Saturday, August 27, 2022

Saxo Grammaticus

Saxo Grammaticus finished the Gesta Danorum, the history of the Danes, early in the 13th century. He says at the beginning of the preface to this work that is was written to satisfy the wish of Absalon, Archbishop of Lund, who saw how other nations had glorified their ancestors in written histories, and very much wished for the same to be done for the Danes.

Other than the Gesta Danorum itself, and a mention from 1185 from another Danish historian, Svend Aggesen, that Saxo was writing it, we have no sources of biographical information about him. From his history, we may infer that Saxo's forebears were of the high Danish nobility, that they were warriors by profession, in the retinue of kings, and that Saxo himself was a cleric in Bishop Absalon's inner circle.

For a long time, the name "Saxo" confused me. I thought that it might have denoted that Saxo, or perhaps his recent ancestors, were foreigners in Denmark, from Saxony. I also wondered whether it might be connected to the Latin word "saxum," which means "rock." But whatever its origin, apparently Saxo is a very common male name in Denmark, or at least it was in the Middle Ages. The epithet Grammaticus was added to the name of our historian centuries later, because of the ornate style of his Latin prose, which borrows turns of phrase from a fairly impressive range of ancient authors including Sallust, Martianus Capella, Justin and Vergil, but in the great majority of cases from Valerius Maximus, the 1st century compiler of anecdotes. There can be little doubt that Maximus was the favorite author of Grammaticus.

Saxo divides his history into 16 books. The first 9 deal with the legendary past of Denmark, and are often the sole source for episodes from that legendary past. Saxo draws on sagas, he translates old Danish poems into Latin verse, he makes frequent mentions of runes. After the first 9 books, the legend becomes mixed more with the historical, covering the period from the middle of the 10th to the late 12th century. 

Today, it is above all the legends which move people to consult Saxo. And some of these legends have spread out from Saxo's accounts into the wider world long before our own time. In book 3 there appears a Prince Amleth of Denmark, the inspiration for Shakespeare's Hamlet. In the 10th book there is an archer, Toko, who a few centuries later had become William Tell, the national hero of Switzerland.

Saxo himself has become something of a hero in Denmark, but for a long time after his own life, he was little known and little read. No complete manuscripts of the Gesta Danorum are extant. The first edition of the history was printed in Paris in 1514, from a manuscript which has since been lost. A critical edition appeared already in 1644, by Stephanus Johannes Stephanius. Several other critical editions have followed since then. In 2015 a critical edition by Karsten Friis-Jensen, with a facing-page English translation by Peter Fisher, was published in the Oxford Medieval Texts series in 2015. Friis-Jensen's Latin text had previously appeared with a Danish translation by Peter Zeeburg, published in 2005.

Tuesday, August 23, 2022

Dream Log: Climate Activism in a Billionaire's Mansion

I dreamed that a billionaire had donated his mansion to be used as offices by an organization fighting climate change. I was one of the many volunteers working there. All around me people were bustling, appearing to be working very efficiently and effectively, but I was distracted by the house. It was very fancy. I kept staring at the floors, which had a very great variety of surfaces. I was especially fascinated by some granite squares bordered by strips of matte-finished metal which appeared to be a nickel-copper alloy.

 

Eventually I shook myself into somewhat greater alertness to the task at hand. Someone pointed out an impressive-looking white-haired gentleman in a very handsome suit, and suggested I offer to join his team. I walked up to the white-haired man and said I wanted to work with him. Right away he asked me whether I had been in the military. I said no, and he waved me off, dismissively, clearly considered the question settled.

I walked away, but then a moment later I approached him again, and told him that the reason I had not served in the military was that I had been raised in a very strictly pacifist Pietist Protestant denomination, and that although I was no longer strictly pacifist, the Pietists among whom I had been raised had for centuries bravely faced various forms of persecution for sticking to their beliefs, and that it was a heritage I could be proud of. I said that it his business who he wanted in his crew, but that he shouldn't get the idea that I was some sort of coward.

The old guy thought for a minute, then smiled, nodded, shook my hand and welcomed me aboard.

I followed the boss around the mansion as he busily networked with others. He and I and most of the other volunteers were wearing suits. I could see that the boss' suit and his shoes and watch were all much more expensive than mine. Likewise, the others in this particular crew, and most of the people we were meeting with, were very expensively dressed. I felt self-conscious. I wondered what the others thought about my appearance.

The boss got handed many pieces of paper. He handed some of them to me. Soon the stack of papers I was carrying was so big that I needed a backpack to carry them. Getting that backpack was as simple as calling out, "Hey, anybody got a backpack I can use? Big and roomy would be perfect." And just like that, a big and roomy backpack was tossed my way. 

Was the entire organization, everyone in the mansion, wired that tight? I wondered. Or just this boss' crew of a half dozen men and women quite a bit younger than he and I?

Most of the pieces of paper I was carrying contained color photos of people. "Hey Boss," I asked, waving some of the paper at him, "who are all these people?"

The boss laughed and replied, "Few people would recognize them. Few people have heard their names."

I took a guess: "So these are the 'fools' names and fools' faces' crowd?"

"That's right. They pull strings behind the scenes. And the ones in those pictures are profiteering from pollution. They're death merchants, no two ways about it. And we're going to take them public in a big way."

Friday, August 5, 2022

Rangeman Talks to Some Kids

 Rangeman continued to walk all over NYC, wearing the watch which gave him superpowers,

swimming across the rivers, climbing trees and fire escapes and other structures to rescue cats, and spreading his superhero message: "Be nice!"

One day, in Brooklyn, he heard a bunch of small children yelling, "Rangeman! Rangeman!" He ran in the direction of the voices, trying to see what the emergency was which called for his superpowers. The children were pressed up inside a playground fence, jumping up and down and shouting his name. 

Eventually Rangeman figured out that there was no emergency, and that the children were just excited to meet him. "Okay, children," he said, "have you been being nice?"

The kids talked excitedly all at once about how being nice had accomplished so many amazing things in their lives. 

"It's great being nice, isn't it?" Rangeman asked, and the little kids jumped up and own and yelled their agreement. 

Then Rangeman noticed another group of kids inside the playground fence, a little way away, watching quietly. Nervous smiles, hands in pockets, a few pimples. These kids were older. Looked like junior high, maybe. Rangeman had already had some experience with kids in this age group. He knew they could be skittish. He knew that occasionally, kids in the junior high age group got the notion that being nice was uncool -- somewhat like Tony Stark, it suddenly occurred to him. Rangeman called over to the bigger kids, "And how about you? Have you been being nice?"

One of the older kids yelled back, "Did you really choke Tony Stark?" This question occasioned a ripple of nervous laughter among the bigger kids.

Rangeman sighed. "Yes, I really did choke Tony, a little bit. A couple of minutes after I met him. It was wrong for me to do that. Completely wrong."

Another one of the bigger kids yelled, "So why did you do it?"

"He was being a dick. A real dick. But that's no excuse! Tony has a lot of problems. Some people think billionaires don't have problems. But the truth is, Tony's parents both died when he was a kid, his dad had put a lot of pressure on him before that, he has a radioactive thing in his chest and he'll die if it comes out -- in short, children, he has a lot of exactly the same kinds of problems everybody else has. 

"None of that is any excuse for him being a dick. But him being a dick is also no excuse for me, or anyone else, to choke him. It's important to be nice even when it's very hard to be nice." 

After a short silence, the older kids all began shouting excitedly, about how he was right, about all of the problems which had been solved by their being nice, how awesome it was to be nice...

They fell silent again. One of the older kids asked, "Hey, Rangeman. Are you crying?"

"Yeff. I'm crying," Rangeman said, the fluids having turned the s in yes to an ff. Somebody tossed a package of Kleenexes over the fence. Rangeman said thank you, turned away to blow his nose, then faced the kids and said thank you again.

"Why are you crying?" one of the smaller children asked. "Are you unhappy?"

"No," Rangeman replied. "I'm crying because I'm very happy." He sensed that maybe the children didn't understand, so he explained: "Sometimes you get so happy that it's overwhelming, and it makes you cry. But it's not a bad thing. Not at all. You kids here -- all of you," he added, and waved his arms to include both groups, "are so awesome, that it makes me very happy."

A teacher had noticed that a grown man was talking to some children through the fence and approached to shoo him away, but as he got close he realized who it was. "Hey, Rangeman!" he shouted.

"Hi," Rangeman said back. "Outstanding bunch of children you have here."

"You got that right!" the teacher emphatically agreed.

"You got any cats need to be rescued?"

"No," the teacher said, "as far as I know, for now, all of our cats are good."

Rangeman walked away, and called over his shoulder, "Well, if that ever changes, you know how to contact me."

"That's right, Rangeman!" the teacher called back. But after a while he realized that, actually, he had no idea how to contact Rangeman.