Bande-Annonce : “L’enfant qui attendait un train” de Jean d’Ormesson.

Se debate en Francia una nueva ley en relación a los violadores reincidentes y a los pedófilos. Se trata en realidad de una medida, de un tratamiento curativo con vistas a los convictos que han cumplido cárcel y que salen de ella con las impulsiones de violencia sexual intactas. Una manera de curárselas es el tratamiento de castración química a través de inyecciones que inhiben la líbido, y de hecho la impulsión violenta sexual. Este tratamiento sólo se ofrece a los que lo acepten, en Francia no es obligatorio, en Polonia sí lo es; por otra parte, una vez terminado el tratamiento, el sujeto vuelve nuevamente a tener erecciones normales, y las mismas impulsiones que tuvo con anterioridad, el efecto sólo funciona durante la administración del producto.

Anoche vi un programa de televisión en donde se debatía sobre el tema, con intelectuales: Jean D’Ormeson afirmó que para él eso era peor que la pena de muerte. Bruno Gaccio fue el más realista en relación a las consecuencias positivas del tratamiento. El peor fue el haitiano Dany Laferrière, quien vive entre Canadá y Miami, y llevó el tema a un campo más general, y de manera muy vulgar se tocó sus partes temiendo por ellas. Hubo que aclararle que la castración es química y medicamentada, y que sólo se aplica a violadores reincidentes y a pedófilos, si ellos aceptan someterse al tratamiento; y además posee carácter regresivo una vez abandonado; que no iban a cortarle nada a nadie, y mucho menos de manera masiva.

La verdad, pienso que preguntar a los violadores y pedófilos si ellos aceptarían o no, incluso resulta de una delicadeza enorme hacia esta gente; porque ellos jamás preguntan a sus víctimas, en el momento del abuso, si ellas aceptan o no. Estoy de acuerdo con la medida, con la ley; y es probable -como dijo Ricardo Vega anoche mientras veíamos la emisión-, que haya que cambiar el nombre del tratamiento, en lugar de castración química, tal vez inhibición química. Lo que realmente molesta es la palabra “castración”.

En cuanto a Jean D’Ormesson, a quien admiro por sus libros, por aquel discurso que hizo cuando Marguerite Yourcenar entró en la Academia Francesa, se ha convertido en una especie de Oui-Oui Intelectual (Oui-Oui es un muñequito francés, como La Calabacita), y comparar esta medida con la pena de muerte me pareció bastante ligero. Entre otras cosas porque olvida que estos individuos son potencialmente asesinos, muchos de ellos han violado y luego han asesinado; y en la mayoría de las ocasiones la cárcel no es suficiente y vuelven a reincidir en el delito. Soltarlos a la calle sin un tratamiento contundente es una responsabilidad de la sociedad y de la justicia.

Y si no, pregúntenle a las víctimas.

“… Today he will dine with Mr. The Viscoun”; (August 21, 2009)

            Abbot Mugnier lived very well; he was dined by noble families and the illustrious writers and personalities of Paris; and his diary (Journal) was very funny. Abbot Mugnier’s maid servant was even funnier; when he died at the age of 91 the servant said: “The abbot will be very pleased with his new environment.  Today he will dine with the Viscount (meaning God)”

            Abbot or priest Mugnier was famous before WWII for his words and sentences on society, art, literature, love, rapport among people were recounted in conversations among the families in Paris and France.  He was not elegant; his shoes were square and his black frock was threadbare; he wore a tricorn hat but his behavior was ultra-mundane.  Abbot Mugnier was a snob; when his mother died he said “the aristocracy in my hometown behaved very nobly. Dukes and princes came to her funeral”.  He was aware of being a snob “Nobody ate outdoors in Paris as much as I did. I dissipated my soul in full dishes.  What a life that I am carrying on; cars, lunches, and dinners.”

            Abbot Mugnier said “I am the priest of the wedding of Cana (where Marie invited Jesus to attend); I am not the one who fast in desert.  I live among people of contradictory opinions. I have to keep a supple role but how can I preserve unity? Thus, I am Abbot Plural.  What I love in this world is the frame, the names, the beautiful residences, the reunion of fine spirits, the contact with celebrities.”  At the end of his life he wrote: “I lived at the expense of others. I am a born parasite but I managed to develop my little personality”

            Abbot Mugnier has no illusion about the prestigious personality who invites him. He says “An aristocrat can never have original talents to be a writer.  He is too satisfied. He has many servants between him and reality. He never fraternizes with things. There are no communions.”  To a certain writer he notes down: “Bloy shouted to me his misery, too much maybe.  He is conscious of his talents, too much maybe”.  With respect to Mauriac he wrote “He has not healthy enough to be a pagan”.  He confessed the countess of Noailles at her deathbed and he confessed “She told me beautiful things…What do you want, I risked giving her absolution”.  Cocteau told him “the future of literature is limpidity enriched of all the anterior complications”

            Abbot Mugnier dreaded most losing his sight “My life was reading. I am dead” (that would be my case too if I get blind).  ”My job is to offering communion, reciting the rosary, and giving my blessings. Any priest can do it. The minor corner in nature seems to me closer to God.  How tiring and trying is my task.  I tell all these young women coming to confess their sins: go, go. Enough sermons and guidance, what do I know!” Abbot Mugnier married many couples and wrote: “Most of these couples do not realize that when they approach the sacred they lose their liberty”

            Malraux said “Excepting Memoirs, Journals, and diaries, what book is worth the pain of writing?”  I have published a draft of my autobiography; it should be titled “Biography of an unknown confused man”.  You may stick reading biographies of celebrities; that would please me hugely: my revenge would be that you exacerbated your regrets with packs of lies.

Note: The topic is from “Smell of time” (Odeur du temps) by Jean d’Ormesson.

Garbo or Dietrich? (August 26, 2009)

            The French author Jean d’Ormesson who writes for the daily Le Figaro tells this anecdote.  Jean was having lunch for the first time with Greta Garbo.  He kept humming the song of a movie “Ich bin von Kopf bis Fuss auf Liebe eingestellt”.  Garbo had no reaction. Jean sang the entire song.  No reactions from Greta.  Jean finally said “I had admired so much in Bleu Angel”.  Greta Garbo destroyed Jean with a look and also finally said “You are confusing me with Marlene Dietrich”

            A couple of years later, Jean were having lunch with Marlene for the first time. Marlene liked Jean and invited him for tea next Tuesday afternoon.  Jean was in ecstasy and went on accumulating his cuteness by telling Marlene his adventure with Garbo. Marlene Dietrich coolly looked at Jean and told him: “My invitation for tea at avenue Montaigne… consider it canceled”

            It appears that depressed people prefer to watch movies; the more the better, the more stupid the lovelier.  Only people in excellent mood read books; no wonder why people don’t read as frequently anymore as before television.  Pictures have soothing effects on depressed people, especially when the dialogue is pretty simple, the sceneries gorgeous, and the topic easy to comprehend.

            No wonder why people likes old smooth movies such as “The countess in naked feet” by Ava Gardner, “The snow of Kilimanjaro”, “Pandora”,  “The shop around the corner” of Lubitsch; “The Big Sleep” of Howard Hawks; “The train will whistle trice” or “A man for eternity” of Zinneman; “Casablanca” of Michael Curtiz; the “Cheetah” played by Claudia Cardinal, Alain Delon, and Burt Lancaster and realized by Lampedusa and Visconti.

The priest, the warrior, and the peasant; (August 22, 2009)

            Another alternative title could be more realistic and comprehensive such as “Elder, male, and female” but it is not catchy enough.  George Dumezil is a French researcher who can speak over 20 languages; he says “The first ten languages are the hardest to learn; then the remaining languages come pretty easy because it is the same routine and same thing”.  George Dumezil wrote the trilogy “Myth and Epic” that describes the mythologies in Ireland, Iceland, Scandinavia, Germany, Roman, Greek, Ossetia (Caucasus region), and then links all these mythologies to their hierarchical transmission from the Indian Mahabharata and Bhagavat mythology. He calls this unifying mythology “The Indo-European mythology” and end up with a summary that this mythology is based on three fundamentals the Priesthood, Warrior, and Peasant classes with their respective Gods. 

            After over 40 years of detailed research to reach this common sense conclusion is a monstrous let down.  Da! This classification of society is common to all cultures and civilizations and going pretty strong nowadays. (Over the three main Gods Justice, War, and Fecundity, there was always an all encompassing unifying God that was barely worshiped by the people because not symbolizing their trade or class). The Romans had the (Jupiter, Mars, and Quirinus); the Scandinavian counties had Odinn reigning over the Val-Holl of (Porr, Mimir, and Odrerir); Ases was their unifying God; the Germans had Wotan reigning over their Walhalla.  In the Near East mythology we had (Shamsh, Baal, and Ashtarout); El or Allah in the Arab Peninsula was their unifying God.  In the Nile civilization we had Amon (Sun), Osiris, and Isis.

            The major let down is this conventional direction of researchers of thinking top down or hierarchically.  Well, after the Scandinavian got their mythology from Ossetia that got their mythology from Northern India then from whom did the Indian receive their mythology?  If there are any written records that go many thousands of years in antiquity (not probable) we might discover that mythology transmission is no longer hierarchical but cyclical.  Adopting the easy hierarchical line of reasoning is basically wrong; it is the wrong logic to consider; simply because it is conventional which consider that the King/Priesthood classes are the transmitters of culture and civilization. The Priesthood class is mainly the conservative maintainer of the status quo and barely the transmitter of much anything.

            A more realistic and promising line of reasoning is to consider that it is the warrior classes that transmitted rituals, myths, and customs.  It is the soldiers and sub officers who were in direct and daily contact with the conquered people; they are the ones who interrogated prisoners, facilitated trade and communication, and learned by osmosis the new culture and civilization of the subjugated people.  The soldiers and sub officers returned to their hometowns and villages and disseminated their story telling testimonies and accounts of their war period.

            The dissemination was quick because most soldiers were mercenaries from the neighboring countries to the powerful Kingdom. Once the war was over the soldiers were disbanded to return mainly to their families and spread the news of alternative rituals, myths, customs, and techniques of the conquered culture.

            Since communication of central government of Empires with neighboring countries was not constant then the peasant classes managed to change their traditions for some time before the government realized the changes.  When central government is strong then either of two possibilities was activated.  If the mercenary warriors sided with the peasants then the King/Priesthood was defeated and the newer traditions and mythologies took roots. If the King/Priesthood vanquished then many varieties of sects and cults mushroomed in the neighboring kingdom.

            Empires come and go but the tank sources for mercenaries were constant. These warriors came from mountain chain regions and high plateaus or desert regions.  In “Indo-European civilization” the mercenaries flocked from the Turkish Anatoly Plateau and its extension in the Caucasus of Georgia, Azerbaijan, Armenia, Ossetia, Chechnya, Albania, and Romania.  The people were known as Cherkessk, Kurd, Tatar, Parthian, Scythe, and so on.  The other sources of mercenaries came from Central Asia such as Turkmenistan, Kirghisia, Tajikistan, and Mongolia. 

            The main central EMPIRE was Persia that extended many times from coastal Turkey to all of Afghanistan and part of Pakistan. Babylon and later Assyria empires were counties of current Iran that moved the Capitals to their provinces as central power weakened in Persia. The same is true for the Hittite Empire in Anatolia that expanded to Egypt and signed the first recorded peace treaty with Egypt after the battle of Caddish. The Hittite aided the Greek by all means to defeat the Empire of Troy: Troy was a major handicap to extending to the coast and building a navy.

            The urban centers in plains rich with major water resources and large rivers hires mercenaries to defend or expand empires. The Near East region was City-States centers for Priesthood/learning class and peasant/skilled artisans class (the bread basket) that hired mercenaries for the war effort to defend the cities.  Empires that could not maintain autochthones soldiers as majority of their armies vanished in no times.

            When studying civilizations and their continuity we should never dismiss the main factor: climate.  There are the cold, mild, and hot weather civilizations. Within these three categories there are the plain and mountain region people. Talking about “indo-European” languages or civilizations is stretching the imagination a tad too far and forcing issues. 

            It is not with the antiques written records of the elite class that civilizations and dissemination of culture can be described and comprehended but with archeological finds of daily living, rituals, and customs within homogeneous climatic regions.

Note 1: I had the topic from “Smell of Time” (Odeur du temps) by Jean d’Ormesson who published three articles on George Dumezil. I didn’t read “Myth and Epic” and hope that d’Ormesson did.

Notes 2:  The nomadic desert Jewish tribes could not invent but one God “Yahwa”; Jehovah ended up to be their warrior God. When the Jews of Moses got in contact with the Canaanites in Palestine, Yahwa was set aside during peaceful period to be resurrected during war period and his statues and temples approached to God Baal in order for the Jews to be hired as mercenaries.

“Today he will dine with Mr. The Viscount…”; (August 21, 2009)

            Abbot Mugnier lived very well; he was dined by noble families and the illustrious writers and personalities of Paris; and his diary (Journal) was very funny. Abbot Mugnier’s maid servant was even funnier; when he died at the age of 91 the servant said: “The abbot will be very pleased with his new environment.  Today he will dine with the Viscount (meaning God)”

            Abbot or priest Mugnier was famous before WWII for his words and sentences on society, art, literature, love, rapport among people were recounted in conversations among the families in Paris and France.  He was not elegant; his shoes were square and his black frock was threadbare; he wore a tricorn hat but his behavior was ultra-mundane.  Abbot Mugnier was a snob; when his mother died he said “the aristocracy in my hometown behaved very nobly. Dukes and princes came to her funeral”.  He was aware of being a snob “Nobody ate outdoors in Paris as much as I did. I dissipated my soul in full dishes.  What a life that I am carrying on; cars, lunches, and dinners.”

            Abbot Mugnier said “I am the priest of the wedding of Cana (where Marie invited Jesus to attend); I am not the one who fast in desert.  I live among people of contradictory opinions. I have to keep a supple role but how can I preserve unity? Thus, I am Abbot Plural.  What I love in this world is the frame, the names, the beautiful residences, the reunion of fine spirits, the contact with celebrities.”  At the end of his life he wrote: “I lived at the expense of others. I am a born parasite but I managed to develop my little personality”

            Abbot Mugnier has no illusion about the prestigious personality who invites him. He says “An aristocrat can never have original talents to be a writer.  He is too satisfied. He has many servants between him and reality. He never fraternizes with things. There are no communions.”  To a certain writer he notes down: “Bloy shouted to me his misery, too much maybe.  He is conscious of his talents, too much maybe”.  With respect to Mauriac he wrote “He has not healthy enough to be a pagan”.  He confessed the countess of Noailles at her deathbed and he confessed “She told me beautiful things…What do you want, I risked giving her absolution”.  Cocteau told him “the future of literature is limpidity enriched of all the anterior complications”

            Abbot Mugnier dreaded most losing his sight “My life was reading. I am dead” (that would be my case too if I get blind).  ”My job is to offering communion, reciting the rosary, and giving my blessings. Any priest can do it. The minor corner in nature seems to me closer to God.  How tiring and trying is my task.  I tell all these young women coming to confess their sins: go, go. Enough sermons and guidance, what do I know!” Abbot Mugnier married many couples and wrote: “Most of these couples do not realize that when they approach the sacred they lose their liberty”

            Malraux said “Excepting Memoirs, Journals, and diaries, what book is worth the pain of writing?”  I have published a draft of my autobiography; it should be titled “Biography of an unknown confused man”.  You may stick reading biographies of celebrities; that would please me hugely: my revenge would be that you exacerbated your regrets with packs of lies.

Note: The topic is from “Smell of time” (Odeur du temps) by Jean d’Ormesson.

Avant-hier, chez Drucker, Jean d’Ormesson racontait qu’un jour à Apostrophes, Bernard Pivot demanda à Jean Dutour quelle était la plus belle phrase de la langue française.
Et Dutour de répondre, “oh, ça doit être : “c’était à Mégara, faubourg de Carthage, dans les jardins d’Amilcar”…
Épatant, lance Bernard Pivot et, se tournant vers Hector Bianchiotti : “vous trouvez ça beau, n’est ce pas ?” Et Bianchiotti, qui est un être exquis, répond en roulant les r : “C’est horrrriiible !” Mais, insiste Pivot, pour vous, alors.. ? quelle est la plus belle phrase de la langue française ? Et Bianchiotto répond : “je crrrrrois que c’est : le fond de l’airrrrr est frrrais..”

C’est évidemment beaucoup plus drôle sur la vidéo mais comme je n’aime pas mettre des fichiers lourds sur ces pages, si vous la voulez, dites-le moi et je vous l’enverrai par mail.

Je me demande du coup quelle serait pour moi la phrase la plus belle de la langue française ? J’ai souvent entendu dire que c’était “Le jour n’est pas plus pur que le fond de mon coeur”. (Racine, Phèdre, Acte IV, scène 2). Je ne sais vraiment pas; je vais y réfléchir.

–

Racine – Phèdre – Acte IV – SCENE II

THESEE, HIPPOLYTE

THESEE – Ah ! le voici. Grands Dieux ! à ce noble maintien
Quel oeil ne serait pas trompé comme le mien ?
Faut-il que sur le front d’un profane adultère
Brille de la vertu le sacré caractère ?
Et ne devrait-on pas à des signes certains
Reconnaître le coeur des perfides humains ?
HIPPOLYTE __ Puis-je vous demander quel funeste nuage,
Seigneur, a pu troubler votre auguste visage ?
N’osez-vous confier ce secret à ma foi ?
THESEE __ Perfide, oses-tu bien te montrer devant moi ?
Monstre, qu’a trop longtemps épargné le tonnerre,
Reste impur des brigands dont j’ai purgé la terre !
Après que le transport d’un amour plein d’horreur
Jusqu’au lit de ton père a porté sa fureur,
Tu m’oses présenter une tête ennemie,
Tu parais dans des lieux pleins de ton infamie,
Et ne vas pas chercher, sous un ciel inconnu,
Des pays où mon nom ne soit pas parvenu.
Fuis, traître. Ne viens point braver ici ma haine,
Et tenter un courroux que je retiens à peine.
C’est bien assez pour moi de l’opprobre éternel
D’avoir pu mettre au jour un fils si criminel,
Sans que ta mort encor, honteuse à ma mémoire,
De mes nobles travaux vienne souiller la gloire ;.
Fuis, et si tu ne veux qu’un chatiment soudain
T’ajoute aux scélérats qu’a punis cette main,
Prends garde que jamais l’astre qui nous éclaire
Ne te voie en ces lieux mettre un pied téméraire.
Fuis, dis-je, et sans retour précipitant tes pas,
Se ton horrible aspect purge tous mes états.
Et toi, Neptune, et toi, si jadis mon courage
D’infâmes assassins nettoya ton rivage,
Souviens-toi que pour prix de mes efforts heureux,
Tu promis d’exercer le premier de mes voeux.
Dans les longues rigueurs d’une prison cruelle
Je n’ai point imploré ta puissance immortelle.
Avare du secours que j’attends de tes soins,
Mes voeux t’ont réservé pour de plus grands besoins.
Je t’implore aujourd’hui. Venge un malheureux père.
J’abandonne ce traître à toute ta colère.
Etouffe dans son sang ses désirs effrontés.
Thésée à tes fureurs connaîtra tes bontés.
HIPPOLYTE __ D’un amour criminel Phèdre accuse Hippolyte !
Un tel excès d’horreur rend mon âme interdite ;
Tant de coups imprévus m’accablent à la fois
Qu’ils m’ôtent la parole et m’étouffent la voix.
THESEE __ Traître, tu prétendais qu’en un lâche silence
Phèdre ensevelirait ta brutale insolence.
Il fallait, en fuyant, ne pas abandonner
Le fer qui dans ses mains aide à te condamner ;
Ou plutôt il fallait, comblant ta perfidie,
Lui ravir tout d’un coup la parole et la vie.
HIPPOLYTE __ D’un mensonge si noir justement irrité,
Je devrais faire ici parler la vérité,
Seigneur. Mais je supprime un secret qui vous touche.
Approuvez le respect qui me ferme la bouche ;
Et sans vouloir vous-même augmenter vos ennuis,
Examinez ma vie, et songez qui je suis.
Quelques crimes toujours précèdent les grands crimes.
Quiconque a pu franchir les bornes légitimes
Peut violer enfin les droits les plus sacrés ;
Ainsi que la vertu, le crime a ses degrés,
Et jamais on n’a vu la timide innocence
Passer subitement à l’extrême licence.
Un jour seul ne fait point d’un mortel vertueux
Un perfide assassin, un lâche incestueux.
Elevé dans le sein d’une chaste héroïne,
Je n’ai point de son sang démenti l’origine.
Pitthée, estimé sage entre tous les humains,
Daigna m’instruire encore au sortir de ses mains.
Je ne veux point me peindre avec trop d’avantage ;
Mais si quelque vertu m’est tombée en partage,
Seigneur, je crois surtout avoir fait éclater
La haine des forfaits qu’on ose m’imputer.
C’est par là qu’Hippolyte est connu dans la Grèce.
J’ai poussé la vertu jusques à la rudesse.
On sait de mes chagrins l’inflexible rigueur.
Le jour n’est pas plus pur que le fond de mon coeur.
Et l’on veut qu’Hippolyte, épris d’un feu profane…
THESEE __ Oui, c’est ce même orgueil, lâche, qui te condamne.
je vois de tes froideurs le principe odieux.
Phèdre seule charmait tes impudiques yeux.
Et pour tout autre objet ton âme indifférente
Dédaignait de brûler d’une flamme innocente.
HIPPOLYTE __ Non, mon père, ce coeur (c’est trop vous le celer)
N’a point d’un chaste amour dédaigné de brûler.
Je confesse à vos pieds ma véritable offense :
J’aime, j’aime, il est vrai, malgré votre défense.
Aricie à ses lois tient mes voeux asservis ;
La fille de Pallante a vaincu votre fils.
Je l’adore, et mon âme, à vos ordres rebelle,
Ne peut ni soupirer ni brûler que pour elle.
THESEE __ Tu l’aimes ? Ciel ! Mais non, l’artifice est grossier.
Tu te feins criminel pour te justifier.
HIPPOLYTE __ Seigneur, depuis six mois, je l’évite, et je l’aime.
Je venais en tremblant vous le dire à vous-même.
Hé quoi ! de votre erreur rien ne vous peut tirer ?
Par quel affreux serment faut-il vous rassurer ?
Que la terre, le ciel, que toute la nature…
THESEE __ Toujours les scélérats ont recours au parjure.
Cesse, cesse, et m’épargne un importun discours,
Si ta fausse vertu n’a point d’autre recours.
HIPPOLYTE __ Elle vous paraît fausse et pleine d’artifice.
Phèdre au fond de son coeur me rend plus de justice.
THESEE __ Ah ! que ton impudence excite mon courroux !
HIPPOLYTE __ Quel temps à mon exil, quel lieu prescrivez-vous ?
THESEE __ Fusses-tu par-delà les colonnes d’Alcide,
Je me croirais encor trop voisin d’un perfide.
HIPPOLYTE __ Chargé du crime affreux dont vous me soupçonnez,
Quels amis me plaindront, quand vous m’abandonnez ?
THESEE __ Va chercher des amis dont l’estime funeste
Honore l’adultère, applaudisse à l’inceste ;
Des traîtres, des ingrats sans honneur et sans loi,
Dignes de protéger un méchant tel que toi.
HIPPOLYTE __ Vous me parlez toujours d’inceste et d’adultère !
Je me tais. Cependant Phèdre sort d’une mère,
Phèdre est d’un sang, Seigneur, vous le savez trop bien,
De toutes ces horreurs plus rempli que le mien.
THESEE __ Quoi ! ta rage à mes yeux perd toute retenue ?
Pour la dernière fois, ôte-toi de ma vue.
Sors, traître. N’attends pas qu’un père furieux
Te fasse avec opprobre arracher de ces lieux.

Autres minuscules bouts de ciels …
L’art quand il nous tombe directement du ciel
Qu’est ce qui nous ouvre le ciel
A riveder le stelle…
Il faut que le hasard renverse la fourmi…
Le ciel dans le caniveau
Penser à mettre le ciel dans une enveloppe
J’aime les nuages qui passent