TWO SHORT NOTES IN THE STYLE OF AK

Berenice, by Philippe Cherry (1759-1833), engraved by Pierre Michel Alix (1762-1817),

taken from the 1802 edition of Recherches sur les Costumes et sur les Théâtres de toutes les nations, tant anciennes que moderns ([Research on the Costumes and Theaters of all Nations, Ancient as well as Modern])

first published by M. Drouhin, Paris 1790. The drawing illustrates the 1670 play by Jean-Baptiste Racine.

From the translator

TWO SHORT NOTES IN THE STYLE OF THE AUTHOR

It is probably in keeping with the encyclopedic style of Professor Krawczuk for your translator to append two cultural notes to this delightful book.

1. In the year 1670, at the height of glory of Louis XIV, before rebellions and unlucky wars dimmed somewhat the brilliance of the Sun-King, his cousin and sister-in-law, Henriette d'Angleterre, daughter of the unlucky Charles I of England, and wife of Phillip d’Orleans, staged a bloodless duel: a head-to-head confrontation between two court dramatists, the aging Pierre Corneille (1606-1684) and the up-and-coming Jean Racine (1639-1699), both of whom she commissioned to produce a play on the subject of Berenice, Queen of the Jews. Performed a week apart at the end of November 1670, the two plays caused a furor, a loud war of words and pamphlets between two cultural (and, therefore, as always in France, political) factions—the supporters of either one or the other author. It was a war conclusively won by the new man.

Broken by his defeat, Corneille never wrote another play. For Racine, this victory marked his rise to power. In 1672 he was elevated to a seat in the Academie and went on to compose, in short order, his greatest plays: Bajazet (1672), Mithridate (1673), Iphigénie (1674) and Phèdre (1677).

The French ruckus sent a veritable cultural tsunami across the shores of European courts, all of which rushed to stage their own versions of the story, whether in dramatic or operatic style. As a result, the sheer volume of “Titus and Berenice” output deposited in the deep layers of European heritage is staggering while Racine’s play remains on the playbill in France until this day. As a result, most Europeans have heard of Titus and Berenice: the title rings a bell even if most can no longer say which church is tolling.

2. Pieter Bruegel (also Brueghel or Breughel) the Elder (1525?–1569) was the most significant artist of Dutch and Flemish Renaissance, a painter and printmaker known for his landscapes and peasant scenes (so-called “genre painting”); he pioneered the use of both subjects as the main focus of large paintings. He was a huge commercial success during his lifetime and founded a dynasty of sons and grandsons who continued the business, often copying their founder’s designs. Hapsburg Emperor Rudolf II, the famed alchemist and art connoisseur, was a great admirer and collector of his work, which is how the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna has come to feature a special room hung with twelve huge Pieter Breughels, including The Fall of Icarus, The Tower of Babel, The Hunters in the Snow, and The Peasant Wedding. It is, in my opinion, one of the most profoundly moving museum rooms in the world.

Tom Pinch

Ardennes National Park

Luxembourg

Illustrations featured in "Herod"

The illustrations featured in Herod are taken from The Holy Land, Syria, Idumea, Arabia, Egypt, and Nubia, a travelogue of 19th-century Palestine and Middle East and the magnum opus of Scottish painter David Roberts. The book contains 250 lithographs by Louis Haghe of Roberts's watercolor sketches. It was first published by subscription between 1842 and 1849, in two separate publications: The Holy Land, Syria, Idumea and Arabia and Egypt and Nubia. William Brockedon and George Croly wrote much of the text, Croly writing the historical, and Brockedon the descriptive portions.

The book has been escribed as "one of the art-publishing sensations of the mid-Victorian period. It exceeded all other earlier lithographic projects in scale, and was one of the most expensive publications of the nineteenth century and it has "proved to be the most pervasive and enduring of the nineteenth-century renderings of the East circulated in the West.” Prints from the series continue to be sought after and command very high prices--high three to low four-digits: a very high price for a nineteenth century print.

The print below is the Oasis of Ein Gedi, near Qumran, on the Dead Sea.

Aleksander Strikes Back!

There have been scores of books on the topic of Herod. Is there any reason to have another one?

Oh, yes! 

First of all, no other biography of Herod situates him within the Graeco-Roman milieu like this book does. For whatever reason, all books on Herod are somehow near-sighted. Somewhere on the periphery of the action appear large-looming figures--Pompey, Caesar, Crassus, Antony, the Parthians. Their motivations are unclear; why they should care for Palestine and Judea is uncertain; how and why Herod has to maneuver is a mystery. This book gives us the global perspective we need to understand the man and his works. It also explains how and why what happened in provincial little Palestine impacted the grand politics of Rome.

Second, in beautiful and vivid language, this book evokes the harsh geographic realities of Palestine. Why was Jericho important? Why did the separate national identity of Samaria matter? Who were the Nabateans? What was the significance of the port of Caesarea?What was it like to be there then?

Finally, there is the old Krawczuk touch: an easygoing and yet profound reflection on the biography of a politician and his posthumous reputation; and the fate of a small nation buffeted by the ambitions of great empires and the seemingly irresistible force of globalization.

Not an Italian, yet is Aleksander a master of the sprezzatura--the artful "off-the-cuffness" hiding surprising depths within a seemingly throwaway comment. As Rameau would have put it, hiding art with art.

And then there is the prose. Just hear this:

THE SHADOWS OF TWILIGHT

PROLOGUE TO THE TRAGEDY

Speaks Ecclesiastes

"I made me great works; I builded me houses; I planted me vineyards; I made me gardens and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all kind of fruits; I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that bringeth forth trees: I got me servants and maidens, and had servants born in my house; I had great possessions of great and small cattle above all that were in Jerusalem before me. I gathered me also silver and gold, and the peculiar treasure of kings and of the provinces. I gat me men singers and women singers, and the delights of the sons of men, as musical instruments, and that of all sorts. So I was great, and increased more than all that were before me in Jerusalem: also my wisdom remained with me. And whatsoever mine eyes desired I kept not from them, I withheld not my heart from any joy; for my heart rejoiced in all my labor: and this was my portion of all my labor.

Then I looked on all the works that my hands had wrought, and on the labor that I had labored to do: and, behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit under the sun."[1]

Tradition ascribes these words to King Solomon. In reality, this book of sadness was composed no more than two centuries before Herod. Its Hebrew title is Kohelet, meaning “The Preacher.” It quickly gained popularity and is still one of the best-known books of the Bible, perhaps because in every person’s life, there comes a moment when she or he will agree with the words of The Preacher: “Oh, vanity of vanities! And all is vanity!”

Herod probably heard this chapter often: it seemed written for him. Who knows if, upon hearing it, the king did not object: Why should I consider my deeds vain and futile? Here they are! They will last forever!

And yet, his time was coming to an end.

[1] Ecclesiastes 2:4-11