nation whose government does things that disgust the conscience and stain the soil?
I grew up in Québec as an Anglophone Canadian and fortunately I have never been forced to choose between the province and the nation.
I now live in a nation that certainly isn’t a paradise for everyone within its boundaries, but its nationalism has not tested my resolve nor has it required the surrender of my conscience.
Oh, what a lucky man I have been!
Others have not been so fortunate.
I have visited places that have reminded me of my good fortune because of their contrast to that good fortune.
I have seen the ruins of the Berlin Wall and the grim reality of Cyprus’s Green Wall.
I have stood inside an underground tunnel between the two nations of South and North Korea, where two soldiers stand back-to-back 100 meters apart, and though they share the same language and the same culture, they are ordered to kill the other should the other speak.
I have seen cemeteries of fallen soldiers and the ravaged ruins that wars past have left behind.
I have seen the settings of holocaust and have witnessed racism firsthand.
I have heard the condemnation of others for the crime of being different.
How dare they love who they choose!
How dare they believe differently than we!
How dare they look not as we do!
How dare they exist!
Some places are scar marks on the conscience, wounds on the world.
Some places whisper the intimate injury of injustice and barely breathe the breeze of silent bravery against insurmountable obstacles.
I have not lived in a nation torn against itself where bully bastards hide their cruelty behind an ideological -ism that is a thinly disguised mask for their sadism.
What follows is the tale of one man who did, a man who lived in Belgrade, Serbia’s eternal city, and gave the world an image of the place’s perpetuity, the mirage of immortality….
A man’s whose life has made me consider my own….
Above: Belgrade
“Some folk tales have such universal appeal that we forget when and where we heard or read them, and they live on in our minds as memories of our personal experiences.
Such is, for example, the story of a young man who, wandering the Earth in pursuit of happiness, strayed onto a dangerous road, which led into an unknown direction.
To avoid losing his way, the young man marked the trees along the road with his hatchet, to help him find his way home.
That young man is the personification of general, eternal human destiny on one hand, there is a dangerous and uncertain road, and on the other, a great human need to not lose one’s way, to survive and to leave behind a legacy.
The signs we leave behind us might not avoid the fate of everything that is human: transience and oblivion.
Perhaps they will be passed by completely unnoticed?
Perhaps nobody will understand them?
And yet, they are necessary, just as it is natural and necessary for us humans to convey and reveal our thoughts to one another.
Even if those brief and unclear signs fail to spare us all wandering and temptation, they can alleviate them and, at least, be of help by convincing us that we are not alone in anything we experience, nor are we the first and only ones who have ever been in that position.”
(Ivo Andric, Signs by the Roadside)
Belgrade, Serbia, Thursday, 5 April 2018
The weather was worsening but my spirits were high.
I was on a mini-vacation, a separate holiday without my spouse, in a nation completely alien to me.
My good friend Nesha had graciously offered me the use of his apartment while he was away on business in Tara National Park, and so I was at liberty to come and go as I pleased without any obligations to anyone else but myself.
Above: Flag of Serbia
The day had started well.
I had visited Saint Sava Cathedral, the Nikola Tesla Museum and had serendipitiously stumbled upon a second-hand music store that sold Serbian music that my guidebooks had recommended I discover.
Above: Saint Sava Cathedral
Above: Nikola Tesla Museum
(For details of these, please see Canada Slim and….
the Land of Long Life
the Holy Field of Sparrows
the Visionary
the Current War
the Man Who Invented the Future)
I was happy and so I would remain in the glorious week I spent in Belgrade and Nis.
I was learning so much!
(I still am.)
This journey I was making reminded me once again of just how ignorant I was (and am) of the world beyond my experience.
Before I began travelling the existence of life outside my senses remained naught more than rumours.
For example, I remember distinctly reading of the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, but it was far removed from my life until I moved to Germany and later visited Berlin before I began to understand why this had been a significant event, a big deal.
I partially blame my ignorance on the circumstances of my life in Canada.
Canadian news dominates Canadian media, which isn’t surprising as we are more interested in that which is closest to our experience.
English-language literature remains more accessible in Anglophone parts of Canada than other languages and so that is mostly what we know.
Too few Canadians speak more than their native tongues of either English or French.
Only 10% of Canadians are truly bilingual and not necessarily in the other official Canadian language.
How sad it is that so many North Americans know so little of the outside world unless there is a military conflict or diplomatic gesture in which they are involved.
Send a Canadian soldier or the Canadian Prime Minister to Serbia then a few Canadians might make a curious effort to find Serbia on a world map.
Part of the problem and the reason why world peace and true unity eludes humanity is nationalism.
Why care about those who are not us?
If “us” is defined and limited by our national boundaries then how can we include “them” in our vision of fellow human beings?
Only the truly exceptional of that which is foreign grabs our momentary attention.
How can we understand one another if that which has shaped us is unknown by others and that which has shaped them is alien to us?
Can a Serbian truly understand a Canadian without knowing of Terry Fox and Wayne Gretzky, Robert W. Service and Margaret Atwood, Just for Laughs and Stephan Leacock, the Stanley Cup and the CBC, Sergeant Renfrew and Constable Benton Fraser?
Can a Canadian truly understand a Serbian without knowing of Novak Djokovic and Nemanja Vidic, the Turija sausage fest and the Novi Sad Exit, the Drina Regatta and the Nisville Jazz Festival, Emir Kusturica and Stevan Stojanovic Mokranjac and Ivo Andric?
Above: Ivo Andric (1892 – 1975)
Possibly not.
I often think that it would be a good idea for the young to not only read what is / was written in their own tongue but as well to read Nobel Prize winning books translated from other languages.
It might even be a step towards world unity.
In my school years I was exposed to the writing of Nobel Prize winners Kipling, O’Neill, Buck, Eliot, Faulkner, Hemingway, Steinbeck and Bellow.
I had to travel to discover other Nobel laureates like Pamuk, Jelinek, Saramango, Neruda, Sartre, Camus, Marquez, Solzhenitsyn, Gidé, Mann and Andric by accident.
How much we miss when we stick to only our own!
How can we possibly have world peace when we are so ignorant of the world’s music, art and literature?
The street that runs beside Belgrade’s New Palace, now the seat of the President of Serbia, is named Andrićev venac (Andrić’s Crescent) in his honour.
It includes a life-sized statue of the writer.
The flat in which Andrić spent his final years has been turned into a museum.
Several of Serbia’s other major cities, such as Novi Sad and Kragujevac, have streets named after Andrić.
Streets in a number of cities in Bosnia and Herzegovina, such as Sarajevo, Banja Luka, Tuzla, and Višegrad, also carry his name.
Andrić remains the only writer from the former Yugoslavia to have been awarded the Nobel Prize.
Given his use of the Ekavian dialect, and the fact that most of his novels and short stories were written in Belgrade, his works have become associated almost exclusively with Serbian literature.
(I asked my good friend Nesha whether Serbians can communicate with Bosnians and Croatians in a similar language, whether there was a Slavic tongue that unites the three.
He responded that it is all one Serbo-Croatian language with a difference in dialects that changes from region to region and divided by three different accents: Ekavica, Jekavic and Ijekavica
Even though Slovenians and Macedonians speak a little differently, they all understand and speak a Serbian-type speech.)
The Slavonic studies professor Bojan Aleksov characterizes Andrić as one of Serbian literature’s two central pillars, the other being Njegoš.
“The plasticity of his narrative,” Moravcevich writes, “the depth of his psychological insight, and the universality of his symbolism remain unsurpassed in all of Serbian literature.“
Though it has been said that the Serbian novel did not begin with Ivo Andric – (that honour lies with Borisav Stankovic (1867 – 1927) who explored the contradictions of man’s spiritual and sensory life in his 1910 work Bad Blood, the first Serbian novel to receive praise in its foreign translations) – it was Andric who took Serbian literature’s oral traditions and epic poetry and developed and perfected its narrative form.
To this day, Andric remains probably the most famous writer from former Yugoslavia.
And, sadly, I had never heard of him prior to this day.
A visit to the Memorial Museum of Ivo Andric (to give its official title) this day helped correct this imbalance….
By a decision of the Belgrade City Assembly, the property of Ivo Andric was heritage-listed and entrusted to the Belgrade City Museum immediately following Andric’s death on 13 March 1975.
It was an act meant to express the city’s deep respect for Andric as a writer and as a person.
In accordance with the practice common all over the world, Belgrade wished to preserve the original appearance of the writer’s apartment, surrounded by the Belgrade Old and New Courts and Pionirski Park, in its picturesque environment, to honour its famous citizen.
The establishment of this Memorial Museum also throws light on a very remarkable period in history encompassing the two world wars, as well as the post-war years, on which Andric left a strong personal and creative impact.
The holdings of Ivo Andric’s legacy chiefly consist of items found and inventoried at his apartment after his death – the underlying idea being to reflect the spirit and atmosphere of privacy and nobility surrounding him.
Andric’s personal library contains 3,373 items, along with archival materials, manuscripts, works of fine and applied arts, diplomas and decorations, 1,070 personal belongings and 803 photographs.
The apartment covers an area of 144 square metres (somewhat larger than my own apartment) and is divided into three units:
the authentic interior, encompassing an entrance hall, a drawing room and Andric’s study
the exhibition rooms, created by the adaptation of two bedrooms
the curators’ and guides offices and the museum storerooms, occupying the former kitchen, the maid’s room, the bathroom and the lobby
It is both an unusual and a subtle combination of ambiguously private and unabasedly public, presenting an overview of Andric’s private life while depicting his vivid diplomatic, national, cultural and educational activities.
Ivo Andric was an unusual man who lived in unusual times, a life captured by a small apartment museum that like Andric himself is deceptively normal in appearance….
The original appearance and the function of the entrance hall have been preserved to a great extent.
The showcase with publications and souvenirs of the Belgrade City Museum is the only sign indicating that a visitor, though in residential premises, is actually in a Museum.
Already at the entrance to the Museum, an open bookshelf populated with thick volumes of Serbo-Croatian and foreign language dictionaries and encyclopedias and literary works in French, German and English, symbolizes Andric’s communication with European and world literature, history and philosophy as well as his own creative endeavours.
This is where the story of the writer begins to unfold….
Ivan Andrić was born in the village of Dolac, near Travnik, on 10 October 1892, while his mother, Katarina (née Pejić), was in the town visiting relatives.
Above: The house in which Andric was born, now a museum
(Travnik has a strong culture, mostly dating back to its time as the center of local government in the Ottoman Empire.
Travnik has a popular old town district however, which dates back to the period of Bosnian independence during the first half of the 15th century.
Numerous mosques and churches exist in the region, as do tombs of important historical figures and excellent examples of Ottoman architecture.
The city museum, built in 1950, is one of the more impressive cultural institutions in the region.
Travnik became famous by important persons who were born or lived in the city.
The most important of which are Ivo Andrić, Miroslav Ćiro Blažević (football coach of the Croatian national team, won third place 1998 in France), Josip Pejaković (actor), Seid Memić (pop singer) and Davor Džalto (artist and art historian, the youngest PhD in Germany and in the South-East European region).
Above: Images of Travnik
One of the main works of Ivo Andrić is the Bosnian Chronicle, depicting life in Travnik during the Napoleonic Wars and written during World War II.
In this work Travnik and its people – with their variety of ethnic and religious communities – are described with a mixture of affection and exasperation.
The Bosnian Tornjak, one of Bosnia’s two major dog breeds and national symbol, originated in the area, found around Mount Vlašić.)
Andrić’s parents were both Catholic Croats.
He was his parents’ only child.
(I too was raised as an only child.)
His father, Antun, was a struggling silversmith who resorted to working as a school janitor in Sarajevo, where he lived with his wife and infant son.
(The Museum disagrees with Wikipedia, describing Antun as a court attendant.)
At the age of 32, Antun died of tuberculosis, like most of his siblings.
Andrić was only two years old at the time.
(My mother died, of cancer, when I was three.)
Widowed and penniless, Andrić’s mother took him to Višegrad and placed him in the care of her sister-in-law Ana and brother-in-law Ivan Matković, a police officer at the border military police station.
The couple were financially stable but childless, so they agreed to look after the infant and brought him up as their own in their house on the bank of the Drina River.
Meanwhile, Andrić’s mother returned to Sarajevo seeking employment.
Andrić was raised in a country that had changed little since the Ottoman period despite being mandated to Austria-Hungary at the Congress of Berlin in 1878.
Eastern and Western culture intermingled in Bosnia to a far greater extent than anywhere else in the Balkan peninsula.
Having lived there from an early age, Andrić came to cherish Višegrad, calling it “my real home“.
Though it was a small provincial town (or kasaba), Višegrad proved to be an enduring source of inspiration.
It was a multi-ethnic and multi-confessional town, the predominant groups being Serbs (Orthodox Christians) and Bosnian Muslims (Bosniaks).
Above: Images of Visegrad
(Like Andric, I was born elsewhere than the place I think of as home, though to Andric’s credit he lovingly wrote about his birthplace in The Travnik Chronicle.
I could imagine writing about St. Philippe, my childhood hometown, but I feel no intimate connection to St. Eustache, my birthplace, whatsoever, despite the latter having a larger claim to fame than the “blink-or-you’ll-miss-it” village of my youth.)
Above: St. Eustache City Hall
(My imagination plays with the notion of St. Philippe as “St. Jerusalem” and St. Eustache described during the Rebellion of 1837.)
Above: The Battle of St. Eustache, 14 December 1837
From an early age, Andrić closely observed the customs of the local people.
These customs, and the particularities of life in eastern Bosnia, would later be detailed in his works.
Andrić made his first friends in Višegrad, playing with them along the Drina River and the town’s famous Mehmed Paša Sokolović Bridge.
(The area was part of the medieval Serbian state of the Nemanjić dynasty.
It was part of the Grand Principality of Serbia under Stefan Nemanja (r. 1166–96).
In the Middle Ages, Dobrun was a place within the border area with Bosnia, on the road towards Višegrad.
After the death of Emperor Stefan Dušan (r. 1331–55), the region came under the rule of magnate Vojislav Vojinović, and then his nephew, župan (count) Nikola Altomanović.
The Dobrun Monastery was founded by župan Pribil and his family, some time before the 1370s.
Above: Dobrun Monastery
The area then came under the rule of the Kingdom of Bosnia, part of the estate of the Pavlović noble family.
The settlement of Višegrad is mentioned in 1407, but is starting to be more often mentioned after 1427.
In the period of 1433–37, a relatively short period, caravans crossed the settlement many times.
Many people from Višegrad worked for the Republic of Ragusa.
Srebrenica and Višegrad and its surroundings were again in Serbian hands in 1448 after Despot Đurađ Branković defeated Bosnian forces.
Above: Durad Brankovic (1377 – 1456)
According to Turkish sources, in 1454, Višegrad was conquered by the Ottoman Empire led by Osman Pasha.
It remained under the Ottoman rule until the Berlin Congress (1878), when Austria-Hungary took control of Bosnia and Herzegovina.
The Mehmed Paša Sokolović Bridge was built by the Ottoman architect and engineer Mimar Sinan for Grand Vizier Sokollu Mehmed Pasha.
Construction of the bridge took place between 1571 and 1577.
It still stands, and it is now a tourist attraction, after being inscribed in the UNESCO World Heritage Site list.
The Bosnian Eastern Railway from Sarajevo to Uvac and Vardište was built through Višegrad during the Austro-Hungarian rule in Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Construction of the line started in 1903.
It was completed in 1906, using the 760 mm (2 ft 515⁄16 in) track gauge.
With the cost of 75 million gold crowns, which approximately translates to 450 thousand gold crowns per kilometer, it was one of the most expensive railways in the world built by that time.
This part of the line was eventually extended to Belgrade in 1928.
Višegrad is today part of the narrow-gauge heritage railway Šargan Eight.
The area was a site of Partisan–German battles during World War II.
Višegrad is one of several towns along the River Drina in close proximity to the Serbian border.
The town was strategically important during the Bosnian War conflict.
A nearby hydroelectric dam provided electricity and also controlled the level of the River Drina, preventing flooding downstream areas.
The town is situated on the main road connecting Belgrade and Užice in Serbia with Goražde and Sarajevo in Bosnia and Herzegovina, a vital link for the Užice Corps of the Yugoslav People’s Army (JNA) with the Uzamnica camp as well as other strategic locations implicated in the conflict.
On 6 April 1992, JNA artillery bombarded the town, in particular Bosniak-inhabited neighbourhoods and nearby villages.
Murat Šabanović and a group of Bosniak men took several local Serbs hostage and seized control of the hydroelectric dam, threatening to blow it up.
Water was released from the dam causing flooding to some houses and streets.
Eventually on 12 April, JNA commandos seized the dam.
The next day the JNA’s Užice Corps took control of Višegrad, positioning tanks and heavy artillery around the town.
The population that had fled the town during the crisis returned and the climate in the town remained relatively calm and stable during the later part of April and the first two weeks of May.
On 19 May 1992 the Užice Corps officially withdrew from the town and local Serb leaders established control over Višegrad and all municipal government offices.
Soon after, local Serbs, police and paramilitaries began one of the most notorious campaigns of ethnic cleansing in the conflict.
There was widespread looting and destruction of houses, and terrorizing of Bosniak civilians, with instances of rape, with a large number of Bosniaks killed in the town, with many bodies were dumped in the River Drina.
Men were detained at the barracks at Uzamnica, the Vilina Vlas Hotel and other sites in the area.
Vilina Vlas also served as a “brothel“, in which Bosniak women and girls (some not yet 14 years old), were brought to by police officers and paramilitary members (White Eagles and Arkan’s Tigers).
Above: Vilina Vlas Hotel today
Bosniaks detained at Uzamnica were subjected to inhumane conditions, including regular beatings, torture and strenuous forced labour.
Both of the town’s mosques were razed.
According to victims’ reports some 3,000 Bosniaks were murdered in Višegrad and its surroundings, including some 600 women and 119 children.
According to the Research and Documentation Center, at least 1,661 Bosniaks were killed/missing in Višegrad.
With the Dayton Agreement, which put an end to the war, Bosnia and Herzegovina was divided into two entities, the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina and Republika Srpska, the latter which Višegrad became part of.
Above: Flag of Bosnia and Herzegovina
Before the war, 63% of the town residents were Bosniak.
In 2009, only a handful of survivors had returned to what is now a predominantly Serb town.
On 5 August 2001, survivors of the massacre returned to Višegrad for the burial of 180 bodies exhumed from mass graves.
The exhumation lasted for two years and the bodies were found in 19 different mass graves.
The charges of mass rape were unapproved as the prosecutors failed to request them in time.
Cousins Milan Lukić and Sredoje Lukić were convicted on 20 July 2009, to life in prison and 30 years, respectively, for a 1992 killing spree of Muslims.
Above: Milan Lukic
The Mehmed Pasa Sokolovic Bridge was popularized by Andric in his novel The Bridge on the Drina.
A tourist site called Andricgrad (Andric Town) dedicated to Andric, is located near the Bridge.
Construction of Andrićgrad, also known as Kamengrad (Каменград, “Stonetown“) started on 28 June 2011, and was officially opened on 28 June 2014, on Vidovdan.)
Above: Main Street, Andricgrad
Throughout his life Andric was tied to Visegrad by pleasant reminiscences and bright memories of childhood.
Above: First edition of The Bridge on the Drina (Serbian)
At the age of ten, he received a three-year scholarship from a Croat cultural group called Napredak (Progress) to study in Sarajevo.
In the autumn of 1902, he was registered at the Great Sarajevo Gymnasium (Serbo-Croatian: Velika Sarajevska gimnazija), the oldest secondary school in Bosnia.
While in Sarajevo, Andrić lived with his mother, who worked in a rug factory as a weaver.
(Today Sarajevo is the capital and largest city of Bosnia and Herzegovina, with a population of 275,524 in its administrative limits.
The Sarajevo metropolitan area, is home to 555,210 inhabitants.
Nestled within the greater Sarajevo valley of Bosnia, it is surrounded by the Dinaric Alps and situated along the Miljacka River in the heart of the Balkans.
Sarajevo is the political, financial, social and cultural center of Bosnia and Herzegovina, a prominent center of culture in the Balkans, with its region-wide influence in entertainment, media, fashion, and the arts.
Due to its long and rich history of religious and cultural diversity, Sarajevo is sometimes called the “Jerusalem of Europe” or “Jerusalem of the Balkans“.
It is one of only a few major European cities which have a mosque, Catholic church, Orthodox church and synagogue in the same neighborhood.
A regional center in education, the city is home to the Balkans first institution of tertiary education in the form of an Islamic polytechnic called the Saraybosna Osmanlı Medrese, today part of the University of Sarajevo.
Although settlement in the area stretches back to prehistoric times, the modern city arose as an Ottoman stronghold in the 15th century.
Sarajevo has attracted international attention several times throughout its history.
In 1885, Sarajevo was the first city in Europe and the second city in the world to have a full-time electric tram network running through the city, following San Francisco….)
At the time, the city was overflowing with civil servants from all parts of Austria-Hungary, and thus many languages could be heard in its restaurants, cafés and on its streets.
Culturally, the city boasted a strong Germanic element, and the curriculum in educational institutions was designed to reflect this.
From a total of 83 teachers that worked at Andrić’s school over a twenty-year period, only three were natives of Bosnia and Herzegovina.
“The teaching program,” biographer Celia Hawkesworth notes, “was devoted to producing dedicated supporters of the Habsburg Monarchy.”
Andrić disapproved.
“All that came at secondary school and university,” he wrote, “was rough, crude, automatic, without concern, faith, humanity, warmth or love.“
Andrić experienced difficulty in his studies, finding mathematics particularly challenging, and had to repeat the sixth grade.
For a time, he lost his scholarship due to poor grades.
Hawkesworth attributes Andrić’s initial lack of academic success at least partly to his alienation from most of his teachers.
Nonetheless, he excelled in languages, particularly Latin, Greek and German.
Although he initially showed substantial interest in natural sciences, he later began focusing on literature, likely under the influence of his two Croat instructors, writer and politician Đuro Šurmin and poet Tugomir Alaupović.
Of all his teachers in Sarajevo, Andrić liked Alaupović best and the two became lifelong friends.
Above: Tugomir Alaupovic (1870 – 1958)
Andrić felt he was destined to become a writer.
He began writing in secondary school, but received little encouragement from his mother.
He recalled that when he showed her one of his first works, she replied:
“Did you write this? What did you do that for?”
Andrić published his first poem “U sumrak” (At dusk) in 1911 in a journal called Bosanska vila (Bosnian Fairy), which promoted Serbo-Croat unity.
At the time, he was still a secondary school student.
His poems, essays, reviews, and translations appeared in journals such as Vihor (Whirlwind), Savremenik (The Contemporary), Hrvatski pokret (The Croatian Movement), and Književne novine (Literary News).
One of Andrić’s favorite literary forms was lyrical reflective prose, and many of his essays and shorter pieces are prose poems.
The historian Wayne S. Vucinich describes Andrić’s poetry from this period as “subjective and mostly melancholic“.
Andrić’s translations of August Strindberg’s novel Black Flag, Walt Whitman, and a number of Slovene authors also appeared around this time.
Above: Swedish writer August Strindberg (1849 – 1912)
In 1908, Austria-Hungary officially annexed Bosnia and Herzegovina, to the chagrin of South Slav nationalists like Andrić.
In late 1911, Andrić was elected the first president of the Serbo-Croat Progressive Movement (Serbo-Croatian: Srpsko-Hrvatska Napredna Organizacija; SHNO), a Sarajevo-based secret society that promoted unity and friendship between Serb and Croat youth and opposed the Austro-Hungarian occupation.
Its members were vehemently criticized by both Serb and Croat nationalists, who dismissed them as “traitors to their nations“.
Unfazed, Andrić continued agitating against the Austro-Hungarians.
On 28 February 1912, he spoke before a crowd of 100 student protesters at Sarajevo’s railway station, urging them to continue their demonstrations.
The Austro-Hungarian police later began harassing and prosecuting SHNO members.
Ten were expelled from their schools or penalized in some other way, though Andrić himself escaped punishment.
Andrić also joined the South Slav student movement known as Young Bosnia, becoming one of its most prominent members.
In 1912, Andrić registered at the University of Zagreb, having received a scholarship from an educational foundation in Sarajevo.
He enrolled in the department of mathematics and natural sciences because these were the only fields for which scholarships were offered, but was able to take some courses in Croatian literature.
(Today Zagreb is the capital and the largest city of Croatia.
It is located in the northwest of the country, along the Sava River, at the southern slopes of Mount Medvednica.
The climate of Zagreb is classified as an oceanic climate, but with significant continental influences and very closely bordering on a humid Continental climate as well as a humid subtropical climate.
Zagreb has four separate seasons.
Summers are warm, at the end of May the temperatures start rising and it is often pleasant with occasional thunderstorms.
Heatwaves can occur but are short-lived.
Temperatures rise above 30 °C (86 °F) on an average 14.6 days each summer.
Rainfall is abundant in the summertime and it continues to be in autumn as well.
Zagreb is Europe’s 9th wettest capital, behind Luxembourg and ahead of Brussels, Belgium.
Autumn in its early stages is mild with an increase of rainy days and precipitation as well as a steady temperature fall towards its end.
Morning fog is common from mid-October to January with northern city districts at the foothills of the Medvednica mountain as well as those along the Sava river being more prone to all-day fog accumulation.
Winters are cold with a precipitation decrease pattern.
Even though there is no discernible dry season, February is the driest month with 39 mm of precipitation.
On average there are 29 days with snowfall with first snow falling in early November.
Springs are generally mild and pleasant with frequent weather changes and are windier than other seasons.
Sometimes cold spells can occur, mostly in its early stages.
The average daily mean temperature in the winter is around 1 °C (34 °F) (from December to February) and the average temperature in the summer is 22.0 °C (71.6 °F).
Zagreb is a city with a rich history dating from the Roman times to the present day.
The oldest settlement located in the vicinity of the city was the Roman Andautonia, in today’s Ščitarjevo.
The name “Zagreb” is recorded in 1134, in reference to the foundation of the settlement at Kaptol in 1094.
Zagreb became a free royal town in 1242.
In 1851 Zagreb had its first mayor, Janko Kamauf.
After the 1880 Zagreb earthquake, up to the 1914 outbreak of World War I, development flourished and the town received the characteristic layout which it has today.
Zagreb still occasionally experiences earthquakes, due to the proximity of Žumberak-Medvednica fault zone.
It’s classified as an area of high seismic activity.
The area around Medvednica was the epicentre of the 1880 Zagreb earthquake (magnitude 6.3), and the area is known for occasional landslide threatening houses in the area.
The proximity of strong seismic sources presents a real danger of strong earthquakes.
Croatian Chief of Office of Emergency Management Pavle Kalinić stated Zagreb experiences around 400 earthquakes a year, most of them being imperceptible.
However, in case of a strong earthquake, it’s expected that 3,000 people would die and up to 15,000 would be wounded.
Above: Damage done to Zagreb Cathedral, 9 November 1880
The first horse-drawn tram was used in 1891.
The construction of the railway lines enabled the old suburbs to merge gradually into Donji Grad, characterised by a regular block pattern that prevails in Central European cities.
This bustling core hosts many imposing buildings, monuments, and parks as well as a multitude of museums, theatres and cinemas.
An electric power plant was built in 1907.
Since 1 January 1877, the Grič cannon is fired daily from the Lotrščak Tower on Grič to mark midday.
The first half of the 20th century saw a considerable expansion of Zagreb.
Before World War I, the city expanded and neighbourhoods like Stara Peščenica in the east and Črnomerec in the west were created.
The transport connections, concentration of industry, scientific, and research institutions and industrial tradition underlie its leading economic position in Croatia.
Zagreb is the seat of the central government, administrative bodies, and almost all government ministries.
Almost all of the largest Croatian companies, media, and scientific institutions have their headquarters in the city.
Zagreb is the most important transport hub in Croatia where Central Europe, the Mediterranean and Southeast Europe meet, making the Zagreb area the centre of the road, rail and air networks of Croatia.
It is a city known for its diverse economy, high quality of living, museums, sporting and entertainment events.
Its main branches of economy are high-tech industries and the service sector.
Zagreb is an important tourist centre, not only in terms of passengers travelling from the rest of Europe to the Adriatic Sea, but also as a travel destination itself.
It attracts close to a million visitors annually, mainly from Austria, Germany and Italy, and in recent years many tourists from the Far East (South Korea, Japan, China and India).
It has become an important tourist destination, not only in Croatia, but considering the whole region of southeastern Europe.
There are many interesting sights and happenings for tourists to attend in Zagreb, for example, the two statues of Saint George, one at the Republic of Croatia Square, the other at Kamenita vrata, where the image of Virgin Mary is said to be only thing that hasn’t burned in the 17th-century fire.
Also, there is an art installation starting in Bogovićeva street, called Nine Views.
Most people don’t know what the statue “Prizemljeno Sunce” (The Grounded Sun) is for, and just scrawl graffiti or signatures on it, but it’s actually the Sun scaled down, with many planets situated all over Zagreb in scale with the Sun.
There are also many festivals and events throughout the year, making Zagreb a year-round tourist destination.
The historical part of the city to the north of Ban Jelačić Square is composed of the Gornji Grad and Kaptol, a medieval urban complex of churches, palaces, museums, galleries and government buildings that are popular with tourists on sightseeing tours.
The historic district can be reached on foot, starting from Jelačić Square, the centre of Zagreb, or by a funicular on nearby Tomićeva Street.
Each Saturday, (April – September), on St. Mark’s Square in the Upper town, tourists can meet members of the Order of The Silver Dragon (Red Srebrnog Zmaja), who reenact famous historical conflicts between Gradec and Kaptol.
It’s a great opportunity for all visitors to take photographs of authentic and fully functional historical replicas of medieval armour.
Numerous shops, boutiques, store houses and shopping centres offer a variety of quality clothing.
There are about fourteen big shopping centres in Zagreb.
Zagreb’s offerings include crystal, china and ceramics, wicker or straw baskets, and top-quality Croatian wines and gastronomic products.
Notable Zagreb souvenirs are the tie or cravat, an accessory named after Croats who wore characteristic scarves around their necks in the Thirty Years’ War in the 17th century and the ball-point pen, a tool developed from the inventions by Slavoljub Eduard Penkala, an inventor and a citizen of Zagreb.
Many Zagreb restaurants offer various specialties of national and international cuisine.
Domestic products which deserve to be tasted include turkey, duck or goose with mlinci (a kind of pasta), štrukli (cottage cheese strudel), sir i vrhnje (cottage cheese with cream), kremšnite (custard slices in flaky pastry) and orehnjača (traditional walnut roll). )
Andrić was well received by South Slav nationalists in Zagreb and regularly participated in on-campus demonstrations.
This led to his being reprimanded by the university.
In 1913, after completing two semesters in Zagreb, Andrić transferred to the University of Vienna, where he resumed his studies.
(Vienna is the federal capital, largest city and one of nine states of Austria.
Vienna is Austria’s principal city, with a population of about 1.9 million (2.6 million within the metropolitan area, nearly one third of the country’s population), and its cultural, economic and political centre.
It is the 7th-largest city by population within city limits in the European Union.
Until the beginning of the 20th century, it was the largest German-speaking city in the world, and before the splitting of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in World War I, the city had 2 million inhabitants.
Today, it has the second largest number of German speakers after Berlin.
Vienna is host to many major international organizations, including the United Nations and OPEC.
The city is located in the eastern part of Austria and is close to the borders of the Czech Republic, Slovakia and Hungary.
These regions work together in a European Centrope border region.
Along with nearby Bratislava, Vienna forms a metropolitan region with 3 million inhabitants.
In 2001, the city centre was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
In July 2017 it was moved to the list of World Heritage in Danger.
Apart from being regarded as the City of Music because of its musical legacy, Vienna is also said to be “The City of Dreams” because it was home to the world’s first psychoanalyst – Sigmund Freud.
The city’s roots lie in early Celtic and Roman settlements that transformed into a Medieval and Baroque city, and then the capital of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
It is well known for having played an essential role as a leading European music centre, from the great age of Viennese Classicism through the early part of the 20th century.
The historic centre of Vienna is rich in architectural ensembles, including Baroque castles and gardens, and the late-19th-century Ringstraße lined with grand buildings, monuments and parks.
Vienna is known for its high quality of life.
In a 2005 study of 127 world cities, the Economist Intelligence Unit ranked the city first (in a tie with Vancouver and San Francisco) for the world’s most liveable cities.
Between 2011 and 2015, Vienna was ranked second, behind Melbourne.
In 2018, it replaced Melbourne as the number one spot.
For ten consecutive years (2009–2019), the human-resource-consulting firm Mercer ranked Vienna first in its annual “Quality of Living” survey of hundreds of cities around the world.
Monocle’s 2015 “Quality of Life Survey” ranked Vienna second on a list of the top 25 cities in the world “to make a base within.”
The UN-Habitat classified Vienna as the most prosperous city in the world in 2012/2013.
The city was ranked 1st globally for its culture of innovation in 2007 and 2008, and sixth globally (out of 256 cities) in the 2014 Innovation Cities Index, which analyzed 162 indicators in covering three areas: culture, infrastructure, and markets.
Vienna regularly hosts urban planning conferences and is often used as a case study by urban planners.
Between 2005 and 2010, Vienna was the world’s number-one destination for international congresses and conventions.
It attracts over 6.8 million tourists a year.)
Above: Images of Vienna (Wien)
While in Vienna, Andric joined South Slav students in promoting the cause of Yugoslav unity and worked closely with two Yugoslav student societies, the Serbian cultural society Zora (Dawn) and the Croatian student club Zvonimir, which shared his views on “integral Yugoslavism” (the eventual assimilation of all South Slav cultures into one).
Andric became acquainted with Soren Kierkegaard’s book Either / Or, which would have a lasting influence on him.
Above: Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard (1813 – 1855)
Despite finding like-minded students in Vienna, the city’s climate took a toll on Andrić’s health.
He contracted tuberculosis and became seriously ill, then asked to leave Vienna on medical grounds and continue his studies elsewhere, though Hawkesworth believes he may actually have been taking part in a protest of South Slav students that were boycotting German-speaking universities and transferring to Slavic ones.
For a time, Andrić had considered transferring to a school in Russia but ultimately decided to complete his fourth semester at Jagiellonian University in Kraków.
Above: Logo of Jagiellonian University
(Kraków is the second largest and one of the oldest cities in Poland.
Situated on the Vistula River, the city dates back to the 7th century.
Kraków was the official capital of Poland until 1596 and has traditionally been one of the leading centres of Polish academic, economic, cultural and artistic life.
Cited as one of Europe’s most beautiful cities, its Old Town was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
The city has grown from a Stone Age settlement to Poland’s second most important city.
It began as a hamlet on Wawel Hill and was already being reported as a busy trading centre of Central Europe in 965.
With the establishment of new universities and cultural venues at the emergence of the Second Polish Republic in 1918 and throughout the 20th century, Kraków reaffirmed its role as a major national academic and artistic centre.
The city has a population of about 770,000, with approximately 8 million additional people living within a 100 km (62 mi) radius of its main square.
After the invasion of Poland by Nazi Germany at the start of World War II, the newly defined Distrikt Krakau (Kraków District) became the capital of Germany’s General Government.
The Jewish population of the city was forced into a walled zone known as the Kraków Ghetto, from which they were sent to German extermination camps such as the nearby Auschwitz never to return, and the Nazi concentration camps like Płaszów.
In 1978, Karol Wojtyła, archbishop of Kraków, was elevated to the papacy as Pope John Paul II—the first Slavic pope ever and the first non-Italian pope in 455 years.
Above: Pope John Paul II (1920 – 2005)
Also that year, UNESCO approved the first ever sites for its new World Heritage List, including the entire Old Town in inscribing Kraków’s Historic Centre.
Kraków is classified as a global city with the ranking of high sufficiency by GaWC.
Its extensive cultural heritage across the epochs of Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque architecture includes the Wawel Cathedral and the Royal Castle on the banks of the Vistula, the St. Mary’s Basilica, Saints Peter and Paul Church and the largest medieval market square in Europe, the Rynek Główny.
Kraków is home to Jagiellonian University, one of the oldest universities in the world and traditionally Poland’s most reputable institution of higher learning.
In 2000, Kraków was named European Capital of Culture.
In 2013 Kraków was officially approved as a UNESCO City of Literature.
The city hosted the World Youth Day in July 2016.)
Throughout his life Andric would feel that he owed much to the Polish excursion.
Andric met and mingled with painters Jovan Bijelic, Roman Petrovic and Peter Tijesic.
He transferred in early 1914 and continued to publish translations, poems and reviews.
Six poems written by Andric were included in the anthology Hrvatska Mlada Linka (Young Christian Lyricists).
In the words of literary critics:
“As unhappy as any artist. Ambitious. Sensitive. Briefly speaking, he has a future.”
Above: Flag of Poland
(This perspective has always made me wonder….
Must a man suffer before he can call himselfan artist?)
Certainly, Andric lost his father and was separated from his mother in his childhood and the domination of his homeland by the Austrian-Hungarian Empire clearly bothered him, nonetheless Andric had had the distinct privilege of living and studying in four of the most beautiful and cultural cities that Eastern Europe offers.
Certainly, Andric would be plagued with ill health often during the course of his lifetime, but it would not be until the outbreak of war in 1914 that his, and Europe’s, suffering would truly begin….
(To be continued….)
Sources: Wikipedia / Google / Lonely Planet Eastern Europe / Belgrade City Museum, Memorial Museum of Ivo Andric Guide / Komshe Travel Guides, Serbia in Your Hands / Top Travel Guides, Belgrade / Bradt Guides, Serbia / Aleksandar Diklic, Belgrade: The Eternal City / Ivo Andric, The Bridge on the Drina / Ivo Andric, Signs by the Roadside
Thursday was Ascension Day, a holiday commemorated in both Thurgau Canton (where my wife works) and in St. Gallen Canton (where I work), and, to our mutual surprise, we found ourselves both free from the obligations of employment simultaneously.
A miracle almost as spectacular as someone rising to Heaven in a cloud!
We decided to visit the Hundertwasser Exhibition at the Kunstmuseum in Lindau, Germany, by taking a train to Romanshorn, then another to Rorschach Harbour and then finally a boat across the Lake of Constance to Bavaria’s only port.
This post is not that story, though it is this story that inspires this post.
In thinking about how my wife and I interacted on yesterday’s day trip I invariably compare it to other times we have travelled together.
(For previous posts about Porto, please see Canada Slim and the War of the Oranges as well as Canada Slim and the Station Sanctuary of this blog.)
The wife and I have been together for 23 years – she IS tough – and we always somehow muddle through.
We forgive one another.
She forgives me for being wrong and I forgive her for pointing out how truly wrong I can be!
Sadly, the amnesia of our conflicts is sometimes not as permanent as it should be….
Porto, Portugal, Wednesday 25 July 2018
It is a warm day in this the most western country of Continental Europe and happily we are in a city we both like.
Porto is more than a twee tourist trap of little more than pomp and ceremony, like Lisboa the Portuguese capital.
Porto is Portugal’s Chicago, a busy commercial centre, whose fascination lies in its riverside setting and day-to-day life.
Make no mistake there are sites in Porto worth seeing….
The riverside barrio of Ribeira with waterfront cafés and restuarants
The landmark Clérigos Tower
The Sé, Porto’s cathedral
The contemporary art gallery and park at the Fondacao de Serralves
The port wine lodges across the Douro River in Vila Nova de Gaia
A Douro River cruise
The bridges that span the Douro: the Ponte Dom Luis I, the Ponte Infante, the Ponte María Pia
The Salào Árabe of the Palácio da Bosa
Above: Images of Porto
We had walked through the cathedral square the day previously, but this morning we were determined to explore all the sites that surrounded it.
But the morning began badly.
A wardrobe malfunction made us return back to our B & B bedroom.
Then we discovered the English language guidebook we were dependent upon had somehow gone missing.
We returned once again to the room, didn’t find it, so we were forced to find a bookshop and buy the book anew.
We made our way back to the Sé and then she discovered her German-language guidebook was not to be found with us.
She rushed back to the room and left me in the bright sunshine waiting her return.
Set on a rocky outcrop, a couple of hundred metres from Sao Bento Station, Porto’s Cathedral, the Sé, commands fine views over the rooftops.
I look up at the Sé’s North Tower, the one with the bell, and my eyes trace the worn bas-relief depicting a 14th century ship – a reminder of the earlier days of Portugal’s maritime epic, when sailors inched nervously down the west Saharan coastline not knowing what dangers were ahead.
Perhaps my wife’s impatience with the morning was partially affected by our cathedral visit, for the Sé’s interior is a disquieting, disastrous doomsday design of Baroque blended with rough Romanesque and gargantuan Gothic architecture that has a spirit as gloomy as a bride and groom forced to wed whom they do not love.
The Sé is redeemed its ghastly first impressions once the senses escape into the cathedral cloisters, with walls lovingly draped with glowing azulejos and a grand staircase that ascends to the breathtaking chapterhouse for panoramic perspectives of the world from the windows.
The Sé is a holy seductress with a mask of beauty that barely conceals a darkness and depth that dares not expose itself to the light.
The Sé is not an intimate ingress of inspiration but rather a stern sorrow-laden scourge of sin and sacrifice designed to intimidate and threaten those unworthy of salvation.
The old dowager lacks teeth, her majesty missing, her glory gone, her gloom inescapable.
The wife returned to retrieve her German-language Müller Guide which I should have packed in my rucksack and didn’t.
Boys, or men who eternally and internally remain boys, are book-bearing beasts of burden meant to be present but unobtrusive, to be seen but not heard.
I sit in the sun with clear directives to accomplish as set by my bothered bride.
I must plan our progress for the rest of the day.
Planning is never a prospect I embrace, for invariably my plans falls short of her perception of what a perfect plan entails.
I soak the warmth of the sunbaked stone into my already weary bones and tired mind.
I am unmoving and unmoved, immensely immovable.
On the south side of the Sé stretches the grandiose facade of the Paco Episcopal, the medieval archbishop’s palace, where the first King of Portugal was crowned and spent his wedding night.
Like the Sé, the Paco is a mishmash of architectural elements: a Rococo stairway lined with carved granite flowers, Neoclassical doorways with Baroque decor, priceless furniture of luxurious lifestyle exposed to penny-pinching voyeuristic peasants, a lodging financed by a love of God with 17th century Indonesian cabinets hewed from blood and sweat, toil and tears hatefully demanded by harsh Portuguese taskmasters, religious paintings ironically produced in the secular scene of the first Portuguese Republic (1911 – 1956).
The Palace does not intice nor excite me.
But the notion of politics and history does, as I read A.H. de Oliveira Marques’ A Very Short History of Portugal and I wonder, as I often do, at what compels a man to demand better from those who would rule him.
The reckless courage that is required to speak truth to power and demand justice from the unjust has always fascinated me.
I am a foreigner living in Switzerland and though my lot as a Canadian is far more fortunate than that of other nationalities exiled here, there does exist inequalities and injustices enforced by the Swiss upon those who were not born in the Helvetian Republic.
Just to name a few: taxation without any or only minor representation, difficulty to find employment matching the expat’s experience and the unnecessary requirement that rejects qualifications not obtained within Switzerland, the blatant racial and religious profiling done at border crossings by unsympathetic customs pitbull police, the sometimes subtle, sometimes blatant, xenophobia encouraged by the eternally re-elected party in power, the bureaucracy that is bathed with greed and complexity, the fortress mentality of a nation determined to remain neutral yet one that profits from the spoils of war, a people who confuse quality of life by quantity of franks in silent bank vaults and wonder why having it all isn’t so much fun….
I often want to climb the stairs to our apartment building’s roof and shout obscenities down upon the unsuspecting neighbourhood of Landschlacht.
But I lack the courage, for attention garnered may mean expulsion, and, for better or worse, Switzerland has been my home for nine years.
I am a whisper on the Internet, a voice without echo, in a world blind to everything but the square screen of the preset mobile device upon their palms.
I think about what we could tour next.
The house behind the Sé at Rua de Dom Hugo 32 was once the home of the poet and writer Guerra Junquiero whose works reflected the revolutionay turmoil of the Republican era.
Today the Casa Museu Guerra Junquiero exhibits the Iberian and Islamic art, the Seljuk pottery, glassware and glazed earthenwear that he had collected over his lifetime, in rooms that recapture the atmosphere of the poet’s last home.
My guidebooks speak of the Junquiero Museum but none lavishes praise upon it, primarily for the reason that all is written only in Portuguese.
Abílio Manuel Guerra Junqueiro (1850 – 1923) was a Portuguese top civil servant, a member of the Portuguese House of Representatives, a journalist, author and poet.
His work helped inspire the creation of the Portuguese First Republic.
Junqueiro wrote highly satirical poems criticizing conservatism, romanticism and the Church, leading up to the Portuguese Revolution of 1910.
He was one of Europe’s greatest poets.
Born in Freixo de Espada à Cinta, Trás-os-Montes, Portugal to José António Junqueiro Júnior, a supply trader and farmer, and wife Ana Maria Guerra.
His mother died when he was only three years old.
He completed his secondary studies in Bragança and at sixteen, he enrolled at the University of Coimbra to study theology.
Guerra Junqueiro began his literary career in a promising way in Coimbra in the literary journal A Folha, directed by the poet João Penha, of which later he was editor.
Above: Bust of Joao Penha (1838 – 1919), Braga, Portugal
Here Junquiero created friendly relations with some of the best writers and poets of his time, a group generally known as the Generation of 70.
Guerra Junqueiro from a very young age began to manifest remarkable poetic talent, and already by 1867 his name was included among the most hopeful of the new generation of Portuguese poets.
In the same year, in the book entitled The Portuguese Aristarchus, appreciating the book Vozes Sem Echo (Voices without Echo), published in Coimbra in 1867 by Guerra Junqueiro, an auspicious future was already foreseen for its author.
In Porto, on the same date, another work appeared, Baptismo de Amor (Baptism of Love), accompanied by a preamble written by Camilo Castelo Branco.
In Coimbra, Junqueiro published the Lira dos quatorze anos (The Book of Fourteen Years), a volume of poetry, and the poem Mysticae nuptiae.
In Porto, in 1870 the Vitória da Franca (Victory of France) was published, then later republished in Coimbra in 1873.
In 1873, when a republic was proclaimed in Spain, Junquiero wrote the vehement poem À Espanha livre (To free Spain).
Junqueiro concluded his study of law also in 1873.
He became secretary of the governors of Angra do Heroísmo, Azores, and later of Viana do Castelo.
In 1874 his poem A morte de D. Joao (The death of D. João) achieved great success.
Camilo Castelo Branco dedicated an article to him in the Nights of Insomnia, and Oliveira Martins, in the magazine Arts and Letters.
Above: Camilo Castelo Branco (1825 – 1890)
In Lisbon, Junquiero was a contributor of prose and verse, for political and artistic journals, such as The Magic Lantern and António Maria, with the collaboration of drawings by Rafael Bordalo Pinheiro.
In 1875 Junquiero wrote OCrime, a poem on the murder of Ensign Palma de Brito, the poem Aos Veteranos da Liberdade (To the Veterans of Freedom) and the volume of Contos para a infancía (Tales for Childhood).
In Diário de Notícias (The Daily News) he also published the poem Fiel e Na Ferra da Ladra (Fiel and the Story of Feira da Ladra).
In 1878 he published in Lisbon the poem Tragédia infantil.
Junquiero collaborated to several periodical publications, namely: Atlantida (1915-1920), Branco e Negro (1896-1898), Brazil Portugal (1899-1914) (1884-1885), The Press, The Universal Illustration (1884-1885), The Portuguese Illustration (1885-1891), Sunday’s Newspaper (1881-1888), The Reading (1894-1896), Light and Life (1879), The West (1878-1915), Renaissance (1878-1879), The Pantheon (1880-1881), The Portuguese Republic (1901-1911), Azulejos (1907-1909), in the Tourism magazine, begun in 1916 and in the newspaper O Azeitonense (1919-1920).
A great part of the poetic compositions of Guerra Junqueiro is reunited in the volume A Musa Em Férias (The Muse on Vacation), published in 1879.
This year he also wrote the poem O Melro (O Blackbird), which was later included in A Velhice do Padre Eterno (The Old Age of the Eternal Father) of 1885.
Idílios e Sátrias (Idylls and Satires) was a translated and collected volume of short stories by Hans Christian Andersen and others.
Above: Hans Christian Andersen (1805 – 1875)
After a stay in Paris, apparently for treatment of digestive disease contracted during his stay in the Azores, Junquiero published in 1885, in Porto, A Velhice do Padre Eterno (The Old Age of the Eternal Father), a work that provoked bitter retorts by the clerical opinion, represented in the press, among others, by the canon José Joaquim de Sena Freitas.
Above: José Joaquim de Sena Freitas (1840 – 1913)
Controversial with regard to religion, other writings of anticlerical nature by its author have been found in periodical publications like The Lucta and The Light (1919 -1921).
When the conflict with England over the “pink map“, which culminated in the British Ultimatum of 11 January 1890, Guerra Junqueiro became deeply interested in this national crisis and wrote Finis Patriae (The end of country) and A Cancao do Ódio (The Song of Hate), to which Miguel Ângelo Pereira wrote the music.
(The 1890 British Ultimatum was an ultimatum by the British government delivered on 11 January 1890 to Portugal.
The ultimatum forced the retreat of Portuguese military forces from areas which had been claimed by Portugal on the basis of historical discovery and recent exploration, but which the United Kingdom claimed on the basis of effective occupation.
Portugal had attempted to claim a large area of land between its colonies of Mozambique and Angola including most of present-day Zimbabwe and Zambia and a large part of Malawi, which had been included in Portugal’s “Rose-coloured Map“.
It has sometimes been claimed that the British government’s objections arose because the Portuguese claims clashed with its aspirations to create a Cape to Cairo Railway, linking its colonies from the south of Africa to those in the north.
Above: British colonies (pink), Portuguese colonies (purple)
This seems unlikely, as in 1890 Germany already controlled German East Africa, now Tanzania, and Sudan was independent under Muhammad Ahmad.
Rather, the British government was pressed into taking action by Cecil Rhodes, whose British South Africa Company was founded in 1888 south of the Zambezi and the African Lakes Company and British missionaries to the north.
Above: Cecil Rhodes (1853 – 1902)
When Portugal acquiesced to British demands, it was considered as a breach of the Treaty of Windsor (1386) and seen as a national humiliation by republicans in Portugal, who denounced the government and the King as responsible for it.
On 14 January, the progressive government fell and the leader of the Regenerador Party, António de Serpa Pimentel, was chosen to form the new government.
Above: António de Serpa Pimental (1825 – 1900)
The progressivists then began to attack the King, voting for republican candidates in the March election of that year, questioning the colonial agreement then signed with the British.
Feeding an atmosphere of near insurrection, on 23 March 1890, António José de Almeida, at the time a student in the University of Coimbra and, later on, President of the Republic, published an article entitled Bragança, o último, considered slanderous against the King and led to Almeida’s imprisonment.
Above: António José de Almeida (1866 – 1929)
On 1 April 1890, the explorer Silva Porto (1817 – 1890) immolated himself (set himself on fire), wrapped in a Portuguese flag in Kuito, Angola, after failed negotiations with the locals, attributed to the Ultimatum.
The death of the well-known explorer of the African continent generated a wave of national sentiment and his funeral was followed by a crowd in Porto.
On 11 April, Guerra Junqueiro’s poetic work Finis Patriae, a satire criticising the King, went on sale.
In the city of Porto, on 31 January 1891, a military uprising against the monarchy took place, constituted mainly by sergeants and enlisted ranks.
The rebels, who used the nationalist anthem A Portuguesa as their marching song, took the Paços do Concelho, from whose balcony, the republican journalist and politician Augusto Manuel Alves da Veiga proclaimed the establishment of the republic in Portugal and hoisted a red and green flag belonging to the Federal Democratic Centre.
The movement was, shortly afterwards, suppressed by a military detachment of the municipal guard that remained loyal to the government, resulting in 40 injured and 12 casualties.
The captured rebels were judged. 250 received sentences of between 18 months and 15 years of exile in Africa.
A Portuguesa was forbidden.
Despite its failure, the rebellion of 31 January 1891 was the first large threat felt by the monarchic regime and a sign of what would come almost two decades later.
The British Ultimatum was considered by Portuguese historians and politicians at that time to be the most outrageous and infamous action of the UK against its oldest ally.
The 1890 ultimatum was said to be one of the main causes for the Republican Revolution, which ended the monarchy in Portugal 20 years later (5 October 1910) and the Lisbon assassinations of the Portuguese king (Carlos I of Portugal) and the crown prince on 1 February 1908.
After the British Ultimatum and the political crisis associated, he was involved in the political debate in 1891, writing some best sellers that had huge impact on public opinion, contributing to the discredit of the Portuguese monarchy and the success of the Portuguese Republican Party in the 1910 Portuguese Revolution.
The 5 October 1910 revolution was the overthrow of the centuries-old Portuguese monarchy and its replacement by the Portuguese Republic.
It was the result of a coup d’état organized by the Portuguese Republican Party.
By 1910, the Kingdom of Portugal was in deep crisis: British pressure on Portugal’s colonies, the royal family’s expenses, the assassination of the King and his heir in 1908, changing religious and social views, instability of the two political parties (Progressive and Regenerador), the dictatorship of João Franco and the regime’s apparent inability to adapt to modern times all led to widespread resentment against the Monarchy.
The proponents of the republic, particularly the Republican Party, found ways to take advantage of the situation.
The Republican Party presented itself as the only one that had a programme that was capable of returning to the country its lost status and place Portugal on the way of progress.
(Why does this sound so familiar?)
(Make Portugal great again?)
After a reluctance of the military to combat the nearly two thousand soldiers and sailors that rebelled between 3 and 4 October 1910, the Republic was proclaimed at 9 o’clock of the next day from the balcony of the Paços do Concelho in Lisbon.
After the revolution, a provisional government led by Teófilo Braga directed the fate of the country until the approval of the Constitution in 1911 that marked the beginning of the First Republic.
Among other things, with the establishment of the republic, national symbols were changed: the national anthem and the flag.
The revolution produced some civil and religious liberties, although there were no advances in women’s rightsand in workers’ rights, unlike what had happened in other European countries.
The First Portuguese Republic (Portuguese: Primeira República Portuguesa; officially: República Portuguesa, Portuguese Republic) spans a complex 16-year period in the history of Portugal, between the end of the period of constitutional monarchy marked by the 5 October 1910 revolution and the 28 May 1926 coup d’état.
The sixteen years of the First Republic saw nine presidents and 44 ministries and has been described as consisting of “continual anarchy, government corruption, rioting and pillage, assassinations, arbitrary imprisonment and religious persecution“.
The latter movement instituted a military dictatorship known as Ditadura Nacional (national dictatorship) that would be followed by the corporatist Estado Novo (new state) regime of António de Oliveira Salazar.
Above: António de Oliveria Salazar (1889 – 1970)
Kidnapped and driven off into darkness after Salazar snatched power in 1928, Portugal was absent from the Second World War and through most of the 20th century was economically isolated and politically smothered.
Portugal is rich with potential and a certain backwardness adds to the charm.
It is easy to fall in love with this fair land on this final edge of the world, though it could use a bit more self-confidence and a lot more marketing of itself and its heritage.)
Junquiero married Filomena Augusta da Silva Neves on 10 February 1880.
The couple had two children: Maria Isabel Guerra Junqueiro on 11 November 1880 and Júlia Guerra Junqueiro in 1881.
He died in Lisbon at the age of 72.
In 1940 Junqueiro’s daughter donated his estate in Porto that became the Guerra Junqueiro Museum.
Chronology of Guerra Junquiero:
1850: Born in Ligares, Freixo de Espada a Cinta
1864: The Book of Fourteen Years
1866: Studies theology at the University of Coimbra;
1867: Voices Without Echo
1868: Baptism of Love. Enrolls in the Faculty of Law of the University of Coimbra.
1873: Free Spain. Collaboration to The Leaf of João Penha. He earns a bachelor’s degree in law.
1874: The Death of D. João
1875: First issue of The Magic Lantern to which he collaborates
1878: He is appointed Secretary General of the Civil Government in Angra do Heroísmo.
1879: The Muse on Vacation and The Blackbird. Joins the Progressive Party. He is transferred from Angra do Heroísmo to Viana do Castelo and elected to the Chamber of Deputies.
1880: Married on 10 February to Filomena Augusta da Silva Neves. 11 November, their daughter Maria Isabel is born.
1881: Daughter Julia is born. Diagnosed with dementia, hospitalized in Porto.
1885: The Old Age of the Eternal Father. Creation of the “New Life” movement of which Junqueiro is a sympathizer.
1887: Second trip to Paris
1888: The group “Losers of Life” is formed. The Legitimate.
1889: His wife, Filomena Augusta Neves, dies whom he will mourn until the end of his days.
1890: Finis Patriae. Guerra Junqueiro is elected deputy by the Quelimane circle.
1895: Sells most of the artistic collections he had accumulated;
1896: The Fatherland. Departs for Paris.
1902: Prayer for Bread
1903: Lives in Vila do Conde.
1904: Prayer to the Light
1905: A visit to the Polytechnic Academy of Porto prompts him to settle in this city.
1908: He is candidate of the Republican Party for Porto.
1910: He is appointed Extraordinary Envoy and Minister Plenipotentiary of the Portuguese Republic to the Swiss Confederation in Berne
1914: Exonerated from the functions of Minister Plenipotentiary
1920: Sparse Prose
1923: He died on 7 July in Lisbon.
1966: His body is solemnly transferred from the Jerónimos Monastery where it had been interred to the National Pantheon of the Church of Santa Engrácia, Lisbon, in a ceremony held to honor other illustrious Portuguese figures.
Those are the facts as drily given by Wikipedia and Google, but who was the man?
How should we categorize him?
Should we?
Can we?
Was he a mere bureaucratic drone who dabbled in poetry?
Or a poet who dabbled in government work?
Did his writing incite a revolution or did it merely capture the spirit of the times?
As I sit in the sun my mind should be planning our travel itinerary for the day so to placate my wife upon her return.
But instead I think of Junqueiro and his Museum I won’t mention to the wife, already unhappy with the start of our first full day in Porto.
I think instead of the power of the printed word and of the impossibility, even through the written expression of a writer’s thoughts, of truly knowing another person.
Though it may be acknowledged that it is surely difficult for us to know a Portuguese poet long dead from nearly a century ago, it must also be acknowledged that even those we presently love remain unsolved mysteries to us.
“We are all patchwork, and so shapeless and diverse in composition that each bit, each moment, plays its own game.
And there is as much difference between us and ourselves as between us and others.” (Michel de Montaigne, Essais)
Above: Michel de Montaigne (1533 – 1592)
“Each of us is several, is many, is a profusion of selves.
So that the self who disdains his surroundings is not the same as the self who suffers or takes joy in them.
In the vast colony of our being, there are many species of people who think and feel in different ways.” (Fernando Pessoa, Livro do Desassossego)
Above: Fernando Pessoa (1888 – 1935)
I think of the mix of contradictory emotions that fill me anticipating my wife’s return, both eagerly awaiting and decidedly dreading her return.
I think of how each of us carries around inside ourselves whole worlds.
I am more than a sweaty balding head.
I am also a tear-softened soul.
I think of how much life I might still have before me, how open my future might be, how much could still happen, how much there might still be experienced.
Can anyone see beneath my mask that I am a mix of modesty and immodesty, of conformity and eccentricity, that within me lies a silent rage aimed at a pompous world, an unbending defiance against the world of show-offs whose only real accomplishment is their accidental connectivity to realms of power and prestige denied the average man?
I sit in the sun, uncertain of what to suggest next, unwilling to face my wife’s disapproval at what she will perceive to be laziness instead of confusion.
Perhaps we travel not to experience another world, but to flee from our own experience, simultaneously running to and from life.
Portugal is a land always in the shadows, a land of foggy fishing villages and tiny hamlets set deep in cork forests.
It is a land of mournful fado wailing and legendary sightings of the Virgin Mary.
Critics, most of them Portuguese, call Portugal the graveyard of ambition, the kingdom of mediocrity, where the national pastime is complaining and the ambitious leave.
As late as 2005, Portugal still had 13% of women who couldn’t read, less than 50% of children who made it to high school and was the lowest earner of the EU.
Porto, historically the country’s wine distribution centre, is said to be the hardest working part of Portugal:
“Lisbon plays, Porto pays, Coimbra prays.”
I want to visit the archbishop’s palace and the poet’s place, for I take great comfort from the calm of everything past.
So often I am alone with my thoughts, even when surrounded by a cacophony of chaotic conversations convulsing from a crowd.
My mind is sealed and my tongue falters in failing to express the vaulted thought.
My wife speaks and my ears hear and my heart listens, but my mind is my own, adrift on its own adventure, lost in its own odyssey.
I am reminded of my reading on the flight the day before, of the writing of Amadeu Prado, as invented by Swiss writer Pascal Mercier in his book Night Train to Lisbon:
“Of the thousand experiences we have, we find language for one experience at most and even this one merely by chance and without the care it deserves.
Buried under all the mute experiences are those unseen ones that give our life its form, its colour and its melody.
Then, when we turn to these treasures, as archaeologists of the soul, we discover how confusing they are.
The object of contemplation refuses to stand still, the words bounce off the experience and in the end, pure contradictions stand on the paper.”
What benefit is there in being the archaeologist of one’s self, to dig for buried experience?
“Given that we can live only a small part of what there is in us, what happens to the rest?”
The Wikipedia photo of Junquiero shows a man of intelligence and self-confidence and boldness.
Or is what I perceive only an observation of qualities I wish I possessed beneath the mask I wear?
Yet the contradiction that is a man’s character sometimes wonders could something be made different from my life, that there may be more to me than anyone knows.
In the centre of the city, in the centre of my life, I sit in the sun in the square of the cathedral.
I reflect how we live in an age rushing through a timeless universe only appreciated when contemplated quietly and calmly.
I think of the life of a man I never knew, a poet whose words I never read, who wrote in a language I never spoke.
Is Junqueiro only identifiable by what he did and the words he wrote?
Was there more to the man than anyone besides himself could ever possibly know?
“Is there a mystery under the surfaces of human action?
Or are human beings utterly what their obvious acts indicate?”
The words that Junquiero wrote, the words I have never read, are they expressions of eternally, essentially, the same things others have said before?
“Words are so horribly frayed and threadbare, worn out by being used millions of times.
Do they still have any meaning?
Naturally, the exchange of words functions.
People act on them.
They laugh and cry.
They go left or right.
The waiter brings the coffee or tea.
But that’s not what I want to ask.
The question is:
Are they still an expression of thoughts?
Or only effective sounds that drive people here and there because the worn grooves of babble incessantly flash?“
Perhaps I should follow the advice of Marcus Aurelius when he writes in his Meditations:
“Do wrong to thyself.
Do wrong to thyself, my soul, but later thou wilt no longer have the opportunity of respecting and honouring thyself.
For every man has but one life….
Those who do not observe the impulses of their own minds must of necessity be unhappy.“
Above: Marble bust of Marcus Aurelius (121 – 180)
She returns to me still sitting in the sun, with little progress on the planning made.
I imagine her thinking:
“What is the point of having a husband if he does not do what he is told?”
I imagine that she feels the weight of the world on her shoulders having a man about who is so completely useless at times.
I smile foolishly and say pointless words to defend my pointlessness.
I don’t mention Junquiero’s house and she never asks.
I also know I would be frustrated being in a museum whose signage I couldn’t read, despite the unfair expectation that a Portuguese museum have any other language besides Portuguese for a poet unknown outside of Portugal.
With a heavy sigh, she plans for us.
The morning has been shot to hell, so lunch across the Douro River in Gaia might inspire us.
Like the animal I am, I respond greedily to the prospect of food.
I know there is no excuse for my behaviour and no words to justify it, so I don’t bother trying.
Above: Vila Nova de Gaia
As I rise to my feet, carefully – I am just recovering from an accident where I broke both my arms – I think of Prado who never existed and Junquiero who no longer exists, then I focus on matters at hand.
The universe may be timeless but our vacation time is not.
But reading Mercier’s novel and learning of Junquiero’s life has inspired me.
I will ask when I can at random bookshops for the poems of Junquiero available in English translation.
Above: Livraria Lello, Porto
I know that the rhythm and subtlity of his poetry will be inadequately conveyed in translation, but I also know the painfully slow process of translating the original Portuguese into English I understand will somehow destroy the passion with which I started to read.
Nonetheless there is too little poetry in my life and even the muse of love has her limits and I must make amends for this deficiency.
I will return from the vacation and do the things I must do.
Work where and when I can.
Meet my obligations to others as best as I can.
I will seek no evil to see, no evil to hear, no evil to speak.
I remain a true husband, a good friend and loyal employee.
But my mind is my own and my words, as imprecise as they can be, will seek to speak my mind.
Perhaps through reading poetry I shall find the means to express myself.
I am my own archaeologist of my own self.
So much generated from simply sitting in the sun.
Sources: Wikipedia / Google / Lonely Planet Portugal / Rough Guide Portugal/ Pocket Rough Guide Porto / Matthew Hancock, Xenophobe’s Guide to the Portuguese / A.H. de Oliveira Marques, A Very Short History of Portugal / Pascal Mercier, Night Train to Lisbon / Pedro Rodrigues, Porto and Northern Portugal: Journeys and Stories / Melissa Rossi, The Armchair Diplomat on Europe / Jürgen Strohmeier, Nordportugal
This Sunday in Switzerland some folks will attend services in either a Reformed Church or a Roman Catholic Church and both groups will call themselves Christian.
And as the Earth spins around the Sun, from the Dark Continent of Africa to the Canadian tundra, Christians will kneel on this day to receive the elements of their own version of the eternal Eucharist as written in the Bible that speaks of how God sent His Son whose sacrifice somehow saved our wretched souls and whose resurrection conquered death for all of us, despite death being our destiny.
In Jerusalem and parts of the planet where the Great Diaspora has led them over centuries, others, wrapped in the prayer shawls that their ancestors wore in the desert, recite the Torah, as their Rabbi lovingly guides a wand across sacred text that Yahweh spoke to His Chosen People.
And within the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, and anywhere where the Qu’ran reigns the mind, five times a day, the faithful prostrate themselves towards Mecca, towards Mohammed’s holy city, and show their devotion to Allah, who also remains God the Father of Christianity and Yahweh of the Jews and yet is unrecognizable as the same God of Abraham said to be the originator of all three great religions.
Same deity, different names, different practices, same intolerance too often seen by those who claim this deity as their own.
In a tiny house by the Ganges River at the foot of the Himalayas, a Hindu Swami will not speak today, but will continue his devotional silence that, with the exception of three days each year, he has kept for years.
In Yangon, the monks of Shwedagon sit alone and together with the eternal in the tranquil silence and privacy of their Buddhist shrine, as do the Zen monks in Kyoto, spending most of the day sitting immovable in the lotus position, as they seek to plumb with absolute absorption the Buddha-nature that lies at the centre of their being.
What a freaky fellowship, an odd misplaced madness, this is, this seeking of something divine that defies description or definition, voices raised in desperate disparate ways, sacrificing precious life to a God of life that cannot be proven not to exist.
Such strange ethereal harmony, each faith claiming superiority over every other belief, no individual religion understanding the others, and yet united in lifting their voices to the heavens in the hopes that what binds the universe will spare a moment for those who are naught more than carbonated stardust.
Are the faithful foolish or the unbelieving unredeemable?
We cannot know.
All we can do is try and listen carefully, with full attention to each voice as it in its turn addresses the divine that lies within and without us.
Religions wrap the globe in their comfort, with histories stretching back into the forgotten mists of time, that still motivates more people today than ever before.
Nothing unites us more nor divides us more than religion does.
Who should we follow?
What should we believe?
Should Christians worship in ornate cathedrals bedecked with icons or consider even steeples divine desecrations?
How should Muslims decide between Sunni and Shi’ite or feel about Sufism?
Must a Jew be orthodox to call himself a true Jew?
And let us wonder as Buddhists ponder different traditions of Hinayana, Mahayana and Vajrayana philosophies.
Millions live by a faith.
More than three quarters of the world’s population consider that they belong to a religion, however little or much they do about it.
Communities of people who share practices and beliefs gather in special buildings for worship or meditation and seek to live lives in special ways in the world.
Whether we care to acknowledge it or not, religion has been the resource and inspiration for virtually all the most enduring art, architecture, music, drama, dance and poetry that the world has known, in search and expression of that which endures when all else passes away.
We must decide if faith has relevance in these digital days, our modern minds, our computerized lives.
As every religion mixes universal truths with local peculiarities we must lift out the former from the latter and embrace that which speaks to what is generically human in us all.
This is not easy for the irreverent, for religion is rich in rites and laden in legends.
This is not simple for those whose lives are reigned by rationalism, for the claim that the universal principles of faith are more important than rites and rituals is like contending that the trunk of a tree is more important than the branches, leaves or roots of that tree.
I know that when I seek to understand the religious impulse, that I myself lack, this is akin to trying to comprehend the incomprehensible.
The mind that is mine struggles to grasp how Hindu’s holy Kali Temple in Calcutta revers two million cows to the point of nuisance while fakirs offer their bodies to bedbugs as sacrifice.
I find myself conflicted between the stillness of Bethlehem and department stores blaring “Silent Night” from stereos above plastic reindeer and overweight Santas.
I seek to define the divine amidst images of crucified Christs and chocolate bunnies and Easter eggs.
I wallow in a mire of confusion as to how Crusades can be Christian or Jihads holy, or how a God of love co-exists with witch slaughter in Salem, monkey trials in Tennessee and Grand Inquisitions in Spain.
I, like billions before me and aeons after me, seek the meaning to my existence in the hope that my short span of life has worth.
I am reminded of a Faustian fable of a man who climbed to the top of a mountain and seized hold of the Truth.
Satan, suspecting sedition from this mortal upstart, directed a demon to tail the determined seeker.
When the demon reported with alarm the man’s success, Satan was not in the least bothered by the bulletin.
“Don’t worry.“, Satan yawned.
“I will tempt him to institutionalize the Truth.”
The empowering theological and metaphysical truth of faith is inspirational, but the religious institutions built around this truth are often not.
Religion is constituted of people with their inbuilt frailities, vices and virtues.
When the vices get compounded by masses, the results are horrifying to the point where one might suggest that faith should be left outside the hands of humanity.
But faith without the faithful would have left no mark upon humanity’s history, for better or for worse.
Had faith remained as only aloof disembodied insight and had not embraced institutions and rituals, then faith could not have established traction on history or upon men’s souls.
What is important is to not get lost in the smoke and ceremony of rite and ritual, but instead we need to sift religion for the truths they try to preserve, the wisdom that maintains our world.
As T.S. Eliot so wisely phrased it:
“Where is the knowledge that is lost in information?
Where is the wisdom that is lost in knowledge?”
Above: Thomas Stearns Eliot (1888 – 1965)
I categorically reject the premise that one religion is superior to another, for it is this comparison that is the most odious aspect of all institutions, for, as Arnold Toynbee observed:
“There is no one alive today who knows enough to say with confidence whether one religion has been greater than all others.”
Above: Arnold Toynbee (1852 – 1883)
It must be admitted that though I seek to embrace the world, I am incorrigibly myself and I know that the tale I am about to tell might be quite differently written had I been a Burmese Buddhist, a Turkish Muslim, a Nepalese Hindu, a Serbian Orthodox, a Swiss Catholic or a Polish Jew instead of a Canadian humanist with delusions of fluency.
We live in a world of wonders.
Lands across the planet are our neighbours, China is around the corner, the Middle East is our backyard, my younger colleagues and close companions with backpacks go everywhere, while I – who often remain at home in this wee hamlet of Landschlacht – have access to an endless parade of books and videos and visitors from abroad.
It isn’t so much that East meets West as it is humanity is being flung at one another, hurled across distances at jet speed, information invading our impatient intelligence within the breath between atoms.
Diogenes, twenty-five hundred years ago, exclaimed:
“I am not an Athenian or a Greek but a citizen of the world.”
Above: Diogenes (412 – 323 BC)
Today we have the possibility to not only think of ourselves by the nations we found ourselves born in, but rather we have the opportunity to judge our heartbeat by the pulse of the planet.
We need to understand the faiths of others if we are to meet them as allies or antagonists, so that we can avoid military engagement through diplomacy.
We need to understand one another through our faiths so we can enjoy the world vision it offers us.
Or put another way….
What do they know of England, who only England know?
How can we truly understand our beliefs if we never question them by comparison with others?
How truly enriching our lives become when we truly understand what belonging means to the Japanese, to sense with a Burmese grandmother what passes in life and what endures, to comprehend with the Hindu that our personalities mask the Infinite within, to follow the paradox of a Zen monk who assures you that everything is sacred but refrains from acts that are unholy, to feel the comfort that confession offers the devout Catholic….
For as language opens the mind to understanding other people, faith enlarges the heart to compassion and love for humanity.
True faith, not a dull habit but a living passion, confronts the individual with the momentous wisdom that life can offer.
Faith calls a soul to the highest adventure, a journey across the landscape of the human spirit.
It is the siren call to confront reality as it is, to master the self.
It is a lonely journey, a personal quest….
“A sharpened edge of a razor, hard to traverse,
A difficult path is this – the poets declare!”
(Alfred Toynbee, Civilization on Trial)
Los Alamos, New Mexico, 16 July 1945
Today is the day that the chain reaction of scientific discoveries that began at the University of Chicago and focused here at Site Y has reached the final culmination.
No one has been more instrumental in this project’s achievement than the director of the Los Alamos Project, Robert Oppenheimer.
All eyes are upon him closely this morning.
Above: Robert Oppenheimer (1904 – 1967)
“He grew tenser as the last seconds ticked off.
He scarcely breathed.
He held on to a post to steady himself.
When the announcer shouted “Now!”, there came this tremendous burst of light, followed by the deep-growling roar of the explosion, his face relaxed in an expression of tremendous relief.”
The first atomic bomb is a success.
What flashed through Oppenheimer’s mind during those moments were two lines from the Bhagavad-Gita in which the speaker is God:
“I am become Death, the shatterer of worlds;
Waiting that hour that ripens to their doom.”
(The Bhagavad Gita is a discourse between Krishna and Arjuna set in a chariot at the start of the Mahabharata War.)
Thus began an age in which violence and peace continue to confront each other more fatefully than ever before.
In India, Gandhi’s name became, in the middle of the 20th century, the counterpoint to those of Stalin and Hitler, but not just for the British withdrawl from the Subcontinent in peace, but, more importantly, for his lowering a barrier even more formidable than that of race in America.
Gandhi renamed India’s untouchables harijan – God’s people – and raised them to human stature.
In doing so, Gandhi provided the non-violent strategy and the inspiration for Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s civil rights movement in the United States.
Gandhi’s inspiration was revealed in his autobiography:
“Such power as I possess for working in the political field has derived from my experiments in the spiritual field.
Truth is the sovereign principle and the Bhagavad-Gita is the book par excellence for the knowledge of truth.”
On a grey day in October 2017, a stone’s throw from the grim North Circular, that drab ring road that encircles London’s northern suburbs of Neasden, I would follow my curiosity and thirst for truth eternal to a Hindu temple.
A temple both alien and appropriate in the homeland of English, in the heart of an empire that once dominated my own birth country of Canada and whose sovereign remains our head of state, from a religion with roots in the land of India – that living coalition of religions and languages where one billion congregate and of which 80% call themselves Hindu – with 30 million adherants dispersed throughout the world.
On that day I would visit the largest traditional Hindu temple outside India (as recognized by Guinness World Records), Neasden’s 8th Wonder of the World, the Crown Jewel of Hinduism, one of Reader’s Digest‘s 70 Wonders of the Modern World, Time Out London‘s Seven Wonders….
The BAPS Shri Swamirayan Mandir Hindu temple.
It would not make me a Hindu nor make me feel any more knowledgeable about Hinduism than I felt before, but, nevertheless, my morning visit left impressions with me that still remain….
London, England, 26 October 2017
Shri Swaminarayan was not my first visit to a Hindu temple (and I have a feeling that it won’t be my last), for on a visit to Singapore in the spring of 2014, en route to the Perth wedding of friends in Western Australia, I visited Sri Mariamman Temple, paradoxically located in the Lion City’s Chinatown district.
Sri Mariamman is the oldest Hindu temple in Singapore and I still remember the temple’s incredible, brightly coloured gopuram (tower) above the entrance, covered in kitsch plaster images of Brahma the Creator, Vishnu the Preserver and (Oppenheimer’s) Shiva the Destroyer, as sacred cow sculptures graze the boundary walls.
I had a three-day stopover in Singapore and in the process of trying to cram so much into my consciousness in a very short time Sri Mariammen is a blurred memory amongst many that I saw during my short sojourn in the city-state.
I recall also seeing the Peranakan Museum, the Raffles Hotel, the Chinatown Heritage Centre, the Buddha Tooth Relic Museum, the Taoist Temple of Heavenly Happiness (Thian Hock Temp), Little India, Changi Prison, the Night Safari, Sentosa Island and Pulau Ubin.
I remember Little India, not for the Sri Veeramakaliamman Temple with images of Kali, wearing a garland of skulls and ripping out the insides of her victims, but rather for the Bismallah Biryani Restaurant’s mutton kebab.
Hindu temples in Singapore were, for me at the time of my visit, only part of a tightly squeezed adventure and a list of must-sees rather than research for right or righteous religion.
(Thinking of Singapore and Perth I see future posts about them….)
I might not have bothered with London’s BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Manhir at all had not my wife purchased for us two London Passes, offering free entry to over 60 attractions, as well as free public transport on buses, tubes and trains, and strongly suggested I use mine as much as possible during the days of the medical conference she would attend that week.
Today would be the first day that I would view London unaccompanied by my spouse during the week.
It was not my first visit to London….
(I had spent a couple of days on my own in 1995, mostly walking along the Thames rather than doing much exploring as a lack of money dogged my days then.
I spent a day and an evening in 2010 with my good friend Iain and his beautiful companion – now his spouse since the aforementioned Perth wedding – Samantha, visiting Greenwich Observatory and seeing the show Avenue Q in the Theatre District, with time to enjoy life walking well and dining fine.)
But this was the first time I would attempt to deliberately explore London on my own without having to worry excessively about money.
I approached the Project alphabetically from the pages of the London Pass Guide.
As the ArcelorMittal Orbit(London’s tallest sculpture), the All Hallows by the Tower Church (where William Penn was baptized, John Quincy Adams was married and Archbishop William Laud was buried), Apsley House (with the oldest surviving grand piano in the UK) and the Arsenal Stadium Tour & Museum – (Football was never so crucial a sport to me as Canadian ice hockey or American baseball.)(Iain, an Everton fan, would never have forgiven me such a sacrilege.) – didn’t strike me as “must-see-before-I-die” / bucket list attractions, BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Manhir seemed the place to start.
And I must admit the attraction was attractively described:
“BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Mandir is a masterpiece of traditional Hindu design and exquisite Indian workmanship in the heart of London.
Using 5,000 tonnes of Italian and Indian marble and the finest Bulgarian limestone, it was hand-carved in India before being assembled in London in just 2.5 years.
Since it opened in 1995, this renowned place of worship has attracted over 400,000 visitors every year.
Come and marvel at the intricate carvings, experience a traditional Hindu prayer ceremony, or learn about the world’s oldest living faith.“
I took the Tube from our hotel’s neighbourhood way out to Stonebridge Park Station and wandered lost for an hour until I reached Neasden in the London Borough of Brent.
It may seem at first thought that Neasden is an unusual spot for a Hindu temple, but then Neasden has always been an unusual spot in its own right.
Neasden’s name meant “nose hill” and referred to the small promontory at the western end of the Dollis Hill Ridge upon which the hamlet sat.
The countryside hamlet land was once owned by St. Paul’s Cathedral and consisted of only several small buildings around a green near the site of the present Neasden roundabout until the mid-19th century.
In 1823 Neasden was no more than a “retired hamlet” with six cottages, four large farms, a pub and a smithy gathered around the green.
The Brent Reservoir (aka the Welsh Harp Reservoir from the name of the aforementioned pub) between Henden and Wembley Park, that straddles the boundary between the Boroughs of Brent and Barnet, was completed in 1835 and was breached in 1841.
The breaking of the dam on the River Brent resulted in folks dying and many fields and meadows under water.
Today the Brent Reservoir is a biological Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) and home to the great crested grebe, the gadwall, the shoveler, the common pochard, the tufted duck and the common tern, as well as eight species of warbler – a total of 253 species of bird life.
As well the Reservoir possesses 31 species of butterfly, 15 species of dragonflies and is also the residence of grey squirrels, red foxes and bats.
In 1960 the Reservoir hosted the Women’s European Rowing Championships.
Today the Welsh Harp Open Space surely sees not only rowboats and sailboats but those of the Hindu faith enjoying the magic of this unglamourous corner of suburban tranquillity.
(Not fishermen though, as fishing is strictly forbidden.)
In 1873 Neasden had a populace of 110 and the horse was the main form of transport.
As London grew, the demand for horses in the capital soared, so in the second half of the 19th century Neasden farms focused on rearing and providing horses for the City.
Town work was exhausting and unhealthy for the horses….
(It ain’t so wonderful for humans either.)
In 1886 the RSPCA formed a committee to set up the Home of Rest for Horses with grounds in Neasden, where, for a small fee, town horses were allowed to graze in the open for a few weeks.
The urbanization of Neasden began with the arrival of the railway.
The first railway running through Neasden was opened for goods traffic in 1868 with passenger services following soon after.
In the 1890s change led to a conscious effort to create a village atmosphere.
At this time, the Spotted Dog became a social centre for local people.
By 1891 Neasden had a population of 930, half of whom lived in the village.
Despite the presence of the village in the west, it was the London end that grew fastest.
In 1893 the Great Central Railway got permission to join up its main line from Nottingham with the Metropolitan.
The Great Central set up a depot south of the line at Neasden and built houses for its workers.
The Great Central village was a “singularly isolated and self-contained community” with its own school and single shop, Branch No. 1 of the North West London Co-operative Society.
It is now part of a conservation area.
There was considerable sporting rivalry between the two railway estates and a football match was played every Good Friday.
By the 1930s the two railways employed over 1,000 men.
Neasden Hospital was built in 1894 and closed in 1986.
Apart from the railways, Neasden was dominated by agriculture until just before the First World War.
In 1911, Neasden’s population had swelled to 2,074.
By 1913, light industry at Church End had spread up Neasden Lane as far as the station.
In the 1920s, the building of the North Circular Road, a main arterial route round London, brought another wave of development.
It opened in 1923.
The 1924 British Empire Exhibition led to road improvements and the introduction of new bus services.
Together with the North Circular Road, it paved the way for a new residential suburb at Neasden.
The last farm in Neasden was built over in 1935.
The Ritz Cinema opened in 1935, and Neasden Shopping Parade was opened in 1936, considered then to be the most up-to-date in the area.
All of Neasden’s older houses were demolished during this period, except for The Grange.
The Spotted Dog was rebuilt in mock-Tudor style.
Industries sprung up in the south of the area, and by 1949, Neasden’s population was over 13,000.
The Post Office Research Station was located nearby in Dollis Hill.
There the Colossus computers, among the world’s first, were built in 1943-1944, and underneath them the Paddock Wartime Cabinet Rooms had been constructed in 1939.
Neasden Power Station, which was built to provide power for the Metropolitan Railway, was closed and demolished in 1968.
The post-war history of Neasden is one of steady decline.
Local traffic congestion problems necessitated the building of an underpass on the North Circular Road that effectively cut Neasden in half and had a disastrous effect on the shopping centre by making pedestrian access to it difficult.
The decline in industry through the 1970s also contributed to the area’s decline.
But nonetheless Neasden has somehow survived, largely due to a succession of vibrant immigrant communities keeping the local economy afloat.
Neasden Depot continues to be the main storage and maintenance depot for the London Underground’s Metropolitan line (and is also used by trains of the Jubilee line).
It is London Underground’s largest depot and as such it is a major local employer.
The Grange Tavern (previously called The Old Spotted Dog) on Neasden Lane was closed in the 1990s and demolished to make way for a block of flats, bringing to an end the inn that had stood there for around two centuries.
Another old pub, The Pantiles, which stood on the North Circular Road was converted into a McDonald’s restaurant.
The Swedish furniture retailer, IKEA opened its second UK outlet in Neasden in 1988.
On 14 July 1993, in an MI5 anti-terrorist operation, a Provisional IRA man was arrested in his car on Crest Road carrying a 20 lb bomb.
It came just over a year after the Staples Corner bombing just over 500 yards away, which devastated the junction.
In 1995, Neasden became the unlikely home of the biggest Hindu temple outside India: the BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Mandir, known locally as the Neasden Temple.
In 2004, the shopping centre area was partially redeveloped by the Council in an effort to reverse its fortunes.
The Grange, which had housed a museum about the people of Brent, was closed by the Council in 2005.
The 2004 redevelopment proved to be unpopular with local businesses, as it changed the layouts of parking, thus forcing customers and local trade to pass by due to the parking restrictions of the redevelopment.
Neasden was once nicknamed “the loneliest village in London” and “God’s own borough“.
Neasden has achieved considerable notoriety thanks to the British satirical magazine, Private Eye.
Since early in its history (when the magazine was actually printed in Neasden) the magazine has used Neasden as an exemplar of the suburban environment in pieces parodying current events, personalities, and social mores (for example, the University of Neasden).
Spoof sports reports in the magazine usually feature the perennially unsuccessful football team, Neasden F.C. with their manager, “ashen-faced” Ron Knee and their only two supporters, Sid and Doris Bonkers.
Neasden was one of the locations in the TV documentary Metro-land.
In it, Sir John Betjeman described Neasden as “home of the gnome and the average citizen” (the former a reference to the preponderance of gnome statuettes in suburban front gardens, but possibly also a nod in the direction of the Eye’s fictional proprietor, Lord Gnome).
Background music was provided by William Rushton’s recording of Neasden (1972):
(“Neasden
You won’t be sorry that you breezed in.“)
In a celebrated spoof of the Early Music phenomenon which grew enormously in the late 1960s, Neasden was selected by BBC Radiophonic Workshop composer David Cain as the home of a fictional ensemble dedicated to historically-informed performances on authentic musical instruments from an indeterminate number of centuries ago.
It was thus that in 1968, listeners to BBC Radio 3 were given a recital by the Schola Polyphonica Neasdeniensis whose members performed on the equally fictional Shagbut, Minikin and Flemish Clackett.
Athletico Neasden was an amateur football team of mostly Jewish players, which played in the Maccabi (Southern) Football League in the 1970s and 1980s and were named after the place, though they didn’t actually play in the area.
The team eventually merged with North West Warriors to form North West Neasden.
David Sutherland’s children’s novel A Black Hole in Neasden reveals a gateway to another planet in a Neasden back garden.
Diana Evans’s 2006 novel 26a details the experiences of twin girls of Nigerian and British descent growing up in Neasden.
Willie Hamilton reported in ‘My Queen and I‘ that the Victorian Order medals were made on a production line in Neasden from used railway lines.
A pirate radio station, Dread Broadcasting Corporation, credited as Britain’s first black music radio station, was broadcast from a Neasden garden between 1981 – 1984.
In the Dangermouse episode “Planet of the Machines“, Dangermouse and Penfold arrive back in Neasden from the planet in the Baron’s space time machine.
Konnie Huq and Matt Cooke from BBC TV present the Your Newsprogramme from Neasden.
So all of this begs the question:
What in the name of Krishna is a Hindu temple doing here?
Perhaps there is wisdom to be found in the old Hindu proverb:
“The lotus blooms in splendour, but its roots lie in the dirt.”
Let me be frank.
Neasden is a glum place, especially after the glamour of the City has been seen, thus the Shri Swaminarayan Mandir seems to rise majestically above the dismal, between-the-world-wars housing like a welcome oasis of sight.
So sudden and grandiose does the Mandir appear that the viewer wonders whether it is a mirage, a shimmering dream, conjured up by one’s overactive imagination.
Here in London’s loneliest village is an experience of India’s glorious tradition and faith, a legacy that seems to have evolved over millennia rather than appearing miraculously on the landscape in a mere 30 months.
Since the Mandir opened in 1995, this renowned place of worship has attracted over half a million visitors a year.
The inventory of visitors, including your humble blogger, has incorporated prime ministers and presidents, royalty and religious leaders, artists and industrialists, school children and journalists, the devout and the merely curious.
It is impossible to catalogue all the appelations, emotions, inspirations and experiences that this Mandir has evoked.
On a personal profound level, the Mandir is a pavilion of peace and promise, a dissolver of disquiet, a messenger dispelling misunderstanding, a statement of hope and faith for the future.
I am fascinated by the power of belief and teamwork and the spirit of volunteerism that made the Mandir possible.
In June 1970, the first BAPS Mandir in Britain opened in a converted disused church in Islington, North London, by Yogji Maharaj.
In 1982, having outgrown the Islington temple, the congregation moved to a small former warehouse in Neasden.
The present Mandir was designed by Pramukh Swami, a 92-year-old Indian sadhu (holy man) and is made of 2,828 tonnes of Bulgarian limestone and 2,000 tonnes of Italian marble, which was first shipped to India to be carved by a team of 1,526 sculptors.
Above: Pramukh Swami (1921 – 2016)
It was built and funded entirely by the Hindu community.
The entire project took five years, although the Neasden construction itself was completed in a mere 30 months.
In November 1992, the temple recorded the largest concrete pour in the United Kingdom, when 4,500 tons were put down in 24 hours to create a foundation mat 1.8 metres / 6 feet thick.
The first stone was laid in June 1993.
Two years later, the Mandir was complete.
Designed according to the Shilpa-Shastras, a Vedic text that develops Hindu architecture to metaphorically represent the different attributes of God, it was constructed almost entirely from Indian marble, Italian marble, Sardinian granite and Bulgarian limestone.
No iron or steel was used in the construction, a unique feature for a modern building in the UK.
From the conceptual design and vision of Pramukh Swami, the architect C. B. Sompura and his team created the Mandir entirely from stone.
It is a shikharbaddha (or pinnacled) mandir:
Seven-tiered pinnacles topped by golden spires crowd the roofline, complemented by five ribbed domes.
The temple is noted for its profusely carved cantilevered central dome.
Inside, serpentine ribbons of stone link the columns into arches, creating a sense of levitation.
Light cream Vartza limestone from Bulgaria was chosen for the exterior, and for the interior, Italian Carrara marble supplemented by Indian Ambaji marble.
The Bulgarian and Italian stone were shipped to the port of Kandla in Gujarat, where most of the carving was eventually completed, by over 1,500 craftsmen in a workshop specially set up for the project.
More than 26,300 individually numbered stones pieces were shipped back to London and the building was assembled like a giant three-dimensional jigsaw.
The Mandir was inaugurated on 20 August 1995 by Pramukh Swami Maharaj, the spiritual leader of BAPS – the organisation behind the temple.
The entire Mandir complex represents an act of faith and collective effort.
Inspired by Pramukh Swami Maharaj, more than 1,000 volunteers worked on the building, and many more contributed and solicited donations, or organised sponsored walks and other activities.
Children raised money by collecting aluminium cans and foil for recycling – the biggest can collection in English history – 7 million cans collected by 1,500 children.
The Mandir serves as the centre of worship.
Directly beneath each of the seven pinnacles seen from the outside is a shrine.
Each of these seven shrines houses murtis (sacred images) within altars.
Each murti is revered like God in person and devoutly attended to each day by the sadhus (monks) who live in the temple ashram.
Beneath the Mandir is the permanent exhibition ‘Understanding Hinduism‘.
Through 3-D dioramas, paintings, tableaux and traditional craftwork, it provides an insight into the wisdom and values of Hinduism.
Visitors can learn about the origin, beliefs and contribution of Hindu seers, and how this ancient religion is being practised today through traditions, such as the BAPS Swaminarayan Sampraday.
The Mandir is open to people of all faiths and none.
Entrance is free, except to the ‘Understanding Hinduism‘ exhibition where there is a £2 fee, which was covered by the London Pass.
(A note about BAPS….
Bochasanwasi Akshar Purushottam Sanstha (BAPS) (Bocāsanvāsī Akshar Purushottam Sansthā) is a Hindu religious and social organization within the Swaminarayan branch of Hinduism.
BAPS was established on 5 June 1907 by Shastriji Maharaj after leaving the Vadtal Gadi of the Swaminarayan Sampraday.
It was formed on the founder’s interpretation that Swaminarayan was to remain present on Earth through a lineage of Gunatit Gurus (or Akshar) dating all the way back to Gunatitanand Swami – one of Swaminarayan’s prominent devotees.
Gunatitanand Swami was succeeded by Bhagatji Maharaj, Shastriji Maharaj, Yogiji Maharaj, Pramukh Swami Maharaj and Mahant Swami Maharaj.
Due to the organizational emphasis on the Akshar Purushottam doctrine, it essentially forms the organization’s middle name.
The fundamental beliefs of BAPS include the spiritual guidance through the living Akshar (or Guru) who is believed to have attained oneness with Swaminarayan.
Mahant Swami Maharaj is the current Guru and the president of the organization.
As a global, well-established Hindu organization, BAPS actively engages in a range of endeavors aimed at spirituality, character-building, and human welfare.
The activities span religious, cultural, social, and humanitarian domains.
Through these activities, it aims to preserve Indian culture, ideals of Hindu faith, family unity, selfless service, interfaith harmony and peaceful coexistence.
55,000 volunteers and 3,300 temples serve 3,300 communities around the world.
As of August 2018, BAPS has approximately 1,560 saints (or sadhus), among the most saints in one sanstha in Hinduism.
As part of its efforts towards community outreach, BAPS also engages in a host of humanitarian and charitable endeavors, by which its volunteers serve neighbors and communities.
With total assets of 17.5 billion USD, BAPS is able to contribute to a lot of welfare and public service works.
Through BAPS Charities, a non-profit aid organization, BAPS has spearheaded a number of projects around the world in the arenas of healthcare, education, environmental causes and community-building campaigns.)
For the Hindu community, the Mandir is a unifying force that installs pride and dignity with a zeal to serve society.
Every week, hundreds of faithful devotees, young and old alike, gather for prayers and services.
The annual Diwali and New Year’s festivals are witnessed by thousands of devotees and well-wishers.
Diwali is a spectacular celebration that falls in the month of November, a festival of lights and fireworks that celebrates the triumph of good over evil.
Every year 35,000 children visit the Mandir.
What exactly is a Mandir, you ask?
A Mandir is a Hindu place of worship, literally a place where the mind becomes still and the soul floats freely to seek the source of life, bliss and meaning, a place to pause for a moment to pray, reflect and absorb the peaceful ambiance.
The problem is that the Mandir is a place that takes religion seriously, and though it is listed as a tourist attraction, the Mandir is anything but one.
Here, there is no pandering to curiosity seekers.
It is not a place to go rifling through the Hindu faith to light on what has shock value, for the focus on what is bizarre and outside one’s experience is the crudest kind of vulgarization of faith.
Behind the ceremony and ritual, we seek what is of deepest concern to ourselves, that search for the essential similarity in human nature.
Hinduism is, like true faith, like other religions, not a dull habit but a raging fever, a pounding pulse that gives its adherants all that is startling about life itself.
The Mandir in the suburbs of Neasden is as unbelievable to the eyes as a garden in the Sahara.
This spectacular edifice, this the largest Hindu temple outside India, includes seven spires (shikhars), six domes, 193 pillars and 55 different ceiling designs.
The Mandir‘s visual splendour and tranquil atmosphere have spontaneously generated poetic expressions and sentiments.
The media have dubbed the Mandir as “hallucinogenic” and described the profuse carvings as “frothy milk on a cappuccino“.
Deities and motifs representing the Hindu faith spring from the ceilings, walls and windows.
The impressive monument is supported by a 1,070-foot long pageant of extraordinary stone elephants and a 610-foot long ornately carved outer wall.
The Narayan Sarovar, a water body that embraces the monument on three sides, gives the Mandir an aura of a traditional place of pilgrimage.
The Mandir is entered through the richly carved portico of the Grand Haveli (cultural complex), welcoming you into a majestic wooden courtyard with soaring teak columns and oak panels.
Elegant peacocks, delicate lotus flowers and royal elephants beckon in greeting, with the carpet designed to compliment the motifs.
Wood for the Haveli was sourced from sustainable forests, and for each tree felled, ten saplings were planted.
The Haveli Prayer Hall is a pillar-less assembly area that measures 2,750 square metres and seats over 2,500 worshippers.
The Hall incorporates environment-friendly features such as light wells, energy-saving lighting and a heat exchanger which uses thermal energy dissipated by the congregation to heat other parts of the complex.
Here is the venue for weekly assemblies and regular festivals.
The heart of the Mandir is its murtis (the sacred images of the deities who are revered as living gods), ritually infused with the presence of the divine.
Hindus worship murtis to express and enhance their loving relationship with that which is holy.
Murtis are the soul of the Mandir, making it a sacred place of worhsip wherein God resides – the home of God.
The shrine’s foundations are His feet, the pillars His knees, the inner sanctum His stomach, the throne His heart, the murti His soul, the shikhars His shoulders, the bell His tongue, the lamp His breath, the lion His nose, the windows His ears, the ringed stone on the shikhar His neck, the golden pot His head and the flags His hair.
The entire Mandir is revered as a divine manifestation.
In total, there are 11 shrines with 17 murtis, including Ganesh, Hanuman and Swaminarayan – this last to whom the Mandir is dedicated.
The murtis are ritually served by dedicated sadhus (monks) who live in the Mandir.
Before sunrise, the murtis are awakened by the sadhus and the shrine doors opened for the first of five daily artis (prayers), the Mangala Arti.
An arti is a ritual wherein a specific prayer is recited to a poetic format with music while the sadhus wave a lighted lamp in front of the murtis.
The sadhus recite some shlokas (prayers), serve the murtis, offer them food and bathe them and close the shrine doors.
Feeding and bathing of the murtis continues throughout the day.
The shrines are opened again for the second aarti, the Shangar Arti, and remain open from 0900 to approximately 1100, when the shrines are closed and offered thal (hymns).
At 1145, the shrines are opened for the midday arti, the Rajbhog Arti, and the thal is recited before the murtis.
The shrines are closed after this to allow the murtis to rest during the afternoon.
The shrines reopen at 1600 until 1830 for darshan.
The Sandhya Arti (sunset arti) follows at 1900.
Thereafter, a selection of prayers are recited by the devotees including dhun (where the names of God are chanted and verses of praise are sung).
The shrines are closed again for approximately one hour so they can be offered their final meal by the sadhus.
The murtis are then prepared for the night and adorned in their evening attire by the sadhus.
The shrines are opened a final time for the Shayan Arti (night-time arti) with the lights dimmed and music lowered.
The devotees recite a few hymns, gently sending the murtis to sleep, before the shrines are finally closed for the night.
The elaborately carved pillars, friezes, ornate ceilings and the magnificent dome provide an aesthetic and elevating atmosphere to the sanctum sanctorum of the Mandir.
The murtis of the Mandir – Bhagwan Swaminarayan, Guru Parampara, the avatars of Sanatan Dharma, Shri Akshar-Purushottam Maharaj, Shri Radha-Krishna, Shri Sita-Ram, Shri Shiv-Parvati, Shri Ganeshji and Shri Hanumanji – exude a heavenly calm and beauty.
Don’t despair if you can’t decipher who is who and what is what, for, to understand all of this, one needs to be steeped in Hindu history and Indian heritage.
Here prayers are whispered, songs of praise are heightened and the soul rejoices beyond the frontiers of mundane existence to experience the divine peace of God.
It is a nucleus of socio-spiritual activities for the benefit and elevation of individuals, families and society.
It inspires a society free from violence, crime and addiction.
It infuses people with a spirit of selfless service, to live in tune with God and in harmony with humanity.
Or at least these are the Mandir’s intentions.
An hour of lost and bewildered walking finally led me to a procession of French teenagers who were scrutinized carefully by the burly security that met us.
Here at 105 Brentfield Road, as in most places that devote time and attention to unearthly divinity, apparently God has a strict dress code that must be adhered to before you will be allowed to worship Him.
Clothing must be respectable, respectful.
Shorts and skirts must be below knee-length and footwear removed upon entering the Mandir complex.
No one smokes on the premises.
Video and photography are forbidden upon entry.
Mobile phones must be turned off and no food or beverages are allowed on the premises.
By the time I reach the security shed where backpacks are stored upon long shelves and make my way into the Mandir I am immediately summoned by personnel into the Prayer Hall where row upon row of folding chairs support a large collection of English senior citizens let loose here on this most unusual excursion.
The film is agonizingly long and as I am not officially a part of this senior set, despite the balding pate and silver mane that is mine, I extrude myself as quietly as I can and find myself lining up to enter the Inner Sanctum with the aforementioned French and some Indian devotees.
Hindu worship (puja) involves images (murtis), prayers (mantras) and diagrams of the universe (yantras).
The simplest yantra is a circle within a square within a rectangle, with four gates to represent the four directions of the universe.
Hindu temples are based on this design, although still open to endless additions and variations in decoration.
Central to worship is the icon, or sacred image, which together with the temple, is believed to both house and represent a manifestation of God.
An icon can be worshipped at home or in a temple.
Most Hindu worship at home more often and the majority of Hindu homes have a shrine, where at certain times different members of the family make offerings and say prayers.
Most Hindus worship individually, not in a communal service.
Worship involves mantras (vibrating sounds that summon the murti) and prasad (the offering of gifts).
While many prayers and offerings are made for the fulfillment of wishes, the ultimate objective is the offering of the self to become one with God.
Central to this worship is darshan (seeing and being in the presence of the central murti).
The best time to visit the Mandir is just before 1145, when the rajbhog arti ceremony is performed.
Lit candles are waved in front of the embodiments of the murtis, accompanied by a musical prayer performed by drums, bells, gongs and a conch shell.
It is truly a haunting and uplifting experience.
Abhishek is the ancient Hindu practice of pouring water over the sacred image of God to honour Him and to attain His blessings.
In this Mandir, abhishek of the sacred image of Nilkanth Varni (or Bhagwan Swaminarayan) is performed daily to the chanting of Vedic verses, including the ancient prayer of peace (the Shanti Paath) and the recital of the 108 auspicious and liberating names of Varni (the Janmangal Namavali), in a ceremony that lasts 15 minutes.
The abhishek is done by devotees on days of special significance to them or to seek blessings for personal reasons.
The Abhishek Mandap is a marble chamber on the lower floor of the Mandir, housing the sacred image of Shri Nilkanth Varni, the teenage form of Bhagwan Swaminarayan to whom the Mandir is dedicated.
The chamber is clad in Brazilian and Italian marble and embellished with intricate traditional designs.
At the chamber’s heart lies the murti of Varni in gilded brass.
He is depicted in mid-step, emaciated, yet looking calm and resolute.
With matted hair and a small gutko (handwritten manuscript of excerpts from sacred texts) wrapped in a kerchief around his neck, Varni is wearing nothing but his loincloth tied at the waist by a jute cord.
In his left hand, Varni carries a dand (a wooden staff) and a kamandalu (a drinking pot made from dry gourd), both common marks of Hindu ascetism.
Who was Varni?
After renouncing his home at the tender age of 11, Bhagwan Swaminarayan embarked upon an epic journey of spiritual awakening that took him around India, into Nepal and Tibet, and through Myanmar and Bangladesh.
During this time, he became to be known as Nilkanth Varni.
Barefoot and alone, Nilkanth walked almost 8,000 miles over seven years, blessing the land and liberating numerous spiritual aspirants along the way.
Carrying no maps, no food and no money, Varni crossed raging rivers, faced ferocious animals and survived the freezing heights of the Himalayas.
His solitary journey is a story of courage, kindness and enlightenment, and the inspiration for the naming of the Mandir.
But can the non-believer understand Hinduism?
I have tried and what I have concluded is the following….
Hinduism is the world’s oldest ongoing living religion, practised as early as 6500 BC.
It has, unlike Christianity or Islam, no one single founder, but is rather a collective of experiences of ancient seers over the centuries.
According to Hinduism’s adherents, Hinduism teaches one to see the presence of God in everything and thus honour the whole of creation.
You can find God in the world of everyday affairs as readily as anywhere else.
With this perspective, there are no heathens nor enemies.
Many Hindus acknowledge Christ as a divine man, while believing that there have been many as such, including Rama, Krishna and the Buddha.
Everyone, even Canada Slim your humble blogger, has the right to evolve spiritually and will, at some time, realise the truth.
Hindus believe that souls are not limited to one life – many lives offer many chances for spiritual elevation.
Like many religions, this faith has rigorous rules.
People are responsible for every action they perform, through the Law of Karma.
Hindus believe in one supreme, all-powerful God, the Creator, who has a divine form, is immanent (eternal), transcedent and the grantor of spiritual liberation (moksha).
Jews, Christians and Muslims view the worship of God in the form of one chosen ideal.
Hindus view and represent God in innumerable forms.
Each form (avatar) is but a symbol that points to something beyond.
No one form can truly encapsulate God’s actual nature, so an entire array is needed to complete the picture of God’s aspects and manifestations.
Each representation’s vocation is to introduce the human heart to what it represents but what it itself is not.
Though each representation points equally to God, the Hindu devotee tends to form a lifetime attachment to one, the ishta, the form of the divine the devotee wishes to adopt.
This worship of sacred images of God is called murti puja.
After all, love assumes different nuances according to the relationship involved.
Hindus believe in Karma that the soul reaps fruit – good or bad – which is experienced either in this life or in future lives.
They believe in reincarnation (punar-janma), that the soul is immortal, repeatedly born and reborn in one of millions of lifeforms until it attains spiritual liberation (moksha).
Moksha is the release of the soul from this perpetual cycle of births and deaths, remaining eternally in the blissful presence of God.
Dharma is how we choose to live our lives according to divine law, which values service, sacrifice, humility, duty, devotion, purpose, fidelity, respect and integrity among other positive practices and virtues.
This divine law is believed to be revealed by the authority of the Vedic scriptures, the four Vedas – the Samhita, the Brahmana, the Aranyaka and the Upanishad.
And in a model of efficiency these are encapsulated in the Shikshapatri, a book of moral conduct in 212 succinct Sanskrit verses.
In a nutshell of simplicity:
Do not steal.
Do not eat meat.
Do not consume alcohol or other intoxicants.
Do not commit adultery.
Maintain purity of conduct.
Hindus claim a proud heritage:
the world’s first university (700 BC), Takshashila, India
the invention of the Zero, which makes the binary system and computers possible
the invention of the decimal system
the invention of geometry and trigonometry
the value of pi – the ratio of the circumference and diameter of a circle
the prior formulation of the Pythagorean Theorem (which says that the square of the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle equals the sum of the square of the two sides) (For me, mathematics is as arcane and mysterious as faith.)
a theory of the revolution of the Earth 1,000 years before Copernicus
a formulation of the law of gravity 1,200 years before Newton
an idea of the smallest and largest measures of time from a kratl (34,000th of a second) to a kalpa (4.32 billion years)
the practice of surgery 2,600 years ago with 125 types of surgical instruments for 300 different operations
I did not leave the Mandir of London as a convert to Hinduism, but what my visit showed me was worth the effort.
Life holds more than what one is experiencing now.
People need to live for something which makes life worthwhile, a quest for meaning and value beyond oneself.
Life holds other possibilities beyond our own experience.
Hinduism holds that underlying the human self and animating it is a reservoir of being that never dies, is never exhausted and is unrestricted in consciousness and bliss.
Hinduism sees the mind’s hidden continents as stretching to infinity, infinite in being, infinite in awareness, infinite in joy.
Hindus believe that there are multiple paths to God, each calling for a distinctive mode of travel, each starting from the kind of person one is.
We all play the roles our personalities dictate, cast in this moment in the greatest of all tragi-comedies, the drama of life itself in which we are all simultaneously co-authors and actors, powered less by reason than by emotion.
To find meaning in this drama, in the mystery of existence, is life’s final and fascinating challenge.
Life is a training ground for the human spirit.
The world is the soul’s gymnasium, both a school and a training field.
Hindus believe that the world is lila, God’s plan, that the goal of life is life itself.
The various major religions are alternate paths to the same goal to find meaning to our lives beyond ourselves.
The various religions are but different languages through which God, should God exist, speaks to the human heart.
“Truth is one.
Sages call truth by different names.”
Differences in culture, history, geography and temperament all make for diverse starting points.
Is life not more interesting as a result of its infinite variety in endless combinations?
I may not always understand that which is out of my experience, but the benefits of trying to go beyond my experience are boundless.
Sources: Wikipedia / Google / Understanding Hinduism Exhibition Guidebook, BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Mandir / John Bowker, World Religions: The Great Faiths Explored and Explained / Rachel Howard and Bill Nash, Secret London: An Unusual Guide / Huston Smith, The World’s Religions / The Bhagavad-Gita
And I must confess to a reluctance to like the man and his theories, for the same reason I am reluctant to embrace Charles Darwin and his theories:
Above: Charles Darwin (1809 – 1882)
Admitting there may be some validity to their theories is to admit to embarrassing revelations about myself.
Maybe we did evolve from single cell organisms and apes through a process of millions of millennia, so perhaps a belief in an invisible God that created the world in seven calendar days and could bring me eternal life after death is less plausible than the acceptance that I am just the tiniest particle in the vast expanse of time, space and reality.
And maybe, just maybe, there might be more to Freud and his theories than just the scandalous unproven idea that he liked to watch his mother pee, and that some of the ways we think about ourselves and how our unconscious, dreams and sexuality as suggested by Freud’s theories might be somewhat uncomfortably plausible.
My wife, the medical doctor in the house, has, of course, had exposure during her studies to the work and thought of Freud in regards to child development.
During her internship in a Vienna practice she visited the Sigmund Freud Museum in Vienna – there are three Freud Museums, the other two are in Pribor, Czech Republic, and in London – which she immensely enjoyed.
Knowing that she had some free time before her medical conference in London in October 2017, Ute was determined that she would visit the Freud Museum here as well.
Above: Freud Museum, London
I have already written extensively of some of the many sites we saw in London during our week there together and suffice to say that what I have said is a mere drop in the bucket of all that has been said or could be said by others.
(For more on London, please see:
Canada Slim and the Body Snatchers /….and the Danger Zone / ….and the Paddington Arrival / ….and the Street Walked Too Often /….Underground / …. and the Outcast /…. and the Wonders on the Wall/ …. and the Calculated Cathedral / …. and the Right Man / …. and the Queen’s Horsemen / …. and the Royal Peculiar / …. and the Uncertainty Principle / …. and the Museum of Many/ …. and the Lamp Ladies / …. and the Breviary of Bartholomew of this blog. )
London, England, 25 October 2017
In North London, perched on a hill to the west of Hampstead Heath, Hampstead Village developed into a fashionable spa in the 18th century and was not much altered thereafter.
Being a sloping site deterred Victorian property speculators and put off the railway companies from destroying much of Hampstead.
Later it became one of the city’s most celebrated literary quartiers and even now retains a reputation as a bolt hole for high-profile intelligentsia and discerning pop stars.
The steeply inclined High Street, lined with posh shops and arty cafés, flaunts the area’s ever-increasing wealth, but far more appealing are the extensive, picturesque and precipitious maze of alleyways and steps radiating both east and west of Heath Street.
Proximity to Hampstead Heath is the true joy of the territory, for this mixture of woodland, smooth pasture and landscaped garden is simply the most exhilirating patch of greenery in London.
Over the years, countless writers, artists and politicos have been drawn to Hampstead, which has more blue plaques commemorating its residents than any London borough.
John Constable lived here in the 1820s, trying to make ends meet for his wife and seven children, painting cloud formations on the Heath.
Above: John Constable (1776 – 1837)
John Keats (1795 – 1821) moved into Well Walk in 1817 to nurse his dying brother then moved to a semi-detached villa, fell in love with the girl next door, bumped into Coleridge on the Heath and in 1821 went to Rome to die.
Above: Keats House, Spanish Steps, Rome
(I have visited Keats House in Rome and in London.)
Above: Keats House, Hampstead, North London
In 1856, Karl Marx finally achieved respectability when he moved into Grafton Terrace.
Above: Karl Marx (1818 – 1883)
Robert Louis Stevenson stayed here when he was 23 suffering from tuberculosis and thought Hampstead was “the most delightful place for air and scenery“.
Above: Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 – 1894)
Author H.G. Wells (1866 – 1946) lived on Church Row for three years just before World War One, while photographer Cecil Beaton (1904 – 1980) attended primary school and was bullied by author Evelyn Waugh (1903 – 1966) – the start of a lifelong feud.
The composer Edward Elgar became a special constable during the war, joining the Hampstead Volunteer Reserve.
Above: Edward Elgar (1857 – 1934)
Writer D.H. Lawrence (1885 – 1930) and his German wife Frieda (1879 – 1956) watched the first Zeppelin raid on London from the Heath in 1915 and decided to leave.
Above: Memorial, Camberwell Old Cemetery, London, to 21 civilians killed by Zeppelin bombings in 1917
Following the war, Lawrence’s friend and fellow writer Katherine Mansfield, lived for a couple of years in a big grey house overlooking the Heath, which she nicknamed “the Elephant“.
Above: Katherine Mansfield (1888 – 1923)
Actor Dirk Bogarde was born in a taxi in Hampstead in 1921.
Above: Dirk Bogarde (1921 – 1999)
Poet Stephen Spender spent his childhood in “an ugly house” on Frognal and went to school locally.
Above: Stephen Spender (1909 – 1995)
Elizabeth Taylor was born in Hampstead in 1932 and came back to live here in the 1950s during her first marriage to Richard Burton.
Above: Elizabeth Taylor (1932- 2011)
In the 1930s, Hampstead’s modernist Isokon Building, a block of flats on Lawn Road, became something of an artistic hangout, particularly the drinking den, the Isobar.
Above: Isokon Flats, Hampstead, North London
Architect Walter Gropius (1883 – 1969) and artists Henry Moore (1898 – 1986), Barbara Hepworth (1903 – 1975) and her husband Ben Nicholson (1894 – 1982) all lived here.
Another tenant, Agatha Christie (1890 – 1976), compared the exterior of Isokon to a giant ocean liner.
Architect Ernö Goldfinger (1902 – 1987) built his modernist family home at 2 Willow Road and local resident Ian Fleming named James Bond’s adversary after him.
Above: 2 Willow Road, Hampstead, North London
Mohammed Ali Jinnah abandoned India for Hampstead in 1932, living a quiet life with his daughter and his sister and working as a lawyer.
Above: Mohammed Ali Jinnah (1876 – 1948)
George Orwell lived rent-free above Booklovers’ Corner, a bookshop on South End Road, in 1934, in return for services in the shop in the afternoon.
Keep the Aspidistra Flying has many echoes of Hampstead and its characters.
Artist Piet Mondrian escaped to Hampstead from Nazi-occupied Paris, only to be bombed out a year later, after which he fled to New York.
Above: Piet Mondrian (1872 – 1944)
Nobel Prize-winning writer Elias Canetti (1905 – 1994) was another refugee from Nazi-occupied Europe as was painter/poet Oskar Kokoschka (1886 – 1980).
General Charles de Gaulle (1890 – 1970) got first-hand experience of Nazi air raids when he lived on Frognal with his wife and two daughters.
Ruth Ellis (1926 – 1955), the last woman to be hanged in Britain in 1955, shot her lover outside Magdala Tavern by Hampstead Heath Train Station.
Sid Vicious (1957 – 1979) and Johnny Rotten lived in a squat on Hampstead High Street in 1976.
John le Carré lived here in the 1970s and 1980s and set a murder in Smiley’s People on Hampstead Heath.
Above: John le Carré
Former Labour leader Michael Foot lived in a house he bought in 1945 with his redundancy cheque from The Evening Standarduntil the age of 96.
Above: Michael Foot (1913 – 2010)
Today comedian Ricky Gervais, director Ridley Scott, footballer Thierry Henry and pop stars Boy George and Harry Styles have homes here.
And it was here in Hampstead where the Austrian neurologist and the father of psychoanalysis Sigmund Freud spent the last year of his life, having reluctantly left Vienna following the Nazi Anschluss (annexation).
In January 1933, the Nazi Party took control of Germany and Freud’s books were prominent among those they burned and destroyed.
Freud remarked to Ernest Jones:
“What progress we are making!
In the Middle Ages they would have burned me.
Now, they are content with burning my books.“
Freud was wrong.
The Nazis would have gassed and incinerated him too in one of their death camps – as happened to millions of other Jews.
Freud continued to underestimate the growing Nazi threat and remained determined to stay in Vienna, even following the Anschluss of 13 March 1938, in which Nazi Germany annexed Austria, and the outbreaks of violent anti-Semitism that ensued.
Ernest Jones, the president of the International Psychoanalytical Association (IPA), flew into Vienna from London via Prague on 15 March determined to get Freud to change his mind and seek exile in Britain.
Above: Ernest Jones (1879 – 1958)
That same month Nazi S.A. men invaded Freud’s home searching for valuables.
Freud’s “Old Testament” frown frightened them away, though daughter Anna was detained by the Gestapo a whole day.
This prospect and the shock of the arrest and interrogation of Anna Freud by the Gestapo finally convinced Freud it was time to leave Austria.
Jones left for London the following week with a list provided by Freud of the party of émigrés for whom immigration permits would be required.
Back in London, Jones used his personal acquaintance with the Home Secretary, Sir Samuel Hoare, to expedite the granting of permits.
There were seventeen in all and work permits were provided where relevant.
Jones also used his influence in scientific circles, persuading the president of the Royal Society, Sir William Bragg, to write to the Foreign Secretary Lord Halifax, requesting to good effect that diplomatic pressure be applied in Berlin and Vienna on Freud’s behalf.
Freud also had support from American diplomats, notably his ex-patient and American ambassador to France, William Bullitt.
Bullitt alerted US President Roosevelt to the increased dangers facing the Freuds, resulting in the American consul-general in Vienna, John Cooper Wiley, arranging regular monitoring of Berggasse 19.
He also intervened by phone call during the Gestapo interrogation of Anna Freud.
The departure from Vienna began in stages throughout April and May 1938.
Freud’s grandson Ernst Halberstadt and Freud’s son Martin’s wife and children left for Paris in April.
Freud’s sister-in-law, Minna Bernays, left for London on 5 May, Martin Freud the following week and Freud’s daughter Mathilde and her husband, Robert Hollitscher, on 24 May.
By the end of the month, arrangements for Freud’s own departure for London had become stalled, mired in a legally tortuous and financially extortionate process of negotiation with the Nazi authorities.
Under regulations imposed on its Jewish population by the new Nazi regime, a Kommissar was appointed to manage Freud’s assets and those of the IPA whose headquarters were nearby Freud’s home.
Freud was allocated to Dr. Anton Sauerwald, who had studied chemistry at Vienna University under Professor Josef Herzig, an old friend of Freud’s.
Sauerwald read Freud’s books to further learn about him and became sympathetic towards his situation.
Though required to disclose details of all Freud’s bank accounts to his superiors and to arrange the destruction of the historic library of books housed in the offices of the IPA, Sauerwald did neither.
Instead he removed evidence of Freud’s foreign bank accounts to his own safe-keeping and arranged the storage of the IPA library in the Austrian National Library where it remained until the end of the war.
Though Sauerwald’s intervention lessened the financial burden of the “flight” tax on Freud’s declared assets, other substantial charges were levied in relation to the debts of the IPA and the valuable collection of antiquities Freud possessed.
Unable to access his own accounts, Freud turned to Princess Marie Bonaparte, the most eminent and wealthy of his French followers, who had travelled to Vienna to offer her support and it was she who made the necessary funds available.
This allowed Sauerwald to sign the necessary exit visas for Freud, his wife Martha and daughter Anna.
Above: Anton Sauerwald
They left Vienna on the Orient Express on 4 June, accompanied by their housekeeper and a doctor, arriving in Paris the following day where they stayed as guests of Princess Bonaparte before travelling overnight to London arriving at Victoria Station on 6 June.
Freud was immediately Britain’s most famous Nazi exile.
Among those soon to call on Freud to pay their respects were Salvador Dalí, Stefan Zweig, Leonard Woolf, Virginia Woolf and H. G. Wells.
Representatives of the Royal Society called with the Society’s Charter for Freud, who had been elected a Foreign Member in 1936, to sign himself into membership.
Princess Bonaparte arrived towards the end of June to discuss the fate of Freud’s four elderly sisters left behind in Vienna.
Above: Princess Marie Bonaparte (1882 – 1962)
Her subsequent attempts to get them exit visas failed and they would all die in Nazi concentration camps.
In early 1939 Sauerwald arrived in London in mysterious circumstances where he met Freud’s brother Alexander.
He was tried and imprisoned in 1945 by an Austrian court for his activities as a Nazi Party official.
Responding to a plea from his wife, Anna Freud wrote to confirm that Sauerwald “used his office as our appointed commissar in such a manner as to protect my father“.
Her intervention helped secure his release from jail in 1947.
In the Freuds’ new home, 20 Maresfield Gardens, Hampstead, North London, Freud’s Vienna consulting room was recreated in faithful detail.
He continued to see patients there until the terminal stages of his illness.
He also worked on his last books, Moses and Monotheism, published in German in 1938 and in English the following year and the uncompleted An Outline of Psychoanalysis which was published posthumously.
The ground floor of the museum houses Freud’s study, library, hall and the dining room.
Freud’s study and library look exactly as they did when Freud lived here – they were modelled on his Berggasse 19 flat in Vienna:
The large collection of antiquities and the psychiatrist’s couch, sumptiously draped in an opulent Iranian rug, were all brought here from Vienna.
Upstairs on the first floor in the video room there is some old footage of the Freud family.
While another room is dedicated to Sigmund’s favourite daughter, Anna Freud, herself an influential child analyst.
There is a temporary exhibitions room which hosts alternate contemporary art and Freud-themed exhibitions.
Art installations often use several rooms within the museum, such as the 2001/02 exhibition “A Visit to Freud’s” by an Austrian female photographer Uli Aigner.
Many areas such as the kitchen and Anna Freud’s consulting room are out of public view and have been converted into offices.
The house had only finished being built in 1920 in the Queen Anne Style.
A small sun room (loggia) in a modern style was added at the rear by his architect son Ernst Ludwig Freud that same year so Sigmund could sit out and enjoy the garden.
It has since been enclosed and now serves as the museum shop, which flogs merchandise from silk scarves inspired by his patients’ artwork to novelty Freudian slippers, plus a good selection of books, including those used to research this post.
In February 1923, Freud detected a leukoplakia, a benign growth associated with heavy smoking, on his mouth.
Freud initially kept this secret, but in April 1923 he informed Ernest Jones, telling him that the growth had been removed.
Freud consulted the dermatologist Maximilian Steiner, who advised him to quit smoking but lied about the growth’s seriousness, minimizing its importance.
Freud later saw Felix Deutsch who saw that the growth was cancerous.
He identified it to Freud using the euphemism “a bad leukoplakia” instead of the technical diagnosis epithelioma.
Deutsch advised Freud to stop smoking and have the growth excised.
Freud was treated by Marcus Hajek, a rhinologist (nose surgeon) whose competence he had previously questioned.
Hajek performed an unnecessary cosmetic surgery in his clinic’s outpatient department.
Freud bled during and after the operation and may narrowly have escaped death.
Freud subsequently saw Deutsch again.
Deutsch saw that further surgery would be required, but did not tell Freud that he had cancer because he was worried that Freud might wish to commit suicide.
Freud had been given just five years to live.
He lasted sixteen, but he was a semi-invalid when he arrived in London and rarely left the house except to visit his pet dog Chun who was held in quarantine for nearly a year.
Freud was over eighty at this time.
By mid-September 1939, Freud’s cancer of the jaw was causing him increasingly severe pain and had been declared to be inoperable.
The last book he read, Balzac’s La Peau de Chagrin, prompted reflections on his own increasing frailty.
Above: Title page of Honoré Balzac’s La Peau de Chagrin (Skin of Sorrow)
A few days later he turned to his doctor, friend and fellow refugee, Max Schur, reminding him that they had previously discussed the terminal stages of his illness:
“Schur, you remember our ‘contract’ not to leave me in the lurch when the time had come. Now it is nothing but torture and makes no sense.”
When Schur replied that he had not forgotten, Freud said, “I thank you.” and then “Talk it over with Anna, and if she thinks it’s right, then make an end of it.”
Anna Freud wanted to postpone her father’s death, but Schur convinced her it was pointless to keep him alive and on 21 and 22 September administered doses of morphine that resulted in Freud’s death around 3 am on 23 September 1939, age 83.
However, discrepancies in the various accounts Schur gave of his role in Freud’s final hours, which have in turn led to inconsistencies between Freud’s main biographers, has led to further research and a revised account.
This proposes that Schur was absent from Freud’s deathbed when a third and final dose of morphine was administered by Dr Josephine Stross, a colleague of Anna Freud’s, leading to Freud’s death around midnight on 23 September 1939.
Above: Freud’s ashes, Golders Green Crematorium
The house remained in his family until his youngest daughter Anna Freud, who was a pioneer of child therapy, died in 1982.
The house has a well maintained garden which is still much as Freud would have known it.
The Freuds moved all their furniture and household effects to London.
There are Biedermeier chests, tables and cupboards and a collection of 18th century and 19th century Austrian painted country furniture.
The museum owns Freud’s collection of Egyptian, Greek, Roman and Oriental antiquities, and his personal library.
Although Freud was not a practising Jew, he was very conscious of his Jewishness, which is reflected in the artifacts he collected, including an etching hanging in his study by Rembrandt van Rijn (1606 – 1669) of Menasseh ben Israel (1604 – 1657), who persuaded Oliver Cromwell to allow Jews back into England in 1656.
Above: Rembrandt’s Portrait of Menasseh ben Israel
Freud’s “old and grubby gods” as he described his collection in a letter to his friend Wilhelm Fliess in 1899 are still on view to visitors, just as he left them.
Freud was an avid and knowledgable collector and often sought expert advice before purchasing.
As his collection grew, his study became a treasure trove of thousands of antiquities from all over the world, ranging from Roman glass objects to wooden Buddha statuettes, terracotta representations of the Greek god Eros, Egyptian gods cast in bronze, Chinese works in jade and a 20th century metal porcupine given to him during a visit to the United States in 1909.
Freud confessed that his passion for collecting was second only to his addiction to cigars.
The star exhibit in the museum is Freud’s psychoanalytic couch, which had been given to him by one of his patients, Madame Benvenisti, in 1890.
This was restored at a cost of £5000 in 2013.
This couch was where patients revealed their wildest dreams, forgotten trauma and hidden phobias or free associated whatever sprung into their minds before Freud would interpret their unconscious meanings.
In 2013, the Freud Museum’s curators worried about the deteriorating condition of the 125-year-old couch, which had begun to sag badly in the middle and was splitting along its seams.
Thanks to generous private donations and painstaking work by specialists, the couch was restored to its original splendour.
Covered with Oriental rugs and cushions it looks remarkably comfortable to recline upon and recall deep-seated memories.
The couch has seen a lot of Freud’s patients both in Vienna and London.
Freud used pseudonyms in his case histories.
Some patients known by pseudonyms were:
Cäcilie M. (Anna von Lieben)
Dora (Ida Bauer, 1882–1945)
Frau Emmy von N. (Fanny Moser)
Fräulein Elisabeth von R. (Ilona Weiss)
Fräulein Katharina (Aurelia Kronich)
Fräulein Lucy R.
Little Hans (Herbert Graf, 1903–1973)
Rat Man (Ernst Lanzer, 1878–1914)
Enos Fingy (Joshua Wild, 1878–1920)
Wolf Man (Sergei Pankejeff, 1887–1979).
Other famous patients included:
Prince Pedro Augusto of Brazil (1866–1934)
H.D. (1886–1961)
Emma Eckstein (1865–1924)
Gustav Mahler (1860–1911), with whom Freud had only a single, extended consultation
Princess Marie Bonaparte
Edith Banfield Jackson (1895–1977)
Albert Hirst (1887–1974).
The Wolf Man wrote of Freud’s home that….
“There was always a feeling of sacred peace and quiet here.
The rooms themselves must have been a surprise to any patient, for they in no way reminded one of a doctor’s office but rather of an archaeologist’s study.”
Above: The Wolf Man
To the Wolf Man Freud said:
“The psychoanalyst, like the archaeologist in his excavations, must uncover layer after layer of the patients’ psyche.”
In 2015 (the 50th anniversary of the Museum), the Museum, along with the artists Adam Broomberg and Oliver Chanarin, hired a police forensic team to scrutinize traces of DNA left on the couch.
The team found many examples, including strands of hair and a multitude of a multitude of dust particles, from Sigmund Freud, his patients and his family.
Freud did not sit on the couch himself when analyzing his patients, but sat out of sight next to it.
He once famously remarked to his friend, the psychoanalyist Hanns Sachs:
“I can’t let myself be stared at for eight hours daily.”
The study and library were preserved by Anna Freud after her father’s death.
The bookshelf behind Freud’s desk contains some of his favourite authors: not only Goethe and Shakespeare but also Heine, Multatuli and Anatole France.
Freud acknowledged that poets and philosophers had gained insights into the unconscious which psychoanalysis sought to explain systematically.
In addition to the books, the library contains various pictures hung as Freud arranged them; these include ‘Oedipus and the Riddle of the Sphinx‘ and ‘The Lesson of Dr Charcot‘ plus photographs of Martha Freud, Lou Andreas-Salomé, Yvette Guilbert, Marie Bonaparte and Ernst von Fleischl.
The collection includes a portrait of Freud by Salvador Dalí.
The museum organizes research and publication programmes and it has an education service which organises seminars, conferences and educational visits to the museum.
The museum is a member of the London Museums of Health & Medicine.
I quickly wandered through the Museum, upstairs and down, while Ute took the audio-guided tour.
I confess that I did not fully comprehend the importance of Sigmund Freud to the same extent as she did, for in our partnership she is both the brains and the beauty while I am simply loud and can lift heavy objects.
I still couldn’t explain the therapeutic techniques of free association and transference if my very life depended upon it.
And in this overly politically correct climate we now find ourselves living in these days I find myself quite discomfited by the notions of sexuality in infantile forms.
I have yet to be convinced of the soundness of his Oedipus complex theory that suggests that the ancient Greek legend of a king who kills his father and marries his mother is reflective of a child’s incest fantasy of falling in love with Mother and being jealous of Father.
Nor am I decided whether Freud’s idea that dreams are unconscious wish fulfillments as he suggests.
And I claim almost embarrassingly little understanding of that what he called the id, ego and superego, and very scant notions of what he terms the libido and the death drive.
But I will say that the Museum succeeded in capturing my curiosity about this man whose name, though a household one, remains almost as misunderstood as the unconscious mind.
Freud was born in Freiburg, Moravia (today’s Pribor, Czech Republic), the first of his mother’s eight children.
Above: Freud’s birthplace, Pribor, Czech Republic
His father, Jakob Freud (1815 – 1896) was a fairly successful wool merchant, who, at age 40, with two grown sons, Emanuel (1833 – 1914) and Philipp (1836 – 1911) and already a grandfather, married, for his second time, Sigmund’s mother Amalie Nathanson (1835 – 1930).
“Sigi” was the first – and favourite – of Amalie’s offspring, and Sigi knew it.
“A man who has been the indisputable favourite of his mother keeps for life the feeling of a conqueror, that confidence of success, that often induces real success.”
Above: Sigi (age 16) and his mother Amalia, 1872
In 1859, the Freud family left Freiburg.
Freud’s half brothers emigrated to Manchester, England, parting him from the “inseparable” playmate of his early childhood, Emanuel’s son, John.
Jakob Freud took his wife and two children (Freud’s sister, Anna, was born in 1858; a brother, Julius born in 1857, had died in infancy) firstly to Leipzig and then in 1860 to Vienna where four sisters and a brother were born: Rosa (b. 1860), Marie (b. 1861), Adolfine (b. 1862), Paula (b. 1864), Alexander (b. 1866).
Freud’s choice of boyhood heroes revealed a deep dislike of Imperial Austria: the anti-monarchist Oliver Cromwell and the Carthaginian general Hannibal.
Austria was Roman Catholic and anti-Semetic.
In 1865, the nine-year-old Freud entered the Leopoldstädter Kommunal-Realgymnasium, a prominent high school.
He proved to be an outstanding pupil and graduated in 1873 with honors.
He loved literature and was proficient in German, French, Italian, Spanish, English, Hebrew, Latin and Greek.
Freud entered the University of Vienna at age 17 in 1873.
He had planned to study law, but joined the medical faculty at the university, where his studies included philosophy, physiology and zoology.
Freud’s special interests were histology (the scientific study of organic tissues) and neurophysiology (the scientific study of the nervous system).
He wanted to be a scientist – not a medical practicioner.
In 1876, Freud spent four weeks at a zoological research station in Trieste, dissecting hundreds of eels in an inconclusive search for their male reproductive organs.
In 1877 Freud moved to Ernst Brücke’s physiology laboratory where he spent six years comparing the brains of humans and other vertebrates with those of invertebrates such as frogs, crayfish and lampreys.
His research work on the biology of nervous tissue proved seminal for the subsequent discovery of the neuron in the 1890s.
Freud’s research work was interrupted in 1879 by the obligation to undertake a year’s compulsory military service.
The lengthy downtimes enabled him to complete a commission to translate four essays from John Stuart Mill’s collected works.
He graduated with an MD in March 1881.
Freud was happy doing scientific work but Brücke gave him some fatherly advice.
Academic posts were few and badly paid and Freud’s chances of advancement as a Jew were bad, so with Freud’s father unable to support him – what with the Crash of 1873 ruining him and with six other children to support – and marriage plans with Martha Bernays (1861 – 1951), Freud began his medical career at the Vienna General Hospital.
Freud had to face another long training period in clinical medicine before starting his own private practice.
First he served (1882 – 1885) as assistant to Hermann Nothnagel (1841 – 1905), Professor of Internal Medicine, and spent five months (1183) working in the Psychiatric Clinic under Theodor Meynart (1833 – 1892), the greatest brain anatomist and neuropathologist at that time.
Meynart influenced Freud to become a specialist in neuropathology (diseases of the nervous system).
Freud’s research work in cerebral anatomy led to his studying the effects of cocaine – starting on himself.
He even prescribed it to Martha!
He felt that cocaine was nothing more than an anti-depressant, a harmless anaesthetic.
Freud’s close friend, the gifted physiologist Ernst von Fleischl-Marxow (1846 – 1891), suffered from a painful tumour of the hand and thus became a morphine addict.
Freud suggested that Ernst switch to cocaine instead.
Freud’s colleague Carl Koller put in his claim as the discoverer of cocaine, nearly ruining his reputation, because by 1886 cases of cocaine addiction were reported everywhere and Ernst had become a despairing addict.
Freud’s research would lead to the publication of an influential paper on the pallative effects of cocaine in 1884, but Ernst’s addiction would always make Freud regret that he had failed to anticipate cocaine’s addictive effects.
Above: Ernst von Fleschl-Marxow
His work on aphasia (the inability to comprehend or formulate language because of damage to specific brain regions as a result of a stroke or a head trauma) would form the basis of his first book On the Aphasias: a Critical Study, published in 1891.
Over a three-year period, Freud worked in various departments of the hospital.
His time spent in Theodor Meynert’s psychiatric clinic and as a locum (temporary replacement physician) in a local asylum led to an increased interest in clinical work.
His substantial body of published research led to his appointment as a university lecturer in neuropathology in 1885, a non-salaried post but one which entitled him to give lectures at the University of Vienna.
In 1886, Freud resigned his hospital post and entered private practice specializing in “nervous disorders“.
The same year he married Martha Bernays, the granddaughter of Isaac Bernays, a chief rabbi in Hamburg.
They had six children: Mathilde (b. 1887), Jean-Martin (b. 1889), Oliver (b. 1891), Ernst (b. 1892), Sophie (b. 1893), and Anna (b. 1895).
From 1891 until they left Vienna in 1938, Freud and his family lived in an apartment at Berggasse 19, near Innere Stadt, a historical district of Vienna.
In 1896, Minna Bernays, Martha Freud’s sister, became a permanent member of the Freud household after the death of her fiancé.
The close relationship she formed with Freud led to rumours, started by Carl Jung, of an affair.
The discovery of a Swiss hotel log of 13 August 1898, signed by Freud whilst travelling with his sister-in-law, has been presented as evidence of the affair.
Freud began smoking tobacco at age 24.
Initially a cigarette smoker, he became a cigar smoker.
He believed that smoking enhanced his capacity to work and that he could exercise self-control in moderating it.
Despite health warnings from colleague Wilhelm Fliess, he remained a smoker, eventually suffering a buccal (of the mouth) cancer.
Freud suggested to Fliess in 1897 that addictions, including that to tobacco, were substitutes for masturbation, “the one great habit.”
Freud had greatly admired his philosophy tutor, Brentano, who was known for his theories of perception and introspection.
Brentano discussed the possible existence of the unconscious mind in his Psychology from an Empirical Standpoint (1874).
Although Brentano denied its existence, his discussion of the unconscious probably helped introduce Freud to the concept.
Freud owned and made use of Charles Darwin’s major evolutionary writings, and was also influenced by Eduard von Hartmann’s The Philosophy of the Unconscious (1869).
Other texts of importance to Freud were by Gustav Fechner and Johann Friedrich Herbart with the latter’s Psychology as Science arguably considered to be of underrated significance in this respect.
Freud also drew on the work of Theodor Lipps who was one of the main contemporary theorists of the concepts of the unconscious and empathy.
Though Freud was reluctant to associate his psychoanalytic insights with prior philosophical theories, attention has been drawn to analogies between his work and that of both Schopenhauer and Nietzsche, both of whom he claimed not to have read until late in life.
One historian concluded, based on Freud’s correspondence with his adolescent friend Eduard Silberstein, that Freud read Nietzsche’s The Birth of Tragedy and the first two of the Untimely Meditations when he was seventeen.
In 1900, the year of Nietzsche’s death, Freud bought his collected works.
He told his friend, Fliess, that he hoped to find in Nietzsche’s works “the words for much that remains mute in me.”
Later, he said he had not yet opened them.
Freud came to treat Nietzsche’s writings “as texts to be resisted far more than to be studied.”
Above: Friedrich Nietzsche (1844 – 1900)
His interest in philosophy declined after he had decided on a career in neurology.
Freud read William Shakespeare in English throughout his life and it has been suggested that his understanding of human psychology may have been partially derived from Shakespeare’s plays.
Freud’s Jewish origins and his allegiance to his secular Jewish identity were of significant influence in the formation of his intellectual and moral outlook, especially with respect to his intellectual non-conformism, as he was the first to point out in his Autobiographical Study.
They would also have a substantial effect on the content of psychoanalytic ideas, particularly in respect of their common concerns with depth interpretation and “the bounding of desire by law”.
In October 1885, Freud went to Paris on a fellowship to study with Jean-Martin Charcot, a renowned neurologist who was conducting scientific research into hypnosis.
He was later to recall the experience of this stay as catalytic in turning him toward the practice of medical psychopathology and away from a less financially promising career in neurology research.
Charcot specialized in the study of hysteria and susceptibility to hypnosis, which he frequently demonstrated with patients on stage in front of an audience.
Once he had set up in private practice in 1886, Freud began using hypnosis in his clinical work.
He adopted the approach of his friend and collaborator, Josef Breuer, in a use of hypnosis which was different from the French methods he had studied in that it did not use suggestion.
The treatment of one particular patient of Breuer’s proved to be transformative for Freud’s clinical practice.
Described as Anna O., she was invited to talk about her symptoms while under hypnosis (she would coin the phrase “talking cure” for her treatment).
In the course of talking in this way these symptoms became reduced in severity as she retrieved memories of traumatic incidents associated with their onset.
Above: Bertha Pappenheim (aka Anna O.)(1859 – 1936)
The uneven results of Freud’s early clinical work eventually led him to abandon hypnosis, having reached the conclusion that more consistent and effective symptom relief could be achieved by encouraging patients to talk freely, without censorship or inhibition, about whatever ideas or memories occurred to them.
In conjunction with this procedure, which he called “free association“, Freud found that patients’ dreams could be fruitfully analyzed to reveal the complex structuring of unconscious material and to demonstrate the psychic action of repression which, he had concluded, underlay symptom formation.
By 1896 he was using the term “psychoanalysis” to refer to his new clinical method and the theories on which it was based.
Freud’s development of these new theories took place during a period in which he experienced heart irregularities, disturbing dreams and periods of depression, a “neurasthenia” which he linked to the death of his father in 1896 and which prompted a “self-analysis” of his own dreams and memories of childhood.
His explorations of his feelings of hostility to his father and rivalrous jealousy over his mother’s affections led him to fundamentally revise his theory of the origin of the neuroses.
On the basis of his early clinical work, Freud had postulated that unconscious memories of sexual molestation in early childhood were a necessary precondition for the psychoneuroses (hysteria and obsessional neurosis), a formulation now known as Freud’s seduction theory.
In the light of his self-analysis, Freud abandoned the theory that every neurosis can be traced back to the effects of infantile sexual abuse, now arguing that infantile sexual scenarios still had a causative function, but it did not matter whether they were real or imagined and that in either case they became pathogenic only when acting as repressed memories.
This transition from the theory of infantile sexual trauma as a general explanation of how all neuroses originate to one that presupposes an autonomous infantile sexuality provided the basis for Freud’s subsequent formulation of the theory of the Oedipus complex.
Freud described the evolution of his clinical method and set out his theory of the psychogenetic origins of hysteria, demonstrated in a number of case histories, in Studies on Hysteria published in 1895 (co-authored with Josef Breuer).
In 1899 he published The Interpretation of Dreams in which, following a critical review of existing theory, Freud gives detailed interpretations of his own and his patients’ dreams in terms of wish-fulfillments made subject to the repression and censorship of the “dream work“.
He then sets out the theoretical model of mental structure (the unconscious, pre-conscious and conscious) on which this account is based.
An abridged version, On Dreams, was published in 1901.
In works which would win him a more general readership, Freud applied his theories outside the clinical setting in The Psychopathology of Everyday Life (1901) and Jokes and their Relation to the Unconscious (1905).
In Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality, published in 1905, Freud elaborates his theory of infantile sexuality, describing its “polymorphous perverse” forms and the functioning of the “drives“, to which it gives rise, in the formation of sexual identity.
The same year he published ‘Fragment of an Analysis of a Case of Hysteria (Dora)‘ which became one of his more famous and controversial case studies.
During this formative period of his work, Freud valued and came to rely on the intellectual and emotional support of his friend Wilhelm Fliess, a Berlin based ear, nose and throat specialist whom he had first met 1887.
Above: Freud (left) and Wilhelm Fliess (1858 – 1928)(right)
Both men saw themselves as isolated from the prevailing clinical and theoretical mainstream because of their ambitions to develop radical new theories of sexuality.
Fliess developed highly eccentric theories of human biorhythms and a nasogenital connection which are today considered pseudo-scientific.
He shared Freud’s views on the importance of certain aspects of sexuality — masturbation, coitus interruptus, and the use of condoms — in the etiology of what were then called the “actual neuroses“, primarily neurasthenia and certain physically manifested anxiety symptoms.
They maintained an extensive correspondence from which Freud drew on Fliess’s speculations on infantile sexuality and bisexuality to elaborate and revise his own ideas.
His first attempt at a systematic theory of the mind, his Project for a Scientific Psychology was developed as a metapsychology with Fliess as interlocutor.
However, Freud’s efforts to build a bridge between neurology and psychology were eventually abandoned after they had reached an impasse, as his letters to Fliess reveal, though the soundest ideas of the Project were to be taken up again in the concluding chapter of The Interpretation of Dreams.
Freud had Fliess repeatedly operate on his nose and sinuses to treat “nasal reflex neurosis” and subsequently referred his patient Emma Eckstein to him.
According to Freud her history of symptoms included severe leg pains with consequent restricted mobility, and stomach and menstrual pains.
These pains were, according to Fliess’s theories, caused by habitual masturbation which, as the tissue of the nose and genitalia were linked, was curable by removal of part of the middle turbinate.
Fliess’s surgery proved disastrous, resulting in profuse, recurrent nasal bleeding – he had left a half-metre of gauze in Eckstein’s nasal cavity the subsequent removal of which left her permanently disfigured.
At first, though aware of Fliess’s culpability – Freud fled from the remedial surgery in horror – he could only bring himself to delicately intimate in his correspondence to Fliess the nature of his disastrous role and in subsequent letters maintained a tactful silence on the matter or else returned to the face-saving topic of Eckstein’s hysteria.
Freud ultimately, in light of Eckstein’s history of adolescent self-cutting and irregular nasal and menstrual bleeding, concluded that Fliess was “completely without blame“, as Eckstein’s post-operative hemorrhages were hysterical “wish-bleedings” linked to “an old wish to be loved in her illness” and triggered as a means of “rearousing [Freud’s] affection“.
Eckstein nonetheless continued her analysis with Freud.
She was restored to full mobility and went on to practice psychoanalysis herself.
Above: Emma Eckstein (1865 – 1924)
Freud, who had called Fliess “the Kepler of biology“, later concluded that a combination of a homoerotic attachment and the residue of his “specifically Jewish mysticism” lay behind his loyalty to his Jewish friend and his consequent over-estimation of both his theoretical and clinical work.
Their friendship came to an acrimonious end with Fliess angry at Freud’s unwillingness to endorse his general theory of sexual periodicity and accusing him of collusion in the plagiarism of his work.
After Fliess failed to respond to Freud’s offer of collaboration over publication of his Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality in 1906, their relationship came to an end.
In 1902, Freud at last realised his long-standing ambition to be made a university professor.
The title “professor extraordinarius“was important to Freud for the recognition and prestige it conferred, there being no salary or teaching duties attached to the post (he would be granted the enhanced status of “professor ordinarius” in 1920).
Despite support from the university, his appointment had been blocked in successive years by the political authorities and it was secured only with the intervention of one of his more influential ex-patients, a Baroness Marie Ferstel, who had to bribe the minister of education with a painting.
With his prestige thus enhanced, Freud continued with the regular series of lectures on his work which, since the mid-1880s as a lecturer of Vienna University, he had been delivering to small audiences every Saturday evening at the lecture hall of the university’s psychiatric clinic.
From the autumn of 1902, a number of Viennese physicians who had expressed interest in Freud’s work were invited to meet at his apartment every Wednesday afternoon to discuss issues relating to psychology and neuropathology.
This group was called the Wednesday Psychological Society (Psychologische Mittwochs-Gesellschaft) and it marked the beginnings of the worldwide psychoanalytic movement.
Freud founded this discussion group at the suggestion of the physician Wilhelm Stekel.
Stekel had studied medicine at the University of Vienna under Richard von Krafft-Ebing.
His conversion to psychoanalysis is variously attributed to his successful treatment by Freud for a sexual problem or as a result of his reading The Interpretation of Dreams, to which he subsequently gave a positive review in the Viennese daily newspaper Neues Wiener Tagblatt.
Above: Wilhelm Steckel (1868 – 1940)
The other three original members whom Freud invited to attend, Alfred Adler, Max Kahane and Rudolf Reitler, were also physicians and all five were Jewish by birth.
Both Kahane and Reitler were childhood friends of Freud.
Kahane (1866 – 1923) had attended the same secondary school and both he and Reitler went to university with Freud.
They had kept abreast of Freud’s developing ideas through their attendance at his Saturday evening lectures.
In 1901, Kahane, who first introduced Stekel to Freud’s work, had opened an out-patient psychotherapy institute of which he was the director in Bauernmarkt, in Vienna.
In the same year, his medical textbook, Outline of Internal Medicine for Students and Practicing Physicians, was published.
In it, he provided an outline of Freud’s psychoanalytic method.
Kahane broke with Freud and left the Wednesday Psychological Society in 1907 for unknown reasons and in 1923 committed suicide.
Reitler (1865 – 1917) was the director of an establishment providing thermal cures in Dorotheergasse which had been founded in 1901.
He died prematurely in 1917.
Adler, regarded as the most formidable intellect among the early Freud circle, was a socialist who in 1898 had written a health manual for the tailoring trade.
He was particularly interested in the potential social impact of psychiatry.
Above: Alfred Adler (1870 – 1937)
Max Graf, a Viennese musicologist and father of “Little Hans” (Herbert Graf, 1903 – 1973), who had first encountered Freud in 1900 and joined the Wednesday group soon after its initial inception, described the ritual and atmosphere of the early meetings of the society:
The gatherings followed a definite ritual.
First one of the members would present a paper.
Then, black coffee and cakes were served; cigar and cigarettes were on the table and were consumed in great quantities.
After a social quarter of an hour, the discussion would begin.
The last and decisive word was always spoken by Freud himself.
There was the atmosphere of the foundation of a religion in that room.
Freud himself was its new prophet who made the heretofore prevailing methods of psychological investigation appear superficial.
Above: Max Graf (1873 – 1958)
By 1906, the group had grown to sixteen members, including Otto Rank, who was employed as the group’s paid secretary.
In the same year, Freud began a correspondence with Carl Gustav Jung who was by then already an academically acclaimed researcher into word-association and the Galvanic Skin Response, and a lecturer at Zurich University, although still only an assistant to Eugen Bleuler at the Burghölzli Mental Hospital in Zürich.
Above: Carl Gustav Jung (1875 – 1961)
In March 1907, Jung and Ludwig Binswanger, also a Swiss psychiatrist, travelled to Vienna to visit Freud and attend the discussion group.
Thereafter, they established a small psychoanalytic group in Zürich.
In 1908, reflecting its growing institutional status, the Wednesday group was renamed the Vienna Psychoanalytic Society.
After the founding of the IPA in 1910, an international network of psychoanalytical societies, training institutes and clinics became well established and a regular schedule of biannual Congresses commenced after the end of World War I to coordinate their activities.
In 1911, the first women members were admitted to the Society.
Tatiana Rosenthal (1885 – 1921) and Sabina Spielrein were both Russian psychiatrists and graduates of the Zürich University medical school.
Prior to the completion of her studies, Spielrein had been a patient of Jung at the Burghölzli and the clinical and personal details of their relationship became the subject of an extensive correspondence between Freud and Jung.
Both women would go on to make important contributions to the work of the Russian Psychoanalytic Society founded in 1910.
Above: Sabina Spielrain (1885- 1942)
Freud’s early followers met together formally for the first time at the Hotel Bristol, Salzburg on 27 April 1908.
This meeting, which was retrospectively deemed to be the first International Psychoanalytic Congress, was convened at the suggestion of Ernest Jones, then a London-based neurologist who had discovered Freud’s writings and begun applying psychoanalytic methods in his clinical work.
Jones had met Jung at a conference the previous year and they met up again in Zürich to organize the Congress.
There were, as Jones records, “forty-two present, half of whom were or became practicing analysts.”
In addition to Jones and the Viennese and Zürich contingents accompanying Freud and Jung, also present and notable for their subsequent importance in the psychoanalytic movement were Karl Abraham and Max Eitingon from Berlin, Sándor Ferenczi from Budapest and the New York-based Abraham Brill.
Important decisions were taken at the Congress with a view to advancing the impact of Freud’s work.
A journal, the Jahrbuch für psychoanalytische und psychopathologishe Forschungen, was launched in 1909 under the editorship of Jung.
This was followed in 1910 by the Monthly Zentralblatt für Psychoanalyse edited by Adler and Stekel, in 1911 by Imago, a journal devoted to the application of psychoanalysis to the field of cultural and literary studies edited by Rank and in 1913 by the Internationale Zeitschrift für Psychoanalyse, also edited by Rank.
Plans for an international association of psychoanalysts were put in place and these were implemented at the Nuremberg Congress of 1910 where Jung was elected, with Freud’s support, as its first president.
Freud turned to Brill and Jones to further his ambition to spread the psychoanalytic cause in the English-speaking world.
Both were invited to Vienna following the Salzburg Congress and a division of labour was agreed with Brill given the translation rights for Freud’s works, and Jones, who was to take up a post at the University of Toronto later in the year, tasked with establishing a platform for Freudian ideas in North American academic and medical life.
Jones’s advocacy prepared the way for Freud’s visit to the United States, accompanied by Jung and Ferenczi, in September 1909 at the invitation of Stanley Hall, president of Clark University, Worcester, Massachusetts, where he gave five lectures on psychoanalysis.
The event, at which Freud was awarded an Honorary Doctorate, marked the first public recognition of Freud’s work and attracted widespread media interest.
Freud’s audience included the distinguished neurologist and psychiatrist James Jackson Putnam, Professor of Diseases of the Nervous System at Harvard, who invited Freud to his country retreat where they held extensive discussions over a period of four days.
Putnam’s subsequent public endorsement of Freud’s work represented a significant breakthrough for the psychoanalytic cause in the United States.
When Putnam and Jones organised the founding of the American Psychoanalytic Association in May 1911 they were elected president and secretary respectively.
Brill founded the New York Psychoanalytic Society the same year.
His English translations of Freud’s work began to appear from 1909.
Some of Freud’s followers subsequently withdrew from the International Psychoanalytical Association (IPA) and founded their own schools.
From 1909, Adler’s views on topics such as neurosis began to differ markedly from those held by Freud.
As Adler’s position appeared increasingly incompatible with Freudianism, a series of confrontations between their respective viewpoints took place at the meetings of the Viennese Psychoanalytic Society in January and February 1911.
In February 1911, Adler, then the president of the society, resigned his position.
At this time, Stekel also resigned his position as vice president of the society.
Adler finally left the Freudian group altogether in June 1911 to found his own organization with nine other members who had also resigned from the group.
This new formation was initially called the Society for Free Psychoanalysis but it was soon renamed the Society for Individual Psychology.
In the period after World War I, Adler became increasingly associated with a psychological position he devised called individual psychology.
In 1912, Jung published Wandlungen und Symbole der Libido (published in English in 1916 as Psychology of the Unconscious) making it clear that his views were taking a direction quite different from those of Freud.
To distinguish his system from psychoanalysis, Jung called it analytical psychology.
Anticipating the final breakdown of the relationship between Freud and Jung, Ernest Jones initiated the formation of a secret committee of loyalists charged with safeguarding the theoretical coherence and institutional legacy of the psychoanalytic movement.
Formed in the autumn of 1912, the Committee comprised Freud, Jones, Abraham, Ferenczi, Rank, and Hanns Sachs.
Max Eitingon joined the Committee in 1919.
Each member pledged himself not to make any public departure from the fundamental tenets of psychoanalytic theory before he had discussed his views with the others.
Above: The Committee (from left to right): Otto Rank, Sigmund Freud, Karl Abraham, Max Eitingon, Sandor Ferenczi, Ernest Jones and Hanns Sachs
After this development, Jung recognised that his position was untenable and resigned as editor of the Jarhbuch and then as president of the IPA in April 1914.
The Zürich Society withdrew from the IPA the following July.
Later the same year, Freud published a paper entitled “The History of the Psychoanalytic Movement“, the German original being first published in the Jahrbuch, giving his view on the birth and evolution of the psychoanalytic movement and the withdrawal of Adler and Jung from it.
The final defection from Freud’s inner circle occurred following the publication in 1924 of Rank’s The Trauma of Birth which other members of the committee read as, in effect, abandoning the Oedipus Complex as the central tenet of psychoanalytic theory.
Abraham and Jones became increasingly forceful critics of Rank and though he and Freud were reluctant to end their close and long-standing relationship the break finally came in 1926 when Rank resigned from his official posts in the IPA and left Vienna for Paris.
His place on the committee was taken by Anna Freud.
Rank eventually settled in the United States where his revisions of Freudian theory were to influence a new generation of therapists uncomfortable with the orthodoxies of the IPA.
Psychoanalytic societies and institutes were established in Switzerland (1919), France (1926), Italy (1932), the Netherlands (1933), Norway (1933) and in Palestine (Jerusalem, 1933) by Eitingon, who had fled Berlin after Adolf Hitler came to power.
The New York Psychoanalytic Institute was founded in 1931.
The 1922 Berlin Congress was the last Freud attended.
By this time his speech had become seriously impaired by the prosthetic device he needed as a result of a series of operations on his cancerous jaw.
He kept abreast of developments through a regular correspondence with his principal followers and via the circular letters and meetings of the secret Committee which he continued to attend.
The Committee continued to function until 1927 by which time institutional developments within the IPA, such as the establishment of the International Training Commission, had addressed concerns about the transmission of psychoanalytic theory and practice.
There remained, however, significant differences over the issue of lay analysis – i.e. the acceptance of non-medically qualified candidates for psychoanalytic training.
Freud set out his case in favour in 1926 in his The Question of Lay Analysis.
He was resolutely opposed by the American societies who expressed concerns over professional standards and the risk of litigation (though child analysts were made exempt).
These concerns were also shared by some of his European colleagues.
Eventually an agreement was reached allowing societies autonomy in setting criteria for candidature.
In 1930 Freud was awarded the Goethe Prize in recognition of his contributions to psychology and to German literary culture.
Though in overall decline as a diagnostic and clinical practice, psychoanalysis remains influential within psychology, psychiatry, and psychotherapy, and across the humanities.
It thus continues to generate extensive and highly contested debate with regard to its therapeutic efficacy, its scientific status, and whether it advances or is detrimental to the feminist cause.
Nonetheless, Freud’s work has suffused contemporary Western thought and popular culture.
In the words of W.H. Auden’s 1940 poetic tribute, by the time of Freud’s death, he had become “a whole climate of opinion / under whom we conduct our different lives.”
Somehow I got the feeling that the Freud Museum, try as it may, fails to truly capture the essence of what Sigi was trying to do.
Because the man was just too big.
At least in terms of the average tourist-layman, the simple man I am.
Sources: Wikipedia / Google / The Rough Guide to London / Richard Appignanesi & Oscar Zarate, Introducing Freud / Joel Whitebook, Freud: An Intellectual Biography / Rebecca Wallersteiner, “If you’re sitting comfortably….a trip to the Sigmund Freud Museum!“, Spotlight, 23 October 2015 / Sophie Leighton, “Freud’s Collections“, Freud Museum London Friends News
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Chronicles of Canada Slim 