Bodycount V

Videre gennem starten af Iliadens femte bog, hvor de tapre krigere falder som fluer.

Agamemnon dræber Odius (9)

Meantime, the Greeks the Trojan race pursue,
And some bold chieftain every leader slew:
First Odius falls, and bites the bloody sand,
His death ennobled by Atrides’ hand:
As he to flight his wheeling car address’d,
The speedy javelin drove from back to breast.
In dust the mighty Halizonian lay,
His arms resound, the spirit wings its way.

De første fire bodycount er her.

Transorbital Lobotomi

I den store spændende kategori af ting som du strengt taget ikke behøver at vide for at leve et lykkeligt liv, falder forklaringen på ovenstående billede, visende Walter Freeman som foretager en lobotomi på Western State Hospital.

Processen er simpel: Patienten sættes ud af spillet med to hurtige electrochok til hovedet, hvorefter en issyl indsættes under øjenlåget og føres op over øjeæblet og bankes gennem bagsiden af øjenhulen med en hammer. Issylen føres fire-fem centimeter ind i hjernen og indgrebet fuldføres ved at bevæge issylen lidt på samme måde som når man pisker et æg.

Ingen bedøvelse, intet blod, ingen ar. Det tager mindre end ti minutter og patienten kan sendes hjem samme dag med intet andet end et blåt øje og lidt hovedpine! Enkelte andre bivirkninger (incl. dødsfald) kunne påregnes.

Året er 1949. Freeman nåede at foretage flere tusinde af disse indgreb frem til midten af 1950’erne. (To videoer som demonstrerer indgrebet kan ses http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kf2_CauROKk og http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F9khrgMKOMM. – pt. utilgængelige)

Skønhed!

Stor ødelæggelse indeholder undertiden en særegen storslået skønhed. Bikini 1946

Nej? Du synes ikke det er smukt syn? Så svar mig ærligt: Hvordan ville du helst dø?
I ensomhed efter tre ugers sygdom i sengen på et plejehjem eller ved at fordampe på et sekund efter at have set døden i øjnene stående på den strand?

To Damer!

Jeg må ærligt tilstå at jeg intet kender til ovenstående billede. Jeg ved ikke hvem der har begået det, hvornår det er fra eller hvor. Men jeg er ikke et øjeblik i tvivl om hvorfor jeg har gemt det, nemlig ansigtsudtrykket hos de to kvinder. Den unge som blot rynker panden over, ikke hans lidelser, men over det som gøres. Og så den forbitrede gamle dame som sikkert mener at  mænd er nogle svin allesammen alligevel. (Jeg vælger helt at se bort fra at maleren har fejlet katastrofalt med blodet at man fristes til at tro at det må være en senere tilføjelse!)

PS. Det er af Caravaggio

Bodycount IV – Death’s Eternal Shade

Et enkelt drab fra starten af Iliadens femte bog hvor de falder tæt på slagmarken.

Diomedes dræber Phegeus (8)

The sons of Dares first the combat sought,
A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault;
In Vulcan’s fane the father’s days were led,
The sons to toils of glorious battle bred;
These singled from their troops the fight maintain,
These, from their steeds, Tydides on the plain.
Fierce for renown the brother-chiefs draw near,
And first bold Phegeus cast his sounding spear,
Which o’er the warrior’s shoulder took its course,
And spent in empty air its erring force.
Not so, Tydides, flew thy lance in vain,
But pierced his breast, and stretch’d him on the plain.
Seized with unusual fear, Idaeus fled,
Left the rich chariot, and his brother dead.
And had not Vulcan lent celestial aid,
He too had sunk to death’s eternal shade;
But in a smoky cloud the god of fire
Preserved the son, in pity to the sire.
The steeds and chariot, to the navy led,
Increased the spoils of gallant Diomed.

Pope. Og Wilster:

Der var en Mand i det Troiske Folk, hvem Dares man kaldte,
Hædret og rig, Hephaistos’s Præst, to Sønner han havde,
Dygtige begge til alskens Kamp, Idaios og Phegeus.
Skilte fra Hæren de stormede frem Diomedes imøde,
Begge tilvogns, men Tydeiden til Fods skred rask over Sletten.
Da de nu farende frem under Øine hverandre var komne,
Først da slyngede Phegeus af Haand sin mægtige Spydstang,
Kobberets Od foer Tydeus’s Søn hen over den venstre
Skulder, og ramte ham ei, men flux med sit Spyd Diomedes
Hæved sig nu, og forgjeves ei fløi ham Stangen af Haanden,
Midt mellem Vorterne traf han hans Bryst, og slog ham af Vognen.
Ned af den prægtige Karm da sprang Idaios og flygted,
Ikke han dristed at træde til Værn for sin fældede Broder;
Selv dog ligesaa lidt havde Døden den sorte han undflyet,
Frelst af Hephaistos han blev, som i Mulm ham hylled og redded,
At den bedagede Fader ei reent af Sorg skulde bøies.
Gangerne flux bortdrev hiin Søn af den modige Tydeus,
Og til de bugede Skibe han lod sine Svende dem føre.

Bodycount III – Copious Slaughter

Fortsætter vores rejse gennem Iliaden anskuet som antik døds-æstetik.

Peiros dræber Dioreus (6)

Apollo thus from Ilion’s lofty towers,
Array’d in terrors, roused the Trojan powers:
While war’s fierce goddess fires the Grecian foe,
And shouts and thunders in the fields below.
Then great Diores fell, by doom divine,
In vain his valour and illustrious line.
A broken rock the force of Pyrus threw,
Who from cold AEnus led the Thracian crew,
Full on his ankle dropp’d the ponderous stone,
Burst the strong nerves, and crash’d the solid bone.
Supine he tumbles on the crimson sands,
Before his helpless friends, and native bands,
And spreads for aid his unavailing hands.
The foe rush’d furious as he pants for breath,
And through his navel drove the pointed death:
His gushing entrails smoked upon the ground,
And the warm life came issuing from the wound.

Således Pope. Her Wilster:

517     Skjebnen nu hilded dernæst den Amarynkide Dioreus;
518 Ramt i Anklen han blev i det høire Been af en Kampsteen
519 Kantet og hvas; ham traf hiin Drot for de Thrakiske Kæmper
520 Peiros, Imbrasos’ Søn, som did var kommen fra Ainos.
521 Begge hans Sener saavel som Knoglerne splintred den ublue
522 Steen aldeles i Qvag, saa ned i Støvet han baglænds
523 Segned, og Hænderne strakte han ud mod Brødrenes Skare,
524 Aandende mat, men flux løb Peiros, som havde ham qvæstet,
525 Hen, og stak ham ved Navlen med Spyd, saa alle hans Tarme
526 Vælded af Livet ham ud, og Mulm omhylled hans Øine.

og Due:

I en fart var Peiros, der havde ramt ham, fremme og stak ham sin lanse i navlen så alle hans tarme væltede ud over jorden. Og sort blev det da for hans øjne.

Jeg sidder tit med en fornemmelse af at Due inderst inde hellere ville have lavet en prosa-gendigtning, da det ofte kun er fyldord og en omvendt ordstilling (og sort blev det da) som adskiller ham fra det.

Thoas dræber Peiros (7)

His lance bold Thoas at the conqueror sent,
Deep in his breast above the pap it went,
Amid the lungs was fix’d the winged wood,
And quivering in his heaving bosom stood:
Till from the dying chief, approaching near,
The AEtolian warrior tugg’d his weighty spear:
Then sudden waved his flaming falchion round,
And gash’d his belly with a ghastly wound;
The corpse now breathless on the bloody plain,
To spoil his arms the victor strove in vain;
The Thracian bands against the victor press’d,
A grove of lances glitter’d at his breast.
Stern Thoas, glaring with revengeful eyes,
In sullen fury slowly quits the prize.

Pope. Wilster:

527     Just som han styrtede frem, Aitoleren Thoas i Brystet
528 Drev ham sit Spyd over Vorten, saa Kobberet sad ham i Lungen;
529 Hen treen Thoas paastand til den Faldne, sin vældige Landse
530 Drog han af Brystet ham ud, og trak sit hvæssede Slagsværd,
531 Gav ham midt over Bugen et Hug, og berøved ham Livet.
532 Rustningen tog han dog ei, thi med vældige Landser ihænde
533 Stod Stalbrødrene trindt, stridhaarede Thrakiske Kæmper,
534 Og ihvor stolt og høi han saa var, og kraftig tillige,
535 Drev de dog Helten tilbage, og skrapt blev han tumlet paa Flugten.
536 Saaledes straktes i Støv to Høvdinger tæt ved hinanden,
537 Her laae Thrakernes Drot, de malmbeklædte Epeiers
538 Hist, og trindt dem segned en Flok af de menige Kæmper.

Due:

Drabsmanden ilede bort, men blev ramt af Aitoleren Thoas
lanse i brystet ved vorten så bronzen sad ham i lungen;
Thoas gik tæt på den faldne og haled sin dygtige lanse
ud af hans bryst og trak så sit hvæssede sværd af dets skede,
plantede det midt i hans bug og betog ham livet. Hans rustning
fik han dog ikke; hans svende, de hårtopbærende Thraker
stilled sig rundt om liget med lange lanser i hånden,
og var han aldrig så høj og så drøj og så dygtig tillige,
drev de ham væk, og hårdt blev han trængt da de jog ham tilbage.

Gentagelsen i sidste linie: “drev de ham væk, og hårdt blev han trængt da de jog ham tilbage” lyder næsten infantilt i mine øre, sammenlignet med Wilsters “Drev de dog Helten tilbage, og skrapt blev han tumlet paa Flugten“.

Pope opsummerer smukt og leverer overskriften til dette indlæg:

Thus fell two heroes; one the pride of Thrace,
And one the leader of the Epeian race;
Death’s sable shade at once o’ercast their eyes,
In dust the vanquish’d and the victor lies.
With copious slaughter all the fields are red,
And heap’d with growing mountains of the dead.

Bodycount II – The Shades of Hell

Videre med turen gennem Iliaden betragtet som et litterært bodycount fortrinsvis i Popes fantastiske gendigtning.

Ajax dræber Simoïsius (3)

In blooming youth fair Simoisius fell,
Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell;
Fair Simoisius, whom his mother bore
Amid the flocks on silver Simois’ shore:
The nymph descending from the hills of Ide,
To seek her parents on his flowery side,
Brought forth the babe, their common care and joy,
And thence from Simois named the lovely boy.
Short was his date! by dreadful Ajax slain,
He falls, and renders all their cares in vain!
So falls a poplar, that in watery ground
Raised high the head, with stately branches crown’d,
(Fell’d by some artist with his shining steel,
To shape the circle of the bending wheel,)
Cut down it lies, tall, smooth, and largely spread,
With all its beauteous honours on its head
There, left a subject to the wind and rain,
And scorch’d by suns, it withers on the plain
Thus pierced by Ajax, Simoisius lies
Stretch’d on the shore, and thus neglected dies.

Antiphus dræber Leucus (4)

At Ajax, Antiphus his javelin threw;
The pointed lance with erring fury flew,
And Leucus, loved by wise Ulysses, slew.
He drops the corpse of Simoisius slain,
And sinks a breathless carcase on the plain.

Odysseus dræber Democoon (5)

This saw Ulysses, and with grief enraged,
Strode where the foremost of the foes engaged;
Arm’d with his spear, he meditates the wound,
In act to throw; but cautious look’d around,
Struck at his sight the Trojans backward drew,
And trembling heard the javelin as it flew.
A chief stood nigh, who from Abydos came,
Old Priam’s son, Democoon was his name.
The weapon entered close above his ear,
Cold through his temples glides the whizzing spear; (*)
With piercing shrieks the youth resigns his breath,
His eye-balls darken with the shades of death;
Ponderous he falls; his clanging arms resound,
And his broad buckler rings against the ground.

Seized with affright the boldest foes appear;
E’en godlike Hector seems himself to fear;
Slow he gave way, the rest tumultuous fled;
The Greeks with shouts press on, and spoil the dead:
But Phoebus now from Ilion’s towering height
Shines forth reveal’d, and animates the fight.
“Trojans, be bold, and force with force oppose;
Your foaming steeds urge headlong on the foes!
Nor are their bodies rocks, nor ribb’d with steel;
Your weapons enter, and your strokes they feel.
Have ye forgot what seem’d your dread before?
The great, the fierce Achilles fights no more.”

(*) Popes oversættelse er forsynet med meget pædagogiske noter af Rev. Theodore Alois Buckley, M.A., F.S.A og på dette sted har ham med følgende kommentar: I may, once for all, remark that Homer is most anatomically correct as to the parts of the body in which a wound would be immediately mortal. Og det er jo mægtigt rart at vide, men spørgsmålet er måske nok om man med denne smukke død: The weapon entered close above his ear, // Cold through his temples glides the whizzing spear;  // With piercing shrieks the youth resigns his breath, // His eye-balls darken with the shades of death; ville have anatomisk korrekt tid og overskud til at udgyde særligt mange piercing shrieks. Man kan have sin tvivl.

Bodycount I – a tide of gore!

Her følger så, engang påbegyndt aldrig afsluttet, turen gennem Iliaden, betragtet som et litterært bodycount. Der er virkelig ikke nogen fornuftig grund til at foretage noget sådant, men det skal da ikke afholde mig fra at gøre det alligevel, da jeg heller ikke kan komme på en fornuftig grund til at lade være. Vi starter i Iliaden IV, hos Pope er det p.79 og hos Wilster er det l.457.

Antilochos dræber Echepolos (1)

Først hos Pope som kan downloades fra Proj. Gutenberg

The bold Antilochus the slaughter led,
The first who struck a valiant Trojan dead:
At great Echepolus the lance arrives,
Razed his high crest, and through his helmet drives;
Warm’d in the brain the brazen weapon lies,
And shades eternal settle o’er his eyes.
So sinks a tower, that long assaults had stood
Of force and fire, its walls besmear’d with blood.

Og så Wilster online hos Det Kongelige Bibliotek:

Først Antilochos vog en tapper og malmklædt Troer,
Djerv blandt Forstridshelte, Thalysios’ Søn Echepolos.
Først hans haaromflagrede Hjelm i Spolen han ramte,
Spydet i Panden ham foer, heelt ind gjennem Benet sig trængte
Kobberets stingende Od, og Mulm omhylled hans Øine;
Brat han faldt, som et styrtende Taarn, i den hidsige Kampfærd.

Og så er der Due, som jeg ikke kan lide, fordi han ind imellem er pinlig, her bare ok, højere svinger han sig aldrig op rent sprogligt. Desværre!

Først fik Antilochos dræbt en hjelmbuskbærende Troer,
en af de bedste i fronten, Thalysios’ søn Echepólos.
Lige i næserodsværnet på hjelmen med hestehårsfane
drev han ham lansen i panden så bronzen gik tværs gennem brasken,
ind så hans hjerne brast. Og sort sort blev det da for hans øjne,
og han faldt om i den hidsige strid som et tårn når det ramler.

Agenor dræber Elephor (2)

Him, the bold leader of the Abantian throng,
Seized to despoil, and dragg’d the corpse along:
But while he strove to tug the inserted dart,
Agenor‘s javelin reach’d the hero’s heart.
His flank, unguarded by his ample shield,
Admits the lance: he falls, and spurns the field;
The nerves, unbraced, support his limbs no more;
The soul comes floating in a tide of gore.
Trojans and Greeks now gather round the slain;
The war renews, the warriors bleed again:
As o’er their prey rapacious wolves engage,
Man dies on man, and all is blood and rage.

Pope, så Wilster:

Flux den Faldne ved Fødderne greb den Helt Elephenor,
Chalkodons Søn, som var Drot for Abanternes modige Skare;
Ivrig han slæbte ham bort fra Spydenes Ram, for hans Rustning
Strax af Krop ham at drage, dog kort blev denne hans Idræt.
Just som han Dødningen slæbte, den Helt Agenor det mærked,
Og i hans Side, som blottet for Skjold stak frem, da han Kroppen
Bøied, han jog ham det kobberne Spær, og gav ham sin Helsot.
Saa forliste han Livet; en gruelig Dyst om den Faldne
Mellem Achaier og Troer sig reiste paastand, og som Ulve
Foer mod hinanden de løs, og Mand slog Mand saa han tumled.

Oversættelse vs. gendigtning? Gendigtning absolut, til enhver tid fristes jeg til at sige, hvis man vil have oversættelse kan man jo bare læse originalen i stedet, ikke?
Pope er i særklasse.

His flank, unguarded by his ample shield, / Admits the lance: he falls, and spurns the field; / The nerves, unbraced, support his limbs no more; / The soul comes floating in a tide of gore.

Så er jeg sgu solgt.

Døden III

Efter jeg forleden var inde på den frygt videomaskiner og de frygteligt voldelige videfilm spredte i socialdemokratiske Danmark engang i 1980’erne, kom jeg til tænke på en liste jeg lavede engang over eksempler på voldelig død i Iliaden som jeg vil bringe lidt fra her. (Det var før jeg kendte til Ian Johnstons liste: http://records.viu.ca/~Johnstoi/homer/Iliaddeaths.htm) Jeg har tidligere postet et indlæg med titlen “Sjov med meningsløs vold” og betragtningerne deri omkring sentimentalitet gælder stadig. Vi starter i Iliaden IV:

446     Men da de rykkende frem havde mødt hinanden paa Stridsmark,
447 Landse mod Landse, og Skjold mod Skjold da hugged de stærke
448 Malmompandsrede Mænd, mangfoldige buklede Skjolde
449 Knugedes hardt mod hverandre, høit dundred det larmende Kampgny.
450 Mellem hinanden nu lød baade Jammer og Jubel af Krigsfolk,
451 Altsom de Kæmpende slog eller faldt, og af Blod svam Jorden.
452 Som naar i Vinterens Tid fra et Bjerg to skyllende Elve
453 Styrte de rivende Vande i Dalene ned, hvor de samles,
454 Høit fra de mægtige Væld i den dybtudhulede Fjeldkløft,
455 Vidt i det Fjerne kan Hyrden paa Bjergene høre dem bruse,
456 Saaledes lød Forvirring og Skrig, da de foer mod hverandre.(Iliaden, overs. Wilster)

Jeg har altid for mit indre set “som” (l. 452) henvise til blodet i l. 451 og ikke til “saaledes” i l. 456. Man kan i hvertfald i hele fire linier med god samvittighed leve i troen. Beretninger om blod i større mængder har altid været godt for fantasien, et menneske indeholder trods alt kun ca. seks liter af det og der skal slås ret mange ihjel fot at opfylde ovenstående: af Blod svam Jorden.  Nu har jeg ikke et billede af salgmarker som svømmer i floder blod, men Kubrick har visualiseret det effektivt og skabt et af filmhistoriens mindeværdige øjeblikke. (still fra The Shining)

Men nu omhandlede ovnstående egentlig slet ikke om slet ikke om blod, men om lyden af hære som gør sig klar til at udgyde det. Det kan de gøre på mange måder, undertiden behøver de blot at forsamles før det går galt og et uhyrligt bodycount opnås uden af der løsnes et skud.

“In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains. In the bed of the river there were pebbles and boulders, dry and white in the sun, and the water was clear and swiftly moving and blue in the channels. Troops went by the house and down the road and the dust they raised powdered the leaves of the trees. The trunks of the trees too were dusty and the leaves fell early that year and we saw the troops marching along the road and the dust rising and leaves, stirred by the breeze, falling and the soldiers marching and afterward the road bare and white except for the leaves.

The plain was rich with crops; there were many orchards of fruit trees and beyond the plain the mountains were brown and bare. There was fighting in the mountains and at night we could see the flashes from the artillery. In the dark it was like summer lightning, but the nights were cool and there was not the feeling of a storm coming.

Sometimes in the dark we heard the troops marching under the window and guns going past pulled by motor-tractors. There was much traffic at night and many mules on the roads with boxes of ammunition on each side of their pack-saddles and gray motor trucks that carried men, and other trucks with loads covered with canvas that moved slower in the traffic. There were big guns too that passed in the day drawn by tractors, the long barrels of the guns covered with green branches and green leafy branches and vines laid over the tractors. To the north we could look across a valley and see a forest of chestnut trees and behind it another mountain on this side of the river. There was fighting for that mountain too, but it was not successful, and in the fall when the rains came the leaves all fell from the chestnut trees and the branches were bare and the trunks black with rain. The vineyards were thin and bare-branched too and all the country wet and brown and dead with the autumn. There were mists over the river and clouds on the mountain and the trucks splashed mud on the road and the troops were muddy and wet in their capes; their rifles were wet and under their capes the two leather cartridge-boxes on the front of the belts, gray leather boxes heavy with the packs of clips of thin, long 6.5 mm. cartridges, bulged forward under the capes so that the men, passing on the road, marched as though they were six months gone with child.

There were small gray motor cars that passed going very fast; usually there was an officer on the seat with the driver and more officers in the back seat. They splashed more mud than the camions even and if one of the officers in the back was very small and sitting between two generals, he himself so small that you could not see his face but only the top of his cap and his narrow back, and if the car went especially fast it was probably the King. He lived in Udine and came out in this way nearly every day to see how things were going, and things went very badly.

At the start of the winter came the permanent rain and with the rain came the cholera. But it was checked and in the end only seven thousand died of it in the army.” (Ernest Hemingway: A Farewell to Arms.)