© Gunnar Tómasson
30 October 2016
Summary
Saga-Shakespeare Myth
411367 = Snorri Sturluson‘s “murder“ – Saga of Icelanders
Prelude To…
115451 = Kjartan Ólafsson’s “killing” – Laxdæla
…and re-enactment of
The Burning of Njáll in Shakespeare Myth
7196 = Bergþórshváll
1000 = FIRE
535014
I. Snorri Sturluson’s ”murder”¹
(Saga of Icelanders, Ch. 151)
411367
29224 = Gizurr kom í Reykjaholt um nóttina eftir Mauritíusmessu.
20587 = Brutu þeir upp skemmuna, er Snorri svaf í.
32733 = En hann hljóp upp ok ór skemmunni í in litlu húsin, er váru við skemmuna.
19023 = Fann hann þar Arnbjörn prest ok talaði við hann.
35331 = Réðu þeir þat, at Snorri gekk í kjallarann, er var undir loftinu þar í húsunum.
21242 = Þeir Gizurr fóru at leita Snorra um húsin.
28547 = Þá fann Gizurr Arnbjörn prest ok spurði, hvar Snorri væri.
8875 = Hann kvaðst eigi vita.
22694 = Gizurr kvað þá eigi sættast mega, ef þeir fyndist eigi.
28330 = Prestr kvað vera mega, at hann fyndist, ef honum væri griðum heitit.
22884 = Eftir þat urðu þeir varir við, hvar Snorri var.
25600 = Ok gengu þeir í kjallarann Markús Marðarson, Símon knútr,
26492 = Árni beiskr, Þorsteinn Guðinason, Þórarinn Ásgrímsson.
13048 = Símon knútr bað Árna höggva hann.
12169 = „Eigi skal höggva,” sagði Snorri.
8594 = „Högg þú,” sagði Símon.
12169 = „Eigi skal höggva,” sagði Snorri.
33464 = Eftir þat veitti Árni honum banasár, ok báðir þeir Þorsteinn unnu á honum.
Mythical Meaning
4000 = Flaming Sword – Cosmic Creative Power
7725 = Metamorphosis
Consciousness Transformed
-6060 = Jarðlig skilning – Earthly understanding
5596 = Andlig spekðin – Spiritual wisdom
411367
II. ”Killing” of Kjartan Ólafsson²
(Laxdæla, Ch. 49)
115451
9240 = Bolli Þorleiksson – Kjartan’s “killer”
7876 = Kjartan Ólafsson – Last words to Bolli.
20155 = „Víst ætlar þú nú, frændi, níðingsverk at gera,
21895 = en miklu þykkir mér betra at þiggja banaorð af þér, frændi,
7286 = en veita þér þat.”
12747 = Guðrún Ósvífrsdóttir – To Bolli on receiving news of Kjartan’s death
12881 = „Misjöfn verða morginverkin.
23371 = Ek hefi spunnit tólf álna garn, en þú hefir vegit Kjartan.”
115451
III. Dies Irae at Seventh Day’s End
Medieval myth tells of a British laborer named Turchill – Cipher Value 4951 = Shake-Speare – whose Soul was taken from his Body so that he might witness the torments that await the wicked and the rewards of the righteous when Seventh Day is done. The following is his „eye-witness“ account.
535014
29178 = When the servants of Hell were all seated at this shameful scene,
24450 = the Chief of that wicked troop said to his satellites,
21582 = “Let the proud man be violently dragged from his seat,
12031 = and let him sport before us.“
23467 = After he had been dragged from his seat and clothed in a black garment,
25102 = he, in the presence of the devils who applauded him in turn,
23138 = imitated all the gestures of a man proud beyond measure;
22602 = he stretched his neck, elevated his face, cast up his eyes,
33176 = with the brows arched, imperiously thundered forth lofty words,
28915 = shrugged his shoulders, and scarcely could he bear his arms for pride:
28065 = his eyes glowed, he assumed a threatening look, rising on tiptoe,
29997 = he stood with crossed legs, expanded his chest, stretched his neck,
24573 = glowed in his face, showed signs of anger in his fiery eyes,
32997 = and striking his nose with his finger, gave impression of great threats;
19375 = and thus swelling with inward pride,
25990 = he afforded ready subject of laughter to the inhuman spirits.
20831 = And whilst he was boasting about his dress,
16471 = and was fastening gloves by sewing,
20700 = his garments on a sudden were turned to fire,
23472 = which consumed the entire body of the wretched being;
18423 = lastly the devils, glowing with anger,
30479 = tore the wretch limb from limb with prongs and fiery iron hooks.
535014
Summary
The Tragedie of Hamlet – Archetypal Everyman
878864 = To be, or not to be etc.
535014 = Last Judgement at Seventh Day’s End – Burning of Heathen Man-Beast
1413878
IV. To be, or not to be; that is the Quest ION.
(Act III, Sc. i, First folio, 1623)
878864
5415 = Enter Hamlet.
Hamlet
18050 = To be, or not to be, that is the Question:
19549 = Whether ’tis Nobler in the minde to suffer
23467 = The Slings and Arrowes of outragious Fortune,
17893 = Or to take Armes against a Sea of troubles,
16211 = And by opposing end them: to dye, to sleepe
13853 = No more; and by a sleepe, to say we end
20133 = The Heart-ake, and the thousand Naturall shockes
19800 = That Flesh is heyre too? ‘Tis a consummation
17421 = Deuoutly to be wish’d. To dye to sleepe,
19236 = To sleepe, perchance to Dreame; I, there’s the rub,
19794 = For in that sleepe of death, what dreames may come,
21218 = When we haue shufflel’d off this mortall coile,
20087 = Must giue vs pawse. There’s the respect
13898 = That makes Calamity of so long life:
24656 = For who would beare the Whips and Scornes of time,
24952 = The Oppressors wrong, the poore mans Contumely,
18734 = The pangs of dispriz’d Loue, the Lawes delay,
16768 = The insolence of Office, and the Spurnes
20720 = That patient merit of the vnworthy takes,
17879 = When he himselfe might his Quietus make
21696 = With a bare Bodkin? Who would these Fardles beare
17807 = To grunt and sweat vnder a weary life,
17426 = But that the dread of something after death,
21935 = The vndiscouered Countrey, from whose Borne
20927 = No Traueller returnes, Puzels the will,
19000 = And makes vs rather beare those illes we haue,
20119 = Then flye to others that we know not of.
20260 = Thus Conscience does make Cowards of vs all,
18787 = And thus the Natiue hew of Resolution
21086 = Is sicklied o’re, with the pale cast of Thought,
17836 = And enterprizes of great pith and moment,
22968 = With this regard their Currants turne away,
18723 = And loose the name of Action. Soft you now,
16746 = The faire Ophelia? Nimph, in thy Orizons
9726 = Be all my sinnes remembred.
Ophelia
5047 = Good my Lord,
17675 = How does your Honor for this many a day?
Hamlet
17391 = I humbly thanke you: well, well, well.
Ophelia
15437 = My Lord, I haue Remembrances of yours,
14927 = That I haue longed long to re-deliuer.
12985 = I pray you now, receiue them.
Hamlet
12520 = No, no, I neuer gaue you ought.
Ophelia
19402 = My honor’d Lord, I know right well you did,
24384 = And with them words of so sweet breath compos’d,
19172 = As made the things more rich, then perfume left:
14959 = Take these againe, for to the Noble minde
24436 = Rich gifts wax poore, when giuers proue vnkinde.
5753 = There my Lord.
878864
Summary
Les Misèrables – Love Poem
1137823 = Love Poem
276055 = The Mythical Context – The Eighth Day of Christ
1413878
V. This we have to tell, for this is history.
(Les Misérables, Book Twelve, Ch. VI)
1137823
In these hours of waiting what did they do? This we have to tell, for this is history. While the men were making cartridges and the women lint, while a large pot, full of melted pewter and lead destined for the bullet mold was smoking over a hot stove, while the lookouts were watching the barricades with weapons in hand, while Enjolras, whom nothing could distract, was watching the lookouts, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Jean Prouvaire, Feuilly, Bossuet, Joly, Bahorel, a few others besides, sought each other out and got together, as in the most peaceful days of their student conversations, and in a corner of this bistro turned into a pillbox, within two steps of the redoubt they had thrown up, their carbines primed and loaded resting on the backs of their chairs, these gallant young men, so near their last hour, began to recite a love poem. What poem? Here it is:
18536 = Vous rappelez-vous notre douce vie,
22067 = Lorsque nous étions si jeunes tous deux.
20060 = Et que nous n’avions au coeur d’autre envie
16389 = Que d’être bien mis et d’être amoureux.
16669 = Lorsqu’en ajoutant votre âge à mon âge,
19767 = Nous ne comptions pas à deux quarante ans,
17075 = Et que, dans notre humble et petit ménage,
19714 = Tout, même l’hiver, nous était printemps?
16004 = Beaux jours! Manuel était fier et sage,
16565 = Paris s’asseyait à de saints banquets,
16315 = Foy lançait la foudre, et votre corsage
14404 = Avait une épingle où je me piquais.
21940 = Tout vous contemplait. Avocat sans causes,
15178 = Quand je vous menais au Prado dîner,
19952 = Vous étiez jolie au point que les roses
14717 = Me faisaient l’effet de se retourner.
13207 = Je les entendais dire: Est-elle belle!
18731 = Comme elle sent bon! quels cheveux à flots!
15531 = Sous son mantelet elle cache une aile;
16006 = Son bonnet charmant est à peine éclos.
20463 = J’errais avec toi, pressant ton bras souple.
19195 = Les passants croyaient que l’amour charmé
17538 = Avait marié, dans notre heureux couple,
15508 = Le doux mois d’avril au beau mois de mai.
21687 = Nous vivions cachés, contents, porte close,
15454 = Dévorant l’amour, bon fruit défendu;
13985 = Ma bouche n’avait pas dit une chose
14735 = Que déja ton coeur avait répondu.
17073 = La Sorbonne était l’endroit bucolique
13888 = Où je t’adorais du soir au matin.
18853 = C’est ainsi qu’une âme amoureuse applique
12832 = La carte du Tendre au pays latin.
12374 = O place Maubert! O place Dauphine!
17760 = Quand, dans le taudis frais et printanier,
15225 = Tu tirais ton bas sur ta jambe fine,
15892 = Je voyais un astre au fond du grenier.
17688 = J’ai fort lu Platon, mais rien ne m’en reste
16065 = Mieux que Malebranche et que Lamennais;
14533 = Tu me démontrais la bonté céleste
14238 = Avec une fleur que tu me donnais.
15746 = Je t’obéissais, tu m’étais soumise.
13243 = O grenier doré! te lacer! te voir!
13433 = Aller et venir dès l’aube en chemise,
20650 = Mirant ton front jeune à ton vieux miroir!
17582 = Et qui donc pourrait perdre la mémoire
15087 = De ces temps d’aurore et de firmament,
14466 = De rubans, de fleurs, de gaze et de moire,
14699 = Où l’amour bégaye un argot charmant?
16877 = Nos jardins étaient un pot de tulipe;
16922 = Tu masquais la vitre avec un jupon;
12306 = Je prenais le bol de terre de pipe,
13172 = Et je te donnais la tasse en japon.
21432 = Et ces grands malheurs qui nous faisaient rire!
13915 = Ton manchon brûlé, ton boa perdu!
17521 = Et ce cher portrait du divin Shakspeare
22530 = Qu’un soir pour souper nous avons vendu!
13671 = J’étais mendiant, et toi charitable;
17467 = Je baisais au vol tes bras frais et ronds.
15232 = Dante in-folio nous servait de table
17278 = Pour manger gaîment un cent de marrons.
17244 = Le première fois qu’en mon joyeux bouge
13613 = Je pris un baiser à ta lèvre en feu,
15375 = Quand tu t’en allas décoiffée et rouge,
17401 = Je restais tout pâle et je crus en Dieu!
19249 = Te rappeles-tu nos bonheurs sans nombre,
17190 = Et tous ces fichus changés en chiffons?
21244 = Oh! que de soupirs, de nos coeurs pleins d’ombre,
19465 = Se sont envolés dans les cieux profonds!
1137823
VI. The Mythical Context – The Eighth Day of Christ
(Construction)
276055
1 = Monad
4335 = Kristr – 13th Century Icelandic
Cosmic Change
Seventh Day‘s End
-6429 = Mesocosmos – Man-Beast Burned
7000 = Microcosmos – Man in God‘s Image
Virgil, Fourth Eclogue
16609 = Ultima Cumaei venit iam carminis aetas;
20087 = Magnus ab integro saeclorum nascitur ordo.
18681 = Iam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna,
18584 = Iam nova progenies caelo demittitur alto.
20229 = Tu modo nascenti puero, quo ferrea primum
18431 = Desinet ac toto surget gens aurea mundo,
17698 = Casta fave Lucina: tuus iam regnat Apollo.
18480 = Teque adeo decus hoc aevi te consule, inibit,
18919 = Pollio, et incipient magni procedere menses;
22004 = Te duce, si qua manent sceleris vestigia nostri,
20495 = Inrita perpetua solvent formidine terras.
18330 = Ille deum vitam accipiet divisque videbit
20448 = Permixtos heroas et ipse videbitur illis
22153 = Pacatumque reget patriis virtutibus orbem.
276055
Now the last age by Cumae’s Sibyl sung has come and gone, and the majestic roll of circling centuries begins anew: justice returns, returns old Saturn’s reign, with a new breed of men send down from heaven. Only do thou, at the boy’s birth in whom the iron shall cease, the golden race arise, befriend him, chaste Lucina; ‘tis thine own Apollo reigns. And in thy consulate, this glorious age, O Pollio, shall begin, and the months enter on their mighty march. Under thy guidance, whatso tracks remain of our old wickedness, once done away, shall free the earth from never-ceasing fear. He shall receive the life of gods, and see heroes with gods commingling, and himself be seen of them, and with his father’s worth reign o’er a world of peace.
***
Calculator for converting letters to cipher values is at:
http://www.light-of-truth.com/ciphersaga.htm
¹ Gizurr arrived at Reykjaholt on the night after Mauritius mass. They broke up the storehouse where Snorri slept. But he jumped up and out of the storehouse into the small houses which were by the storehouse. There he found Arnbjörn priest and spoke to him. They decided that Snorri should enter the basement which was under the ceiling there in the houses. Gizurr and his men began to search for Snorri in the houses. Then Gizurr found Arnbjörn priest and asked where Snorri was. He said that he did not know. Then Gizurr said that they could not make peace if they did not meet. The priest said that he might perhaps be found if he was promised that his life would be spared. Thereafter they became aware of where Snorri was. And they entered the basement, Markús Marðarson, Símon knútr, Árni beiskr, Þorsteinn Guðinason, Þórarinn Ásgrímsson. Símon knútr asked Árni to strike him dead. “Thou shalt not strike,” said Snorri. “Thou shalt strike,” said Símon.“Thou shalt not strike,” said Snorri. After that Árni inflicted a fatal wound on him, and both he and Þorsteinn finished him off
² Internet (non-literal) translation: „Surely thou art minded now, my kinsman, to do a dastard’s deed; but oh, my kinsman, I am much more fain to take my death from you than to cause the same to you myself.“
„Harm spurs on to hard deeds (work); I have spun yarn for twelve ells of homespun, and you have killed Kjartan.“
³ The Love Poem
Do you remember our sweet life
When were so young, we two,
And had in our hearts no other desire
Than to be well dressed and be in love.
When by adding your age to mine,
We couldn’t reach forty years between us,
And, in our humble little home,
Everything, even in winter, seemed spring?
Beautiful days! Manuel was proud and wise,
Paris sat down to incredible banquets,
Foy was waxing eloquent, and your blouse
Had a pin that pricked me.
Everyone gazed at you. A lawyer without a case,
When I took you to The Prado for dinner,
You were so pretty that the roses
Seemed to turn away.
I heard them say: Isn’t she beautiful!
How lovely she smells! What flowing hair!
Under her cape she’s hiding wings;
Her charming hat has scarcely bloomed.
I wandered with you, squeezing your lissome arm.
People passing thought that charmed love
Had married in us, the happy couple,
The sweet month of April with the handsome month of May.
We lived hidden away, happy, the door closed,
Devouring love, good forbidden fruit;
My mouth had not said one thing
When already your heart had answered.
The Sorbonne was the bucolic spot
Where I adored you from dusk to dawn.
That is how a loving soul applies
The map of Tenderness to the Quartier Latin.
O Place Maubert! O Place Dauphine!
When, in the meager springlike room,
You drew your stocking up over your slim leg,
I saw a star in a garret nook.
I’ve read a lot of Plato, but remember nothing
Better than Malebranche and Lammenais;
You showed me celestial kindness
With the flower you gave me.
I obeyed you, you were in my power.
O gilded garret! To lace you up! To see you
Coming and going from daybreak in a chemise,
Gazing at your young forehead in your old mirror!
And who could ever lose the memory
Of those times of dawn and sky,
Of ribbons, of flowers, of muslin and watered silk,
When love stammers a charmed argot?
Our gardens were a pot of tulips;
You screened the window with your slip;
I would take the pipe clay bowl,
And I gave you the porcelain cup.
And those great calamities that made us laugh!
Your muff burnt, your boa lost!
And that beloved portrait of the divine Shakespeare
That we sold one evening for our supper!
I was a beggar, and you charitable;
I gave fleeting kisses to your cool round arms.
Dante in-folio was our table
For gaily consuming a hundred chestnuts.
The first time, in my joyful hovel,
I stole a kiss from your fiery lips,
When you went off disheveled and pink,
I stayed there pale and believed in God!
Do you remember our countless joys,
And all those shawls turned to rags?
Oh! From our shadow-filled hearts what sighs
Flew off into the limitless skies!
Gunnar Tómasson
