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Here I am again writing down my thoughts by the flickering flame of a candle as the emperor Marcus Aurelius did during his long campaigns across the plains of Central Europe. How desolate and uninhabited those plains would have been then. I have often wondered if he composed some of his ‘Meditations’ in Pannonia, what is now Hungary. Hungary is a link between Marcus and I. I cannot say that I have conquered it. Nor have I had much time, in the throes of busy school Drama tours, to write down my own thoughts there as he may have done.

However, Hungary has been a major and enriching part of my life, more than it was for Marcus no doubt. Conquerors only have fleeting enjoyment of the lands they have subdued and rarely make strong connections, let alone friendships, as I have succeeded in doing over the years I have been on tour there. A friend once joked that I had become an international star as a result. I am not so sure, but I hope I have become an international friend.

I remember our first tour well. It was in February 1990, almost thirty years ago. We were performing Shakespeare’s ‘Julius Caesar’ in a new High School (Balatonalmadi) in the countryside near Lake Balaton. It was a boarding school and quite isolated, just down the road from the immense lake itself, which was frozen over with ice so thick you could drive a car over it.

I was so very proud of my students as I stood at the side of the open stage in their atrium watching them perform before an audience of students, teachers, parents and local dignitaries. I felt a rush of excitement: an audience in a foreign country were watching my students in one of my productions. It was emotional too when they were so enthusiastic and appreciative at the curtain call. As I gave a speech thanking the audience, for a moment I sensed an invisible bond.

But I never imagined that we would return, let alone for the next thirty years and that this country and my career as a Drama teacher would become so intertwined. Or that a string of my own scripts would be performed at the Kolibri Theatre in Budapest or my latest one, ‘Will: Shakespeare and Juliet’ would be translated into Hungarian. Or that I would still feel that rush of raw excitement whenever we perform in Budapest

‘Caesar’ was an appropriate choice that year. The Berlin Wall had just come down and the Soviet Empire with it. The political turmoil in the play mirrored current events and the Conspirators’ cry of ‘Liberty! Freedom! Tyranny is Dead’ in Shakespeare’s drama was echoing across modern Eastern Europe.

Only a few months earlier, on a planning trip to the school, my colleagues and myself were ushered into the Headteacher’s study along with all his staff to watch events unfolding in Budapest that morning on the television. It was October 23 1989, the day the new Republic of Hungary was formally declared and the day Soviet troops were finally moving out. After we watched the newscast, there was champagne accompanied by embraces and tears. No-one could imagine it was happening. Being half-Polish myself, I was as emotional as they were.

On our first tour, then, we had wandered into history as people will. It was a time of great excitement and hope. Sadly, thirty years on, the excitement has dissolved and that fresh hope has gone stale. Europe is now under the threat of fragmentation once again, liberties are being curtailed in Eastern Europe and tyranny is covertly once again rearing its head.

It is wonderful to continue the Budapest connection (dear me: that sounds like a Cold War thriller!) even though I am now retired from the school. I have been trying to understand why the project has been and continues to be important.

I have been rehearsing ‘A Christmas Carol’ recently, which will be performed in the Kolibri Theatre Budapest next February. Some of my actors are so excited to be returning and to perform there and to meet Hungarian students. They were sharing their memories with me. I realised that along with the achievement and the fun, the tour has given them memories, precious and joyful memories like the ex-Drama students I meet from time to time. Theres is a great importance in that but there is another.

A few years ago the cultural attaché from the Hungarian embassy attended a performance at the school. She remarked to me that the tour was important because, it was a small link of friendship between two countries, a sharing of cultures and values, a small gesture of peace and understanding. I had never thought of our little Drama tour in that way. We need those gestures, however small, in our fragmented world.

Ave atque vale – Hail and Farewell! Till the next blog

Once again I am writing at night by candlelight just as Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher Emperor, would have done, when writing his own ‘Meditations’ in his military tent all those centuries ago.

His writings have come to be known by that title, but the first ever printed version (in 1559) was called ‘To Himself’. That is what Marcus is doing in his ‘Meditations’: he is writing to himself and for himself. He wishes to remind himself of what is important to him in his life.

‘It is meet I set it down in my tables’ says Hamlet in Shakespeare’s play and Marcus thinks so too: to set down in writing what he has learnt from his reading and his tutors, from what he has experienced and observed and from the people in his life that have most influenced him. Is it not ‘meet’ (right) for us to do the same: to set down what is important to us in our lives in our own ‘tables’: our books or electronic tablets?

It is remarkable that the Emperor Marcus does not begin by meditating on his career successes. Anyway, they are inscribed and sculpted on a huge column in the Piazza Colonna in Rome (probably after his death, as he spent very little time in Rome during his reign). No: he begins by making a list of all the relatives and friends who have impressed him and what he has tried to learn from them and put into practice. For example:

“From my grandfather Verus: decency and a mild temper.

From my mother: piety, generosity, the avoidance of wrong-doing and even of the thought of it and simplicity of living.

From Severus: love of family, love of truth, love of justice.

From Catullus: not to spurn a friend’s criticism even if it may be an unreasonable complaint but to try to restore his usual feelings.”

Later on (in Book 6) he writes: ‘Whenever you want to cheer yourself up think of the good qualities of your friends’.

As someone who is addicted to friendship and I think now, born for friendship rather than relationships, I find this amazing, humbling and true.

I am reminded of a miserable day I once spent alone in Paris. I had ended up in the Sacre Coeur Basilica in Montmartre, which seemed too large and grand for the mood I was in. So I ended up round the corner in the church of Saint-Pierre de Montmartre, one of the oldest churches in Paris. I found myself sitting in a small chapel with a stained glass window ahead of me. It was modern, abstract and multi-coloured. The window reminded me of all my friends, how they all shone in different ways like each individual pane does and yet were linked through knowing me. But windows need to be kept clean and polished. And so I was reminded too of my duty to keep my friendships in good repair. And, like Marcus, that afternoon my spirits were lifted by thinking of my friends.

Perhaps my own list in my own meditations should begin:

‘From Marcus Aurelius: to appreciate my friends and keep my friendships in good repair.’

Ave atque vale – Hail and Farewell! Till the next blog.

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I am writing this late at night by candlelight as the Emperor Marcus Aurelius would have done in his tent on his endless military campaigns. As I gaze at the flickering flame, I am reminded of Shakespeare’s ‘Macbeth’, my last production. ‘Out, out brief candle’ says Macbeth as he laments for his dead wife. A flickering candle reminds us of the brevity of life, how fragile it is. Perhaps, that flickering candle urged Marcus on, to get his thoughts onto paper before the darkness of death engulfed him. St Francis says, ‘All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle’ And neither can the darkness of death.   

I am no emperor nor a philosopher emperor, as Marcus was. I am merely a retired drama teacher. Although, as a joke, sometimes I would call my department ‘my empire.’  I have not led armies on long military campaigns across the plains of Europe as Marcus did, though directing a play with young people (and on tour in Hungary) can seem as grueling. Marcus was in Hungary too, of course. It was called Pannonia then, back in the second century. Coins from his reign have been found in the Buda hills. I have one myself.

Now I have given up my empire. Marcus didn’t have to give up his. He died an emperor and of natural causes (although there is a story that he ate a poisoned apple). But, like dear Marcus, as I reach my final years, it is time for me to reflect upon life and to write down my reflections for whoever wishes to read them. 

Scholars now believe that Marcus didn’t compose his ‘Meditations’ in his final years. He was probably writing them down throughout his adult life. They are fragmentary, almost a diary.  And this blog will be the same. Only, unlike Marcus, I have never taken the time to write my thoughts down before, so I will be producing them from the battered and much-travelled suitcase of my brain.

Now that I have the time, I am also able to concentrate on my own writing. I have learnt that writers these days, aside from parchment and quill, notebook and typewriter, need to have a blog. So, I will be telling you all about my own writing in this blog too.  

‘Blog’ is an ugly word for someone sharing their soul with others across the web. It sounds like an Anglo-Saxon word from centuries ago. I am reminded of the phrase ‘men of slog’ in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which means ‘men were slain’ in a battle. I guess ‘men of blog’ might mean ‘people were blogging’ or ‘people shared a blog’. I hope you will not think my thoughts as ugly or cumbersome as the word ‘blog’ as you read them.

So, my friends, as you have listened to me over the years with patience, gentleness and good humour, I ask you to read this occasional blog in the same way. And, dear readers whom I have never met, I ask you to do the same.  

Ave atque vale – Hail and Farewell! Till the next blog.

 

 

(Photos by Ciaran Inns: www.ciaranfredrick.co.uk)