Sardanapal

150 million years ago, Europe was warm and humid, and giant brontosaurs ate cypress treetops bare. Then, 15,000 years ago, there was an ice age, the earth's surface was covered by meter-high glaciers, and there was no life to be found. That is known. And no one is surprised. And it has often been thought and written that time kills each of us and that even from the great Alexander only dust remains, which plugs a bunghole. But that a man who 200 years ago lent his name to the state of mind of an entire era, after whose death women threw themselves off cliffs and men into despondency, that this man and all his works have been completely forgotten, - that is remarkable, sobering and to be mourned.

This very forgotten man, poet, politician, traveler, anorexic, and freedom fighter with deformed Achilles tendons, referred to here, was George Gordon Byron, then also known as Lord Byron. The cultural movement that bore his name was called "Byronism," the "world-weariness," a terrible, lifelong pain that he could have ended only if the world had ended. And the forgotten works of the Anglo-Saxon number one successful author of the first half of the 19th century are called "Manfred", "Childe Harold", "Cain" and - "Sardanapal". But while "Nathan the Wise" and Lessing in general could quietly take a seat on the bench of the national theater team for a while, especially the effortless, cheekily called tragedy and dedicated to Goethe embarrassingly forgotten melange of tragedy, burlesque and melodrama called "Sardanapal" deserves a radiant rebirth.