TERMS STARTING WITH
inna allāha jamīlun yuhibbu al-jamāl)
inna allāha jamīlun yuhibbu al-jamāl) (in some texts as jemal)
inn ::: an abode; a lodging, esp. for travellers.
innate ::: a. --> Inborn; native; natural; as, innate vigor; innate eloquence.
Originating in, or derived from, the constitution of the intellect, as opposed to acquired from experience; as, innate ideas. See A priori, Intuitive.
Joined by the base to the very tip of a filament; as, an innate anther.
innate: anything that is inherited or natural to an organism, existing at birth rather than acquired.
innately ::: adv. --> Naturally.
innateness ::: n. --> The quality of being innate.
innatism ::: The doctrine that holds that the mind is born with ideas or knowledge, and is not merely a "blank slate" at birth as early empiricists such as John Locke claimed. It asserts that not all knowledge is obtained from experience and the senses.
innative ::: a. --> Native.
innavigable ::: a. --> Incapable of being navigated; impassable by ships or vessels.
inne ::: adv. & prep. --> In.
inned ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Inn
innen 因. See HETUPRATYAYA, NIDĀNA
inner ::: 1. Of or pertaining to the mind or spirit; mental; spiritual. 2. Situated within or farther within; interior. 3. Not obvious; hidden or obscure.
inner ::: a. --> Further in; interior; internal; not outward; as, an spirit or its phenomena.
Not obvious or easily discovered; obscure.
inner being ::: the inner mind, inner vital, inner physical, with the psychic behind as the inmost.
inner class "Java" In {Java}, a non-{static}, {nested class}. (2006-11-18)
inner ear
inner, interior; secret, hidden, concealed.
inner join "database" (Commonly "join", but see also "{outer join}") A {relational database} operation which selects rows from two {tables} such that the value in one {column} of the first table also appears in a certain column of the second table. An example in {SQL}: select * from A, B where A.x = B.y The column names (x and y in this example) are often, but not necessarily, the same. (1998-11-23)
inner join ::: (database) (Commonly join, but see also outer join) A relational database operation which selects rows from two tables such that the value in one column of the first table also appears in a certain column of the second table.An example in SQL: select * from A, Bwhere A.x = B.y The column names (x and y in this example) are often, but not necessarily, the same. (1998-11-23)
innerly ::: adv. --> More within.
inner mind
inner mind ::: that which lies behind the surface mind (our ordinary mentality); this inner or subliminal mind senses directly all the things of the mind-plane, is open to the action of a world of mental forces, and can feel the ideative and other imponderable influences which act up on the material world and the life-plane but which at present we can only infer and cannot directly experience.
innermost ::: a. --> Farthest inward; most remote from the outward part; inmost; deepest within.
innermostly ::: adv. --> In the innermost place.
innermost part [of the sanctuary] to offer incense,
innerness ::: more profound or obscure; less apparent; relating to the soul, mind, spirit, consciousness, etc.
inner physical ::: the physical part of the inner being.
inner product: A generalisation of the scalar product for abstract vector spaces.
inner product ::: (mathematics) In linear algebra, any linear map from a vector space to its dual defines a product on the vector space: for u, v in V and linear g: V -> under interchange of u and v (i.e. (gu)(v) = (gv)(u)), we say the inner product, g, is symmetric. Attention is seldom paid to any other kind of inner product.An inner product, g: V -> V', is said to be positive definite iff, for all non-zero v in V, (gv)v > 0; likewise negative definite iff all such (gv)v 0; relativity, attention is seldom paid to any but positive definite inner products.Where only one inner product enters into discussion, it is generally elided in favour of some piece of syntactic sugar, like a big dot between the two vectors, and practitioners don't take much effort to distinguish between vectors and their duals. (1997-03-16)
inner product "mathematics" In {linear algebra}, any linear map from a {vector space} to its {dual} defines a product on the vector space: for u, v in V and linear g: V -" V' we have gu in V' so (gu): V -" scalars, whence (gu)(v) is a scalar, known as the inner product of u and v under g. If the value of this scalar is unchanged under interchange of u and v (i.e. (gu)(v) = (gv)(u)), we say the inner product, g, is symmetric. Attention is seldom paid to any other kind of inner product. An inner product, g: V -" V', is said to be positive definite iff, for all non-zero v in V, (gv)v " 0; likewise negative definite iff all such (gv)v " 0; positive semi-definite or non-negative definite iff all such (gv)v "= 0; negative semi-definite or non-positive definite iff all such (gv)v "= 0. Outside relativity, attention is seldom paid to any but positive definite inner products. Where only one inner product enters into discussion, it is generally elided in favour of some piece of syntactic sugar, like a big dot between the two vectors, and practitioners don't take much effort to distinguish between vectors and their duals. (1997-03-16)
inner prophet
inner self
innervate ::: Establish synaptic contact with a target.
innervate ::: v. t. --> To supply with nerves; as, the heart is innervated by pneumogastric and sympathetic branches.
innervation ::: n. --> The act of innerving or stimulating.
Special activity excited in any part of the nervous system or in any organ of sense or motion; the nervous influence necessary for the maintenance of life,and the functions of the various organs.
The distribution of nerves in an animal, or to any of its parts.
innervation ::: Referring to all the synaptic contacts of a target.
innerved ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Innerve
innerve ::: v. t. --> To give nervous energy or power to; to give increased energy,force,or courage to; to invigorate; to stimulate.
innerving ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Innerve
inner vision
inner vital ::: the vital part of the inner being.
innholder ::: n. --> One who keeps an inn.
inning ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Inn ::: n. --> Ingathering; harvesting.
The state or turn of being in; specifically, in cricket, baseball, etc.,the turn or time of a player or of a side at the bat; -- often in the pl. Hence: The turn or time of a person, or a party, in
innitency ::: n. --> A leaning; pressure; weight.
innixion ::: n. --> Act of leaning upon something; incumbency.
innkeeper ::: n. --> An innholder.
inn ::: n. --> A place of shelter; hence, dwelling; habitation; residence; abode.
A house for the lodging and entertainment of travelers or wayfarers; a tavern; a public house; a hotel.
The town residence of a nobleman or distinguished person; as, Leicester Inn.
One of the colleges (societies or buildings) in London, for students of the law barristers; as, the Inns of Court; the Inns of
innocence ::: freedom from sin, moral wrong, or guilt through lack of knowledge of evil.
innocence ::: n. --> The state or quality of being innocent; freedom from that which is harmful or infurious; harmlessness.
The state or quality of being morally free from guilt or sin; purity of heart; blamelessness.
The state or quality of being not chargeable for, or guilty of, a particular crime or offense; as, the innocence of the prisoner was clearly shown.
Simplicity or plainness, bordering on weakness or
innocences ::: persons or creatures without sin or guilt.
innocency ::: n. --> Innocence.
innocent ::: 1. Uncorrupted by evil, malice, or wrongdoing; sinless. 2. Not dangerous or harmful; innocuous.
innocent ::: a. --> Not harmful; free from that which can injure; innoxious; innocuous; harmless; as, an innocent medicine or remedy.
Morally free from guilt; guiltless; not tainted with sin; pure; upright.
Free from the guilt of a particular crime or offense; as, a man is innocent of the crime charged.
Simple; artless; foolish.
Lawful; permitted; as, an innocent trade.
innocently ::: adv. --> In an innocent manner.
innocents, according to Barrett, The Magus.
innocuity ::: n. --> Innocuousness.
innocuous ::: a. --> Harmless; producing no ill effect; innocent.
innodated ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Innodate
innodate ::: v. t. --> To bind up,as in a knot; to include.
innodating ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Innodate
innominable ::: a. --> Not to be named.
innominate ::: a. --> Having no name; unnamed; as, an innominate person or place.
A term used in designating many parts otherwise unnamed; as, the innominate artery, a great branch of the arch of the aorta; the innominate vein, a great branch of the superior vena cava.
innovated ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Innovate
innovate ::: v. t. --> To bring in as new; to introduce as a novelty; as, to innovate a word or an act.
To change or alter by introducing something new; to remodel; to revolutionize. ::: v. i. --> To introduce novelties or changes; -- sometimes with
innovating ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Innovate
innovationist ::: n. --> One who favors innovation.
innovation (minority influence): a form of social influence, whereby the minority in a group have an influence over the majority. A number of conditions must be met, including holding a clear and confident position.
innovation ::: n. --> The act of innovating; introduction of something new, in customs, rites, etc.
A change effected by innovating; a change in customs; something new, and contrary to established customs, manners, or rites.
A newly formed shoot, or the annually produced addition to the stems of many mosses.
innovative ::: a. --> Characterized by, or introducing, innovations.
innovator ::: n. --> One who innovates.
innoxious ::: a. --> Free from hurtful qualities or effects; harmless.
Free from crime; pure; innocent.
innubilous ::: a. --> Cloudless.
innuedoes ::: pl. --> of Innuendo
innuendo ::: n. --> An oblique hint; a remote allusion or reference, usually derogatory to a person or thing not named; an insinuation.
An averment employed in pleading, to point the application of matter otherwise unintelligible; an interpretative parenthesis thrown into quoted matter to explain an obscure word or words; -- as, the plaintiff avers that the defendant said that he (innuendo the plaintiff) was a thief.
innuent ::: a. --> Conveying a hint; significant.
innuit ::: n. --> An Eskimo.
innumerability ::: n. --> State of being innumerable.
innumerable ::: a. --> Not capable of being counted, enumerated, or numbered, for multitude; countless; numberless; unnumbered, hence, indefinitely numerous; of great number.
innumerable ranks of fellow dwellers on high. As
innumerable ::: too numerous to be counted; numberless. innumerably.
innumerous ::: a. --> Innumerable.
innutrition ::: n. --> Want of nutrition; failure of nourishment.
innutritious ::: a. --> Not nutritious; not furnishing nourishment.
innutritive ::: a. --> Innutritious.
innyard ::: n. --> The yard adjoining an inn.
Innate Ideas: (Lat. innatis, inborn) The power of understanding given in the very nature of mind. Such ideas are spoken of as a priori. Ideas which are inborn and come with the mind at birth, such as God or immortality. More generally, ideas which all men as human and rational, necessarily and universally possess.
Innate ::: Occurring without learning, inborn.
Innatism: (Lat. in + natus, inborn) A theory of philosophy in which ideas, or principles, are considered to be present in the mind at birth, either fully formed or requiring some additional experience for their complete formulation. -- V.J.B.
Inner Alchemy ::: See Alchemy.
Inner Circle: The highest level of Technocratic command and control, from which all other elements of the Technocratic Union descend. (See Ivory Tower.)
Inner consciousness and outer ::: There is an inner as well as an oliter consciousness all through our being, upon all its levels.
INNER CONSCIOUSNESS (Divisions) ::: There are five main divisions. At the top above the head arc layers (or as we call them planes) of which we arc not conscious and which become conscious to us only by sadhana — those above the human mind — that is the higher consciousness. Below from the crown of the head to the throat are the layers (there are many of them) of the mind, the three principal being one at the top of the head communicating with the higher consciousness, another between the eye-brows where is the thought, sight and will, a third in the throat which is the externalising mind. A second division is from the shoulders to the navel ; these are the layers of the higher vital presided over by the heart centre where is the emotional being with the psychic behind it. From the navel downwards is the rest of the vital being containing several layers. From the bottom of the spine downward are the layers of the physical consciousness proper, the material, and below the feet is the sub- conscient which has also many levels.
Inner consciousness ::: means the inner mind, inner vital, inner physical and behind them the psychic which is their inmost being. But the inner mind is not the higher mind ; ft is more in touch with the universal forces and more open to the higher consciousness and capable of an immensely deeper and larger range of action than the outer or surface mind — but it is of the same essential nature.
Inner Experience
Inner Eye. See EYE OF SIVA; PINEAL GLAND; THIRD EYE
Inner God ::: Mystics of all the ages have united in teaching this fact of the existence and ever-present power of anindividual inner god in each human being, as the first principle or primordial energy governing theprogress of man out of material life into the spiritual. Indeed, the doctrine is so perfectly universal, and isso consistent with everything that man knows when he reflects over the matter of his own spiritual andintellectual nature, that it is small wonder that this doctrine should have acquired foremost place inhuman religious and philosophical consciousness. Indeed, it may be called the very foundation-stone onwhich were builded the great systems of religious and philosophical thinking of the past; and rightly so,because this doctrine is founded on nature herself.The inner god in man, man's own inner, essential divinity, is the root of him, whence flow forth ininspiring streams into the psychological apparatus of his constitution all the inspirations of genius, all theurgings to betterment. All powers, all faculties, all characteristics of individuality, which blossomthrough evolution into individual manifestation, are the fruitage of the working in man's constitution ofthose life-giving and inspiring streams of spiritual energy.The radiant light which streams forth from that immortal center or core of our inmost being, which is ourinner god, lightens the pathway of each one of us; and it is from this light that we obtain idealconceptions. It is by this radiant light in our hearts that we can guide our feet towards an ever largerfulfilling in daily life of the beautiful conceptions which we as mere human beings dimly or clearlyperceive, as the case may be.The divine fire which moves through universal Nature is the source of the individualized divine firecoming from man's inner god.The modern Christians of a mystical bent of mind call the inner god the Christ Immanent, the immanentChristos; in Buddhism it is called the living Buddha within; in Brahmanism it is spoken of as the Brahmain his Brahmapura or Brahma-city, which is the inner constitution.Hence, call it by what name you please, the reflective and mystical mind intuitively realizes that thereworks through him a divine flame, a divine life, a divine light, and that this by whatever name we maycall it, is himself, his essential SELF. (See also God)
Inner God Used for the higher self or divine monad, the focus of divine-spiritual individuality in the human constitution, especially in connection with the degree of initiation when the candidate comes into communion with his true spiritual self, the god within.
INNER GUIDANCE. ::: It depends on being able to go inside.
INNER GUIDE. ::: The supreme Guide and Teacher is the inner Guide, the World-Teacher, jagad-guru, secret within us. He dis- closes progressively in us his own nature of freedom, bliss, love, power, immortal being. He has no method and every method.
His system is a natural organisation of the highest processes and movements of which the nature is capable. In his yoga there is nothing too small to be used and nothing too great to be attempted. This inner Guide is often veiled at first by the very intensity of our personal effort and by the ego's preoccupation with itself and its aims.
Inner Life (Spiritual) ::: In all spiritual living the inner life is the thing of first importance; the spiritual man lives always within, and in a world of the Ignorance that
refuses to change he has to be in a certain sense separate from it and to guard his inner life against the intrusion and influence of the darker forces of the Ignorance: he is out of the world even when he is within it; if he acts upon it, it is from the fortress of his inner spiritual being where in the inmost sanctuary he is one with the Supreme Existence or the soul and God are alone togetherSri Aurobindo
Inner Light: In the terminology of the Society of Friends (Quakers), the capacity inherent in all men to listen to God speaking to the listening soul, to make satisfying spiritual contact with God, and to understand and share spiritual experience.
Inner man: In occult terminology, the immortal essence or higher ego of man.
Inner Man The true and immortal entity in us, as contrasted with the outward and mortal form (physical body, astral body, etc.). The higher ego, the higher manas or manas in conjunction with atma-buddhi; nous as opposed to psyche.
Inner Round In theosophical literature, the passage of the ten classes or hosts of monads through all the globes comprising a planetary chain. An inner round begins on the highest globe and continues its progress around and through them all, concluding the cycle again at the globe from which it first started. The same journey is undergone by the spiritual monad after death.
INNER ROUND (T.B.) The activity of life within a seven-globe is concentrated almost entirely to one of the seven globes in turn. However, there are in the six other globes small nuclei of monads belonging to all the natural kingdoms, monads who in the evolution have either lagged behind or overtaken the main body. These separate evolutions are called by a common term the &
Inner sense: The capacity of feeling immediately, (i.e. unconditioned by the knowledge of principles, causes, or advantages) the beauty and harmony (or their opposites) of material objects. (Francis Hutcheson.) -- K.E.G.
INNER SIGHT. ::: When one tries to meditate, the first obstacle in the beginning is sleep. When you get over this obstacle, there comes a condition in which, with the eyes closed, you begin to see things, people, scenes of all kinds. It is a good sign and means that you are making progress in yoga. There is, besides the outer physical sight which sees external objects, an inner .sight in us which can see things yet unseen and unknown, things at a distance, things belonging to another place or time or to other worlds.
Inner vision is vivid like actual sight, always precise and contains a truth in it. In mental vision the images are invented by the mind and are partly true, partly a play of possibilities. Or a mental vision like the vital may be only a suggestion,- that is a formation of some possibility on the mental or vital plane which presents itself to the sādhaka in the hope of being accepted and helped to realise itself.
Inner tapasya [Austerity, Discipline]? It means the tapasya for the character, and for changing the psychological movements of the being, precisely to conquer the desires, conquer the passions, overcome egoism, get rid of fears. This is the inner tapasya. Outer tapasya is all the ascetic or hatha yogic methods; to make use of physical means for one’s yoga is an outer tapasya. But inner tapasya consists of attending to one’s character and trying to change it.
Ref: CWM Vol. 06, Page: 410
Innervation, Sensation of: (Lat. in + nervus, nerve) Sensation accompanying the efferent nerve currents which discharge from the central nervous system into the muscles. The existence of such a sensation has been much disputed by psychologists. (See W. James, The Principles of Psychology, Vol. II, pp. 498 ff.) -- L.W.
Inner vision h vivid like actual sight, always precise and con- tains a truth in it.
Inner vision means the vision with the inner seeing as opposed to outer vision, the external sight with the surface mind in the surface eyes.
Innocence. Reproduced from Hayley, The
Innocents—according to Barrett, The Magus,
Innocents In ancient Judea this name, and that of infants or little ones, was given to neophytes and initiates just born, meaning that they were newly become such. We find the same usage in the New Testament story of the murder of the Innocents by Herod: in its original it meant the murder of chelas or initiates, but has been adapted in the Christian scriptures to mean the slaughter of actual babies with a view to include the body of Jesus.
Innon—in Mathers, The Greater Key of Solomon,
InnovAda ::: An object-oriented extension to Ada, said to be Lisp-like. Implemented as an Ada preprocessor. (1994-11-03)[Where? Who? When?]
InnovAda An {object-oriented} extension to {Ada}, said to be {Lisp}-like. Implemented as an {Ada} {preprocessor}. (1994-11-03) [Where? Who? When?]
Innovation - The introduction of an invention into methods of production.
Innovators - Individuals who tend to solve problems by finding new, exciting and unexpected solutions to problems in a business.
TERMS ANYWHERE
1. ‘The beginning and the end," originally of the divine Being. 2. The first and last letters of the Greek alphabet.
ABSOLUTE. ::: The Absolute is beyond personality and beyond impersonality, and yet it is both the Impersonal and the supreme Person and all persons. The Absolute is beyond the distinction of unity and multiplicity, and yet is the One and the innumerable Many in all the universes. It is beyond all limitation by quality and yet it is not limited by a quality less void but is too all infinite qualities. It is the individual soul and all souls and more of them; it is the formless Brahman and the universe.
Absolute Divine ::: personal, supreme and omnipresent Godhead, transcendent as well as universal, an infinite master of all relations and determinations upholding a million universes and pervading each with a single ray of his self-light.
"Action is a resultant of the energy of the being, but this energy is not of one sole kind; the Consciousness-Force of the Spirit manifests itself in many kinds of energies: there are inner activities of mind, activities of life, of desire, passion, impulse, character, activities of the senses and the body, a pursuit of truth and knowledge, a pursuit of beauty, a pursuit of ethical good or evil, a pursuit of power, love, joy, happiness, fortune, success, pleasure, life-satisfactions of all kinds, life-enlargement, a pursuit of individual or collective objects, a pursuit of the health, strength, capacity, satisfaction of the body.” The Life Divine*
“Action is a resultant of the energy of the being, but this energy is not of one sole kind; the Consciousness-Force of the Spirit manifests itself in many kinds of energies: there are inner activities of mind, activities of life, of desire, passion, impulse, character, activities of the senses and the body, a pursuit of truth and knowledge, a pursuit of beauty, a pursuit of ethical good or evil, a pursuit of power, love, joy, happiness, fortune, success, pleasure, life-satisfactions of all kinds, life-enlargement, a pursuit of individual or collective objects, a pursuit of the health, strength, capacity, satisfaction of the body.” The Life Divine
ADESA. ::: Impulsion; inner command. The Divine speaks to us in many ways and it is not always the imperative ādeśa that comes. When it does, it is clear and irresistible, the mind has to obey and there is no question possible, even if what comes is contrary to the preconceived ideas of the mental intelligence. But more often what is said is an intuition or even less, a mere indication, which the mind may not follow because it is not impressed with its imperative necessity. It is something offered but not imposed, perhaps something not even offered but only suggested from the Truth above.
"A divine life must be first and foremost an inner life; for since the outward must be the expression of what is within, there can be no divinity in the outer existence if there is not the divinisation of the inner being.” The Life Divine*
“A divine life must be first and foremost an inner life; for since the outward must be the expression of what is within, there can be no divinity in the outer existence if there is not the divinisation of the inner being.” The Life Divine
A dynamic Intuitive conviction In the inner being of the truth of supersensible things which cannot be proved by any physical evidence but which are a subject of experience.
adytum ::: the innermost part of a temple; the secret shrine whence oracles were delivered; a most sacred or reserved part of any place of worship; hence, fig. a private or inner chamber, a sanctum.
"A Godhead is seated in the heart of every man and is the Lord of this mysterious action of Nature. And though this Spirit of the universe, this One who is all, seems to be turning us on the wheel of the world as if mounted on a machine by the force of Maya, shaping us in our ignorance as the potter shapes a pot, as the weaver a fabric, by some skilful mechanical principle, yet is this spirit our own greatest self and it is according to the real idea, the truth of ourselves, that which is growing in us and finding always new and more adequate forms in birth after birth, in our animal and human and divine life, in that which we were, that which we are, that which we shall be, — it is in accordance with this inner soul-truth that, as our opened eyes will discover, we are progressively shaped by this spirit within us in its all-wise omnipotence.” *Essays on the Gita
“A Godhead is seated in the heart of every man and is the Lord of this mysterious action of Nature. And though this Spirit of the universe, this One who is all, seems to be turning us on the wheel of the world as if mounted on a machine by the force of Maya, shaping us in our ignorance as the potter shapes a pot, as the weaver a fabric, by some skilful mechanical principle, yet is this spirit our own greatest self and it is according to the real idea, the truth of ourselves, that which is growing in us and finding always new and more adequate forms in birth after birth, in our animal and human and divine life, in that which we were, that which we are, that which we shall be,—it is in accordance with this inner soul-truth that, as our opened eyes will discover, we are progressively shaped by this spirit within us in its all-wise omnipotence.” Essays on the Gita
aim of yoga. As they open, the powers and possibilities of the inner being also are aroused in us.
“A life of gnostic beings carrying the evolution to a higher supramental status might fitly be characterised as a divine life; for it would be a life in the Divine, a life of the beginnings of a spiritual divine light and power and joy manifested in material Nature.” The Life Divine
"All change must come from within with the felt or the secret support of the Divine Power; it is only by one"s own inner opening to that that one can receive help, not by mental, vital or physical contact with others.” Letters on Yoga
“All change must come from within with the felt or the secret support of the Divine Power; it is only by one’s own inner opening to that that one can receive help, not by mental, vital or physical contact with others.” Letters on Yoga
ALONE. ::: To be alone with the Divine is the highest of all privileged states for the sadhaka, for it is that in which inwardly he comes nearest to the Divine and can make all existence a communion in the chamber of the heart as well as in the temple of the universe. That is the beginning and base of the real oneness with all.
Amal: “A reference to the psychic being, the true soul in us which is hidden in our inner self and is like a ‘sacred hill’ towards which Heaven leans ‘low’ in love to ‘kiss’ it, responding to that being’s aspiration.”
Amal: “He is the inner or inmost being in us which knows the rhythms of the world, but the conditions under which we live at present prevent them from being fully caught.”
Amal: “It seems to be the loftiest part of the inner being, where the true soul which is hidden in us has its dwelling.”
Amal: “The ‘inner prophet’ is the psychic being who corresponds in the lower hemisphere of the cosmos to the higher hemisphere’s ananda planes.”
Amal: “‘The flaming Hierarchies’ are the inner spiritual levels in their true order.”
Amal: “The phrase strikes me as referring to the psychic being because in the preceding line the ‘Grandeur’ is called ‘a seer, a strong creator’ and is said to be ‘within’. But I am not quite sure, because the ‘Grandeur’ is said to ‘brood upon your days’, suggesting that it is above and not within. Perhaps two different though allied powers are suggested: the inner soul and the Spirit or the Atman which is one ultimately with Brahman.”
Amal: “The phrase ‘The Angel of the Vigil Tower’ connotes the inner watcher (of one’s lower actions) from either the Higher Mind or the psychic being.”
Amal: “The subtle powers behind the surface reality were met by him because of the inner and higher consciousness he acquired, a consciousness by which he was open to a god-knowledge and a world-knowledge coming to him from above and from within.”**
Amal: “This is a general term for the inner being which will make itself heard and obeyed when the human mind allows itself to be in touch with the inner being and to hear what guidance it can give and wants always to give.”
"A mind of light will replace the present confusion and trouble of this earthly ignorance; it is likely that even those parts of humanity which cannot reach it will yet be aware of its possibility and consciously tend towards it; not only so, but the life of humanity will be enlightened, uplifted, governed, harmonised by this luminous principle and even the body become something much less powerless, obscure and animal in its propensities and capable instead of a new and harmonised perfection. It is this possibility that we have to look at and that would mean a new humanity uplifted into Light, capable of a spiritualised being and action, open to governance by some light of the Truth-consciousness, capable even on the mental level and in its own order of something that might be called the beginning of a divinised life.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
“A mind of light will replace the present confusion and trouble of this earthly ignorance; it is likely that even those parts of humanity which cannot reach it will yet be aware of its possibility and consciously tend towards it; not only so, but the life of humanity will be enlightened, uplifted, governed, harmonised by this luminous principle and even the body become something much less powerless, obscure and animal in its propensities and capable instead of a new and harmonised perfection. It is this possibility that we have to look at and that would mean a new humanity uplifted into Light, capable of a spiritualised being and action, open to governance by some light of the Truth-consciousness, capable even on the mental level and in its own order of something that might be called the beginning of a divinised life.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
ANANDA. ::: Delight; essential principle of delight; bliss; spiritual ecstasy; the bliss of the Spirit which is the secret source· and support of all existence.
Ānanda is the secret delight from which all things are born, by which all is sustained in existence and to which all can rise in the spiritual culmination.
It is the Divine Bliss which comes from above. It is not joy or pleasure, but something self-existent, pure and quite beyond what any joy or pleasure can be.
Something greater than peace or joy, something that, like Truth and Light, is the very nature of the supramental Divine. It can come by frequent inrushes or descents, partially or for a time, but it cannot -remain in the system so long as the system has not been prepared for it.
It can come not only with its fullest intensity but with a more enduring persistence when the mind is at peace and the heart delivered from ordinary joy and sorrow. If the mind and heart are restless, changeful, unquiet, Ānanda of a kind may come, but it is mixed with vital excitement and cannot abide. One must get peace and calm fixed in the consciousness first, then there is a solid basis on which Ānanda can spread itself and in its turn become an enduring part of the consciousness and the nature.
Ānanda (ascension into) ::: It is quite impossible to ascend to the real Ānanda plane (except in a profound trance), until after the supramental consciousness has been entered, realised and possessed; but it is quite possible and normal to feel some form of Ānanda consciousness on any level. This consciousness, wherever it is felt, is a derivation from the Ānanda plane, but it is very much diminished in power and modified to suit the lesser power of receptivity of the inferior levels.
Ānanda (divine) in the physical ::: self-existent in its essence, its manifestation is dependent only on an inner union with the Divine.
Ānanda (of the Brahman) ::: there is an absoluteness of immutable ecstasy in it, a concentrated intensity of silent and inalienable rapture.
anarch ::: “The anarchic is the true divine state of man in the end as in the beginning; but in between it would lead us straight to the devil and his kingdom.” Essays Divine and Human
an inn or hotel providing overnight lodging for travelers.
“And though this Spirit of the universe, this One who is all, seems to be turning us on the wheel of the world as if mounted on a machine by the force of Maya, shaping us in our ignorance as the potter shapes a pot, as the weaver a fabric, by some skilful mechanical principle, yet is this spirit our own greatest self and it is according to the real idea, the truth of ourselves, that which is growing in us and finding always new and more adequate forms in birth after birth, in our animal and human and divine life, in that which we were, that which we are, that which we shall be,—it is in accordance with this inner soul-truth that, as our opened eyes will discover, we are progressively shaped by this spirit within us in its all-wise omnipotence.” Essays on the Gita
"An evolution of innate and latent but as yet unevolved powers of consciousness is not considered admissible by the modern mind, because these exceed our present formulation of Nature and, to our ignorant preconceptions founded on a limited experience, they seem to belong to the supernatural, to the miraculous and occult; for they surpass the known action of material Energy which is now ordinarily accepted as the sole cause and mode of things and the sole instrumentation of the World-Force.” The Life Divine
“An evolution of innate and latent but as yet unevolved powers of consciousness is not considered admissible by the modern mind, because these exceed our present formulation of Nature and, to our ignorant preconceptions founded on a limited experience, they seem to belong to the supernatural, to the miraculous and occult; for they surpass the known action of material Energy which is now ordinarily accepted as the sole cause and mode of things and the sole instrumentation of the World-Force.” The Life Divine
"A new humanity means for us the appearance, the development of a type or race of mental beings whose principle of mentality would be no longer a mind in the Ignorance seeking for knowledge but even in its knowledge bound to the Ignorance, a seeker after Light but not its natural possessor, open to the Light but not an inhabitant of the Light, not yet a perfected instrument, truth-conscious and delivered out of the Ignorance. Instead, it would be possessed already of what could be called a mind of Light, a mind capable of living in the truth, capable of being truth-conscious and manifesting in its life a direct in place of an indirect knowledge. Its mentality would be an instrument of the Light and no longer of the Ignorance. At its highest it would be capable of passing into the supermind and from the new race would be recruited the race of supramental beings who would appear as the leaders of the evolution in earth-nature. Even, the highest manifestations of a mind of Light would be an instrumentality of the supermind, a part of it or a projection from it, a stepping beyond humanity into the superhumanity of the supramental principle. Above all, its possession would enable the human being to rise beyond the normalities of his present thinking, feeling and being into those highest powers of the mind in its self-exceedings which intervene between our mentality and supermind and can be regarded as steps leading towards the greater and more luminous principle. This advance like others in the evolution might not be reached and would naturally not be reached at one bound, but from the very beginning it would be inevitable: the pressure of the supermind creating from above out of itself the mind of Light would compel this certainty of the eventual outcome.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
“A new humanity means for us the appearance, the development of a type or race of mental beings whose principle of mentality would be no longer a mind in the Ignorance seeking for knowledge but even in its knowledge bound to the Ignorance, a seeker after Light but not its natural possessor, open to the Light but not an inhabitant of the Light, not yet a perfected instrument, truth-conscious and delivered out of the Ignorance. Instead, it would be possessed already of what could be called a mind of Light, a mind capable of living in the truth, capable of being truth-conscious and manifesting in its life a direct in place of an indirect knowledge. Its mentality would be an instrument of the Light and no longer of the Ignorance. At its highest it would be capable of passing into the supermind and from the new race would be recruited the race of supramental beings who would appear as the leaders of the evolution in earth-nature. Even, the highest manifestations of a mind of Light would be an instrumentality of the supermind, a part of it or a projection from it, a stepping beyond humanity into the superhumanity of the supramental principle. Above all, its possession would enable the human being to rise beyond the normalities of his present thinking, feeling and being into those highest powers of the mind in its self-exceedings which intervene between our mentality and supermind and can be regarded as steps leading towards the greater and more luminous principle. This advance like others in the evolution might not be reached and would naturally not be reached at one bound, but from the very beginning it would be inevitable: the pressure of the supermind creating from above out of itself the mind of Light would compel this certainty of the eventual outcome.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
"An exclusive inner concentration on the Real, the Eternal is possible, even a self-immersion by which we can lose or put away the dissonances of the universe.” The Life Divine
“An exclusive inner concentration on the Real, the Eternal is possible, even a self-immersion by which we can lose or put away the dissonances of the universe.” The Life Divine
— anger and sensitiveness and pride as well as desire and the rest, — not to let them get hold of the emotional being and disturb the inner peace, not to speak and act in the rush and impulsion of thesS things, always to act and speak out of a calm inner poise of the spirit. It is not easy to have this equality in any full perfect measure, but one should always try more and more to make it the basis of one's inner state and outer movements.
ANTAHKARANA. ::: The inner instrument (mind).
ANUBHAVA. ::: The system of getting rid of things by anubhava* has behind it two well-known psychological motives. One, the motive of purposeful exhaustion, is valid only in some cases, especially when some natural tendency has too strong a hold or too strong a drive in it to be got rid of by vicāra+ t or by the process of rejection and the substitution of the true movement in its place. The other motive for anubhava is of a more general applicability ; for in order to reject anything from the being, one has first to become conscious of it, to have the clear inner experience of its action and to discover its actual place in the workings of the nature. One can then work upon it to eliminate it, if it is en entirely wrong movement, or to transform it if it is only the degradation of a higher and true movement.
.any integral yoga, if we do not go back from the outer self and become aware of all this inner being and inner nature. For then alone can we break the limitations of the ignorant external self which receives consciously only the outer touches and knows things indirectly through the outer mind and senses, and become directly aware of the universal consciousness and the universal forces that play through us and around us. And then only too
"A Rishi is one who sees or discovers an inner truth and puts it into self-effective language — the mantra.” The Future Poetry
“A Rishi is one who sees or discovers an inner truth and puts it into self-effective language—the mantra.” The Future Poetry
"Aspiration should be not a form of desire, but the feeling of an inner soul"s need, and a quiet settled will to turn towards the Divine and seek the Divine. It is certainly not easy to get rid of this mixture of desire entirely — not easy for anyone; but when one has the will to do it, this also can be effected by the help of the sustaining Force.” Letters on Yoga
“Aspiration should be not a form of desire, but the feeling of an inner soul’s need, and a quiet settled will to turn towards the Divine and seek the Divine. It is certainly not easy to get rid of this mixture of desire entirely—not easy for anyone; but when one has the will to do it, this also can be effected by the help of the sustaining Force.” Letters on Yoga
“As there is an inner sight other than the physical, so there is an inner hearing other than that of the external ear, and it can listen to voices and sounds and words of other worlds, other times and places, or those which come from supraphysical beings.” Letters on Yoga
Aswapati ::: Sri Aurobindo: “Aswapati, the Lord of the Horse, her [Savitri’s] human father, is the Lord of Tapasya, the concentrated energy of spiritual endeavour that helps us to rise from the mortal to the immortal planes; …” (Author’s Note at the beginning of Savitri.)
Aswapati ::: Sri Aurobindo: “Aswapati, the Lord of the Horse, her [Savitri’s] human father, is the Lord of Tapasya, the concentrated energy of spiritual endeavour that helps us to rise from the mortal to the immortal planes; …” (From a letter of Sri Aurobindo to a disciple, listed now as the Author’s Note at the beginning of Savitri.)
ATTACHMENT. ::: All attachment is a hindrance to sadhana. Goodwāl you should have for all, psychic kindness for all, but no vital attachment.
To become indifferent to the attraction of outer objects is one of the first rules of yoga, for this non-attachment liberates the inner being into peace and the true consciousness.
Even after the liberation, one has to remain vigilant, for often these things go out and remain at a far distance, waiting to see if under any circumstances in any condition they can make a rush and recover their kingdom. If there has been an entire purification down to the depths and nothing is there to open the gate, then they cannot do it.
Attachment to things ::: the physical rejection of them is not the best way to get rid of it. Accept what is given you, ask for what is needed and think no more of it - attaching no importance, using them when you have, not troubled if you have not. That is the best way of getting rid of the attachment.
Attacks of illnesses ::: These forces, when thronm out, retreat into the environmental consciousness and remain there concealed and at any opportunity make an attack on the centres accustomed to receive them (external mind and the external emotional) and get in. This happens with most sadbakas. Two things are neces- sary — (1) to open fully the physical to the higher forces, (2) to reach the stage when even if the forces attack they cannot come fully in, the inner being remaining calm and free. Then even if there is still a surface dIfiBcuIty, there will not be these overpowerings.
ATTITUDE. ::: A glad and strong and helpful submission is demanded to the working of the Divine Force, the obedience of the illumined disciple of the Truth, of the inner Warrior who fights against obscurity and falsehood, of the faithful servant of the Divine.
AUTO-SUGGESTIONS. ::: Auto-suggestions- it is really faith in a mental form - act both on the subliminal and the subconscient. In the subliminal they set in action the powers of the inner being, its occult power to make thought, will or simple conscious force effective on the body - in the subconscient they silence or block the suggestions of death and illness (expressed or unexpressed) that prevent the return of health. They help also to combat the same things (adverse suggestions) in the mind, vital, body consciousness. Where all this is completely done or with some completeness, the effects can be very remarkable.
AWAKENING ::: There is a stage in the sadhana in which the inner being begins to awake. Often the first result is ::: (I) a sort of witness attitude in which the inner consciousness looks at all that happens as a spectator or observer, observing things but taking no active interest or pleasure in them. (2) A state of neutral equanimity in which there is neither joy nor sorrow, only quietude. (3) A sense of being something separate from all that happens, observing it but not part of it. (4) An absence of attachment to things, people or events.
beginningless ::: without a beginning; without origin; uncreated.
'Beings (two) ::: there are, we might say, two beings in us, one on the surface, our ordinary exterior mind, life, body conscious- ness, another behind the veil, an inner mind, an inner life, and inner physical consciousness constituting another or inner self.
Being (true) ::: the true being is the inner with all its vast possibilities of reaching and expressing the Divine and especially the inmost, the soul, the psychic Purusha which is always in its essence pure, divine, turned to all that is good and true and beautiful, The exterior being has to be taken hold of by the inner being and turned into an instrument no longer of the upsurging of the ignorant subconscient Nature, but of the Divine.
inn ::: an abode; a lodging, esp. for travellers.
inner ::: 1. Of or pertaining to the mind or spirit; mental; spiritual. 2. Situated within or farther within; interior. 3. Not obvious; hidden or obscure.
inner ear
inner mind
innerness ::: more profound or obscure; less apparent; relating to the soul, mind, spirit, consciousness, etc.
inner prophet
inner self
::: inner vision
inner vision
innocence ::: freedom from sin, moral wrong, or guilt through lack of knowledge of evil.
innocences ::: persons or creatures without sin or guilt.
innocent ::: 1. Uncorrupted by evil, malice, or wrongdoing; sinless. 2. Not dangerous or harmful; innocuous.
innumerable ::: too numerous to be counted; numberless. innumerably.
birth ::: “Birth is the first spiritual mystery of the physical universe, death is the second which gives its double point of perplexity to the mystery of birth; for life, which would otherwise be a self-evident fact of existence, becomes itself a mystery by virtue of these two which seem to be its beginning and its end and yet in a thousand ways betray themselves as neither of these things, but rather intermediate stages in an occult processus of life.” The Life Divine
"But always the whole foundation of the gnostic life must be by its very nature inward and not outward. In the life of the Spirit it is the Spirit, the inner Reality, that has built up and uses the mind, vital being and body as its instrumentation; thought, feeling and action do not exist for themselves, they are not an object, but the means; they serve to express the manifested divine Reality within us: otherwise, without this inwardness, this spiritual origination, in a too externalised consciousness or by only external means, no greater or divine life is possible.” The Life Divine
“But always the whole foundation of the gnostic life must be by its very nature inward and not outward. In the life of the Spirit it is the Spirit, the inner Reality, that has built up and uses the mind, vital being and body as its instrumentation; thought, feeling and action do not exist for themselves, they are not an object, but the means; they serve to express the manifested divine Reality within us: otherwise, without this inwardness, this spiritual origination, in a too externalised consciousness or by only external means, no greater or divine life is possible.” The Life Divine
But it is always the right inner poise, quietude inward and outward, faith, the opening of the body consciousness to the
“But more powerful still is the giving up of the fruit of one’s works, because that immediately destroys all causes of disturbance and brings and preserves automatically an inner calm and peace, and calm and peace are the foundation on which all else becomes perfect and secure in possession by the tranquil spirit.” Essays on the Gita
But with the extension of our knowledge we discover what this spirit or oversoul is: it is ultimately our own highest deepest vastest Self, it is apparent on its summits or by reflection in ourselves as Sachchidananda creating us and the world by the power of His divine Knowledge-Will, spiritual, supramental, truth-conscious, infinite. That is the real Being, Lord and Creator, who, as the Cosmic Self veiled in Mind and Life and Matter, has descended into that which we call the Inconscient and constitutes and directs its subconscient existence by His supramental will and knowledge, has ascended out of the Inconscient and dwells in the inner being constituting and directing its subliminal existence by the same will and knowledge, has cast up out of the subliminal our surface existence and dwells secretly in it over seeing with the same supreme light and mastery its stumbling and groping movements.
By fasting, if the mind and the nerves are solid or the will- force dynamic, one can get for a time into a state of inner
calm ::: n. 1. Serenity; tranquillity; peace. 2. Nearly or completely motionless as a condition of no wind. Calm, Calm"s, calms, calmness. adj. 3. Not excited or agitated; composed; tranquil; 4. Without rough motion; still or nearly still. calmer, calm-lipped, stone-calm. *adv. calmly.
Sri Aurobindo: "Calm is a still unmoved condition which no disturbance can affect — it is a less negative condition than quiet.” Letters on Yoga*
"Calm is a positive tranquillity which can exist in spite of superficial disturbances.” *Letters on Yoga
"Calm is a strong and positive quietude, firm and solid — ordinary quietude is mere negation, simply the absence of disturbance.” *Letters on Yoga
"But more powerful still is the giving up of the fruit of one"s works, because that immediately destroys all causes of disturbance and brings and preserves automatically an inner calm and peace, and calm and peace are the foundation on which all else becomes perfect and secure in possession by the tranquil spirit.” Essays on the Gita
The Mother: "Calm is self-possessed strength, quiet and conscious energy, mastery of the impulses, control over the unconscious reflexes.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 14*.
CENTRES. ::: The inner bring is connected with the small outer personality by certain centres of consciousness of which we become aware by yoga. They are for the most part closed or asleep ; to open and make them awake and active is one
Chakras, messages, intuitions, openings of the inner powers, etc.
CHANGE OF NATURE. ::: The first step is to become cons- cious and separate from the old surface nature. For this rajasic vital natureinner Purusha and no longer identified with the surface Prakriti. Afterwards it will be much easier to change by the force of the psychic perception and the Peace and Power and Light from above the surface being.
chase ::: v. **1. To follow rapidly in order to catch or overtake; pursue. 2. To follow or devote one"s attention to with the hope of attracting, winning, gaining, etc. 3. To put to flight; drive out. ::: —chases, chased.* *n. 3. The act of pursuing in an effort to overtake or capture thunder-chase.**
chess-play ::: the game of chess; a board game for two players, each beginning with 16 pieces of six kinds that are moved according to individual rules, with the objective of checkmating the opposing king. chess-player.
childlike ::: like or befitting a child, as in innocence, trustfulness, or candour.
CIDaKASA. ::: Inner space; depths of more and more subtle ether which are heavily curtained ‘from the ph>'sical sense by the grosser ether of the material universe. All things sensible, whe- ther in the material world or any other, create reconstituting vibrations, sensible echoes, reproductions, recurrent images ■ of themselves which that subtler ether receives and retains.
clavichord ::: an early keyboard instrument producing a soft sound by means of metal blades attached to the inner ends of the keys gently striking the strings.
COMMUNION (inner) ::: This is not to be confined to an excepuonal nearness and adorauon when we retire qoite info ourselves away from our normal preoccupations, nor is it to be sought by a putting away of our human activities All our thoughts, impiilses feclines, actions have to be referred to Him for His sanction or disallowance, or tf we cannot yet reach this point, to be offered to Him m our sacrifice of aspirauon, so that
complete scIf'knovUcdcc uhen he Is thus auare of living in (wo worlds, two consciousnesses at the same lime, two parts of the same existence. At present he lives in the outer self, but he will go more and more inward, (ill the position is reversed and he lives within in this new inner consciousness, inner self and feels the outer as something on the surface formed as an instru- mental personality for the inner's self-expression in the material world. Then from within a Power works on the outer to make it a conscious plastic instrument so that finally the inner and the outer may become fused into one.
CONCENTRATION ::: Fixing the consciousness in one place or on one object and in a single condition.
A gathering together of the consciousness and either centralising at one point or turning on a single object, e.g. the Divine; there can also be a gathered condition throughout the whole being, not at a point.
Concentration is necessary, first to turn the whole will and mind from the discursive divagation natural to them, following a dispersed movement of the thoughts, running after many-branching desires, led away in the track of the senses and the outward mental response to phenomena; we have to fix the will and the thought on the eternal and real behind all, and this demands an immense effort, a one-pointed concentration. Secondly, it is necessary in order to break down the veil which is erected by our ordinary mentality between ourselves and the truth; for outer knowledge can be picked up by the way, by ordinary attention and reception, but the inner, hidden and higher truth can only be seized by an absolute concentration of the mind on its object, an absolute concentration of the will to attain it and, once attained, to hold it habitually and securely unite oneself with it.
Centre of Concentration: The two main places where one can centre the consciousness for yoga are in the head and in the heart - the mind-centre and the soul-centre.
Brain concentration is always a tapasyā and necessarily brings a strain. It is only if one is lifted out of the brain mind altogether that the strain of mental concentration disappears.
At the top of the head or above it is the right place for yogic concentration in reading or thinking.
In whatever centre the concentration takes place, the yoga force generated extends to the others and produces concentration or workings there.
Modes of Concentration: There is no harm in concentrating sometimes in the heart and sometimes above the head. But concentration in either place does not mean keeping the attention fixed on a particular spot; you have to take your station of consciousness in either place and concentrate there not on the place, but on the Divine. This can be done with eyes shut or with eyes open, according as it best suits.
If one concentrates on a thought or a word, one has to dwell on the essential idea contained in the word with the aspiration to feel the thing which it expresses.
There is no method in this yoga except to concentrate, preferably in the heart, and call the presence and power of the Mother to take up the being and by the workings of her force to transform the consciousness; one can concentrate also in the head or between the eye-brows, but for many this is a too difficult opening. When the mind falls quiet and the concentration becomes strong and the aspiration intense, then there is a beginning of experience. The more the faith, the more rapid the result is likely to be.
Powers (three) of Concentration ::: By concentration on anything whatsoever we are able to know that thing, to make it deliver up its concealed secrets; we must use this power to know not things, but the one Thing-in-itself. By concentration again the whole will can be gathered up for the acquisition of that which is still ungrasped, still beyond us; this power, if it is sufficiently trained, sufficiently single-minded, sufficiently sincere, sure of itself, faithful to itself alone, absolute in faith, we can use for the acquisition of any object whatsoever; but we ought to use it not for the acquisition of the many objects which the world offers to us, but to grasp spiritually that one object worthy of pursuit which is also the one subject worthy of knowledge. By concentration of our whole being on one status of itself we can become whatever we choose ; we can become, for instance, even if we were before a mass of weaknesses and fears, a mass instead of strength and courage, or we can become all a great purity, holiness and peace or a single universal soul of Love ; but we ought, it is said, to use this power to become not even these things, high as they may be in comparison with what we now are, but rather to become that which is above all things and free from all action and attributes, the pure and absolute Being. All else, all other concentration can only be valuable for preparation, for previous steps, for a gradual training of the dissolute and self-dissipating thought, will and being towards their grand and unique object.
Stages in Concentration (Rajayogic) ::: that in which the object is seized, that in which it is held, that in which the mind is lost in the status which the object represents or to which the concentration leads.
Concentration and Meditation ::: Concentration means fixing the consciousness in one place or one object and in a single condition Meditation can be diffusive,e.g. thinking about the Divine, receiving impressions and discriminating, watching what goes on in the nature and acting upon it etc. Meditation is when the inner mind is looking at things to get the right knowledge.
vide Dhyāna.
conception ::: 1. Origin or beginning. 2. The act or power of forming notions, ideas, or concepts. 3. The act of conceiving; the state of being conceived; fertilization; inception of pregnancy. 4. Something conceived in the mind; a concept, plan, design, idea, or thought. conception"s.
Conditions essfntitd for meditation ::: There are no essential external conditions, but solitude and seclusion at the time of meditation as as stillness of the body arc helpful, sometimes almost necessary to the beginner. Bui one should not bound b' external conditions. Once the habit of meditation is formed, it should be mads possible to do it in all circumstances, l.ving. sitting, walking, alone, in company, in silettce or in the midst of noise etc. The first imeroal condition necessary is concentration of the will against the obstacles to meditation. i.e. wandermg of the mind, forgetfulness, sfeep, phjsieal and nervous impatience and restlessness etc. The second is an increasing purity and calm of the inner consciousness (citia) out of which thought and emotion arise, i.e. a freedom frona all disturb i ng reactions, such as anger, grief, depression, anxiet>' about w-orldly happenings etc. Mental perfection and moral are always closely allied to each other.
Conditions lor equality ::: Complete samata takes long to establish and it is dependent on three things ::: the soul’s self- giving to the Divine by an inner surrender, the descent of the spiritual calm and peace from above and the steady, long and persistent rejection of all egoistic, rajasic and other feelings that contradict samata.
CONFESSION. ::: Helps to purge the consciousness of ham- pering elements and clears the inner air and makes for a closer and more intimate relation between the Guru and the disciple.
conscience ::: that part of one"s mind which holds one"s knowledge or sense of right and wrong; inner knowledge. half-conscience.
conscious ::: 1. Having an awareness of one"s environment and one"s own existence, sensations, and thoughts. 2. Conscious implies being awake or awakened to an inner realization of a fact, a truth, a condition. half-conscious, half-consciously.
Consciousness has not taken up the entire control of our God- ward endeavour. The working of the DIvme Force in m under the conditions of the transition and the tight of the psychic being turning us alw’aj'S towards a conscious and seeing obedience to that higher impulsion and away from the demands and instiga- tions of the Forces of the Ignorance, these between them create an ever progressive inner Jaw of our action which continues rilJ the spiritual and supramental can be established in our nature.
core ::: the central, innermost, or most essential part of something.
cosmic mind ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Nevertheless, the fact of this intervention from above, the fact that behind all our original thinking or authentic perception of things there is a veiled, a half-veiled or a swift unveiled intuitive element is enough to establish a connection between mind and what is above it; it opens a passage of communication and of entry into the superior spirit-ranges. There is also the reaching out of mind to exceed the personal ego limitation, to see things in a certain impersonality and universality. Impersonality is the first character of cosmic self; universality, non-limitation by the single or limiting point of view, is the character of cosmic perception and knowledge: this tendency is therefore a widening, however rudimentary, of these restricted mind areas towards cosmicity, towards a quality which is the very character of the higher mental planes, — towards that superconscient cosmic Mind which, we have suggested, must in the nature of things be the original mind-action of which ours is only a derivative and inferior process.” *The Life Divine
"If we accept the Vedic image of the Sun of Truth, . . . we may compare the action of the Higher Mind to a composed and steady sunshine, the energy of the Illumined Mind beyond it to an outpouring of massive lightnings of flaming sun-stuff. Still beyond can be met a yet greater power of the Truth-Force, an intimate and exact Truth-vision, Truth-thought, Truth-sense, Truth-feeling, Truth-action, to which we can give in a special sense the name of Intuition; . . . At the source of this Intuition we discover a superconscient cosmic Mind in direct contact with the supramental Truth-Consciousness, an original intensity determinant of all movements below it and all mental energies, — not Mind as we know it, but an Overmind that covers as with the wide wings of some creative Oversoul this whole lower hemisphere of Knowledge-Ignorance, links it with that greater Truth-Consciousness while yet at the same time with its brilliant golden Lid it veils the face of the greater Truth from our sight, intervening with its flood of infinite possibilities as at once an obstacle and a passage in our seeking of the spiritual law of our existence, its highest aim, its secret Reality.” The Life Divine
"There is one cosmic Mind, one cosmic Life, one cosmic Body. All the attempt of man to arrive at universal sympathy, universal love and the understanding and knowledge of the inner soul of other existences is an attempt to beat thin, breach and eventually break down by the power of the enlarging mind and heart the walls of the ego and arrive nearer to a cosmic oneness.” *The Synthesis of Yoga
"[The results of the opening to the cosmic Mind:] One is aware of the cosmic Mind and the mental forces that move there and how they work on one"s mind and that of others and one is able to deal with one"s own mind with a greater knowledge and effective power. There are many other results, but this is the fundamental one.” Letters on Yoga
"The cosmic consciousness has many levels — the cosmic physical, the cosmic vital, the cosmic Mind, and above the higher planes of cosmic Mind there is the Intuition and above that the overmind and still above that the supermind where the Transcendental begins. In order to live in the Intuition plane (not merely to receive intuitions), one has to live in the cosmic consciousness because there the cosmic and individual run into each other as it were, and the mental separation between them is already broken down, so nobody can reach there who is still in the separative ego.” Letters on Yoga*
countless; innumerable.
countless ::: incapable of being counted; innumerable.
CRITICISM. ::: The habit of criticism — mostly ignorant criti- cism of others — mixed with alJ sorts of iujagmstions, inferences, exaggerations, false interpretations, even gross inventions is one of the universal illnesses. It is a disease of the vital aided by the physical mind which makes itself an instrument of the plea- sure taken in this barren and harmful pursuit of the vital. Control of speech, refusal of this disease and the itch of the vital is very necessary, if inner experience has to have any true effect of transformation in the outer life.
DARK PATH. ::: The dark path is there and there are many who make a Gospel of spiritual suffering; many hold it to be the unavoidable price of victory. It may be so under certain circumstances, as it has been in so many lives at the beginning. or one may choose to make it so. But then the price has to be paid with resignation, fortitude or a tenacious resilience. Borne that way, the attacks of the dark forces or the ordeals they impose have a meaning. After each victory gained over them, there is then a sensible advance; often they seem to show us the difficulties in ourselves which we have to overcome. But all the same it is a too dark and difficult way which nobody need follow on whom the necessity does not lie.
DARSHAN. ::: ScU*revclation of the Deity to the devotee. It is an unveiling of his presence temporary or permanent, and may come as a vision or may come as a close feeling of his presence which is more intimate than sight and a frequent or constant communication with him ; that happens by the deepen- ing of the being into its inner self and growth of consciousness or by growth of the intensity of bhakti. When the crust of external consciousness is sufficiently broken by the pressure of increasing and engrossing bhakti, the contact comes.
dawn ::: n. **1. The first appearance of daylight in the morning. 2. The beginning or rise of anything; advent. dawn"s, dawns, dawn-sheen. v. 3. To begin to be perceived; appear; occur. dawns, dawned.
Desire-rejection ::: the rejection of desire is essentially the rejection of the element of craving, putting that out from the consciousness itself as a foreign clement not belonging to the true self and the inner nature. But refusal to indulge the sugges- tions of desire is also a part of the rejection ; to abstain from the action suggested, if it is not the right action, must be included in the yogic discipline. The first condition for getting rid of desire is, therefore, to become conscious with the true consciousness *, for then it becomes much easier to dismiss it than when one has to struggle with it as if it were a constituent part of oneself to be thrown out from the being. When the psychic being is in front, then also to get rid of desire becomes easy ; for the psychic being has in itself no desires, it has only aspirations and a seeking and love for the Divine and all things that are or tend towards the Divine.
DEVOTION. ::: Worship is only the first step on the path of devotion. Where external worship changes into the inner adora- tion, real bhakti begins ; that deepens into the intensity of divine love ; that love leads to the joy of closeness in our relations with the Divine ; the joy of closeness passes into the bliss of union.
DHYAI^A . Meditation ; contemplation ; inner concentration of the consciousness ; going inside in samadhi ; prolonged absorp- tion of the mind in the object of concentration.
DIVINE LIFE. ::: A divine Ufe must be first and foremost an inner life. The divine life will reject nothing that is capable of divinbation ; all is to be seized, exalted, made utterly perfect.
There are always two methods of living in the Supreme. One b to draw away the participation of the consciousness from things altogether and go so much inwards as to be separated from existence and live in contact with that which is beyond it. The other is to gel to that which is the true Essence of all things, not allowing oneself to be absorbed and entangled by the external forms.
divine life ::: Sri Aurobindo: "A life of gnostic beings carrying the evolution to a higher supramental status might fitly be characterised as a divine life; for it would be a life in the Divine, a life of the beginnings of a spiritual divine light and power and joy manifested in material Nature.” *The Life Divine ::: "The ascent to the divine Life is the human journey, the Work of works, the acceptable Sacrifice. This alone is man"s real business in the world and the justification of his existence, without which he would be only an insect crawling among other ephemeral insects on a speck of surface mud and water which has managed to form itself amid the appalling immensities of the physical universe.” The Life Divine
DIVISION. ::: Division is the cause of ignorance as ignorance is the cause of suffering.
Division of being ■ A necessary stage In the yogic develop- ment and experience. One feels that there is a twofold being, the inner psychic which is the true one and the other, the outer human being which is instrumentaf for the outward life. To live in the inner psychic being in union with the Divine while doing the outward work is the first stage in Karmayoga.
Live always in the psychic being, your true being. The psychic will, in due time, awaken and turn to the Divine all the rest of the nature, so that even the outer being will feel itself in touch with the Divine and moved by the Divine in all it is and feels and does.
Djinn ::: (Islam) an invisible spirit mentioned in the Koran and believed by Muslims to inhabit the earth and influence mankind by appearing in the form of humans or animals. djinns .
djinn ::: (Islam) an invisible spirit mentioned in the Koran and believed by Muslims to inhabit the earth and influence mankind by appearing in the form of humans or animals. djinns .
Doubts cannot be overcome by ^viog them their full force ; it can be rather done by learning to stand back from them and to refuse to be carried away ; then there is a chance of the still small voice from within getting itself heard and pushing out these loud clamorous voices and movements from outside. It is the light from within that you have to make room for ; the light of the outer mind is quite insufficient for the discovery of the inner values or to judge the truth of spiritual experience.
dove ::: 1. Any bird of the family Columbid, esp. the smaller species with pointed tails. 2. A pure white member of this species, used as a symbol of innocence, gentleness, tenderness, and peace. dove"s, doves.
downward ::: adj. 1. Descending from a source or beginning. 2. Moving or tending to a lower place or condition. 3. Toward a lower amount, degree, or rank. adv. 4. Spatially or metaphorically from a higher to a lower level or position.
DREAMS. ::: Sometimes they are the formations of your own mind or vital ; sometimes they are the formations of other minds wth an exact or modified transcription in yours ; sometimes for- mations come that are made by the non-human forces or beings of these other planes. These things are not true and need not become true in the physical world, but they may still have effects on the physical if they are framed wlh that purpose or that tendency and, if they are allowed, they may realise their events or their meaning — for they are most often symbolic or sche- ‘ matic — in the inner or the outer life.
There are other dreams that have not the same character but are a representation or transcription of things that actually hap- pen on other planes, in other worlds under other conditions than ours. There are, again, some dreams that are purely symbolic and some that indicate existing movements and propensities in us.
Symbolic dreams may symbolize anything, forces at play, the underlying structure and tissue of things done or experienced, actual or potential happenings, real or suggested movements or changes in the inner or outer nature. The exact meaning varies with the mind and the condition of the one who sees them.
drive ::: v. 1. To impel; constrain; urge; compel. 2. To manoeuvre, guide or steer the progress of. 3. To impel (matter) by physical force; to cause (something) to move along by direct application of physical force; to propel, carry along. 4. To send, expel, or otherwise cause to move away or out by force or compulsion. 5. To strive vigorously and with determination toward a goal or objective. 6. To cause and guide the movement of (a vehicle, an animal, etc.). n. 7. A strong organized effort to accomplish a purpose, with energy, push or aggressiveness. 8. Impulse; impulsive force. adj. 9. Urged onward, impelled. 10. Pertaining to an inner urge that stimulates activity or inhibition. drives, drove, drov"st, driving, driven.
Dyumatsena ::: : “Dyumatsena, Lord of the Shining Hosts, father of Satyavan, is the Divine Mind here fallen blind, losing its celestial kingdom of vision, and through that loss its kingdom of glory.” (Note at the beginning of Savitri from a letter of Sri Aurobindo to a disciple.)
dyumatsena ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Dyumatsena, Lord of the Shining Hosts, father of Satyavan, is the Divine Mind here fallen blind, losing its celestial kingdom of vision, and through that loss its kingdom of glory.” Author"s note at beginning of Savitri.
Dyumatsena ::: Sri Aurobindo: “Dyumatsena, Lord of the Shining Hosts, father of Satyavan, is the Divine Mind here fallen blind, losing its celestial kingdom of vision, and through that loss its kingdom of glory.” (Author’s Note at the beginning of Savitri.)**
Each inner experience is perfectly real in its own way, although the values of different experiences differ greatly, but it is real
"Each inner experience is perfectly real in its own way, although the values of different experiences differ greatly, but it is real with the reality of the inner self and the inner planes. It is a mistake to think that we live physically only, with the outer mind and life. We are all the time living and acting on other planes of consciousness, meeting others there and acting upon them, and what we do and feel and think there, the forces we gather, the results we prepare have an incalculable importance and effect, unknown to us, upon our outer life.” Letters on Yoga
EAR. ::: The passage of communion between the inner mind
Ecstasy ::: “It has been held that ecstasy is a lower and transient passage, the peace of the Supreme is the supreme realisation, the consummate abiding experience. This may be true on the spiritual-mind plane: there the first ecstasy felt is indeed a spiritual rapture, but it can be and is very usually mingled with a supreme happiness of the vital parts taken up by the Spirit; there is an exaltation, exultation, excitement, a highest intensity of the joy of the heart and the pure inner soul-sensation that can be a splendid passage or an uplifting force but is not the ultimate permanent foundation. But in the highest ascents of the spiritual bliss there is not this vehement exaltation and excitement; there is instead an illimitable intensity of participation in an eternal ecstasy which is founded on the eternal Existence and therefore on a beatific tranquillity of eternal peace. Peace and ecstasy cease to be different and become one. The Supermind, reconciling and fusing all differences as well as all contradictions, brings out this unity; a wide calm and a deep delight of all-existence are among its first steps of self-realisation, but this calm and this delight rise together, as one state, into an increasing intensity and culminate in the eternal ecstasy, the bliss that is the Infinite.” The Life Divine
Effort and surrender ::: Surrender is not a thing that can be done in a day. The mind has its ideas and clings to them ; the human vital resists surrender, for what it calls surrender in the early stages is a doubtful kind of self-giving with a demand in it ; the physical consciousness is like a stone and what it calls surrender is often no more Ilian Inertia. It is only the psychic that knows how to surrender and the psychic is usually very much veiled in the beginning. When the psychic awakes, it can bring a sudden and true surrender of the whole being, for the difficulty of the rest is rapidly dealt with and disappears. But till then effort is indispensable. Or else it is necessary till the
embryo ::: 1. Any organism in a developmental stage preceding birth. 2. The beginning or rudimentary stage of anything.
"Emptiness is not in itself a bad condition, only if it is a sad and restless emptiness of the dissatisfied vital. In sadhana emptiness is very usually a necessary transition from one state to another. When mind and vital fall quiet and their restless movements, thoughts and desires cease, then one feels empty. This is at first often a neutral emptiness with nothing in it, nothing in it either good or bad, happy or unhappy, no impulse or movement. This neutral state is often or even usually followed by the opening to inner experience. There is also an emptiness made of peace and silence, when the peace and silence come out from the psychic within or descend from the higher consciousness above. This is not neutral, for in it there is the sense of peace, often also of wideness and freedom. There is also a happy emptiness with the sense of something close or drawing near which is not yet there, e.g. the closeness of the Mother or some other preparing experience.” Letters on Yoga*
“Emptiness is not in itself a bad condition, only if it is a sad and restless emptiness of the dissatisfied vital. In sadhana emptiness is very usually a necessary transition from one state to another. When mind and vital fall quiet and their restless movements, thoughts and desires cease, then one feels empty. This is at first often a neutral emptiness with nothing in it, nothing in it either good or bad, happy or unhappy, no impulse or movement. This neutral state is often or even usually followed by the opening to inner experience. There is also an emptiness made of peace and silence, when the peace and silence come out from the psychic within or descend from the higher consciousness above. This is not neutral, for in it there is the sense of peace, often also of wideness and freedom. There is also a happy emptiness with the sense of something close or drawing near which is not yet there, e.g. the closeness of the Mother or some other preparing experience.” Letters on Yoga
::: Equality means a quiet and unmoved mind and vital, it means not to be touched or disturbed by things that happen or things said or done to you, but to look at them with a straight look, free from the distortions created by personal feeling, and to try to understand what is behind them, why they happen, what is to be learnt from them, what is it in oneself which they are cast against and what inner profit or progress one can make out of them; it means self-mastery over the vital movements, — anger and sensitiveness and pride as well as desire and the rest, — not to let them get hold of the emotional being and disturb the inner peace, not to speak and act in the rush and impulsion of these things, always to act and speak out of a calm inner poise of the spirit.” *Letters on Yoga
Equality means a quiet and unmoved mind and vital, it means not to be touched or disturbed by things that happen or things said or done to you, but to look at them with a straight look, free from the distortions created by personal feeling, and to try to understand what is behind them, why they happen, what is to be learnt from them, what is it in oneself which they are cast against and what inner profit or progress one can make out of them; it means self-mastery over the vital movements,—anger and sensitiveness and pride as well as desire and the rest,—not to let them get hold of the emotional being and disturb the inner peace, not to speak and act in the rush and impulsion of these things, always to act and speak out of a calm inner poise of the spirit.” Letters on Yoga
Equality means a quiet and unmoved mind and vital, it means not to be touched or disturbed by things that happen or things satd or done to you, but to look at them with a straight look, free from the distortions created by personal feelings, and to try to understand what is behind them, why they happen, what is to be learnt from them, what is it in oneself which they are cast against and what inner profit or progress one can make out of them ; it means self-mastery over the vital movements,
eternally ::: being without beginning or end; existing outside of time; endlessly; perpetually.
eternal ::: that which is eternal is, by its nature, without beginning or end. eternal"s, eternally. ::: the Eternal. God.
eternity ::: infinite time; duration without beginning or end. **eternity"s, eternities.
everlastingness ::: absolute eternity, without beginning or end.
“Every man is knowingly or unknowingly the instrument of a universal Power and, apart from the inner Presence, there is no such essential difference between one action and another, one kind of instrumentation and another as would warrant the folly of an egoistic pride. The difference between knowledge and ignorance is a grace of the Spirit; the breath of divine Power blows where it lists and fills today one and tomorrow another with the word or the puissance. If the potter shapes one pot more perfectly than another, the merit lies not in the vessel but the maker. The attitude of our mind must not be ‘This is my strength’ or ‘Behold God’s power in me’, but rather ‘A Divine Power works in this mind and body and it is the same that works in all men and in the animal, in the plant and in the metal, in conscious and living things and in things apparently inconscient and inanimate.’” The Synthesis of Yoga
Every sadbaka Is faced with two elements in him, the inner being which wants the Divine and the sadhana and the outer mainly vital and physical being which does not want them but remains attached to the things of the ordinary life. The mind is sometimes led by one, someUoves by the other. One of the most important things he has to do, therefore, is to decide fundamentally the quarrel between these two parts and to persuade or compel by psychic aspiration, by steadiness of the mind’s thought and will, by the choice of the higher vital in his emotional being, the opposing elements to be first quiescent and then consenting. So long as he is not able to do that his progress must be either very slow or fluctuating and chequered as the aspiration within cannot have a continuous action or a continuous result. Besides so long as thb is so, there are likely to be periodical revolts of the vita! repining at the slow progress, des- pairing, desponding, declaring the Adhar unfit ; calls from old life will come ; circumstances will be attracted which seem to justify it, suggestions will come from men and unseen powers pressing the sadhaka away from the sadhana and pointing back- ward to the former life. And yet in that life he is not likely to get any real satisfaction.
“Evolution, as we see it in this world, is a slow and difficult process and, indeed, needs usually ages to reach abiding results; but this is because it is in its nature an emergence from inconscient beginnings, a start from nescience and a working in the ignorance of natural beings by what seems to be an unconscious force. There can be, on the contrary, an evolution in the light and no longer in the darkness, in which the evolving being is a conscious participant and cooperator, and this is precisely what must take place here.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
"Evolution is an inverse action of the involution: what is an ultimate and last derivation in the involution is the first to appear in the evolution; what was original and primal in the involution is in the evolution the last and supreme emergence.” The Life Divine ::: "Evolution, as we see it in this world, is a slow and difficult process and, indeed, needs usually ages to reach abiding results; but this is because it is in its nature an emergence from inconscient beginnings, a start from nescience and a working in the ignorance of natural beings by what seems to be an unconscious force. There can be, on the contrary, an evolution in the light and no longer in the darkness, in which the evolving being is a conscious participant and cooperator, and this is precisely what must take place here.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
Experiences of sounds, lights etc . ::: The sounds of bells and the seeing of lights and colours are signs of the opening of the inner consciousness which brings with it an opening also to sights and sounds of other planes than the physical. Some of these things like the sound of bells, crickets, etc. seem even to help the opening.
fig. The first gleam or appearance, earliest beginning (of something compared to light).
flame ::: n. 1. Burning gas or vapor, as from wood or coal, that is undergoing combustion; a portion of ignited gas or vapor. 2. Fig. A brilliant light; fiery glow. 3. Fig. Intense ardour, zeal, passion, vitality. 4. Spiritual fire. 5. Inner fire. 6. Bright colouring; a streak or patch of color. Flame, flames, flame-ascensions, flame-born, flame-bright, flame-child, flame-discovery, flame-edge, flame-eyed, flame-foot, flame-hills, flame-pure, flame-signs, flame-stabs, flame-throw, flame-white, flame-wrapped, moon-flame. v. 8. To burn with a flame or flames; burst into flames; blaze. 7. To burn or glow as if with fire; become red or fiery 8. To burn or burst forth with strong emotion. flames, flamed. ::: flames out. Bursts out in or as if in flames.
flame ::: “The true soul secret in us,—subliminal, we have said, but the word is misleading, for this presence is not situated below the threshold of waking mind, but rather burns in the temple of the inmost heart behind the thick screen of an ignorant mind, life and body, not subliminal but behind the veil,—this veiled psychic entity is the flame of the Godhead always alight within us, inextinguishable even by that dense unconsciousness of any spiritual self within which obscures our outward nature. It is a flame born out of the Divine and, luminous inhabitant of the Ignorance, grows in it till it is able to turn it towards the Knowledge. It is the concealed Witness and Control, the hidden Guide, the Daemon of Socrates, the inner light or inner voice of the mystic. It is that which endures and is imperishable in us from birth to birth, untouched by death, decay or corruption, an indestructible spark of the Divine.” The Life Divine
"For by an absolute self-giving all egoistic desire disappears from the heart and there is a perfect union between the Divine and the individual soul through an inner renunciation of its separate living.” Essays on the Gita
“For by an absolute self-giving all egoistic desire disappears from the heart and there is a perfect union between the Divine and the individual soul through an inner renunciation of its separate living.” Essays on the Gita
foreboding ("s) ::: n. **1. A strong inner feeling or notion of a future misfortune, evil, etc.; presentiment. adj. 2.** Foretelling or predicting; indicating beforehand; portending.
FOREHEAD CENTRE. ::: In the forehead between the eyes but a little above is the afha cakra, the centre of the inner will, also of the inner vision, the dynamic mind etc. (This is not the ordinary outer mental will and sight, but something more power- ful, belonging to the inner being). When this centre opens and the Force there is active, then there is the opening of a greater will, power of decision, formation, effectiveness, beyond what the ordinary mind can achieve.
"For if we examine carefully, we shall find that Intuition is our first teacher. Intuition always stands veiled behind our mental operations. Intuition brings to man those brilliant messages from the Unknown which are the beginning of his higher knowledge.” The Life Divine*
“For if we examine carefully, we shall find that Intuition is our first teacher. Intuition always stands veiled behind our mental operations. Intuition brings to man those brilliant messages from the Unknown which are the beginning of his higher knowledge.” The Life Divine
::: "For the inner knowledge comes from within and above (whether from the Divine in the heart or from the Self above) and for it to come, the pride of the mind and vital in the surface mental ideas and their insistence on them must go. One must know that one is ignorant before one can begin to know.” Letters on Yoga
“For the inner knowledge comes from within and above (whether from the Divine in the heart or from the Self above) and for it to come, the pride of the mind and vital in the surface mental ideas and their insistence on them must go. One must know that one is ignorant before one can begin to know.” Letters on Yoga
Four M'ays of changins the Nature ::: either the higher cons- ciousness has to make a dynamic descent into the whole being and change it ; or it must establish itself in the inne'r being down to the inner physical so that the latter feels itself separate from the outer and is able to act freely upon it ; or the psychic must come forward and change the nature ; or the inner will must awake and force the nature to change.
genii ::: 1. A rendering of Arab., jinn, the collective name of a class of spirits (some good, some evil) supposed to interfere powerfully in human affairs. 2. Spirits, often appearing in human form, that when summoned carry out the wishes of the summoner.
GOOD. ::: The highest good is both in its nature and inner effect tlic highest bliss.
GOSSIP. ::: When you Indulge in too much talk, loose chat and gossip, social sclf-dispersion, you throw yourself out into a very small and ignorant consciousness in which your vital defects get free play and this is likely to bring you out of what you have developed in your inner consciousness.
guest ::: Sri Aurobindo: " When the Rishis speak of Indra or Agni or Soma in men, they are speaking of the god in his cosmic presence, power or function. This is evident from the very language when they speak of Agni as the immortal in mortals, the immortal Light in men, the inner Warrior, the Guest in human beings.” *Letters on Yoga
Guest ::: “ When the Rishis speak of Indra or Agni or Soma in men, they are speaking of the god in his cosmic presence, power or function. This is evident from the very language when they speak of Agni as the immortal in mortals, the immortal Light in men, the inner Warrior, the Guest in human beings.” Letters on Yoga
Guiding Unv of experience ::: The guiding law of spiritual experience can only come by an opening of human conscious~ ness to the Divine Consciousness ; there must be the power to receive in us the working and command and dynamic presence of the Divine Shakti and surrender ourselves to her control ; it is that surrender and that control which bring tbs guidance. But the surrender is not sure, there is so absolute certitude of the guidance so long as we are besieged by mind fonnaljons and life impulses and instigations of ego which may easily betray us into the bands of a false experience. This danger can only be countered by the opening of a now nine^tenths concealed inmost soul or psychic being that is already there but not commonly active within. That is the inner light we must Uberate ; for the light of thb inmost soul is our one sure illumioation so long as we walk still amidst the siege of the Ignorance and the Truth-
' help ’ others ; do and speak yourself the right thing from the inner poise and leave the help to come to them from the Divine.
"He who is the high and low, the saint and the sinner, the god and the worm, Him worship, the visible, the knowable, the real, the omnipresent; break all other idols. In whom there is neither past life nor future birth, nor death nor going nor coming, in whom we always have been and always will be one, Him worship; break all other idols."" The Synthesis of Yoga*
“He who is the high and low, the saint and the sinner, the god and the worm, Him worship, the visible, the knowable, the real, the omnipresent; break all other idols. In whom there is neither past life nor future birth, nor death nor going nor coming, in whom we always have been and always will be one, Him worship; break all other idols.’’ The Synthesis of Yoga
Hostile attacks very ordinarily become violent when the pro- gress is becoming rapid and on the way to be definite — espe- cially if they find they cannot carry out an effective aggression into the inner being, they try to shake by outside assaults. One must take it as a trial of strength, a call for gathering all one’s capacities of calm and openness to the Light and Power, so as to make oneself an instrument for the victory of the Divine over the undivine.
How these magnificent lines from Savitri continue to reverberate in the mind and heart and soul I do not know. I know only this, that Savitri, as Mother has said, is”a mantra for the transformation of the world.” As understanding grows within, not in the mind but in the inner cathedral which is always drenched in light, certain lines repeat themselves as mantra and I share what comes to me in a spirit of wonder and hushed elation.
human mind and body and the remoulding of their inner life into the divine image, — what the Vedic seers called the birth of the Son by the sacrifice. It is in fact by a continual sacrifice or offering, a sacrifice of adoration and aspiration, of works, of thought and knowledge, of the mounting flame of the Godward will 'that we build ourselves into the being of this Infinite.
"Ideals are truths that have not yet effected themselves for man, the realities of a higher plane of existence which have yet to fulfil themselves on this lower plane of life and matter, our present field of operation. To the pragmatical intellect which takes its stand upon the ever-changing present, ideals are not truths, not realities, they are at most potentialities of future truth and only become real when they are visible in the external fact as work of force accomplished. But to the mind which is able to draw back from the flux of force in the material universe, to the consciousness which is not imprisoned in its own workings or carried along in their flood but is able to envelop, hold and comprehend them, to the soul that is not merely the subject and instrument of the world-force but can reflect something of that Master-Consciousness which controls and uses it, the ideal present to its inner vision is a greater reality than the changing fact obvious to its outer senses. The Supramental Manifestation*
“Ideals are truths that have not yet effected themselves for man, the realities of a higher plane of existence which have yet to fulfil themselves on this lower plane of life and matter, our present field of operation. To the pragmatical intellect which takes its stand upon the ever-changing present, ideals are not truths, not realities, they are at most potentialities of future truth and only become real when they are visible in the external fact as work of force accomplished. But to the mind which is able to draw back from the flux of force in the material universe, to the consciousness which is not imprisoned in its own workings or carried along in their flood but is able to envelop, hold and comprehend them, to the soul that is not merely the subject and instrument of the world-force but can reflect something of that Master-Consciousness which controls and uses it, the ideal present to its inner vision is a greater reality than the changing fact obvious to its outer senses. The Supramental Manifestation
"I find it difficult to take these psycho-analysts at all seriously when they try to scrutinise spiritual experience by the flicker of their torch-lights, — yet perhaps one ought to, for half-knowledge is a powerful thing and can be a great obstacle to the coming in front of the true Truth. This new psychology looks to me very much like children learning some summary and not very adequate alphabet, exulting in putting their a-b-c-d of the subconscient and the mysterious underground super-ego together and imagining that their first book of obscure beginnings (c-a-t cat, t-r-e-e tree) is the very heart of the real knowledge. They look from down up and explain the higher lights by the lower obscurities; but the foundation of these things is above and not below, upari budhna esam.” Letters on Yoga
“I find it difficult to take these psycho-analysts at all seriously when they try to scrutinise spiritual experience by the flicker of their torch-lights,—yet perhaps one ought to, for half-knowledge is a powerful thing and can be a great obstacle to the coming in front of the true Truth. This new psychology looks to me very much like children learning some summary and not very adequate alphabet, exulting in putting their a-b-c-d of the subconscient and the mysterious underground super-ego together and imagining that their first book of obscure beginnings (c-a-t cat, t-r-e-e tree) is the very heart of the real knowledge. They look from down up and explain the higher lights by the lower obscurities; but the foundation of these things is above and not below, upari budhna esam.” Letters on Yoga
“If one stands back from the mind and its activities so that they fall silent at will or go on as a surface movement of which one is the detached and disinterested witness, it becomes possible eventually to realise oneself as the inner Self of mind, the true and pure mental being, the Purusha; …” The Life Divine
"If there is a self in us capable of largeness and universality, able to enter into a cosmic consciousness, that too must be within our inner being; the outer consciousness is a physical consciousness bound to its individual limits by the triple cord of mind, life and body: any external attempt at universality can only result either in an aggrandisement of the ego or an effacement of the personality by its extinction in the mass or subjugation to the mass.” The Life Divine*
“If there is a self in us capable of largeness and universality, able to enter into a cosmic consciousness, that too must be within our inner being; the outer consciousness is a physical consciousness bound to its individual limits by the triple cord of mind, life and body: any external attempt at universality can only result either in an aggrandisement of the ego or an effacement of the personality by its extinction in the mass or subjugation to the mass.” The Life Divine
“If we need any personal and inner witness to this indivisible All-Consciousness behind the ignorance,—all Nature is its external proof,—we can get it with any completeness only in our deeper inner being or larger and higher spiritual state when we draw back behind the veil of our own surface ignorance and come into contact with the divine Idea and Will behind it. Then we see clearly enough that what we have done by ourselves in our ignorance was yet overseen and guided in its result by the invisible Omniscience; we discover a greater working behind our ignorant working and begin to glimpse its purpose in us: then only can we see and know what now we worship in faith, recognise wholly the pure and universal Presence, meet the Lord of all being and all Nature.” The Life Divine
If you disperse yourself constantly, go out of the inner circle, you will constantly move about in the pettinesses of the ordinary outer nature and under the influences to which it is open. Learn to live within, to act always from within, from a constant com- munion with the Mother. It may be difficult at first to do it always and completely, but it can be done if one sticks to it
IGNORANCE. ::: Avidya, the separative consciousness and the egoistic mind and life that flow from it and all that is natural to the separative consciousness and the egoistic mind and life.
This Ignorance is the result of a movement by which the cosmic Intelligence separated itself from the light of the Supermind (the divine Gnosis) and lost the Truth.
Sevenfold Ignorance ::: If we look at this Ignorance in which ordinarily we live by the very circumstance of our separative existence in a material, ip a spatial and temporal universe, wc see that on its obscurer side it reduces itself, from whatever direction we look at or approach it, into the fact of a many- sided self-ignorance. We are Ignorant of the Absolute which is the source of all being and becoming ; we take partial facts of being, temporal relations of the becoming for the whole truth of existence — that is the first, the original ignorance. We are ignorant of the spaceless, timeless, immobile and immutable Self ; we take the constant mobility and mutation of the cosmic becom- ing in Time and Space for the whole truth of existence — that is the second, the cosmic ignorance. We are ignorant of our universal self, the cosmic existence, the cosmic consciousness, our infinite unity with all being and becoming ; we take our limited egoistic mentality, vitality, corporeality for our true self and regard everything other than that as not-sclf — that is the tViTid, \Vie egoistic ignorance. V/c aie ignorant of oat eteinai becoming in Time ; we take this Uttle life in a small span of Time, in a petty field of Space for our beginning, our middle and our end, — that is the fourth, the temporal ignorance. Even within this brief temporal becoming we are ignorant of our large and complex being, of that in us which is super-conscient, sub- conscient, intraconscient, circumcooscient to our surface becoming; we take that surface becoming with its small selection of overtly mentalised experiences for our whole existence — that is the fifth, the psychological ignorance. We are ignorant of the true constitution of our becoming ; we take the mind or life or body or any two or all three tor our true principle or the whole account of what we are, losing sight of that which constitutes them and determines by its occult presence and is meant to deter- mine sovereignly by its emergence from their operations, — that is the sixth, the constitutional ignorance. As a result of all these ignorances, we miss the true knowledge, government and enjoy- ment of our life in the world ; we are ignorant in our thought, will, sensations, actions, return wrong or imperfect responses at every point to the questionings of the world, wander in a maze of errors and desires, strivings and failures, pain and pleasure, sin and stumbling, follow a crooked road, grope blindly for a changing goal, — that is the seventh, the practical ignorance.
Ignorance ; when a certain inner perception loosens the knot, the worst of the difficulty is over.
II ADIT. ::: The physical is the slave of certain forces which create a habit and drive it ilirouch the mechanical power of the habit. So long ns the mind gives consent, you do not notice the slavery ; but if the mind withdraws its consent, then you feel the servitude, you feci a force pushing you in spite of the mind's will. It is very obstinate and repeats itself till the habit, the inner habit revealing itself in the outward act, is broken. If is like a machine which once set in motion repeats the same move* ment. A quiet persistent aspiration will bring you to the point where the habit breaks and you arc free.
::: ". . . immortality in its fundamental sense does not mean merely some kind of personal survival of the bodily death; we are immortal by the eternity of our self-existence without beginning or end, beyond the whole succession of physical births and deaths through which we pass, beyond the alternations of our existence in this and other worlds: the spirit"s timeless existence is the true immortality.” *The Life Divine
“… immortality in its fundamental sense does not mean merely some kind of personal survival of the bodily death; we are immortal by the eternity of our self-existence without beginning or end, beyond the whole succession of physical births and deaths through which we pass, beyond the alternations of our existence in this and other worlds: the spirit’s timeless existence is the true immortality.” The Life Divine
inborn ::: existing from birth; congenital; innate.
inconscient ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The Inconscient and the Ignorance may be mere empty abstractions and can be dismissed as irrelevant jargon if one has not come in collision with them or plunged into their dark and bottomless reality. But to me they are realities, concrete powers whose resistance is present everywhere and at all times in its tremendous and boundless mass.” *Letters on Savitri
". . . in its actual cosmic manifestation the Supreme, being the Infinite and not bound by any limitation, can manifest in Itself, in its consciousness of innumerable possibilities, something that seems to be the opposite of itself, something in which there can be Darkness, Inconscience, Inertia, Insensibility, Disharmony and Disintegration. It is this that we see at the basis of the material world and speak of nowadays as the Inconscient — the Inconscient Ocean of the Rigveda in which the One was hidden and arose in the form of this universe — or, as it is sometimes called, the non-being, Asat.” Letters on Yoga
"The Inconscient itself is only an involved state of consciousness which like the Tao or Shunya, though in a different way, contains all things suppressed within it so that under a pressure from above or within all can evolve out of it — ‘an inert Soul with a somnambulist Force".” Letters on Yoga
"The Inconscient is the last resort of the Ignorance.” Letters on Yoga
"The body, we have said, is a creation of the Inconscient and itself inconscient or at least subconscient in parts of itself and much of its hidden action; but what we call the Inconscient is an appearance, a dwelling place, an instrument of a secret Consciousness or a Superconscient which has created the miracle we call the universe.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga :::
"The Inconscient is a sleep or a prison, the conscient a round of strivings without ultimate issue or the wanderings of a dream: we must wake into the superconscious where all darkness of night and half-lights cease in the self-luminous bliss of the Eternal.” The Life Divine
"Men have not learnt yet to recognise the Inconscient on which the whole material world they see is built, or the Ignorance of which their whole nature including their knowledge is built; they think that these words are only abstract metaphysical jargon flung about by the philosophers in their clouds or laboured out in long and wearisome books like The Life Divine. Letters on Savitri :::
"Is it really a fact that even the ordinary reader would not be able to see any difference between the Inconscient and Ignorance unless the difference is expressly explained to him? This is not a matter of philosophical terminology but of common sense and the understood meaning of English words. One would say ‘even the inconscient stone" but one would not say, as one might of a child, ‘the ignorant stone". One must first be conscious before one can be ignorant. What is true is that the ordinary reader might not be familiar with the philosophical content of the word Inconscient and might not be familiar with the Vedantic idea of the Ignorance as the power behind the manifested world. But I don"t see how I can acquaint him with these things in a single line, even with the most. illuminating image or symbol. He might wonder, if he were Johnsonianly minded, how an Inconscient could be teased or how it could wake Ignorance. I am afraid, in the absence of a miracle of inspired poetical exegesis flashing through my mind, he will have to be left wondering.” Letters on Savitri
**inconscient, Inconscient"s.**
INDIFFERENCE. ::: To become indifferent to the attraction of outer objects is one of the first rules of yoga, for this non-attach- ment liberates the inner being into peace and the true conscious- ness.
infinity ::: “We see at once that if such an Existence is, it must be, like the Energy, infinite. Neither reason nor experience nor intuition nor imagination bears witness to us of the possibility of a final terminus. All end and beginning presuppose something beyond the end or beginning. An absolute end, an absolute beginning is not only a contradiction in terms, but a contradiction of the essence of things, a violence, a fiction. Infinity imposes itself upon the appearances of the finite by its ineffugable self-existence.” The Life Divine
initial ::: of, pertaining to, or occurring at the beginning; first.
initiate ::: ppla.**1. Instructed in or introduced to secret or sacred knowledge. n.2. A novice, beginner. Initiate.**
“… in its actual cosmic manifestation the Supreme, being the Infinite and not bound by any limitation, can manifest in Itself, in its consciousness of innumerable possibilities, something that seems to be the opposite of itself, something in which there can be Darkness, Inconscience, Inertia, Insensibility, Disharmony and Disintegration. It is this that we see at the basis of the material world and speak of nowadays as the Inconscient—the Inconscient Ocean of the Rigveda in which the One was hidden and arose in the form of this universe—or, as it is sometimes called, the non-being, Asat.” Letters on Yoga
inmost ::: 1. Farthest within; innermost. 2. Most intimate or secret.
Inner consciousness and outer ::: There is an inner as well as an oliter consciousness all through our being, upon all its levels.
INNER CONSCIOUSNESS (Divisions) ::: There are five main divisions. At the top above the head arc layers (or as we call them planes) of which we arc not conscious and which become conscious to us only by sadhana — those above the human mind — that is the higher consciousness. Below from the crown of the head to the throat are the layers (there are many of them) of the mind, the three principal being one at the top of the head communicating with the higher consciousness, another between the eye-brows where is the thought, sight and will, a third in the throat which is the externalising mind. A second division is from the shoulders to the navel ; these are the layers of the higher vital presided over by the heart centre where is the emotional being with the psychic behind it. From the navel downwards is the rest of the vital being containing several layers. From the bottom of the spine downward are the layers of the physical consciousness proper, the material, and below the feet is the sub- conscient which has also many levels.
Inner consciousness ::: means the inner mind, inner vital, inner physical and behind them the psychic which is their inmost being. But the inner mind is not the higher mind ; ft is more in touch with the universal forces and more open to the higher consciousness and capable of an immensely deeper and larger range of action than the outer or surface mind — but it is of the same essential nature.
::: "Inner mind is that which lies behind the surface mind (our ordinary mentality) and can only be directly experienced (apart from its vrttis in the surface mind such as philosophy, poetry, idealism, etc.) by sadhana, by breaking down the habit of being on the surface and by going deeper within.” *Letters on Yoga
"Inner mind is that which lies behind the surface mind (our ordinary mentality) and can only be directly experienced (apart from its vrttis in the surface mind such as philosophy, poetry, idealism, etc.) by sadhana, by breaking down the habit of being on the surface and by going deeper within.” Letters on Yoga
“Inner mind is that which lies behind the surface mind (our ordinary mentality) and can only be directly experienced (apart from its vrttis in the surface mind such as philosophy, poetry, idealism, etc.) by sadhana, by breaking down the habit of being on the surface and by going deeper within.” Letters on Yoga
"Inner vision is vivid like actual sight, always precise and contains a truth in it.” Letters on Yoga
“Inner vision is vivid like actual sight, always precise and contains a truth in it.” Letters on Yoga
"Inner vision means the vision with the inner seeing as opposed to outer vision, the external sight with the surface mind in the surface eyes.” Letters on Yoga
“Inner vision means the vision with the inner seeing as opposed to outer vision, the external sight with the surface mind in the surface eyes.” Letters on Yoga
::: "In our yoga the Nirvana is the beginning of the higher Truth, as it is the passage from the Ignorance to the higher Truth. The Ignorance has to be extinguished in order that the Truth may manifest.” Letters on Yoga*
“In our yoga the Nirvana is the beginning of the higher Truth, as it is the passage from the Ignorance to the higher Truth. The Ignorance has to be extinguished in order that the Truth may manifest.” Letters on Yoga
insight ::: penetrating mental vision or discernment; faculty of seeing into the inner character or underlying truth of things.
instinct ::: 1. A natural or innate impulse, inclination, or tendency. 2. An inborn pattern of activity or tendency to action common to a given biological species. 3. A natural aptitude or gift. 4. Natural intuitive power. instinct"s, instincts, instinct-driven, instinctive.
intellect ::: “Intellectual activities are not part of the inner being—the intellect is the outer mind.” Letters on Yoga
"Intellectual activities are not part of the inner being — the intellect is the outer mind.” Letters on Yoga
“Intellectual activities are not part of the inner being—the intellect is the outer mind.” Letters on Yoga
internal ::: 1. Of or relating to man"s mental or spiritual nature. 2. Of, relating to, or located within the limits or surface; interior; inner.
"In the inner sense of the Veda Surya, the Sun-God, represents the divine Illumination of the Kavi which exceeds mind and forms the pure self-luminous Truth of things. His principal power is self-revelatory knowledge, termed in the Veda ``Sight"". His realm is described as the Truth, the Law, the Vast. He is the Fosterer or Increaser, for he enlarges and opens man"s dark and limited being into a luminous and infinite consciousness. He is the sole Seer, Seer of Oneness and Knower of the Self, and leads him to the highest Sight.” The Upanishads*
“In the inner sense of the Veda Surya, the Sun-God, represents the divine Illumination of the Kavi which exceeds mind and forms the pure self-luminous Truth of things. His principal power is self-revelatory knowledge, termed in the Veda ``Sight’’. His realm is described as the Truth, the Law, the Vast. He is the Fosterer or Increaser, for he enlarges and opens man’s dark and limited being into a luminous and infinite consciousness. He is the sole Seer, Seer of Oneness and Knower of the Self, and leads him to the highest Sight.” The Upanishads
In the liberated stale it is not the inner Purusha only that remains detached ; the inner Purusha is always detached, only one is not conscious of it in the ordinary state. It is the Prakrit! also that is not disturbed by the action of the Gunas or attached to it ; the mind, the vital, (he physical (whatever Prakriti) begin to get the same quietude, unperturbed peace and detachment as the Purusha, but it is quietude, not a cessation of all action. It is quietude in action itself. TTic whole being, Purusha, Prakriit, becomes detached (having no desire or attachment) even in the actions of the gunas. The outer being Is also detached ; the whole being is without desire or attachment and still action is possible, action without desire is possible, action without attach- ment is possible, action without ego is possible.
intimacy ::: 1. A close, familiar, and usually affectionate or loving personal relationship with another person or group. 2. An embracing inner closeness. Intimacy, intimacies.
intimation ::: a subtle and inner hint or suggestion; indication. intimations.
intuition ::: direct perception of truth, fact, etc., independent of any reasoning process. intuition"s, intuitions, half-intuition.
Sri Aurobindo: "Intuition is a power of consciousness nearer and more intimate to the original knowledge by identity; for it is always something that leaps out direct from a concealed identity. It is when the consciousness of the subject meets with the consciousness in the object, penetrates it and sees, feels or vibrates with the truth of what it contacts, that the intuition leaps out like a spark or lightning-flash from the shock of the meeting; or when the consciousness, even without any such meeting, looks into itself and feels directly and intimately the truth or the truths that are there or so contacts the hidden forces behind appearances, then also there is the outbreak of an intuitive light; or, again, when the consciousness meets the Supreme Reality or the spiritual reality of things and beings and has a contactual union with it, then the spark, the flash or the blaze of intimate truth-perception is lit in its depths. This close perception is more than sight, more than conception: it is the result of a penetrating and revealing touch which carries in it sight and conception as part of itself or as its natural consequence. A concealed or slumbering identity, not yet recovering itself, still remembers or conveys by the intuition its own contents and the intimacy of its self-feeling and self-vision of things, its light of truth, its overwhelming and automatic certitude.” *The Life Divine
"Intuition is always an edge or ray or outleap of a superior light; it is in us a projecting blade, edge or point of a far-off supermind light entering into and modified by some intermediate truth-mind substance above us and, so modified, again entering into and very much blinded by our ordinary or ignorant mind-substance; but on that higher level to which it is native its light is unmixed and therefore entirely and purely veridical, and its rays are not separated but connected or massed together in a play of waves of what might almost be called in the Sanskrit poetic figure a sea or mass of ``stable lightnings"". When this original or native Intuition begins to descend into us in answer to an ascension of our consciousness to its level or as a result of our finding of a clear way of communication with it, it may continue to come as a play of lightning-flashes, isolated or in constant action; but at this stage the judgment of reason becomes quite inapplicable, it can only act as an observer or registrar understanding or recording the more luminous intimations, judgments and discriminations of the higher power. To complete or verify an isolated intuition or discriminate its nature, its application, its limitations, the receiving consciousness must rely on another completing intuition or be able to call down a massed intuition capable of putting all in place. For once the process of the change has begun, a complete transmutation of the stuff and activities of the mind into the substance, form and power of Intuition is imperative; until then, so long as the process of consciousness depends upon the lower intelligence serving or helping out or using the intuition, the result can only be a survival of the mixed Knowledge-Ignorance uplifted or relieved by a higher light and force acting in its parts of Knowledge.” *The Life Divine
"I use the word ‘intuition" for want of a better. In truth, it is a makeshift and inadequate to the connotation demanded of it. The same has to be said of the word ‘consciousness" and many others which our poverty compels us to extend illegitimately in their significance.” *The Life Divine - Sri Aurobindo"s footnote.
"For intuition is an edge of light thrust out by the secret Supermind. . . .” The Life Divine
". . . intuition is born of a direct awareness while intellect is an indirect action of a knowledge which constructs itself with difficulty out of the unknown from signs and indications and gathered data.” The Life Divine
"Intuition is above illumined Mind which is simply higher Mind raised to a great luminosity and more open to modified forms of intuition and inspiration.” Letters on Yoga
"Intuition sees the truth of things by a direct inner contact, not like the ordinary mental intelligence by seeking and reaching out for indirect contacts through the senses etc. But the limitation of the Intuition as compared with the supermind is that it sees things by flashes, point by point, not as a whole. Also in coming into the mind it gets mixed with the mental movement and forms a kind of intuitive mind activity which is not the pure truth, but something in between the higher Truth and the mental seeking. It can lead the consciousness through a sort of transitional stage and that is practically its function.” Letters on Yoga
“Intuition sees the truth of things by a direct inner contact, not like the ordinary mental intelligence by seeking and reaching out for indirect contacts through the senses etc. But the limitation of the Intuition as compared with the supermind is that it sees things by flashes, point by point, not as a whole. Also in coming into the mind it gets mixed with the mental movement and forms a kind of intuitive mind activity which is not the pure truth, but something in between the higher Truth and the mental seeking. It can lead the consciousness through a sort of transitional stage and that is practically its function.” Letters on Yoga
inward ::: 1. Located inside; within; inner. 2. Mental or spiritual; inner. 3. Directed or moving toward the interior. Also fig. inward-musing.
::: **"It is therefore necessary from the beginning to understand and accept the arduous difficulty of the path and to feel the need of a faith which to the intellect may seem blind, but yet is wiser than our reasoning intelligence. For this faith is a support from above; it is the brilliant shadow thrown by a secret light that exceeds the intellect and its data; it is the heart of a hidden knowledge that is not at the mercy of immediate appearances.” The Synthesis of Yoga
“It is therefore necessary from the beginning to understand and accept the arduous difficulty of the path and to feel the need of a faith which to the intellect may seem blind, but yet is wiser than our reasoning intelligence. For this faith is a support from above; it is the brilliant shadow thrown by a secret light that exceeds the intellect and its data; it is the heart of a hidden knowledge that is not at the mercy of immediate appearances.” The Synthesis of Yoga
"It is the soul, the inner being that is the true self in everyone.” Letters on Yoga
“It is the soul, the inner being that is the true self in everyone.” Letters on Yoga
Jhumur: “Bound by death. Death is a beginning and a limitation. The beginning is birth, the end is death. Man seems to be caught between these two terms but that is not all we are.”
Jhumur: Here you have the beginnings of the mind opening onto other planes of experience. Because mindhas no experience. This is the kingdom of the greater mind where it opens on to another phase of vision or experience or feeling. The heaven-bird is the feeling of poise that hasn’t taken off. It reminds me that in a certain place, the goal of the mental search is where ultimately the mind abdicates in light and one enters into what Shelley calls ‘thought wildernesses’. Before that concrete abdication there must be some sensation, some feeling of something other that is waiting for us, that has come from elsewhere. The mind has not quite yet abdicated but begins to pursue intuition, perception, feeling.”
Jhumur: “Savitri has gone into the very beginning of evolution, origin, where in the crypt the involved consciousness is hidden deep within, from which the whole process of evolution can grow. In a deep crypt, in an underground vault, the involved Supreme in a seed form has coiled himself and then slowly uncoils through time and evolution.”
Jhumur: “The spirit that has taken birth sometimes does not reach the goal. There is a kind of a witness consciousness that puts a cross against it and you go back to the beginning all over again. It’s like the game snakes and ladders that we used to play as children. You have to go back to the first square and start all over again. You almost reach the goal and then you fall back and have to start all over again.”
Jhumur: “They want to enter into a body as they do not have one as yet. The gleam is light. Sri Aurobindo is speaking of the early light, an infant glow of heavens near to morn. It is the beginning of new light where all possibilities of manifestation are still just possibilities, potentialities, and they are waiting to embody themselves, to manifest themselves as if a new dawn brings in new manifestations. Children, because they are still not quite developed, not fully formed in themselves. It is still just a gleam.”
kernel ::: 1. The inner, usually edible seed of a nut or fruit stone. 2. A grain or seed, as of a cereal grass, enclosed in a husk.
Madhav: “Each of the seven worlds—the earths—were seen in their innate immortal nature. The principle of Sat-Chit-Ananda is embedded in each of them.” The Book of the Divine Mother
Madhav: This is a Vedic imagery: the heart is the altar, and aspiration, seeking for God, is fire. The external fire on the platform is symbolic of the inner flame that is lit on the altar of the heart. Now that sacred fire is dimmed by the negative pulls.”
Man alive, your proposed emendations are an admirable exposition of the art of bringing a line down the steps till my poor "slow miraculous” above-mind line meant to give or begin the concrete portrayal of an act of some hidden Godhead finally becomes a mere metaphor thrown out from its more facile mint by a brilliantly imaginative poetic intelligence. First of all, you shift my "dimly” out of the way and transfer it to something to which it does not inwardly belongs make it an epithet of the gesture or an adverb qualifying its epithet instead of something that qualifies the atmosphere in which the act of the Godhead takes place. That is a preliminary havoc which destroys what is very important to the action, its atmosphere. I never intended the gesture to be dim, it is a luminous gesture, but forcing its way through the black quietude it comes dimly. Then again the bald phrase "a gesture came” without anything to psychicise it becomes simply something that "happened”, "came” being a poetic equivalent for "happened”, instead of the expression of the slow coming of the gesture. The words "slow” and "dimly” assure this sense of motion and this concreteness to the word"s sense here. Remove one or both whether entirely or elsewhere and you ruin the vision and change altogether its character. That is at least what happens wholly in your penultimate version and as for the last its "came” gets another meaning and one feels that somebody very slowly decided to let out the gesture from himself and it was quite a miracle that it came out at all! "Dimly miraculous” means what precisely or what "miraculously dim” — it was miraculous that it managed to be so dim or there was something vaguely miraculous about it after all? No doubt they try to mean something else — but these interpretations come in their way and trip them over. The only thing that can stand is the first version which is no doubt fine poetry, but the trouble is that it does not give the effect I wanted to give, the effect which is necessary for the dawn"s inner significance. Moreover, what becomes of the slow lingering rhythm of my line which is absolutely indispensable? Letters on Savitri
Man alive, your proposed emendations are an admirable exposition of the art of bringing a line down the steps till my poor”slow miraculous” above-mind line meant to give or begin the concrete portrayal of an act of some hidden Godhead finally becomes a mere metaphor thrown out from its more facile mint by a brilliantly imaginative poetic intelligence. First of all, you shift my”dimly” out of the way and transfer it to something to which it does not inwardly belongs make it an epithet of the gesture or an adverb qualifying its epithet instead of something that qualifies the atmosphere in which the act of the Godhead takes place. That is a preliminary havoc which destroys what is very important to the action, its atmosphere. I never intended the gesture to be dim, it is a luminous gesture, but forcing its way through the black quietude it comes dimly. Then again the bald phrase”a gesture came” without anything to psychicise it becomes simply something that”happened”,”came” being a poetic equivalent for”happened”, instead of the expression of the slow coming of the gesture. The words”slow” and”dimly” assure this sense of motion and this concreteness to the word’s sense here. Remove one or both whether entirely or elsewhere and you ruin the vision and change altogether its character. That is at least what happens wholly in your penultimate version and as for the last its”came” gets another meaning and one feels that somebody very slowly decided to let out the gesture from himself and it was quite a miracle that it came out at all!”Dimly miraculous” means what precisely or what”miraculously dim”—it was miraculous that it managed to be so dim or there was something vaguely miraculous about it after all? No doubt they try to mean something else—but these interpretations come in their way and trip them over. The only thing that can stand is the first version which is no doubt fine poetry, but the trouble is that it does not give the effect I wanted to give, the effect which is necessary for the dawn’s inner significance. Moreover, what becomes of the slow lingering rhythm of my line which is absolutely indispensable? Letters on Savitri
meditation or, without the sense of phj^ical inertness or immo- bility, a little while longer and afterwards is lost ; but as the sadhana follows its normal course, it comes more and more, lasting longer and in the end as an enduring deep peace and inner stillness and release becomes a normal character of the consciousness, the foundation indeed of a new consciousness, calm and liberated.
mind, inner
mind, inner ::: Sri Aurobindo: "This mind of pure intelligence has behind it our inner or subliminal mind which senses directly all the things of the mind-plane, is open to the action of a world of mental forces, and can feel the ideative and other imponderable influences which act upon the material world and the life-plane but which at present we can only infer and cannot directly experience:” *The Life Divine
mind, Self of ::: Sri Aurobindo: "If one stands back from the mind and its activities so that they fall silent at will or go on as a surface movement of which one is the detached and disinterested witness, it becomes possible eventually to realise oneself as the inner Self of mind, the true and pure mental being, the Purusha; . . . .” The Life Divine
mother ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The One whom we adore as the Mother is the divine Conscious Force that dominates all existence, one and yet so many-sided that to follow her movement is impossible even for the quickest mind and for the freest and most vast intelligence. The Mother is the consciousness and force of the Supreme and far above all she creates.” The Mother ::: "The one original transcendent Shakti, the Mother stands above all the worlds and bears in her eternal consciousness the Supreme Divine.
"That which we call Nature or Prakriti is only her [the Mother"s] most outward executive aspect; she marshals and arranges the harmony of her forces and processes, impels the operations of Nature and moves among them secret or manifest in all that can be seen or experienced or put into motion of life.” *The Mother
: "The Mother comes in order to bring down the Supramental and it is the descent which makes her full manifestation here possible.” *Letters on the Mother
"When one does sadhana, the inner consciousness begins to open and one is able to go inside and have all kinds of experiences there. As the sadhana progresses, one begins to live more and more in this inner being and the outer becomes more and more superficial. At first the inner consciousness seems to be the dream and the outer the waking reality. Afterwards the inner consciousness becomes the reality and the outer is felt by many as a dream or delusion, or else as something superficial and external. The inner consciousness begins to be a place of deep peace, light, happiness, love, closeness to the Divine or the presence of the Divine, the Mother.” Letters on Yoga ::: **mighty Mother, World-Mother, World-Mother"s.**
Much depends on the Inner rclat»''n hetwren (Jjru a-J /if>o
myriad ::: n. 1. Ten thousand. 2. A very great or indefinitely great number of persons or things. myriads. *adj. 3. Constituting a very large, indefinite number; innumerable. Chiefly poet. *myriad-motioned.
mystic ::: “I used the word ‘mystic’ in the sense of a certain kind of inner seeing and feeling of things, a way which to the intellect would seem occult and visionary—for this is something different from imagination and its work with which the intellect is familiar.” On Himself
No doubt, the Supermind has also acted in the history of the world but always through the Overmind. It is the direct descent of the Supramental Consciousness and Power that alone can utterly re-create life in terms of the Spirit. For, in the Overmind there is already the play of possibilities which marks the beginning of this lower triple world of Mind, Life and Matter in which we have our existence. And whenever there is this play and not the spontaneous and infallible working of the innate Truth of the Spirit, there is the seed of distortion and ignorance. Not that the Overmind is a field of ignorance; but it is the border-line between the Higher and the Lower, for, the play of possibilities, of separate even if not yet divided choice, is likely to lead to deviation from the Truth of things.
"No system indeed by its own force can bring about the change that humanity really needs; for that can only come by its growth into the firmly realised possibilities of its own higher nature, and this growth depends on an inner and not an outer change. But outer changes may at least prepare favourable conditions for that more real amelioration, — or on the contrary they may lead to such conditions that the sword of Kalki can alone purify the earth from the burden of an obstinately Asuric humanity. The choice lies with the race itself; for as it sows, so shall it reap the fruit of its Karma.” The Human Cycle*
“No system indeed by its own force can bring about the change that humanity really needs; for that can only come by its growth into the firmly realised possibilities of its own higher nature, and this growth depends on an inner and not an outer change. But outer changes may at least prepare favourable conditions for that more real amelioration,—or on the contrary they may lead to such conditions that the sword of Kalki can alone purify the earth from the burden of an obstinately Asuric humanity. The choice lies with the race itself; for as it sows, so shall it reap the fruit of its Karma.” The Human Cycle
numberless ::: innumerable; countless; too many to be counted.
occult ::: “The ancient knowledge in all countries was full of the search after the hidden truths of our being and it created that large field of practice and inquiry which goes in Europe by the name of occultism,—we do not use any corresponding word in the East, because these things do not seem to us so remote, mysterious and abnormal as to the occidental mentality; they are nearer to us and the veil between our normal material life and this larger life is much thinner.” The Synthesis of Yoga
::: "OM is the mantra, the expressive sound-symbol of the Brahman Consciousness in its four domains from the Turiya to the external or material plane. The function of a mantra is to create vibrations in the inner consciousness that will prepare it for the realisation of what the mantra symbolises and is supposed indeed to carry within itself. The mantra OM should therefore lead towards the opening of the consciousness to the sight and feeling of the One Consciousness in all material things, in the inner being and in the supraphysical worlds, in the causal plane above now superconscient to us and, finally, the supreme liberated transcendence above all cosmic existence.” *Letters on Yoga
“OM is the mantra, the expressive sound-symbol of the Brahman Consciousness in its four domains from the Turiya to the external or material plane. The function of a mantra is to create vibrations in the inner consciousness that will prepare it for the realisation of what the mantra symbolises and is supposed indeed to carry within itself. The mantra OM should therefore lead towards the opening of the consciousness to the sight and feeling of the One Consciousness in all material things, in the inner being and in the supraphysical worlds, in the causal plane above now superconscient to us and, finally, the supreme liberated transcendence above all cosmic existence.” Letters on Yoga
“OM is the mantra, the expressive sound-symbol of the Brahman Consciousness in itsfour domains from the Turiya to the external or material plane. The function of a mantra is to create vibrations in the inner consciousness that will prepare it for the realisation of what the mantra symbolises and is supposed indeed to carry within itself. The mantra OM should therefore lead towards the opening of the consciousness to the sight and feeling of the One Consciousness in all material things, in the inner being and in the supraphysical worlds, in the causal plane above now superconscient to us and, finally, the supreme liberated transcendence above all cosmic existence.” Letters on Yoga
omnipotent ::: “One seated in the sleep of Superconscience, a massed Intelligence, blissful and the enjoyer of Bliss…. This is the omnipotent, this is the omniscient, this is the inner control, this is the source of all.” The Upanishads
"One can speak of the chakras only in reference to yoga. In ordinary people the chakras are not open, it is only when they do sadhana that the chakras open. For the chakras are the centres of the inner consciousness and belong originally to the subtle body. So much as is active in ordinary people is very little — for in them it is the outer consciousness that is active.” Letters on Yoga
“One can speak of the chakras only in reference to yoga. In ordinary people the chakras are not open, it is only when they do sadhana that the chakras open. For the chakras are the centres of the inner consciousness and belong originally to the subtle body. So much as is active in ordinary people is very little—for in them it is the outer consciousness that is active.” Letters on Yoga
One carries it with oneself, for the difficulty is truly inside, not outside. Outside circumstances only give it the occasion to manifest itself and so long as the inner difficulty is not conquered, the circumstances will always crop up one way or another
::: "One Godhead, occult in all beings, the inner Self of all beings, the all-pervading, absolute without qualities, the overseer of all actions, the witness, the knower.” The Life Divine
“One Godhead, occult in all beings, the inner Self of all beings, the all-pervading, absolute without qualities, the overseer of all actions, the witness, the knower.” The Life Divine
one who saves or delivers from sin and its consequences by means of a sacrifice offered for the sinner. world-redeemer"s.
onset ::: beginning; Start.
::: "Ordinarily when one sleeps a complex phenomenon happens. The waking consciousness is no longer there, for all has been withdrawn within into the inner realms of which we are not aware when we are awake, though they exist; . . . .” *Letters on Yoga
“Ordinarily when one sleeps a complex phenomenon happens. The waking consciousness is no longer there, for all has been withdrawn within into the inner realms of which we are not aware when we are awake, though they exist; …” Letters on Yoga
origin ::: 1. The point at which something comes into existence or from which it derives or is derived. 2. The first stage of existence; beginning. Origin, origins.
original ::: 1. Of or relating to an origin or beginning. 2. A first form from which other forms are made or developed.
our inner being we can grow one body with it. Sometimes the rapidity of this change depends on the strength of our longing for the Divine thus revealed, and on the intensity of our force of seeking ; but at others it proceeds rather by a passive sur- render to the rhythms of his all-wise working which acts always by its own at first inscrutable method. But the latter becomes the foundation when our love and trust are complete and our whole being lies in the clasp of a Power that is perfect love and wisdom.
“Our self-ignorance and our world-ignorance can only grow towards integral self-knowledge and integral world-knowledge in proportion as our limited ego and its half-blind consciousness open to a greater inner existence and consciousness and a true self-being and become aware too of the not-self outside it also as self,—on one side a Nature constituent of our own nature, on the other an Existence which is a boundless continuation of our own self-being. Our being has to break the walls of ego-consciousness which it has created, it has to extend itself beyond its body and inhabit the body of the universe.” The Life Divine
"Our thoughts are not really created within ourselves independently in the small narrow thinking machine we call our mind; in fact, they come to us from a vast mental space or ether either as mind-waves or waves of mind-force that carry a significance which takes shape in our personal mind or as thought-formations ready-made which we adopt and call ours. Our outer mind is blind to this process of Nature; but by the awakening of the inner mind we can become aware of it.” Letters on Yoga
“Our thoughts are not really created within ourselves independently in the small narrow thinking machine we call our mind; in fact, they come to us from a vast mental space or ether either as mind-waves or waves of mind-force that carry a significance which takes shape in our personal mind or as thought-formations ready-made which we adopt and call ours. Our outer mind is blind to this process of Nature; but by the awakening of the inner mind we can become aware of it.” Letters on Yoga
outset ::: the initial stage of something; the beginning.
outward ::: n. 1. Relating to physical reality rather than with thoughts or the mind; the material or external world. outward"s, outwardness. adj. 2. Relating to the physical self. 3. Purely external; superficial. 4. Belonging or pertaining to external actions or appearances, as opposed to inner feelings, mental states, etc. 5. Pertaining to or being what is seen or apparent, as distinguished from the underlying nature, facts, etc.; pertaining to surface qualities only; superficial.
Overmind ::: Above the mind there are several levels of conscious of the Truth. But in between is what he has distinguished as the Overmind, the world of the cosmic Gods. Now it is this Overmind that has up to the present governed our world: it is the highest that man has been able to attain in illumined consciousness. It has been taken for the Supreme Divine and all those who have reached it have never for a moment doubted that they have touched the true Spirit. For, its splendours are so great to the ordinary human consciousness that it is absolutely dazzled into believing that here at last is the crowning reality. And yet the fact is that the Overmind is far below the true Divine. It is not the authentic home of the Truth. It is only the domain of the formateurs , all those creative powers and deities to whom men have bowed down since the beginning of history. And the reason why the true Divine has not manifested and transformed the earth-nature is precisely that the Overmind has been mistaken for the Supermind.being, among which the really divine world is what Sri Aurobindo has called the Supermind, the world. The cosmic Gods do not wholly live in the Truth-Consciousness: they are only in touch with it and represent, each of them, an aspect of its glories.
overmind ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The overmind is a sort of delegation from the supermind (this is a metaphor only) which supports the present evolutionary universe in which we live here in Matter. If supermind were to start here from the beginning as the direct creative Power, a world of the kind we see now would be impossible; it would have been full of the divine Light from the beginning, there would be no involution in the inconscience of Matter, consequently no gradual striving evolution of consciousness in Matter. A line is therefore drawn between the higher half of the universe of consciousness, parardha , and the lower half, aparardha. The higher half is constituted of Sat, Chit, Ananda, Mahas (the supramental) — the lower half of mind, life, Matter. This line is the intermediary overmind which, though luminous itself, keeps from us the full indivisible supramental Light, depends on it indeed, but in receiving it, divides, distributes, breaks it up into separated aspects, powers, multiplicities of all kinds, each of which it is possible by a further diminution of consciousness, such as we reach in Mind, to regard as the sole or the chief Truth and all the rest as subordinate or contradictory to it.” *Letters on Yoga
"The overmind is the highest of the planes below the supramental.” *Letters on Yoga
"In its nature and law the Overmind is a delegate of the Supermind Consciousness, its delegate to the Ignorance. Or we might speak of it as a protective double, a screen of dissimilar similarity through which Supermind can act indirectly on an Ignorance whose darkness could not bear or receive the direct impact of a supreme Light.” The Life Divine
"The Overmind is a principle of cosmic Truth and a vast and endless catholicity is its very spirit; its energy is an all-dynamism as well as a principle of separate dynamisms: it is a sort of inferior Supermind, — although it is concerned predominantly not with absolutes, but with what might be called the dynamic potentials or pragmatic truths of Reality, or with absolutes mainly for their power of generating pragmatic or creative values, although, too, its comprehension of things is more global than integral, since its totality is built up of global wholes or constituted by separate independent realities uniting or coalescing together, and although the essential unity is grasped by it and felt to be basic of things and pervasive in their manifestation, but no longer as in the Supermind their intimate and ever-present secret, their dominating continent, the overt constant builder of the harmonic whole of their activity and nature.” The Life Divine
"The overmind sees calmly, steadily, in great masses and large extensions of space and time and relation, globally; it creates and acts in the same way — it is the world of the great Gods, the divine Creators.” *Letters on Yoga
"The Overmind is essentially a spiritual power. Mind in it surpasses its ordinary self and rises and takes its stand on a spiritual foundation. It embraces beauty and sublimates it; it has an essential aesthesis which is not limited by rules and canons, it sees a universal and an eternal beauty while it takes up and transforms all that is limited and particular. It is besides concerned with things other than beauty or aesthetics. It is concerned especially with truth and knowledge or rather with a wisdom that exceeds what we call knowledge; its truth goes beyond truth of fact and truth of thought, even the higher thought which is the first spiritual range of the thinker. It has the truth of spiritual thought, spiritual feeling, spiritual sense and at its highest the truth that comes by the most intimate spiritual touch or by identity. Ultimately, truth and beauty come together and coincide, but in between there is a difference. Overmind in all its dealings puts truth first; it brings out the essential truth (and truths) in things and also its infinite possibilities; it brings out even the truth that lies behind falsehood and error; it brings out the truth of the Inconscient and the truth of the Superconscient and all that lies in between. When it speaks through poetry, this remains its first essential quality; a limited aesthetical artistic aim is not its purpose.” *Letters on Savitri
"In the overmind the Truth of supermind which is whole and harmonious enters into a separation into parts, many truths fronting each other and moved each to fulfil itself, to make a world of its own or else to prevail or take its share in worlds made of a combination of various separated Truths and Truth-forces.” Letters on Yoga
*Overmind"s.
Overmind ::: “The overmind is a sort of delegation from the supermind (this is a metaphor only) which supports the present evolutionary universe in which we live here in Matter. If supermind were to start here from the beginning as the direct creative Power, a world of the kind we see now would be impossible; it would have been full of the divine Light from the beginning, there would be no involution in the inconscience of Matter, consequently no gradual striving evolution of consciousness in Matter. A line is therefore drawn between the higher half of the universe of consciousness, parardha , and the lower half, aparardha. The higher half is constituted of Sat, Chit, Ananda, Mahas (the supramental)—the lower half of mind, life, Matter. This line is the intermediary overmind which, though luminous itself, keeps from us the full indivisible supramental Light, depends on it indeed, but in receiving it, divides, distributes, breaks it up into separated aspects, powers, multiplicities of all kinds, each of which it is possible by a further diminution of consciousness, such as we reach in Mind, to regard as the sole or the chief Truth and all the rest as subordinate or contradictory to it.” Letters on Yoga
Oversoul ::: We might say then that there are three elements in the totality of our being: there is the submental and the subconscient which appears to us as if it were inconscient, comprising the material basis and a good part of our life and body; there is the subliminal, which comprises the inner being, taken in its entirety of inner mind, inner life, inner physical with the soul or psychic entity supporting them; there is this waking consciousness which the subliminal and the subconscient throw up on the surface, a wave of their secret surge. But even this is not an adequate account of what we are; for there is not only something deep within behind our normal self-awareness, but something also high above it: that too is ourselves, other than our surface mental personality, but not outside our true self; that too is a country of our spirit. For the subliminal proper is no more than the inner being on the level of the Knowledge-Ignorance, luminous, powerful and extended indeed beyond the poor conception of our waking mind, but still not the supreme or the whole sense of our being, not its ultimate mystery. We become aware, in a certain experience, of a range of being superconscient to all these three, aware too of something, a supreme highest Reality sustaining and exceeding them all, which humanity speaks of vaguely as Spirit, God, the Oversoul: from these superconscient ranges we have visitations and in our highest being we tend towards them and to that supreme Spirit. There is then in our total range of existence a superconscience as well as a subconscience and inconscience, overarching and perhaps enveloping our subliminal and our waking selves, but unknown to us, seemingly unattainable and incommunicable.
pinnacle ::: the highest point; the culmination.
plainness ::: the appearance of being plain and unpretentious.
"Poetry is the rhythmic voice of life, but it is one of the inner and not one of the surface voices.” The Future Poetry
“Poetry is the rhythmic voice of life, but it is one of the inner and not one of the surface voices.” The Future Poetry
Por immortality in its fundamental sense does not mean merely some'kind of penonal survival of the bodily death ; we are im- mortal by the eternity of our self-existence without beginning or end, beyond the whole succession of physical births and deaths through which we pass, beyond the alternations of our existence in this and other worlds ; the spirit’s timeless existence is the true immortality.
potent ::: possessing inner or physical strength; powerful; having great control or authority.
presence ::: 1. The state or fact of being present; current existence or occurrence. 2. A divine, spiritual, or supernatural spirit or influence felt or conceived as present. 3. The immediate proximity of someone or something.
Sri Aurobindo: "It is intended by the word Presence to indicate the sense and perception of the Divine as a Being, felt as present in one"s existence and consciousness or in relation with it, without the necessity of any further qualification or description. Thus, of the ‘ineffable Presence" it can only be said that it is there and nothing more can or need be said about it, although at the same time one knows that all is there, personality and impersonality, Power and Light and Ananda and everything else, and that all these flow from that indescribable Presence. The word may be used sometimes in a less absolute sense, but that is always the fundamental significance, — the essential perception of the essential Presence supporting everything else.” *Letters on Yoga
"Beyond mind on spiritual and supramental levels dwells the Presence, the Truth, the Power, the Bliss that can alone deliver us from these illusions, display the Light of which our ideals are tarnished disguises and impose the harmony that shall at once transfigure and reconcile all the parts of our nature.” Essays Divine and Human
"But if we learn to live within, we infallibly awaken to this presence within us which is our more real self, a presence profound, calm, joyous and puissant of which the world is not the master — a presence which, if it is not the Lord Himself, is the radiation of the Lord within.” *The Life Divine
"The true soul secret in us, — subliminal, we have said, but the word is misleading, for this presence is not situated below the threshold of waking mind, but rather burns in the temple of the inmost heart behind the thick screen of an ignorant mind, life and body, not subliminal but behind the veil, — this veiled psychic entity is the flame of the Godhead always alight within us, inextinguishable even by that dense unconsciousness of any spiritual self within which obscures our outward nature. It is a flame born out of the Divine and, luminous inhabitant of the Ignorance, grows in it till it is able to turn it towards the Knowledge. It is the concealed Witness and Control, the hidden Guide, the Daemon of Socrates, the inner light or inner voice of the mystic. It is that which endures and is imperishable in us from birth to birth, untouched by death, decay or corruption, an indestructible spark of the Divine.” *The Life Divine
"If we need any personal and inner witness to this indivisible All-Consciousness behind the ignorance, — all Nature is its external proof, — we can get it with any completeness only in our deeper inner being or larger and higher spiritual state when we draw back behind the veil of our own surface ignorance and come into contact with the divine Idea and Will behind it. Then we see clearly enough that what we have done by ourselves in our ignorance was yet overseen and guided in its result by the invisible Omniscience; we discover a greater working behind our ignorant working and begin to glimpse its purpose in us: then only can we see and know what now we worship in faith, recognise wholly the pure and universal Presence, meet the Lord of all being and all Nature.” *The Life Divine
"The presence of the Spirit is there in every living being, on every level, in all things, and because it is there, the experience of Sachchidananda, of the pure spiritual existence and consciousness, of the delight of a divine presence, closeness, contact can be acquired through the mind or the heart or the life-sense or even through the physical consciousness; if the inner doors are flung sufficiently open, the light from the sanctuary can suffuse the nearest and the farthest chambers of the outer being.” *The Life Divine
"There is a secret divine Will, eternal and infinite, omniscient and omnipotent, that expresses itself in the universality and in each particular of all these apparently temporal and finite inconscient or half-conscient things. This is the Power or Presence meant by the Gita when it speaks of the Lord within the heart of all existences who turns all creatures as if mounted on a machine by the illusion of Nature.” *The Synthesis of Yoga
"For what Yoga searches after is not truth of thought alone or truth of mind alone, but the dynamic truth of a living and revealing spiritual experience. There must awake in us a constant indwelling and enveloping nearness, a vivid perception, a close feeling and communion, a concrete sense and contact of a true and infinite Presence always and everywhere. That Presence must remain with us as the living, pervading Reality in which we and all things exist and move and act, and we must feel it always and everywhere, concrete, visible, inhabiting all things; it must be patent to us as their true Self, tangible as their imperishable Essence, met by us closely as their inmost Spirit. To see, to feel, to sense, to contact in every way and not merely to conceive this Self and Spirit here in all existences and to feel with the same vividness all existences in this Self and Spirit, is the fundamental experience which must englobe all other knowledge.” *The Synthesis of Yoga
"One must have faith in the Master of our life and works, even if for a long time He conceals Himself, and then in His own right time He will reveal His Presence.” *Letters on Yoga
"They [the psychic being and the Divine Presence in the heart] are quite different things. The psychic being is one"s own individual soul-being. It is not the Divine, though it has come from the Divine and develops towards the Divine.” *Letters on Yoga
"For it is quietness and inwardness that enable one to feel the Presence.” *Letters on Yoga
"Beyond mind on spiritual and supramental levels dwells the Presence, the Truth, the Power, the Bliss that can alone deliver us from these illusions, display the Light of which our ideals are tarnished disguises and impose the harmony that shall at once transfigure and reconcile all the parts of our nature.” *Essays Divine and Human
The Mother: "For, in human beings, here is a presence, the most marvellous Presence on earth, and except in a few very rare cases which I need not mention here, this presence lies asleep in the heart — not in the physical heart but the psychic centre — of all beings. And when this Splendour is manifested with enough purity, it will awaken in all beings the echo of his Presence.” Words of the Mother, MCW, Vol. 15.
::: "Pressure, throbbing, electrical vibrations are all signs of the working of the Force. The places indicate the field of action — the top of the head is the summit of the thinking mind where it communicates with the higher consciousness; the neck or throat is the seat of the physical, externalising or expressive mind; the ear is the place of communication with the inner mind-centre by which thoughts etc. enter into the personal being from the general Nature.” Letters on Yoga
“Pressure, throbbing, electrical vibrations are all signs of the working of the Force. The places indicate the field of action—the top of the head is the summit of the thinking mind where it communicates with the higher consciousness; the neck or throat is the seat of the physical, externalising or expressive mind; the ear is the place of communication with the inner mind-centre by which thoughts etc. enter into the personal being from the general Nature.”
reconcile ::: “True reconciliation proceeds always by a mutual comprehension leading to some sort of intimate oneness. It is therefore through the utmost possible unification of Spirit and Matter that we shall best arrive at their reconciling truth and so at some strongest foundation for a reconciling practice in the inner life of the individual and his outer existence.” The Life Divine
Removal of illnesses ::: To get rid of that one must awaken a will and consciousness in the body itself that refuses to allow these things to impose themselves upon it. But to get that, still more to get it completely, is dIfiBcult. One step towards it is to get the inner consciousness separate from the body — to feel that it is not you who are ill, but inis only something taking place in the body and affecting your consciousness. It is then possible to see this separate body consciousness, what it feels, what are its reactions to things, how it works. One can then act on it to change its consciousness and reactions.
Rishi ::: The spiritual man who can guide human life towards its perfection is typified in the ancient Indian idea of the Rishi, one who has lived fully the life of man and found the word of the supra-intellectual, supramental, spiritual truth. He has risen above these lower limitations and can view all things from above, but also he is in sympathy with their effort and can view them from within; he has the complete inner knowledge and the higher surpassing knowledge. Therefore he can guide the world humanly as God guides it divinely, because like the Divine he is in the life of the world and yet above it.” The Human Cycle
round ::: n. 1. A completed course of time, series of events or operations, etc., ending at a point corresponding to that at the beginning. 2. A going around from place to place as in a habitual or definite circuit. 3. A recurring period of time, succession of events, duties, etc. 4. Moving in or forming a circle. round"s, rounds. wonder-rounds. 5. A composition for two or more voices in which each voice enters at a different time with the same melody. rounds. v. 6. Brings to a highly developed, finished, or refined state.
sacrifice ::: “Sacrifice means an inner offering to the Divine and the real spiritual sacrifice is a very joyful thing.” Letters on Yoga
savitri ::: "In the Mahabharata, the heroine of the tale of Satyavan and Savitri; . . . . She was the daughter of King Ashwapati, and lover of Satyavan, whom she married although she was warned by Narada that he had only one year to live. On the fatal day, when Yama carried off Satyavan"s spirit, she followed him with unswerving devotion. Ultimately Yama was constrained to restore her husband to life.” *Glossary and Index of Proper Names in Sri Aurobindo"s Works
Sri Aurobindo: "Savitri is the Divine Word, daughter of the Sun, goddess of the supreme Truth who comes down and is born to save; . . . .” (Author"s note at beginning of Savitri.)
"Savitri is represented in the poem as an incarnation of the Divine Mother . . . .” Letters on Savitri
The Mother: "Savitri [the poem] is a mantra for the transformation of the world.” Spoken to Udar
science ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The beginning of Science is the examination of the truths of the world-force that underlie its apparent workings such as our senses represent them to be; . . .” *The Synthesis of Yoga
science ::: “The beginning of Science is the examination of the truths of the world-force that underlie its apparent workings such as our senses represent them to be; …” The Synthesis of Yoga
seasons ::: one of the four natural divisions of the year, spring, summer, fall and winter, in the North and South Temperate zones. Each season, beginning astronomically at an equinox or solstice, is characterized by specific meteorological or climatic conditions.
Self and of the impersonal Sacchidananda is only a step, though a very important step, or part of the integral knowledge. It is a beginning, not an end of the highest realisation.
self-poise ::: inner balance, command.
self-revealing ::: displaying, exhibiting, or disclosing one"s inner feelings, thoughts, etc.; esp. the inner nature, qualities aspects, etc. of the self.
semblance ::: 1. An appearance or likeness; a resemblance to something or someone similar. 2. An outward token or appearance, esp. without any inner substance or reality. semblances, half-semblances.
soul ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The word ‘soul", as also the word ‘psychic", is used very vaguely and in many different senses in the English language. More often than not, in ordinary parlance, no clear distinction is made between mind and soul and often there is an even more serious confusion, for the vital being of desire — the false soul or desire-soul — is intended by the words ‘soul" and ‘psychic" and not the true soul, the psychic being.” *Letters on Yoga
"The word soul is very vaguely used in English — as it often refers to the whole non-physical consciousness including even the vital with all its desires and passions. That was why the word psychic being has to be used so as to distinguish this divine portion from the instrumental parts of the nature.” *Letters on Yoga
"The word soul has various meanings according to the context; it may mean the Purusha supporting the formation of Prakriti, which we call a being, though the proper word would be rather a becoming; it may mean, on the other hand, specifically the psychic being in an evolutionary creature like man; it may mean the spark of the Divine which has been put into Matter by the descent of the Divine into the material world and which upholds all evolving formations here.” *Letters on Yoga
"A distinction has to be made between the soul in its essence and the psychic being. Behind each and all there is the soul which is the spark of the Divine — none could exist without that. But it is quite possible to have a vital and physical being supported by such a soul essence but without a clearly evolved psychic being behind it.” *Letters on Yoga
"The soul and the psychic being are practically the same, except that even in things which have not developed a psychic being, there is still a spark of the Divine which can be called the soul. The psychic being is called in Sanskrit the Purusha in the heart or the Chaitya Purusha. (The psychic being is the soul developing in the evolution.)” *Letters on Yoga
"The soul or spark is there before the development of an organised vital and mind. The soul is something of the Divine that descends into the evolution as a divine Principle within it to support the evolution of the individual out of the Ignorance into the Light. It develops in the course of the evolution a psychic individual or soul individuality which grows from life to life, using the evolving mind, vital and body as its instruments. It is the soul that is immortal while the rest disintegrates; it passes from life to life carrying its experience in essence and the continuity of the evolution of the individual.” *Letters on Yoga
". . . for the soul is seated within and impervious to the shocks of external events. . . .” *Essays on the Gita
". . . the soul is at first but a spark and then a little flame of godhead burning in the midst of a great darkness; for the most part it is veiled in its inner sanctum and to reveal itself it has to call on the mind, the life-force and the physical consciousness and persuade them, as best they can, to express it; ordinarily, it succeeds at most in suffusing their outwardness with its inner light and modifying with its purifying fineness their dark obscurities or their coarser mixture. Even when there is a formed psychic being able to express itself with some directness in life, it is still in all but a few a smaller portion of the being — ‘no bigger in the mass of the body than the thumb of a man" was the image used by the ancient seers — and it is not always able to prevail against the obscurity or ignorant smallness of the physical consciousness, the mistaken surenesses of the mind or the arrogance and vehemence of the vital nature.” *The Synthesis of Yoga
". . . the soul is an eternal portion of the Supreme and not a fraction of Nature.” The Life Divine
"The true soul secret in us, — subliminal, we have said, but the word is misleading, for this presence is not situated below the threshold of waking mind, but rather burns in the temple of the inmost heart behind the thick screen of an ignorant mind, life and body, not subliminal but behind the veil, — this veiled psychic entity is the flame of the Godhead always alight within us, inextinguishable even by that dense unconsciousness of any spiritual self within which obscures our outward nature. It is a flame born out of the Divine and, luminous inhabitant of the Ignorance, grows in it till it is able to turn it towards the Knowledge. It is the concealed Witness and Control, the hidden Guide, the Daemon of Socrates, the inner light or inner voice of the mystic. It is that which endures and is imperishable in us from birth to birth, untouched by death, decay or corruption, an indestructible spark of the Divine.” The Life Divine
*Soul, soul"s, Soul"s, souls, soulless, soul-bridals, soul-change, soul-force, Soul-Forces, soul-ground, soul-joy, soul-nature, soul-range, soul-ray, soul-scapes, soul-scene, soul-sense, soul-severance, soul-sight, soul-slaying, soul-space,, soul-spaces, soul-strength, soul-stuff, soul-truth, soul-vision, soul-wings, world-soul, World-Soul.
spin ::: to revolve or rotate rapidly, as the earth or a top. spins, spun, spinning.
spring ::: n. 1. A small stream of water flowing naturally from the earth. 2. Fig. A source, origin, or beginning. 3. The season of the year, occurring between winter and summer, during which the weather becomes warmer and plants revive. 4. The act or an instance of jumping or leaping. 5. Fig. An actuating force or factor; a motive. Spring, springs, spring-bird"s, master-spring. v. 6. To rise, leap, move, or act suddenly and swiftly, as by a sudden dart or thrust forward or outward, or being suddenly released from a coiled or constrained position. 7. To proceed or originate from a specific source or cause. 8. To come into being by growth, as from a seed or germ, bulb, root, etc.; grow, as plants. springs.
Sri Aurobindo: "A life of gnostic beings carrying the evolution to a higher supramental status might fitly be characterised as a divine life; for it would be a life in the Divine, a life of the beginnings of a spiritual divine light and power and joy manifested in material Nature.” *The Life Divine
Sri Aurobindo: "And though this Spirit of the universe, this One who is all, seems to be turning us on the wheel of the world as if mounted on a machine by the force of Maya, shaping us in our ignorance as the potter shapes a pot, as the weaver a fabric, by some skilful mechanical principle, yet is this spirit our own greatest self and it is according to the real idea, the truth of ourselves, that which is growing in us and finding always new and more adequate forms in birth after birth, in our animal and human and divine life, in that which we were, that which we are, that which we shall be, — it is in accordance with this inner soul-truth that, as our opened eyes will discover, we are progressively shaped by this spirit within us in its all-wise omnipotence.” *Essays on the Gita
Sri Aurobindo: "As there is an inner sight other than the physical, so there is an inner hearing other than that of the external ear, and it can listen to voices and sounds and words of other worlds, other times and places, or those which come from supraphysical beings.” *Letters on Yoga
Sri Aurobindo: "Birth is the first spiritual mystery of the physical universe, death is the second which gives its double point of perplexity to the mystery of birth; for life, which would otherwise be a self-evident fact of existence, becomes itself a mystery by virtue of these two which seem to be its beginning and its end and yet in a thousand ways betray themselves as neither of these things, but rather intermediate stages in an occult processus of life.” *The Life Divine
Sri Aurobindo: "Every man is knowingly or unknowingly the instrument of a universal Power and, apart from the inner Presence, there is no such essential difference between one action and another, one kind of instrumentation and another as would warrant the folly of an egoistic pride. The difference between knowledge and ignorance is a grace of the Spirit; the breath of divine Power blows where it lists and fills today one and tomorrow another with the word or the puissance. If the potter shapes one pot more perfectly than another, the merit lies not in the vessel but the maker. The attitude of our mind must not be ‘This is my strength" or ‘Behold God"s power in me", but rather ‘A Divine Power works in this mind and body and it is the same that works in all men and in the animal, in the plant and in the metal, in conscious and living things and in things apparently inconscient and inanimate."” The Synthesis of Yoga
Sri Aurobindo: "Further, vision is of value because it is often a first key to inner planes of one"s own being and one"s own consciousness as distinguished from worlds or planes of the cosmic consciousness. Yoga-experience often begins with some opening of the third eye in the forehead (the centre of vision in the brows) or with some kind of beginning and extension of subtle seeing which may seem unimportant at first but is the vestibule to deeper experience.” *Letters on Yoga
Sri Aurobindo: “Further, vision is of value because it is often a first key to inner planes of one’s own being and one’s own consciousness as distinguished from worlds or planes of the cosmic consciousness. Yoga-experience often begins with some opening of the third eye in the forehead (the centre of vision in the brows) or with some kind of beginning and extension of subtle seeing which may seem unimportant at first but is the vestibule to deeper experience.” Letters on Yoga
*Sri Aurobindo: "If thou think defeat is the end of thee, then go not forth to fight, even though thou be the stronger. For Fate is not purchased by any man nor is Power bound over to her possessors. But defeat is not the end, it is only a gate or a beginning.” Essays Human and Divine*
Sri Aurobindo: "Intellectual activities are not part of the inner being – the intellect is the outer mind.” *Letters on Yoga
"Sri Aurobindo: "It has been held that ecstasy is a lower and transient passage, the peace of the Supreme is the supreme realisation, the consummate abiding experience. This may be true on the spiritual-mind plane: there the first ecstasy felt is indeed a spiritual rapture, but it can be and is very usually mingled with a supreme happiness of the vital parts taken up by the Spirit; there is an exaltation, exultation, excitement, a highest intensity of the joy of the heart and the pure inner soul-sensation that can be a splendid passage or an uplifting force but is not the ultimate permanent foundation. But in the highest ascents of the spiritual bliss there is not this vehement exaltation and excitement; there is instead an illimitable intensity of participation in an eternal ecstasy which is founded on the eternal Existence and therefore on a beatific tranquillity of eternal peace. Peace and ecstasy cease to be different and become one. The Supermind, reconciling and fusing all differences as well as all contradictions, brings out this unity; a wide calm and a deep delight of all-existence are among its first steps of self-realisation, but this calm and this delight rise together, as one state, into an increasing intensity and culminate in the eternal ecstasy, the bliss that is the Infinite.” The Life Divine
Sri Aurobindo: "I used the word ‘mystic" in the sense of a certain kind of inner seeing and feeling of things, a way which to the intellect would seem occult and visionary — for this is something different from imagination and its work with which the intellect is familiar.” *On Himself
*Sri Aurobindo: "One seated in the sleep of Superconscience, a massed Intelligence, blissful and the enjoyer of Bliss…. This is the omnipotent, this is the omniscient, this is the inner control, this is the source of all.” The Upanishads
Sri Aurobindo: "Sacrifice means an inner offering to the Divine and the real spiritual sacrifice is a very joyful thing.” *Letters on Yoga
Sri Aurobindo: “Savitri is the Divine Word, daughter of the Sun, goddess of the supreme Truth who comes down and is born to save; …” (Author’s note at beginning of Savitri.)
Sri Aurobindo: “So too when the seer of the house of Atri cries high to Agni, ‘O Agni, O Priest of the offering, loose from us the cords,’ he is using not only a natural, but a richly-laden image. He is thinking of the triple cord of mind, nerves and body by which the soul is bound as a victim in the great world-sacrifice, the sacrifice of the Purusha; he is thinking of the force of the divine Will already awakened and at work within him, a fiery and irresistible godhead that shall uplift his oppressed divinity and cleave asunder the cords of its bondage; he is thinking of the might of that growing Strength and inner Flame which receiving all that he has to offer carries it to its own distant and difficult home, to the high-seated Truth, to the Far, to the Secret, to the Supreme.” The Secret of the Veda
::: Sri Aurobindo: "Spiritual force has its own concreteness; it can take a form (like a stream, for instance) of which one is aware and can send it quite concretely on whatever object one chooses. This is a statement of fact about the power inherent in spiritual consciousness. But there is also such a thing as a willed use of any subtle force — it may be spiritual, mental or vital — to secure a particular result at some point in the world. Just as there are waves of unseen physical forces (cosmic waves etc.) or currents of electricity, so there are mind-waves, thought-currents, waves of emotion, — for example, anger, sorrow, etc., — which go out and affect others without their knowing whence they come or that they come at all, they only feel the result. One who has the occult or inner senses awake can feel them coming and invading him.” Letters on Yoga
Sri Aurobindo: "The anarchic is the true divine state of man in the end as in the beginning; but in between it would lead us straight to the devil and his kingdom.” Essays Divine and Human*
Sri Aurobindo: "The ancient knowledge in all countries was full of the search after the hidden truths of our being and it created that large field of practice and inquiry which goes in Europe by the name of occultism, — we do not use any corresponding word in the East, because these things do not seem to us so remote, mysterious and abnormal as to the occidental mentality; they are nearer to us and the veil between our normal material life and this larger life is much thinner.” *The Synthesis of Yoga
Sri Aurobindo: "The Purusha, the inner Self, no larger than the size of a man"s thumb.” *The Life Divine
Sri Aurobindo: "The real subconscious is a nether diminished consciousness close to the Inconscient; the subliminal is a consciousness larger than our surface existence. But both belong to the inner realm of our being of which our surface is unaware, so both are jumbled together in our common conception and parlance.” *The Life Divine
Sri Aurobindo: "There is an inner vision that opens when one does sadhana and all sorts of images rise before it or pass. Their coming does not depend upon your thought or will; it is real and automatic. Just as your physical eyes see things in the physical world, so the inner eyes see things and images that belong to the other worlds and subtle images of things of this physical world also.” *Letters on Yoga
Sri Aurobindo: "The Rishi hymns the Sun-God as the source of divine knowledge and the creator of the inner worlds.” *The Secret of the Veda
Sri Aurobindo: "The true soul secret in us, — subliminal, we have said, but the word is misleading, for this presence is not situated below the threshold of waking mind, but rather burns in the temple of the inmost heart behind the thick screen of an ignorant mind, life and body, not subliminal but behind the veil, — this veiled psychic entity is the flame of the Godhead always alight within us, inextinguishable even by that dense unconsciousness of any spiritual self within which obscures our outward nature. It is a flame born out of the Divine and, luminous inhabitant of the Ignorance, grows in it till it is able to turn it towards the Knowledge. It is the concealed Witness and Control, the hidden Guide, the Daemon of Socrates, the inner light or inner voice of the mystic. It is that which endures and is imperishable in us from birth to birth, untouched by death, decay or corruption, an indestructible spark of the Divine.” *The Life Divine
Sri Aurobindo: "This mind of pure intelligence has behind it our inner or subliminal mind which senses directly all the things of the mind-plane, is open to the action of a world of mental forces, and can feel the ideative and other imponderable influences which act upon the material world and the life-plane but which at present we can only infer and cannot directly experience: . . . .” *The Life Divine
Sri Aurobindo: "Trance or samadhi is a way of escape — the body is made quiet, the physical mind is in a state of torpor, the inner consciousness is left free to go on with its experiences. The disadvantage is that trance becomes indispensable and the problem of the waking consciousness is not solved; it remains imperfect.” Letters on Yoga
Sri Aurobindo: "True reconciliation proceeds always by a mutual comprehension leading to some sort of intimate oneness. It is therefore through the utmost possible unification of Spirit and Matter that we shall best arrive at their reconciling truth and so at some strongest foundation for a reconciling practice in the inner life of the individual and his outer existence.” The Life Divine*
Sri Aurobindo: "Vitality means life-force — wherever there is life, in plant or animal or man, there is life-force — without the vital there can be no life in matter and no living action. The vital is a necessary force and nothing can be done or created in the bodily existence, if the vital is not there as an instrument.” *Letters on Yoga
"The vital proper is the life-force acting in its own nature, impulses, emotions, feelings, desires, ambitions, etc., having as their highest centre what we may call the outer heart of emotion, while there is an inner heart where are the higher or psychic feelings and sensibilities, the emotions or intuitive yearnings and impulses of the soul. The vital part of us is, of course, necessary to our completeness, but it is a true instrument only when its feelings and tendencies have been purified by the psychic touch and taken up and governed by the spiritual light and power.” *Letters on Yoga
". . . the vital is the Life-nature made up of desires, sensations, feelings, passions, energies of action, will of desire, reactions of the desire-soul in man and of all that play of possessive and other related instincts, anger, fear, greed, lust, etc., that belong to this field of the nature. Letters on Yoga
The Mother: "The vital is the dynamism of action. It is the seat of the will, of impulses, desires, revolts, etc.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15*.
Sri Aurobindo: "We see at once that if such an Existence is, it must be, like the Energy, infinite. Neither reason nor experience nor intuition nor imagination bears witness to us of the possibility of a final terminus. All end and beginning presuppose something beyond the end or beginning. An absolute end, an absolute beginning is not only a contradiction in terms, but a contradiction of the essence of things, a violence, a fiction. Infinity imposes itself upon the appearances of the finite by its ineffugable self-existence.” *The Life Divine
Sri Aurobindo: "What we call unconsciousness is simply other-consciousness; it is the going in of this surface wave of our mental awareness of outer objects into our subliminal self-awareness and into our awareness too of other planes of existence. We are really no more unconscious when we are asleep or stunned or drugged or ``dead"" or in any other state, than when we are plunged in inner thought oblivious of our physical selves and our surroundings. For anyone who has advanced even a little way in Yoga, this is a most elementary proposition and one which offers no difficulty whatever to the thought because it is proved at every point by experience.” *The Synthesis of Yoga
start ::: n. 1. A beginning of an action, journey, series of events, etc. 2. An initial but often transient display of energy at the onset of an activity. 3. A sudden involuntary jerking movement of the body. starts. v. 4. To begin or set out, as on a journey or activity. 5. To appear or come suddenly into action, life, view, etc.; rise or issue suddenly forth. starts, started, starting.
subconscient ::: “In our yoga we mean by the subconscient that quite submerged part of our being in which there is no wakingly conscious and coherent thought, will or feeling or organised reaction, but which yet receives obscurely the impressions of all things and stores them up in itself and from it too all sorts of stimuli, of persistent habitual movements, crudely repeated or disguised in strange forms can surge up into dream or into the waking nature. No, subliminal is a general term used for all parts of the being which are not on the waking surface. Subconscient is very often used in the same sense by European psychologists because they do not know the difference. But when I use the word, I mean always what is below the ordinary physical consciousness, not what is behind it. The inner mental, vital, physical, the psychic are not subconscious in this sense, but they can be spoken of as subliminal.” The Synthesis of Yoga.
subconscient ::: Sri Aurobindo: "In our yoga we mean by the subconscient that quite submerged part of our being in which there is no wakingly conscious and coherent thought, will or feeling or organised reaction, but which yet receives obscurely the impressions of all things and stores them up in itself and from it too all sorts of stimuli, of persistent habitual movements, crudely repeated or disguised in strange forms can surge up into dream or into the waking nature. No, subliminal is a general term used for all parts of the being which are not on the waking surface. Subconscient is very often used in the same sense by European psychologists because they do not know the difference. But when I use the word, I mean always what is below the ordinary physical consciousness, not what is behind it. The inner mental, vital, physical, the psychic are not subconscious in this sense, but they can be spoken of as subliminal.” *The Synthesis of Yoga.
"The subconscient is a concealed and unexpressed inarticulate consciousness which works below all our conscious physical activities. Just as what we call the superconscient is really a higher consciousness above from which things descend into the being, so the subconscient is below the body-consciousness and things come up into the physical, the vital and the mind-nature from there.
Just as the higher consciousness is superconscient to us and supports all our spiritual possibilities and nature, so the subconscient is the basis of our material being and supports all that comes up in the physical nature.” Letters on Yoga
"That part of us which we can strictly call subconscient because it is below the level of mind and conscious life, inferior and obscure, covers the purely physical and vital elements of our constitution of bodily being, unmentalised, unobserved by the mind, uncontrolled by it in their action. It can be held to include the dumb occult consciousness, dynamic but not sensed by us, which operates in the cells and nerves and all the corporeal stuff and adjusts their life process and automatic responses. It covers also those lowest functionings of submerged sense-mind which are more operative in the animal and in plant life.” *The Life Divine
"The subconscient is a thing of habits and memories and repeats persistently or whenever it can old suppressed reactions, reflexes, mental, vital or physical responses. It must be trained by a still more persistent insistence of the higher parts of the being to give up its old responses and take on the new and true ones.” Letters on Yoga
"About the subconscient — it is the sub-mental base of the being and is made up of impressions, instincts, habitual movements that are stored there. Whatever movement is impressed in it, it keeps. If one impresses the right movement in it, it will keep and send up that. That is why it has to be cleared of old movements before there can be a permanent and total change in the nature. When the higher consciousness is once established in the waking parts, it goes down into the subconscient and changes that also, makes a bedrock of itself there also.” Letters on Yoga
"The sub-conscious is the evolutionary basis in us, it is not the whole of our hidden nature, nor is it the whole origin of what we are. But things can rise from the subconscient and take shape in the conscious parts and much of our smaller vital and physical instincts, movements, habits, character-forms has this source.” Letters on Yoga
"The subconscient is the support of habitual action — it can support good habits as well as bad.” Letters on Yoga
"For the subconscient is the Inconscient in the process of becoming conscious; it is a support and even a root of our inferior parts of being and their movements.” The Life Divine *subconscient"s.
subconscious ::: not wholly conscious; partially or imperfectly conscious; existing or operating in the mind beneath or beyond consciousness.
Sri Aurobindo: "The subconscious in us is the extreme border of our secret inner existence where it meets the Inconscient, it is a degree of our being in which the Inconscient struggles into a half consciousness. . . .” The Life Divine
subconscious ::: “The subconscious in us is the extreme border of our secret inner existence where it meets the Inconscient, it is a degree of our being in which the Inconscient struggles into a half consciousness….” The Life Divine
"Subliminal is a general term used for all parts of the being which are not on the waking surface. Subconscient is very often used in the same sense by European psychologists because they do not know the difference. But when I use the word, I mean always what is below the ordinary physical consciousness, not what is behind it. The inner mental, vital, physical, the psychic are not subconscious in this sense, but they can be spoken of as subliminal.” Letters on Yoga
“Subliminal is a general term used for all parts of the being which are not on the waking surface. Subconscient is very often used in the same sense by European psychologists because they do not know the difference. But when I use the word, I mean always what is below the ordinary physical consciousness, not what is behind it. The inner mental, vital, physical, the psychic are not subconscious in this sense, but they can be spoken of as subliminal.” Letters on Yoga
subliminal ::: “The real subconscious is a nether diminished consciousness close to the Inconscient; the subliminal is a consciousness larger than our surface existence. But both belong to the inner realm of our being of which our surface is unaware, so both are jumbled together in our common conception and parlance.” The Life Divine
subtle images ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Subtle images can be images of all things in all worlds.” *Letters on Yoga
"These are not mental images. There is an inner vision that opens when one does sadhana and all sorts of images rise before it or pass. Their coming does not depend upon your thought or will; it is real and automatic. Just as your physical eyes see things in the physical world, so the inner eyes see things and images that belong to the other worlds and subtle images of things of this physical world also.” Letters on Yoga
subtle vision ("s) ::: Sri Aurobindo: " This power of vision is sometimes inborn and habitual even without any effort of development, sometimes it wakes up of itself and becomes abundant or needs only a little practice to develop; it is not necessarily a sign of spiritual attainment, but usually when by practice of yoga one begins to go inside or live within, the power of subtle vision awakes to a greater or less extent; . . . .”*Letters on Yoga
"It is not necessary to have the mind quiet in order to see the lights — that depends only on the opening of the subtle vision in the centre which is in the forehead between the eyebrows. Many people get that as soon as they start sadhana. It can even be developed by effort and concentration without sadhana by some who have it to a small extent as an inborn faculty.” Letters on Yoga
"When the centres begin to open, inner experiences such as the seeing of light or images through the subtle vision in the forehead centre or psychic experiences and perceptions in the heart, become frequent — gradually one becomes aware of one"s inner being as separate from the outer, and what can be called a yogic consciousness with all its deeper movements develops in the place of the ordinary superficial mental and vital movements.” Letters on Yoga
superconscience ::: “But a third power or possibility of the Infinite Consciousness can be admitted, its power of self-absorption, of plunging into itself, into a state in which self-awareness exists but not as knowledge and not as all-knowledge; the all would then be involved in pure self-awareness, and knowledge and the inner consciousness itself would be lost in pure being. This is, luminously, the state which we call the Superconscience in an absolute sense,—although most of what we call superconscient is in reality not that but only a higher conscient, something that is conscious to itself and only superconscious to our own limited level of awareness.” The Life Divine
superconscience ::: Sri Aurobindo: "But a third power or possibility of the Infinite Consciousness can be admitted, its power of self-absorption, of plunging into itself, into a state in which self-awareness exists but not as knowledge and not as all-knowledge; the all would then be involved in pure self-awareness, and knowledge and the inner consciousness itself would be lost in pure being. This is, luminously, the state which we call the Superconscience in an absolute sense, — although most of what we call superconscient is in reality not that but only a higher conscient, something that is conscious to itself and only superconscious to our own limited level of awareness.” The Life Divine
Supreme Lord, as the Divine Mother and claim the being’s ser- vice and surrender. If these things are accepted, there will be an extremely disastrous consequence. If indeed there is the assent of the sadhaka to the Divine working alone and the submission or surrender to that guidance, then all can go smoothly. This assent and a rejection of all egoistic forces or forces that appeal to the ego are the safeguard throughout the sadhana. But the ways of nature are full of snares, the disguises of the ego arc innumerable, the illusions of the Powers of Darkness, Rakshasl,
Tehmi: “The inner urge of life, its aspirations and longings.”
Tehmi: “The Latin word persona means a mask; therefore the dramatis persona at the beginning of plays were the masks which the actors would wear.
That other way is the concentration in the head, in the mental centre. This, if it brings about the silence of the surface mind, opens up an inner, larger, deeper mind within which is more capable of receiving spiritual experience and spiritual knowledge
thinning ::: diminishing gradually to vanishing point.
"The Absolute is beyond personality and beyond impersonality, and yet it is both the Impersonal and the supreme Person and all persons. The Absolute is beyond the distinction of unity and multiplicity, and yet it is the One and the innumerable Many in all the universes.” The Synthesis of Yoga
“The Absolute is beyond personality and beyond impersonality, and yet it is both the Impersonal and the supreme Person and all persons. The Absolute is beyond the distinction of unity and multiplicity, and yet it is the One and the innumerable Many in all the universes.” The Synthesis of Yoga
‘The beginning and the end,’ originally of the divine Being. 2. The first and last letters of the Greek alphabet.
The beginningless void was its artificer:
"The inner Divinity is the eternal Avatar in man; the human manifestation is its sign and development in the external world.” Essays on the Gita
“The inner Divinity is the eternal Avatar in man; the human manifestation is its sign and development in the external world.” Essays on the Gita
::: "The inner mind is something very wide projecting itself into the infinite and finally identifying itself with the infinity of universal Mind.” Letters on Yoga*
"The inner mind is something very wide projecting itself into the infinite and finally identifying itself with the infinity of universal Mind.” Letters on Yoga*
“The inner mind is something very wide projecting itself into the infinite and finally identifying itself with the infinity of universal Mind.” Letters on Yoga
"The inner vision can see objects, but it can see instead the vibration of the forces which act through the object.” Letters on Yoga
“The inner vision can see objects, but it can see instead the vibration of the forces which act through the object.” Letters on Yoga
"The inner vision is an open door on higher planes of consciousness beyond the physical mind which gives room for a wider truth and experience to enter and act upon the mind. It is not the only or the most important door, but it is one which comes readiest to very many if not most and can be a very powerful help.” Letters on Yoga
“The inner vision is an open door on higher planes of consciousness beyond the physical mind which gives room for a wider truth and experience to enter and act upon the mind. It is not the only or the most important door, but it is one which comes readiest to very many if not most and can be a very powerful help.” Letters on Yoga
". . . the inner vital or life-self, . . . .” Essays Human and Divine*
“… the inner vital or life-self, …” Essays Human and Divine
"The body is not only the necessary outer instrument of the physical part of action, but for the purposes of this life a base or pedestal also for all inner action.” The Synthesis of Yoga
“The body is not only the necessary outer instrument of the physical part of action, but for the purposes of this life a base or pedestal also for all inner action.” The Synthesis of Yoga
"The call, once decisive, stands; the thing that has been born cannot eventually be stifled. Even if the force of circumstances prevents a regular pursuit or a full practical self-consecration from the first, still the mind has taken its bent and persists and returns with an ever-increasing effect upon its leading preoccupation. There is an ineluctable persistence of the inner being, and against it circumstances are in the end powerless, and no weakness in the nature can for long be an obstacle.” The Synthesis of Yoga
“The call, once decisive, stands; the thing that has been born cannot eventually be stifled. Even if the force of circumstances prevents a regular pursuit or a full practical self-consecration from the first, still the mind has taken its bent and persists and returns with an ever-increasing effect upon its leading preoccupation. There is an ineluctable persistence of the inner being, and against it circumstances are in the end powerless, and no weakness in the nature can for long be an obstacle.” The Synthesis of Yoga
"The centre of vision is between the eyebrows in the centre of the forehead. When it opens one gets the inner vision, sees the inner forms and images of things and people and begins to understand things and people from within and not only from outside, develops a power of will which also acts in the inner (yogic) way on things and people etc. Its opening is often the beginning of the yogic as opposed to the ordinary mental consciousness.” Letters on Yoga
“The centre of vision is between the eyebrows in the centre of the forehead. When it opens one gets the inner vision, sees the inner forms and images of things and people and begins to understand things and people from within and not only from outside, develops a power of will which also acts in the inner (yogic) way on things and people etc. Its opening is often the beginning of the yogic as opposed to the ordinary mental consciousness.” Letters on Yoga
The deeper the emotion, the more intense the Bhakti, the greater is the force for realisation and transformation. It is oftenest through intensity of emotion that the psychic being awakes and there is an opening of the inner doors to the Divine.
The Divine in the beginning docs not impose himself — he asks for recognition, for acceptance. That is one reason why the mind must fall silent, not put tests, not make claims ; there must be room for the true intuition which recognises at once the true touch and accepts it.
::: "The Divine is always in the inner heart and does not leave it.” *Letters on Yoga
“The Divine is always in the inner heart and does not leave it.” Letters on Yoga
The Divine reveals himself in the world around us when we look upon that with a spiritual desire of delight that seeks him in all things. There is often a sudden opening by which the veil of forms is itself turned Into a revelation. A universal spiri- tual Presence, a universal peace, a universal infinite Delight has manifested, immanent, embracing, aU-penetraling. This Presence by our love of It, our delight in it, our constant thought of It returns and grows upon us ; it becomes the thing that we see and all else is only its habitation, form and symbol. Even all that is most outward, the body, the form, the sound, "whatever our senses seize, are seen as this Presence ; they cease to be physical and are changed into a substance of spirit. This trans- formation means a transformation of our own inner conscious- ness ; we are taken by the surrounding Presence into itself and
::: "The ear is the passage of communion between the inner mind centre and the thought-forces or thought-waves of the universal Nature.” *Letters on Yoga
“The ear is the passage of communion between the inner mind centre and the thought-forces or thought-waves of the universal Nature.” Letters on Yoga
"The elementary state of material Force is, in the view of the old Indian physicists, a condition of pure material extension in Space of which the peculiar property is vibration typified to us by the phenomenon of sound. But vibration in this state of ether is not sufficient to create forms. There must first be some obstruction in the flow of the Force ocean, some contraction and expansion, some interplay of vibrations, some impinging of force upon force so as to create a beginning of fixed relations and mutual effects. Material Force modifying its first ethereal status assumes a second, called in the old language the aerial, of which the special property is contact between force and force, contact that is the basis of all material relations. Still we have not as yet real forms but only varying forces. A sustaining principle is needed. This is provided by a third self-modification of the primitive Force of which the principle of light, electricity, fire and heat is for us the characteristic manifestation. Even then, we can have forms of force preserving their own character and peculiar action, but not stable forms of Matter. A fourth state characterised by diffusion and a first medium of permanent attractions and repulsions, termed picturesquely water or the liquid state, and a fifth of cohesion, termed earth or the solid state, complete the necessary elements.” The Life Divine*
“The elementary state of material Force is, in the view of the old Indian physicists, a condition of pure material extension in Space of which the peculiar property is vibration typified to us by the phenomenon of sound. But vibration in this state of ether is not sufficient to create forms. There must first be some obstruction in the flow of the Force ocean, some contraction and expansion, some interplay of vibrations, some impinging of force upon force so as to create a beginning of fixed relations and mutual effects. Material Force modifying its first ethereal status assumes a second, called in the old language the aerial, of which the special property is contact between force and force, contact that is the basis of all material relations. Still we have not as yet real forms but only varying forces. A sustaining principle is needed. This is provided by a third self-modification of the primitive Force of which the principle of light, electricity, fire and heat is for us the characteristic manifestation. Even then, we can have forms of force preserving their own character and peculiar action, but not stable forms of Matter. A fourth state characterised by diffusion and a first medium of permanent attractions and repulsions, termed picturesquely water or the liquid state, and a fifth of cohesion, termed earth or the solid state, complete the necessary elements.” The Life Divine
The fear of death shows a vital weakness which is also contrary to a capacity for yoga. Equally, one who is under the domination of his passions, would find the yoga dilhcuU and, unless supported by a true inner call and a sincere and strong aspiration for the spiritual consciousness and union with the Divine, might very easily fall fatally and his effort come to nothing.
::: "The first condition of inner progress is to recognise whatever is or has been a wrong movement in any part of the nature, — wrong idea, wrong feeling, wrong speech, wrong action, — and by wrong is meant what departs from the truth, from the higher consciousness and higher self, from the way of the Divine. Once recognised it is admitted, not glossed over or defended, — and it is offered to the Divine for the Light and Grace to descend and substitute for it the right movement of the true Consciousness.” *Letters on Yoga
“The first condition of inner progress is to recognise whatever is or has been a wrong movement in any part of the nature,—wrong idea, wrong feeling, wrong speech, wrong action,—and by wrong is meant what departs from the truth, from the higher consciousness and higher self, from the way of the Divine. Once recognised it is admitted, not glossed over or defended,—and it is offered to the Divine for the Light and Grace to descend and substitute for it the right movement of the true Consciousness.” Letters on Yoga
"The function of a mantra is to create vibrations in the inner consciousness that will prepare it for the realisation of what the mantra symbolises and is supposed indeed to carry within itself.” Letters on Yoga*
“The function of a mantra is to create vibrations in the inner consciousness that will prepare it for the realisation of what the mantra symbolises and is supposed indeed to carry within itself.” Letters on Yoga
"The message of the Gita is the gospel of the Divinity in man who by force of an increasing union unfolds himself out of the veil of the lower Nature, reveals to the human soul his cosmic spirit, reveals his absolute transcendences, reveals himself in man and in all beings. The potential outcome here of this union, this divine Yoga, man growing towards the Godhead, the Godhead manifest in the human soul and to the inner human vision, is our liberation from limited ego and our elevation to the higher nature of a divine humanity.” Essays on the Gita ::: *Divinity"s.
“The message of the Gita is the gospel of the Divinity in man who by force of an increasing union unfolds himself out of the veil of the lower Nature, reveals to the human soul his cosmic spirit, reveals his absolute transcendences, reveals himself in man and in all beings. The potential outcome here of this union, this divine Yoga, man growing towards the Godhead, the Godhead manifest in the human soul and to the inner human vision, is our liberation from limited ego and our elevation to the higher nature of a divine humanity.” Essays on the Gita
". . . the nature of the Spirit is a spacious inner freedom and a large unity into which each man must be allowed to grow according to his own nature.” The Human Cycle
“… the nature of the Spirit is a spacious inner freedom and a large unity into which each man must be allowed to grow according to his own nature.” The Human Cycle
Then from within a Power works on the outer to make it a conscious plastic instrument so that finally the inner and the outer may become fused into one.
::: ". . . the Person puts forward the personality as his role, character, persona, in the present act of his long drama of manifested existence. But the Person is larger than his personality, and it may happen that this inner largeness overflows into the surface formation; the result is a self-expression of being which can no longer be described by fixed qualities, normalities of mood, exact lineaments, or marked out by any structural limits.” *The Life Divine
“… the Person puts forward the personality as his role, character, persona, in the present act of his long drama of manifested existence. But the Person is larger than his personality, and it may happen that this inner largeness overflows into the surface formation; the result is a self-expression of being which can no longer be described by fixed qualities, normalities of mood, exact lineaments, or marked out by any structural limits.” The Life Divine
“The presence of the Spirit is there in every living being, on every level, in all things, and because it is there, the experience of Sachchidananda, of the pure spiritual existence and consciousness, of the delight of a divine presence, closeness, contact can be acquired through the mind or the heart or the life-sense or even through the physical consciousness; if the inner doors are flung sufficiently open, the light from the sanctuary can suffuse the nearest and the farthest chambers of the outer being.” The Life Divine
“The Purusha, the inner Self, no larger than the size of a man’s thumb.” The Life Divine
"The reality of the Hostiles and the nature of their role and trend of their endeavour cannot be doubted by any one who has had his inner vision unsealed and made their unpleasant acquaintance.” Letters on Savitri
“The reality of the Hostiles and the nature of their role and trend of their endeavour cannot be doubted by any one who has had his inner vision unsealed and made their unpleasant acquaintance.” Letters on Savitri
"The real motive power of the life of the soul is Will; desire is only a deformation of will in the dominant bodily life and physical mind. The essential turn of the soul to possession and enjoyment of the world consists in a will to delight, and the enjoyment of the satisfaction of craving is only a vital and physical degradation of the will to delight. It is essential that we should distinguish between pure will and desire, between the inner will to delight and the outer lust and craving of the mind and body.” The Synthesis of Yoga
“The real motive power of the life of the soul is Will; desire is only a deformation of will in the dominant bodily life and physical mind. The essential turn of the soul to possession and enjoyment of the world consists in a will to delight, and the enjoyment of the satisfaction of craving is only a vital and physical degradation of the will to delight. It is essential that we should distinguish between pure will and desire, between the inner will to delight and the outer lust and craving of the mind and body.” The Synthesis of Yoga
"The real source of knowledge is the Lord in the heart; ‘I am seated in the heart of every man and from me is knowledge," says the Gita; the Scripture is only a verbal form of that inner Veda, of that self-luminous Reality, it is sabdabrahma: the mantra, says the Veda, has risen from the heart, from the secret place where is the seat of the truth, sadanâd rtasya, guhâyâm. That origin is its sanction; but still the infinite Truth is greater than its word. Nor shall you say of any Scripture that it alone is all-sufficient and no other truth can be admitted, as the Vedavadins said of the Veda, nânyad astîti vâdinah. This is a saving and liberating word which must be applied to all the Scriptures of the world. Take all the Scriptures that are or have been, Bible and Koran and the books of the Chinese, Veda and Upanishads and Purana and Tantra and Shastra and the Gita itself and the sayings of thinkers and sages, prophets and Avatars, still you shall not say that there is nothing else or that the truth your intellect cannot find there is not true because you cannot find it there. That is the limited thought of the sectarian or the composite thought of the eclectic religionist, not the untrammelled truth-seeking of the free and illumined mind and God-experienced soul. Heard or unheard before, that always is the truth which is seen by the heart of man in its illumined depths or heard within from the Master of all knowledge, the knower of the eternal Veda.” Essays on the Gita*
“The real source of knowledge is the Lord in the heart; ‘I am seated in the heart of every man and from me is knowledge,’ says the Gita; the Scripture is only a verbal form of that inner Veda, of that self-luminous Reality, it is sabdabrahma: the mantra, says the Veda, has risen from the heart, from the secret place where is the seat of the truth, sadanâd rtasya, guhâyâm. That origin is its sanction; but still the infinite Truth is greater than its word. Nor shall you say of any Scripture that it alone is all-sufficient and no other truth can be admitted, as the Vedavadins said of the Veda, nânyad astîti vâdinah. This is a saving and liberating word which must be applied to all the Scriptures of the world. Take all the Scriptures that are or have been, Bible and Koran and the books of the Chinese, Veda and Upanishads and Purana and Tantra and Shastra and the Gita itself and the sayings of thinkers and sages, prophets and Avatars, still you shall not say that there is nothing else or that the truth your intellect cannot find there is not true because you cannot find it there. That is the limited thought of the sectarian or the composite thought of the eclectic religionist, not the untrammelled truth-seeking of the free and illumined mind and God-experienced soul. Heard or unheard before, that always is the truth which is seen by the heart of man in its illumined depths or heard within from the Master of all knowledge, the knower of the eternal Veda.” Essays on the Gita
“The real source of knowledge is the Lord in the heart; ‘I am seated in the heart of every man and from me is knowledge,’ says the Gita; the Scripture is only a verbal form of that inner Veda, of that self-luminous Reality, it is sabdabrahma: the mantra, says the Veda, has risen from the heart, from the secret place where is the seat of the truth, sadanâdrtasya, guhâyâm. That origin is its sanction; but still the infinite Truth is greater than its word. Nor shall you say of any Scripture that it alone is all-sufficient and no other truth can be admitted, as the Vedavadins said of the Veda, nânyadastîtivâdinah. This is a saving and liberating word which must be applied to all the Scriptures of the world. Take all the Scriptures that are or have been, Bible and Koran and the books of the Chinese, Veda and Upanishads and Purana and Tantra and Shastra and the Gita itself and the sayings of thinkers and sages, prophets and Avatars, still you shall not say that there is nothing else or that the truth your intellect cannot find there is not true because you cannot find it there. That is the limited thought of the sectarian or the composite thought of the eclectic religionist, not the untrammelled truth-seeking of the free and illumined mind and God-experienced soul. Heard or unheard before, that always is the truth which is seen by the heartof man in its illumined depths or heard within from the Master of all knowledge, the knower of the eternal Veda.” Essays on the Gita
There are two classes of thmgs that happen in yoga, realisa- tions and experiences. Realisations are the reception in the cons- ciousness and the establishment there of the fundamental truths of the Divine, of the Higher or Divine Nature, of the world- consciousness and the play of its forces, of one’s own self and real nature and the inner nature of things, the power of these things growing in one till they arc part of one’s inner life and existence, — as for instance, the realisation of the Divine Pre- sence, the Descent and settling of the higher Peace, Light, Force,
"There are, we might say, two beings in us, one on the surface, our ordinary exterior mind, life, body consciousness, another behind the veil, an inner mind, an inner life, an inner physical consciousness constituting another or inner self. This inner self once awake opens in its turn to our true real eternal self. It opens inwardly to the soul, called in the language of this yoga the psychic being which supports our successive births and at each birth assumes a new mind, life and body. It opens above to the Self or Spirit which is unborn and by conscious recovery of it we transcend the changing personality and achieve freedom and full mastery over our nature.” Letters on Yoga
“There are, we might say, two beings in us, one on the surface, our ordinary exterior mind, life, body consciousness, another behind the veil, an inner mind, an inner life, an inner physical consciousness constituting another or inner self. This inner self once awake opens in its turn to our true real eternal self. It opens inwardly to the soul, called in the language of this yoga the psychic being which supports our successive births and at each birth assumes a new mind, life and body. It opens above to the Self or Spirit which is unborn and by conscious recovery of it we transcend the changing personality and achieve freedom and full mastery over our nature.” Letters on Yoga
“There is an inner vision that opens when one does sadhana and all sorts of images rise before it or pass. Their coming does not depend upon your thought or will; it is real and automatic. Just as your physical eyes see things in the physical world, so the inner eyes see things and images that belong to the other worlds and subtle images of things of this physical world also.” Letters on Yoga
"There is no beginning or end of the Universe in space or time; for the universe is the manifestation of the Eternal and Infinite.” Essays Divine and Human
“There is no beginning or end of the Universe in space or time; for the universe is the manifestation of the Eternal and Infinite.” Essays Divine and Human
“There is one cosmic Mind, one cosmic Life, one cosmic Body. All the attempt of man to arrive at universal sympathy, universal love and the understanding and knowledge of the inner soul of other existences is an attempt to beat thin, breach and eventually break down by the power of the enlarging mind and heart the walls of the ego and arrive nearer to a cosmic oneness.” The Synthesis of Yoga
“The Rishi hymns the Sun-God as the source of divine knowledge and the creator of the inner worlds.” The Secret of the Veda
“These are not mental images. There is an inner vision that opens when one does sadhana and all sorts of images rise before it or pass. Their coming does not depend upon your thought or will; it is real and automatic. Just as your physical eyes see things in the physical world, so the inner eyes see things and images that belong to the other worlds and subtle images of things of this physical world also.” Letters on Yoga
"These lights and visions are not hallucinations. They indicate an opening of the inner vision whose centre is in the forehead between the eyebrows.” Letters on Yoga
“These lights and visions are not hallucinations. They indicate an opening of the inner vision whose centre is in the forehead between the eyebrows.” Letters on Yoga
these openings in one’s nature and ieam to close them perma- nently to such attacks or to throw out the intruders at once or as soon as possible. The recurrence is no proof of a funda- mental incapacity ; if one takes the right inner attitude, it can and will be overcome. One must have faith in the Master of our life and works, even if for a long time He conceals Himself, and then in His own right lime He will reveal His Presence.
"These two sets of three names each mean the same things. Visva or Virat=the Spirit of the external universe, Hiranyagarbha or Taijasa (the Luminous)=the Spirit in the inner planes, Prajna or Ishwara=the Superconscient Spirit, Master of all things and the highest Self on which all depends.” *Letters on Yoga
“These two sets of three names each mean the same things. Visva or Virat=the Spirit of the external universe, Hiranyagarbha or Taijasa (the Luminous)=the Spirit in the inner planes, Prajna or Ishwara=the Superconscient Spirit, Master of all things and the highest Self on which all depends.” Letters on Yoga
“These two sets of three names each mean the same things. Visva or Virat=the Spirit of the external universe, Hiranyagarbha or Taijasa (the Luminous)=theSpirit in the inner planes, Prajna or Ishwara=the Superconscient Spirit, Master of all things and the highest Self on which all depends.” Letters on Yoga
::: "The shoreless stream of idea and thought, imagination and experience, name and form, sensation and vibration sweeps onward for ever, without beginning, without end, rising into view, sinking out of sight; through it the one Intelligence with its million self-expressions pours itself abroad, an ocean with innumerable waves. One particular self-expression may disappear into its source and continent, but that does not and cannot abolish the phenomenal universe. The One is for ever, and the Many are for ever because the One is for ever. So long as there is a sea, there will be waves.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
“The shoreless stream of idea and thought, imagination and experience, name and form, sensation and vibration sweeps onward for ever, without beginning, without end, rising into view, sinking out of sight; through it the one Intelligence with its million self-expressions pours itself abroad, an ocean with innumerable waves. One particular self-expression may disappear into its source and continent, but that does not and cannot abolish the phenomenal universe. The One is for ever, and the Many are for ever because the One is for ever. So long as there is a sea, there will be waves.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
“… the soul is at first but a spark and then a little flame of godhead burning in the midst of a great darkness; for the most part it is veiled in its inner sanctum and to reveal itself it has to call on the mind, the life-force and the physical consciousness and persuade them, as best they can, to express it; ordinarily, it succeeds at most in suffusing their outwardness with its inner light and modifying with its purifying fineness their dark obscurities or their coarser mixture. Even when there is a formed psychic being able to express itself with some directness in life, it is still in all but a few a smaller portion of the being—‘no bigger in the mass of the body than the thumb of a man’ was the image used by the ancient seers—and it is not always able to prevail against the obscurity or ignorant smallness of the physical consciousness, the mistaken surenesses of the mind or the arrogance and vehemence of the vital nature.” The Synthesis of Yoga
The spiritual man who can guide human life towards its perfection is typified in the ancient Indian idea of the Rishi, one who has lived fully the life of man and found the word of the supra-intellectual, supramental, spiritual truth. He has risen above these lower limitations and can view all things from above, but also he is in sympathy with their effort and can view them from within; he has the complete inner knowledge and the higher surpassing knowledge. Therefore he can guide the world humanly as God guides it divinely, because like the Divine he is in the life of the world and yet above it.” The Human Cycle*
The spiritual man who can guide human life towards its perfection is typified in the ancient Indian idea of the Rishi, one who has lived fully the life of man and found the word of the supra-intellectual, supramental, spiritual truth. He has risen above these lower limitations and can view all things from above, but also he is in sympathy with their effort and can view them from within; he has the complete inner knowledge and the higher surpassing knowledge. Therefore he can guide the world humanly as God guides it divinely, because like the Divine he is in the life of the world and yet above it.” The Human Cycle
"The supreme truths are neither the rigid conclusions of logical reasoning nor the affirmations of credal statement but fruits of the soul"s inner experience. Intellectual truth is only one of the doors to the outer precincts of the temple.” *The Foundations of Indian Culture
“The supreme truths are neither the rigid conclusions of logical reasoning nor the affirmations of credal statement but fruits of the soul’s inner experience. Intellectual truth is only one of the doors to the outer precincts of the temple.” The Foundations of Indian Culture
"The text of the Veda which we possess has remained uncorrupted for over two thousand years. It dates, so far as we know, from that great period of Indian intellectual activity, contemporaneous with the Greek efflorescence, but earlier in its beginnings, which founded the culture and civilisation recorded in the classical literature of the land.” The Secret of the Veda
“The text of the Veda which we possess has remained uncorrupted for over two thousand years. It dates, so far as we know, from that great period of Indian intellectual activity, contemporaneous with the Greek efflorescence, but earlier in its beginnings, which founded the culture and civilisation recorded in the classical literature of the land.” The Secret of the Veda
::: "The true emptiness is the beginning of what I call in the Arya ‘sama ‘ — the rest, calm, peace of the eternal Self — which has finally to replace tamas, the physical inertia. Tamas is the degradation of sama , as rajas is the degradation of Tapas, the Divine Force.” *Letters on Yoga
“The true emptiness is the beginning of what I call in the Arya ‘sama ‘—the rest, calm, peace of the eternal Self—which has finally to replace tamas, the physical inertia. Tamas is the degradation of sama , as rajas is the degradation of Tapas, the Divine Force.” Letters on Yoga
“The true soul secret in us,—subliminal, we have said, but the word is misleading, for this presence is not situated below the threshold of waking mind, but rather burns in the temple of the inmost heart behind the thick screen of an ignorant mind, life and body, not subliminal but behind the veil,—this veiled psychic entity is the flame of the Godhead always alight within us, inextinguishable even by that dense unconsciousness of any spiritual self within which obscures our outward nature. It is a flame born out of the Divine and, luminous inhabitant of the Ignorance, grows in it till it is able to turn it towards the Knowledge. It is the concealed Witness and Control, the hidden Guide, the Daemon of Socrates, the inner light or inner voice of the mystic. It is that which endures and is imperishable in us from birth to birth, untouched by death, decay or corruption, an indestructible spark of the Divine.” The Life Divine
“The vital proper is the life-force acting in its own nature, impulses, emotions, feelings, desires, ambitions, etc., having as their highest centre what we may call the outer heart of emotion, while there is an inner heart where are the higher or psychic feelings and sensibilities, the emotions or intuitive yearnings and impulses of the soul. The vital part of us is, of course, necessary to our completeness, but it is a true instrument only when its feelings and tendencies have been purified by the psychic touch and taken up and governed by the spiritual light and power.” Letters on Yoga
thins ::: becomes thin or thinner; becomes reduced or diminished.
This inner self once awoke opens in its turn to our true real eternal self. It opens inw-ardly to the soul, called in the language of this yoga the psychic being which supports our successive births and at each birth assumes a new mind, life and body.
"This inner vision is one form of psychological experience; but the inner experience is not confined to that seeing; vision only opens, it does not embrace.” The Synthesis of Yoga
“This inner vision is one form of psychological experience; but the inner experience is not confined to that seeing; vision only opens, it does not embrace.” The Synthesis of Yoga
::: "This conception of the Person and Personality, if accepted, must modify at the same time our current ideas about the immortality of the soul; for, normally, when we insist on the soul"s undying existence, what is meant is the survival after death of a definite unchanging personality which was and will always remain the same throughout eternity. It is the very imperfect superficial I'' of the moment, evidently regarded by Nature as a temporary form and not worth preservation, for which we demand this stupendous right to survival and immortality. But the demand is extravagant and cannot be conceded; theI"" of the moment can only merit survival if it consents to change, to be no longer itself but something else, greater, better, more luminous in knowledge, more moulded in the image of the eternal inner beauty, more and more progressive towards the divinity of the secret Spirit. It is that secret Spirit or divinity of Self in us which is imperishable, because it is unborn and eternal. The psychic entity within, its representative, the spiritual individual in us, is the Person that we are; but the I'' of this moment, theI"" of this life is only a formation, a temporary personality of this inner Person: it is one step of the many steps of our evolutionary change, and it serves its true purpose only when we pass beyond it to a farther step leading nearer to a higher degree of consciousness and being. It is the inner Person that survives death, even as it pre-exists before birth; for this constant survival is a rendering of the eternity of our timeless Spirit into the terms of Time.” The Life Divine
“This conception of the Person and Personality, if accepted, must modify at the same time our current ideas about the immortality of the soul; for, normally, when we insist on the soul’s undying existence, what is meant is the survival after death of a definite unchanging personality which was and will always remain the same throughout eternity. It is the very imperfect superficial I’’ of the moment, evidently regarded by Nature as a temporary form and not worth preservation, for which we demand this stupendous right to survival and immortality. But the demand is extravagant and cannot be conceded; theI’’ of the moment can only merit survival if it consents to change, to be no longer itself but something else, greater, better, more luminous in knowledge, more moulded in the image of the eternal inner beauty, more and more progressive towards the divinity of the secret Spirit. It is that secret Spirit or divinity of Self in us which is imperishable, because it is unborn and eternal. The psychic entity within, its representative, the spiritual individual in us, is the Person that we are; but the I’’ of this moment, theI’’ of this life is only a formation, a temporary personality of this inner Person: it is one step of the many steps of our evolutionary change, and it serves its true purpose only when we pass beyond it to a farther step leading nearer to a higher degree of consciousness and being. It is the inner Person that survives death, even as it pre-exists before birth; for this constant survival is a rendering of the eternity of our timeless Spirit into the terms of Time.” The Life Divine
"This Godhead is one in all things that are, the self who lives in all and the self in whom all live and move; therefore man has to discover his spiritual unity with all creatures, to see all in the self and the self in all beings, even to see all things and creatures as himself, âtmaupamyena sarvatra, and accordingly think, feel and act in all his mind, will and living. This Godhead is the origin of all that is here or elsewhere and by his Nature he has become all these innumerable existences, abhût sarvâni bhûtâni; therefore man has to see and adore the One in all things animate and inanimate, to worship the manifestation in sun and star and flower, in man and every living creature, in the forms and forces, qualities and powers of Nature, vâsudevah sarvam iti.” Essays on the Gita ::: *godhead, godheads, godhead"s.
“This Godhead is one in all things that are, the self who lives in all and the self in whom all live and move; therefore man has to discover his spiritual unity with all creatures, to see all in the self and the self in all beings, even to see all things and creatures as himself, âtmaupamyena sarvatra, and accordingly think, feel and act in all his mind, will and living. This Godhead is the origin of all that is here or elsewhere and by his Nature he has become all these innumerable existences, abhût sarvâni bhûtâni; therefore man has to see and adore the One in all things animate and inanimate, to worship the manifestation in sun and star and flower, in man and every living creature, in the forms and forces, qualities and powers of Nature, vâsudevah sarvam iti.” Essays on the Gita
“This mind of pure intelligence has behind it our inner or subliminal mind which senses directly all the things of the mind-plane, is open to the action of a world of mental forces, and can feel the ideative and other imponderable influences which act upon the material world and the life-plane but which at present we can only infer and cannot directly experience: “ The Life Divine
“This mind of pure intelligence has behind it our inner or subliminal mind which senses directly all the things of the mind-plane, is open to the action of a world of mental forces, and can feel the ideative and other imponderable influences which act upon the material world and the life-plane but which at present we can only infer and cannot directly experience: …” The Life Divine
"This Self is fourfold, — the Self of Waking who has the outer intelligence and enjoys external things, is its first part; the Self of Dream who has the inner intelligence and enjoys things subtle, is its second part; the Self of Sleep, unified, a massed intelligence, blissful and enjoying bliss, is the third part… the lord of all, the omniscient, the inner Control. That which is unseen, indefinable, self-evident in its one selfhood, is the fourth part: this is the Self, this is that which has to be known.” Mandukya Upanishad. (5) The Life Divine*
“This Self is fourfold,—the Self of Waking who has the outer intelligence and enjoys external things, is its first part; the Self of Dream who has the inner intelligence and enjoys things subtle, is its second part; the Self of Sleep, unified, a massed intelligence, blissful and enjoying bliss, is the third part… the lord of all, the omniscient, the inner Control. That which is unseen, indefinable, self-evident in its one selfhood, is the fourth part: this is the Self, this is that which has to be known.” Mandukya Upanishad. (5) The Life Divine
This tenn inner is used in l«o different senses. Sometimes it denotes the consciousness behind the veil of the outer being, the mental or vital or physical within, which is in direct touch with the universal mind, the universal life-forces, universal phy- sical forces. Sometimes, on the other hand, we mean an inmost mental, vital, phyucal, more specifically called the true mind, the true vital, the true physical consciousness which is nearer to the soul and can most easily and directly respond to the
"Though man is infinitely greater than the plant or the animal, he is not perfect in his own nature like the plant and the animal. This imperfection is not a thing to be at all deplored, but rather a privilege and a promise, for it opens out to us an immense vista of self-development and self-exceeding. Man at his highest is a half-god who has risen up out of the animal Nature and is splendidly abnormal in it, but the thing which he has started out to be, the whole god, is something so much greater than what he is that it seems to him as abnormal to himself as he is to the animal. This means a great and arduous labour of growth before him, but also a splendid crown of his race and his victory. A kingdom is offered to him beside which his present triumphs in the realms of mind or over external Nature will appear only as a rough hint and a poor beginning. The Human Cycle
“Though man is infinitely greater than the plant or the animal, he is not perfect in his own nature like the plant and the animal. This imperfection is not a thing to be at all deplored, but rather a privilege and a promise, for it opens out to us an immense vista of self-development and self-exceeding. Man at his highest is a half-god who has risen up out of the animal Nature and is splendidly abnormal in it, but the thing which he has started out to be, the whole god, is something so much greater than what he is that it seems to him as abnormal to himself as he is to the animal. This means a great and arduous labour of growth before him, but also a splendid crown of his race and his victory. A kingdom is offered to him beside which his present triumphs in the realms of mind or over external Nature will appear only as a rough hint and a poor beginning. The Human Cycle
time ::: 1. Duration regarded as belonging to the present life as distinct from the life to come or from eternity; finite duration. 2. A nonspatial continuum in which events occur in apparently irreversible succession from the past through the present to the future. 3. A period in the existence or history of the world; an age, an era. Time, time-born, time-bound, time-constructed, time-driven, time-field, time-flakes, time-inn, time-loop, time-made, time-plan, time-vexed, time-walk, world-time, World-Time"s.
timeless ::: 1. Without beginning or end; eternal; everlasting. Chiefly poet. 2. Referring or restricted to no particular time. Timeless, timelessly, timelessness, Timelessness.
to attach firmly to something else, as by pinning or nailing.
Transformation of the gunas ::: If the force and the Inner consciousness are very strong, then there is a tendency for rafas to become like some inferior fapas and the lamas to become like a kind of inert Sama. That Is how the transformation begins, but usually it is very slow in Its process.
triple cord of mind ::: Sri Aurobindo: "So too when the seer of the house of Atri cries high to Agni, ‘O Agni, O Priest of the offering, loose from us the cords," he is using not only a natural, but a richly-laden image. He is thinking of the triple cord of mind, nerves and body by which the soul is bound as a victim in the great world-sacrifice, the sacrifice of the Purusha; he is thinking of the force of the divine Will already awakened and at work within him, a fiery and irresistible godhead that shall uplift his oppressed divinity and cleave asunder the cords of its bondage; he is thinking of the might of that growing Strength and inner Flame which receiving all that he has to offer carries it to its own distant and difficult home, to the high-seated Truth, to the Far, to the Secret, to the Supreme.” *The Secret of the Veda
"True knowledge is to know with the inner being, and when the inner being is touched by the light, then it arises to embrace that which is seen, it yearns to possess, it struggles to shape that in itself and itself to it, it labours to become one with the glory of its vision. Knowledge in this sense is an awakening to identity and, since the inner being realises itself by consciousness and delight, by love, by possession and oneness with whatever of itself it has seen, knowledge awakened must bring an overmastering impulse towards this true and only perfect realisation.” Essays on the Gita
“True knowledge is to know with the inner being, and when the inner being is touched by the light, then it arises to embrace that which is seen, it yearns to possess, it struggles to shape that in itself and itself to it, it labours to become one with the glory of its vision. Knowledge in this sense is an awakening to identity and, since the inner being realises itself by consciousness and delight, by love, by possession and oneness with whatever of itself it has seen, knowledge awakened must bring an overmastering impulse towards this true and only perfect realisation.” Essays on the Gita
twin ::: n. 1. One of two offspring born at the same birth. 2. Either of two persons or things that are identical or very similar; counterpart. 3. One of a pair; identical. twins. adj. 4. Being two identical. 5. Twofold or double. v. 6. To bring two objects, ideas, or people together; unite. lit. and fig. **twinned.**
Two consciousnesses ::: A lime must come for every seeker of complete self-knowledge when he is aware of living in two worlds, two consciousnesses at the same lime, two parts of the same existence. At present he lives in the outer self, but he will go more and more inward, till the position is reversed and he lives within in this new inner consciousness, inner self and feels the outer as something on the surface formed as an instrumental personality for the inner's self-expression in the material world.
Two things render that culmination more facile than it would otherwise be. Overmind in the descent towards material creation has originated modifications of itself,—Intuition especially with its penetrative lightning flashes of truth lighting up local points and stretches of country in our consciousness,—which can bring the concealed truth of things nearer to our comprehension, and, by opening ourselves more widely first in the inner being and then as a result in the outer surface self also to the messages of these higher ranges of consciousness, by growing into them, we can become ourselves also intuitive and overmental beings, not limited by the intellect and sense, but capable of a more universal comprehension and a direct touch of truth in its very self and body. In fact flashes of enlightenment from these higher ranges already come to us, but this intervention is mostly fragmentary, casual or partial; we have still to begin to enlarge ourselves into their likeness and organise in us the greater Truth activities of which we are potentially capable. But, secondly, Overmind, Intuition, even Supermind not only must be, as we have seen, principles inherent and involved in the Inconscience from which we arise in the evolution and inevitably destined to evolve, but are secretly present, occult actively with flashes of intuitive emergence in the cosmic activity of Mind, Life and Matter. It is true that their action is concealed and, even when they emerge, it is modified by the medium, material, vital, mental in which they work and not easily recognisable. Supermind cannot manifest itself as the Creator Power in the universe from the beginning, for if it did, the Ignorance and Inconscience would be impossible or else the slow evolution necessary would change into a rapid transformation scene. Yet at every step of the material energy we can see the stamp of inevitability given by a supramental creator, in all the development of life and mind the play of the lines of possibility and their combination which is the stamp of Overmind intervention. As Life and Mind have been released in Matter, so too must in their time these greater powers of the concealed Godhead emerge from the involution and their supreme Light descend into us from above. …
unbeginning ::: having no beginning.
unborn ::: 1. Existing without birth or beginning. 2. Not yet born; still to be born. Unborn. (Sri Aurobindo also employs the word as a n.)
unconsciousness ::: “What we call unconsciousness is simply other-consciousness; it is the going in of this surface wave of our mental awareness of outer objects into our subliminal self-awareness and into our awareness too of other planes of existence. We are really no more unconscious when we are asleep or stunned or drugged or ``dead’’ or in any other state, than when we are plunged in inner thought oblivious of our physical selves and our surroundings. For anyone who has advanced even a little way in Yoga, this is a most elementary proposition and one which offers no difficulty whatever to the thought because it is proved at every point by experience.” The Synthesis of Yoga
uncounted ::: innumerable.
::: "Universe is a diffusion of the divine All in infinite Space and Time, the individual its concentration within limits of Space and Time. Universe seeks in infinite extension the divine totality it feels itself to be but cannot entirely realise; for in extension existence drives at a pluralistic sum of itself which can neither be the primal nor the final unit, but only a recurring decimal without end or beginning.” *The Life Divine
“Universe is a diffusion of the divine All in infinite Space and Time, the individual its concentration within limits of Space and Time. Universe seeks in infinite extension the divine totality it feels itself to be but cannot entirely realise; for in extension existence drives at a pluralistic sum of itself which can neither be the primal nor the final unit, but only a recurring decimal without end or beginning.” The Life Divine
"Veda, then, is the creation of an age anterior to our intellectual philosophies. In that original epoch thought proceeded by other methods than those of our logical reasoning and speech accepted modes of expression which in our modern habits would be inadmissible. The wisest then depended on inner experience and the suggestions of the intuitive mind for all knowledge that ranged beyond mankind"s ordinary perceptions and daily activities. Their aim was illumination, not logical conviction, their ideal the inspired seer, not the accurate reasoner. Indian tradition has faithfully preserved this account of the origin of the Vedas. The Rishi was not the individual composer of the hymn, but the seer (drashtâ ) of an eternal truth and an impersonal knowledge. The language of Veda itself is shruti, a rhythm not composed by the intellect but heard, a divine Word that came vibrating out of the Infinite to the inner audience of the man who had previously made himself fit for the impersonal knowledge.” The Secret of the Veda
“Veda, then, is the creation of an age anterior to our intellectual philosophies. In that original epoch thought proceeded by other methods than those of our logical reasoning and speech accepted modes of expression which in our modern habits would be inadmissible. The wisest then depended on inner experience and the suggestions of the intuitive mind for all knowledge that ranged beyond mankind’s ordinary perceptions and daily activities. Their aim was illumination, not logical conviction, their ideal the inspired seer, not the accurate reasoner. Indian tradition has faithfully preserved this account of the origin of the Vedas. The Rishi was not the individual composer of the hymn, but the seer (drashtâ ) of an eternal truth and an impersonal knowledge. The language of Veda itself is shruti, a rhythm not composed by the intellect but heard, a divine Word that came vibrating out of the Infinite to the inner audience of the man who had previously made himself fit for the impersonal knowledge.” The Secret of the Veda
victorious ::: 1. Being the winner in a contest or struggle; triumphant over obstacles or adversaries. 2. Characteristic of or expressing a sense of victory or fulfilment.
victor ::: One who defeats an adversary; the winner in a fight, battle, contest, or struggle. (Sri Aurobindo also employs the word as an adj.) victor’s.
victor ::: one who defeats an adversary; the winner in a fight, battle, contest, or struggle. (Sri Aurobindo also employs the word as an adj.) victor"s.
vision, inner ::: see: inner vision
welling ::: to rise or surge from an inner source. Also fig.
"We might say then that there are three elements in the totality of our being: there is the submental and the subconscient which appears to us as if it were inconscient, comprising the material basis and a good part of our life and body; there is the subliminal, which comprises the inner being, taken in its entirety of inner mind, inner life, inner physical with the soul or psychic entity supporting them; there is this waking consciousness which the subliminal and the subconscient throw up on the surface, a wave of their secret surge. But even this is not an adequate account of what we are; for there is not only something deep within behind our normal self-awareness, but something also high above it: that too is ourselves, other than our surface mental personality, but not outside our true self; that too is a country of our spirit. For the subliminal proper is no more than the inner being on the level of the Knowledge-Ignorance luminous, powerful and extended indeed beyond the poor conception of our waking mind, but still not the supreme or the whole sense of our being, not its ultimate mystery.” The Life Divine
“We might say then that there are three elements in the totality of our being: there is the submental and the subconscient which appears to us as if it were inconscient, comprising the material basis and a good part of our life and body; there is the subliminal, which comprises the inner being, taken in its entirety of inner mind, inner life, inner physical with the soul or psychic entity supporting them; there is this waking consciousness which the subliminal and the subconscient throw up on the surface, a wave of their secret surge. But even this is not an adequate account of what we are; for there is not only something deep within behind our normal self-awareness, but something also high above it: that too is ourselves, other than our surface mental personality, but not outside our true self; that too is a country of our spirit. For the subliminal proper is no more than the inner being on the level of the Knowledge-Ignorance luminous, powerful and extended indeed beyond the poor conception of our waking mind, but still not the supreme or the whole sense of our being, not its ultimate mystery.” The Life Divine
What has first to be done is to exteriorize desires, to push them out on the surface and get the inner parts quiet and clear. After- wards they can be thrown out and replaced by the true thing, a happy and luminous will one with the Divine’s.
When it opens one gets the inner vision, sees the inner forms and images of things and people and begins to understand things and people from within and not only from outside, develops a power of will which also acts in the inner (yogic) way on things and people etc. Its opening is often the beginning of the yogic as opposed to the ordinary mental consciousness.
When mind and vital fall quiet and their restless movements, thoughts and desires cease, then one feels empty. This is at first a neutral emptiness with nothing in it either good or bad, happy or unhappy, no impulse or movement. The neutral state is often or usually followed by the opening to inner experience. There is also an emptiness made of peace and silence, when the peace and silence come out from the psychic within or descend from the higher consciousness above. This is not neutral, for in it there is the sense of peace, often also of wideness and freedom.
“When one does sadhana, the inner consciousness begins to open and one is able to go inside and have all kinds of experiences there. As the sadhana progresses, one begins to live more and more in this inner being and the outer becomes more and more superficial. At first the inner consciousness seems to be the dream and the outer the waking reality. Afterwards the inner consciousness becomes the reality and the outer is felt by many as a dream or delusion, or else as something superficial and external. The inner consciousness begins to be a place of deep peace, light, happiness, love, closeness to the Divine or the presence of the Divine, the Mother.” Letters on Yoga
"When the inner vision opens, there can come before it all that ever was or is now in the world, even it can open to things that will be hereafter — so there is nothing impossible in seeing thus the figures and the things of the past.” Letters on Yoga*
“When the inner vision opens, there can come before it all that ever was or is now in the world, even it can open to things that will be hereafter—so there is nothing impossible in seeing thus the figures and the things of the past.” Letters on Yoga
“When the centres begin to open, inner experiences such as the seeing of light or images through the subtle vision in the forehead centre or psychic experiences and perceptions in the heart, become frequent—gradually one becomes aware of one’s inner being as separate from the outer, and what can be called a yogic consciousness with all its deeper movements develops in the place of the ordinary superficial mental and vital movements.” Letters on Yoga
"When the Peace is established, this higher or Divine Force from above can descend and work in us. It descends usually first into the head and liberates the inner mind centres, then into the heart centre and liberates fully the psychic and emotional being, then into the navel and other vital centres and liberates the inner vital, then into the Muladhara and below and liberates the inner physical being. It works at the same time for perfection as well as liberation; it takes up the whole nature part by part and deals with it, rejecting what has to be rejected, sublimating what has to be sublimated, creating what has to be created. It integrates, harmonises, establishes a new rhythm in the nature. It can bring down too a higher and yet higher force and range of the higher nature until, if that be the aim of the sadhana, it becomes possible to bring down the supramental force and existence. All this is prepared, assisted, farthered by the work of the psychic being in the heart centre; the more it is open, in front, active, the quicker, safer, easier the working of the Force can be. The more love and bhakti and surrender grow in the heart, the more rapid and perfect becomes the evolution of the sadhana. For the descent and transformation imply at the same time an increasing contact and union with the Divine.” Letters on Yoga
“When the Peace is established, this higher or Divine Force from above can descend and work in us. It descends usually first into the head and liberates the inner mind centres, then into the heart centre and liberates fully the psychic and emotional being, then into the navel and other vital centres and liberates the inner vital, then into the Muladhara and below and liberates the inner physical being. It works at the same time for perfection as well as liberation; it takes up the whole nature part by part and deals with it, rejecting what has to be rejected, sublimating what has to be sublimated, creating what has to be created. It integrates, harmonises, establishes a new rhythm in the nature. It can bring down too a higher and yet higher force and range of the higher nature until, if that be the aim of the sadhana, it becomes possible to bring down the supramental force and existence. All this is prepared, assisted, farthered by the work of the psychic being in the heart centre; the more it is open, in front, active, the quicker, safer, easier the working of the Force can be. The more love and bhakti and surrender grow in the heart, the more rapid and perfect becomes the evolution of the sadhana. For the descent and transformation imply at the same time an increasing contact and union with the Divine.” Letters on Yoga
"When the Peace is established, this higher or Divine Force from above can descend and work in us. It descends usually first into the head and liberates the inner mind centres, then into the heart centre and liberates fully the psychic and emotional being, then into the navel and other vital centres and liberates the inner vital, then into the Muladhara and below and liberates the inner physical being. It works at the same time for perfection as well as liberation; it takes up the whole nature part by part and deals with it, rejecting what has to be rejected, sublimating what has to be sublimated, creating what has to be created.” Letters on Yoga
“When the Peace is established, this higher or Divine Force from above can descend and work in us. It descends usually first into the head and liberates the inner mind centres, then into the heart centre and liberates fully the psychic and emotional being, then into the navel and other vital centres and liberates the inner vital, then into the Muladhara and below and liberates the inner physical being. It works at the same time for perfection as well as liberation; it takes up the whole nature part by part and deals with it, rejecting what has to be rejected, sublimating what has to be sublimated, creating what has to be created.” Letters on Yoga
When the psychic being is awake, it begins to take hold of the rest of the being, to iofluence it and change it so that al! may become the true expression of the inner soul. Jt is this change that is called the inner conversion. There can be no conversion without the awakening of the psychic being.
"When we see with the inner vision and sense and not with the physical eye a tree or other object, what we become aware of is an infinite one Reality constituting the tree or object, pervading its every atom and molecule, forming them out of itself, building the whole nature, process of becoming, operation of indwelling energy; all of these are itself, are this infinite, this Reality: we see it extending indivisibly and uniting all objects so that none is really separate from it or quite separate from other objects. ‘It stands," says the Gita, ‘undivided in beings and yet as if divided." Thus each object is that Infinite and one in essential being with all other objects that are also forms and names, — powers, numens, — of the Infinite.” The Life Divine
“When we see with the inner vision and sense and not with the physical eye a tree or other object, what we become aware of is an infinite one Reality constituting the tree or object, pervading its every atom and molecule, forming them out of itself, building the whole nature, process of becoming, operation of indwelling energy; all of these are itself, are this infinite, this Reality: we see it extending indivisibly and uniting all objects so that none is really separate from it or quite separate from other objects. ‘It stands,’ says the Gita, ‘undivided in beings and yet as if divided.’ Thus each object is that Infinite and one in essential being with all other objects that are also forms and names,—powers, numens,—of the Infinite.” The Life Divine
"When we study this Life as it manifests itself upon earth with Matter as its basis, we observe that essentially it is a form of the one cosmic Energy, a dynamic movement or current of it positive and negative, a constant act or play of the Force which builds up forms, energises them by a continual stream of stimulation and maintains them by an unceasing process of disintegration and renewal of their substance. This would tend to show that the natural opposition we make between death and life is an error of our mentality, one of those false oppositions — false to inner truth though valid in surface practical experience — which, deceived by appearances, it is constantly bringing into the universal unity.” The Life Divine ::: *life"s, life-born, life-curve, life-delight"s, life-drift, life-foam, life-giving, life-impulse, life-impulse"s, life-motives, life-nature"s, life-pain, life-plan, life-power, life-room, life-scene, life-self, life-thought, life-wants, all-life, sense-life.
“When we study this Life as it manifests itself upon earth with Matter as its basis, we observe that essentially it is a form of the one cosmic Energy, a dynamic movement or current of it positive and negative, a constant act or play of the Force which builds up forms, energises them by a continual stream of stimulation and maintains them by an unceasing process of disintegration and renewal of their substance. This would tend to show that the natural opposition we make between death and life is an error of our mentality, one of those false oppositions—false to inner truth though valid in surface practical experience—which, deceived by appearances, it is constantly bringing into the universal unity.” The Life Divine
::: "Wherever thou seest a great end, be sure of a great beginning. Where a monstrous and painful destruction appals thy mind, console it with the certainty of a large and great creation. God is there not only in the still small voice, but in the fire and in the whirlwind.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
“Wherever thou seest a great end, be sure of a great beginning. Where a monstrous and painful destruction appals thy mind, console it with the certainty of a large and great creation. God is there not only in the still small voice, but in the fire and in the whirlwind.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
Wideness and calmness are the foundation of the yogic cons- ciousness and the best condition for inner growth and experi- ence. If a wide calm can be established in the physical cons- ciousness, occupying and filling the very body and all its cells, that can become (he basis for its transformation ; in fact, with- out this wideness and calmness (he transformation is hardly possible.
"Wideness and calmness are the foundation of the yogic consciousness and the best condition for inner growth and experience. If a wide calm can be established in the physical consciousness, occupying and filling the very body and all its cells, that can become the basis for its transformation; in fact, without this wideness and calmness the transformation is hardly possible.” Letters on Yoga*
“Wideness and calmness are the foundation of the yogic consciousness and the best condition for inner growth and experience. If a wide calm can be established in the physical consciousness, occupying and filling the very body and all its cells, that can become the basis for its transformation; in fact, without this wideness and calmness the transformation is hardly possible.” Letters on Yoga
"Within us, there are two centres of the Purusha, the inner Soul through which he touches us to our awakening; there is the Purusha in the lotus of the heart which opens upward all our powers and the Purusha in the thousand-petalled lotus whence descend through the thought and will, opening the third eye in us, the lightnings of vision and the fire of the divine energy. The bliss existence may come to us through either one of these centres. When the lotus of the heart breaks open, we feel a divine joy, love and peace expanding in us like a flower of light which irradiates the whole being.” The Synthesis of Yoga
“Within us, there are two centres of the Purusha, the inner Soul through which he touches us to our awakening; there is the Purusha in the lotus of the heart which opens upward all our powers and the Purusha in the thousand-petalled lotus whence descend through the thought and will, opening the third eye in us, the lightnings of vision and the fire of the divine energy. The bliss existence may come to us through either one of these centres. When the lotus of the heart breaks open, we feel a divine joy, love and peace expanding in us like a flower of light which irradiates the whole being.” The Synthesis of Yoga
::: "Within us, there are two centres of the Purusha, the inner Soul through which he touches us to our awakening; there is the Purusha in the lotus of the heart which opens upward all our powers and the Purusha in the thousand-petalled lotus whence descend through the thought and will, opening the third eye in us, the lightnings of vision and the fire of the divine energy.” *The Synthesis of Yoga
“Within us, there are two centres of the Purusha, the inner Soul through which he touches us to our awakening; there is the Purusha in the lotus of the heart which opens upward all our powers and the Purusha in the thousand-petalled lotus whence descend through the thought and will, opening the third eye in us, the lightnings of vision and the fire of the divine energy.” The Synthesis of Yoga
with the reality of the inner self and the inner planes. It is a mistake to think that we lire physically only, with the outer mind and life. We are all the time living and acting on other planes of consciousness, meeting others there and acting upon them, and what we do and feel and think there, the forces we gather, the results we prepare have an incalculable importance and effect, unknown to us, upon our outer life.
world-ignorance ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Our self-ignorance and our world-ignorance can only grow towards integral self-knowledge and integral world-knowledge in proportion as our limited ego and its half-blind consciousness open to a greater inner existence and consciousness and a true self-being and become aware too of the not-self outside it also as self, — on one side a Nature constituent of our own nature, on the other an Existence which is a boundless continuation of our own self-being. Our being has to break the walls of ego-consciousness which it has created, it has to extend itself beyond its body and inhabit the body of the universe.” The Life Divine
Yoga has always its difficulties, whatever yoga it be. More- over, it acts in a different way on different seekers. Some have to overcome the difficulties of their nature first before they get any experiences to speak of, others get a splendid beginning and all the difficulties afterwards, others go on for a long time having alternate risings to the top of the wave and then a descent into the gulfs and so on till the difficulty is worked out, others have a smooth path which does not mean that they have no diffi- culties — they have plenty, but they do not care a straw for them, because they feel that the Divine will help them to the goal or that he is with them even when they do not feel him
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1:A king of greatness and a slave of love,
Host of the stars and guest in Nature's inn,
A high spectator spirit throned above,
A pawn of passion in the game divine. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Collected Poems, Lila,#KEYS
2:That is the inconvenience of going away from a difficulty,—it runs after one,—or rather one carries it with oneself, for the difficulty is truly inside, not outside. Outside circumstances only give it the occasion to manifest itself and so long as the inn ~ Sri Aurobindo, Letters on Yoga - III, Difficulties of the Path - VII, #KEYS
3:I met a lot of things on the way that astonished me. Tom Bombadil I knew already; but I had never been to Bree. Strider sitting in the corner at the inn was a shock, and I had no more idea who he was than had Frodo. The Mines of Moria had been a mere name; and of Lothloriene no word had reached my mortal ears till I came there. Far away I knew there were the Horselords on the confines of an ancient Kingdom of Men, but Fanghorn Forest was an unforeseen adventure. I had never heard of the House of Eorl nor of the Stewards of Gondor. Most disquieting of all, Saruman had never been revealed to me, and I was as mystefied as Frodo at Gandalf's failure to appear on September 22. ~ J.R.R. Tolkien, in a letter to W.H. Auden, June 7, 1955" #KEYS
4:A God's Labour
I have gathered my dreams in a silver air
Between the gold and the blue
And wrapped them softly and left them there,
My jewelled dreams of you.
I had hoped to build a rainbow bridge
Marrying the soil to the sky
And sow in this dancing planet midge
The moods of infinity.
But too bright were our heavens, too far away,
Too frail their ethereal stuff;
Too splendid and sudden our light could not stay;
The roots were not deep enough.
He who would bring the heavens here
Must descend himself into clay
And the burden of earthly nature bear
And tread the dolorous way.
Coercing my godhead I have come down
Here on the sordid earth,
Ignorant, labouring, human grown
Twixt the gates of death and birth.
I have been digging deep and long
Mid a horror of filth and mire
A bed for the golden river's song,
A home for the deathless fire.
I have laboured and suffered in Matter's night
To bring the fire to man;
But the hate of hell and human spite
Are my meed since the world began.
For man's mind is the dupe of his animal self;
Hoping its lusts to win,
He harbours within him a grisly Elf
Enamoured of sorrow and sin.
The grey Elf shudders from heaven's flame
And from all things glad and pure;
Only by pleasure and passion and pain
His drama can endure.
All around is darkness and strife;
For the lamps that men call suns
Are but halfway gleams on this stumbling life
Cast by the Undying Ones.
Man lights his little torches of hope
That lead to a failing edge;
A fragment of Truth is his widest scope,
An inn his pilgrimage.
The Truth of truths men fear and deny,
The Light of lights they refuse;
To ignorant gods they lift their cry
Or a demon altar choose.
All that was found must again be sought,
Each enemy slain revives,
Each battle for ever is fought and refought
Through vistas of fruitless lives.
My gaping wounds are a thousand and one
And the Titan kings assail,
But I dare not rest till my task is done
And wrought the eternal will.
How they mock and sneer, both devils and men!
"Thy hope is Chimera's head
Painting the sky with its fiery stain;
Thou shalt fall and thy work lie dead.
"Who art thou that babblest of heavenly ease
And joy and golden room
To us who are waifs on inconscient seas
And bound to life's iron doom?
"This earth is ours, a field of Night
For our petty flickering fires.
How shall it brook the sacred Light
Or suffer a god's desires?
"Come, let us slay him and end his course!
Then shall our hearts have release
From the burden and call of his glory and force
And the curb of his wide white peace."
But the god is there in my mortal breast
Who wrestles with error and fate
And tramples a road through mire and waste
For the nameless Immaculate.
A voice cried, "Go where none have gone!
Dig deeper, deeper yet
Till thou reach the grim foundation stone
And knock at the keyless gate."
I saw that a falsehood was planted deep
At the very root of things
Where the grey Sphinx guards God's riddle sleep
On the Dragon's outspread wings.
I left the surface gauds of mind
And life's unsatisfied seas
And plunged through the body's alleys blind
To the nether mysteries.
I have delved through the dumb Earth's dreadful heart
And heard her black mass' bell.
I have seen the source whence her agonies part
And the inner reason of hell.
Above me the dragon murmurs moan
And the goblin voices flit;
I have pierced the Void where Thought was born,
I have walked in the bottomless pit.
On a desperate stair my feet have trod
Armoured with boundless peace,
Bringing the fires of the splendour of God
Into the human abyss.
He who I am was with me still;
All veils are breaking now.
I have heard His voice and borne His will
On my vast untroubled brow.
The gulf twixt the depths and the heights is bridged
And the golden waters pour
Down the sapphire mountain rainbow-ridged
And glimmer from shore to shore.
Heaven's fire is lit in the breast of the earth
And the undying suns here burn;
Through a wonder cleft in the bounds of birth
The incarnate spirits yearn
Like flames to the kingdoms of Truth and Bliss:
Down a gold-red stairway wend
The radiant children of Paradise
Clarioning darkness' end.
A little more and the new life's doors
Shall be carved in silver light
With its aureate roof and mosaic floors
In a great world bare and bright.
I shall leave my dreams in their argent air,
For in a raiment of gold and blue
There shall move on the earth embodied and fair
The living truth of you.
~ Sri Aurobindo, Collected Poems, A God's Labour, 534,#KEYS
*** WISDOM TROVE ***
1:The journey is better than the inn". ~ miguel-de-cervantes, @wisdomtrove 2:Life is a night spent in an uncomfortable inn. ~ teresa-of-avila, @wisdomtrove 3:The road to the inn is much better than the stay. ~ miguel-de-cervantes, @wisdomtrove 4:The finest landscape in the world is improved by a good inn in the foreground. ~ samuel-johnson, @wisdomtrove 5:Tales of aWayside Inn pt. 3 "The Theologian's Tale: Elizabeth" pt. 4 (1874) ~ henry-wadsworth-longfellow, @wisdomtrove 6:Like pilgrims to th' appointed place we tend; The World's an Inn, and Death the journey's end. ~ john-dryden, @wisdomtrove 7:May we live here like strangers and make the world not a house, but an inn, in which we sup and lodge, expecting to be on our journey tomorrow. ~ charles-spurgeon, @wisdomtrove 8:For a metaphysical treat stop at the Big Sur Inn, which is also a haven for stray cats and dogs. Life along the South Coast is just a bed of roses, with a few thorns and nettles interspersed. ~ henry-miller, @wisdomtrove 9:If a man knows he will sooner or later be robbed upon a journey, he will have a bottle of the best in every inn, and look upon all his extravagances as so much gained upon the thieves. ~ robert-louis-stevenson, @wisdomtrove 10:little feet! that such long years Must wander on through hopes and fears, Must ache and bleed beneath your load; I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary, thinking of your road! ~ henry-wadsworth-longfellow, @wisdomtrove 11:Since every man who lives is born to die, And none can boast sincere felicity, With equal mind, what happens, let us bear, Nor joy nor grieve too much for things beyond our care. Like pilgrims to the' appointed place we tend; The world's an inn, and death the journey's end. ~ john-dryden, @wisdomtrove 12:The Christian is the most contented man in the world, but he is the least contented with the world. He is like a traveler in an inn, perfectly satisfied with the inn and its accommodation, considering it as an inn, but putting quite out of all consideration the idea of making it his home. ~ charles-spurgeon, @wisdomtrove 13:Fame it's like... When you look through a window, say you pass a little pub, or an inn. You look through the window and you see people talking and carrying on. You,can watch outside the window and see them all being very real with each other. But when you walk into the room, it's over. I don't pay any attention to it. ~ bob-dylan, @wisdomtrove 14:What is meditation?... It is fleeing from the self, it is a short escape of the agony of being a self, it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. The same escape, the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice wine or fermented coconut-milk. ~ hermann-hesse, @wisdomtrove 15:A wealthy merchant went on a business trip. A thief in the disguise of a businessman joined him, intent on robbing him at the earliest suitable occasion. Every morning, before leaving the inn which they happened to have put up for the night, the merchant would count his money quite openly and then put it into his pocket. At night the merchant went to sleep seemingly without suspicion. While he was asleep the thief would frantically search through all the belongings of the merchant without being able to find the money. After several nights of frustrating searching, the thief finally in resignation confessed to the merchant his true intention and pleaded with him to tell him how he was able to hide his money so successfully. The merchant replied casually: & *** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***
1:inn-sewer-ants-polly-sea. ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
2:The road is better than the inn. ~ Chuck Jones, #NFDB
3:the Dew-Drop Inn & Fishing Camp; ~ Harper Lee, #NFDB
4:there. Take two cabs to the Tabard Inn, ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
5:The journey is better than the inn". ~ Miguel de Cervantes, #NFDB
6:Did you know I was born in a Holiday Inn. ~ Bret Easton Ellis, #NFDB
7:Life is a stranger's sojourn, a night at an inn. ~ Marcus Aurelius, #NFDB
8:Life is a night spent in an uncomfortable inn. ~ Saint Teresa of Avila, #NFDB
9:The road to the inn is much better than the stay. ~ Miguel de Cervantes, #NFDB
10:A man knows his companion in a long journey and a little inn. ~ William Hazlitt, #NFDB
11:I depart from life as from an inn, and not as from my home. ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero, #NFDB
12:and a hundred savage painted Indians ran howling down upon the inn yard. ~ Edward Eager, #NFDB
13:My face has been tucked in more times than a bedsheet at the Holiday Inn. ~ Joan Rivers, #NFDB
14:This body is not a home, but an inn; and that only for a short time. ~ Seneca the Younger, #NFDB
15:To be wicked does not insure prosperity - for the inn did not succeed well. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
16:Murder had come back to The Hatteras West Inn, and it was a most unwelcome guest. ~ Tim Myers, #NFDB
17:Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked? ~ William Shakespeare, #NFDB
18:The finest landscape in the world is improved by a good inn in the foreground. ~ Samuel Johnson, #NFDB
19:Abraham, like his parents, seemed to have been limed and caught by the ensnaring inn. ~ Thomas Hardy, #NFDB
20:I don't have to ask you where you've been, cause the matches in your purse say Holiday Inn. ~ Coolio, #NFDB
21:wisps of steam like spectral maggots rose from their damp coats in the inn's fuggyheat ~ Kevin Barry, #NFDB
22:Dawn was coming. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts. ~ Patrick Rothfuss, #NFDB
23:Sannheten må slås inn med harde spiker, men ikke noe menneske kan slå spiker i en madrass! ~ Tove Jansson, #NFDB
24:The Admiral Fell Inn? It’s the only hotel nearby that’s a pun; of course you headed there. ~ Abigail Roux, #NFDB
25:Whoa, the baby Jesus lives in Chamberlain?” “In an igloo next to the inn. Try again.” “Um, ~ Chris d Lacey, #NFDB
26:across Jefferson Square to sanctuary in the inn. Good god, he thought, what have I gotten ~ Robert W Fuller, #NFDB
27:Adolf Hitler was born in Braunau am Inn, a town in what is now Austria, on April 20, 1889. ~ Hourly History, #NFDB
28:One's homesickness for Heaven finds at least an inn there; and it's an inn on the right road. ~ Ruth Pitter, #NFDB
29:IT WAS NIGHT AGAIN. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts. ~ Patrick Rothfuss, #NFDB
30:I can get a table at the Inn Uendo. The maîtred’ is missing a space, and I promised to give her one. ~ Jasper Fforde, #NFDB
31:Post Ranch Inn, a hotel set on the cliffs of Northern California that has won every Most Luxurious, Most ~ Jessi Klein, #NFDB
32:managers, and, after her stay at that terrible old coaching inn, The Boar’s Head, she welcomed even the ~ Marion Chesney, #NFDB
33:The nice thing about being detained in Canada is it's like being in a Days Inn; it's very clean and very nice. ~ Bill Ayers, #NFDB
34:If the inn-boy was a halfwit, she'd known a lot of folks in her time who were running on quarters and eighths. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
35:He walked back to the inn in just his underwear and socks. Ducks don't like socks, they said. It's a duck thing. ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
36:When the lights suddenly go out, hold onto your diamonds for dear life. - Nancy Drew, The Mystery of Lilac Inn ~ Carolyn Keene, #NFDB
37:Bodde i et ekte pepperkakehus også. Et par unger dyttet henne inn i hennes egen ovn til slutt. Rystende greier. ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
38:If I suddenly disappear from the music world, you might see Hikaru Utada working as a helper at some inn in Atami. ~ Utada Hikaru, #NFDB
39:...þeir flutu rótlaust í straumi heims sem var liðinn undir lok og ekkert eftir af, annað en eftirsjáin. ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez, #NFDB
40:Into this world, this demented inn
in which there is absolutely no room for him at all,
Christ comes uninvited. ~ Thomas Merton,#NFDB
41:Evangelism and the local church are inseparable. It's like the Good Samaritan seeking an inn for the one he rescued. ~ Reinhard Bonnke, #NFDB
42:Well, to tell you the truth, my man’s chucked me out.” “So’s mine! I say, I don’t think much of this inn, do you?” “What ~ Jerome K Jerome, #NFDB
43:Classics which at home are drowsily read have a strange charm in a country inn, or in the transom of a merchant brig. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, #NFDB
44:Staying at an inn
where prostitutes are also sleeping
bush clover and the moon.
~ Matsuo Basho, staying at an inn
,#NFDB
45:First I believe it to be a grave mistake to present Christianity as something charming and popular with no offense inn it. ~ Dorothy L Sayers, #NFDB
46:I thought, I can't wait to get on the podium squad. I was in my hotel and they were in the Premier Inn living the high life! ~ Anthony Joshua, #NFDB
47:And would not her fastidious litheness take away the heavy taste of the fleshy girls in the Citrus Inn? McGee, the Perfidious. ~ John D MacDonald, #NFDB
48:Let me ask you both something. Is there anything strange that's been going on around the inn lately? I mean besides the murder and theft. ~ Tim Myers, #NFDB
49:As soon as I arrived, I went to the head inn, held by Mr. Creighton, a silly, despicable man, but privileged in having an excellent wife. ~ James Hogg, #NFDB
50:...[Joseph] and the Virgin Mary got turned away from the inn and had to go sleep in the manger. (Not with the manager, like Troo says.) ~ Lesley Kagen, #NFDB
51:This body is not a home, but an inn; and that only for a short time. Seneca Friendship is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies. ~ Aristotle, #NFDB
52:Not to mention central air-conditioning, an inn-wide stereo system, plasma TVs and iPod docking stations, and L’Occitane toiletries. ~ Elin Hilderbrand, #NFDB
53:There is nothing which has yet been contrived by man by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn. —SAMUEL JOHNSON ~ Kingsley Amis, #NFDB
54:She'd wanted to run an inn. To welcome people, to mother them. They had no children of their own, and she had a powerful need to nurture. ~ Louise Penny, #NFDB
55:But there was no room at the inn"; the inn is the gathering place of public opinion; so often public opinion locks its doors to the King. ~ Fulton J Sheen, #NFDB
56:I cheerfully quit from life as if it were an inn, not a home; for Nature has given us a hostelry in which to sojourn, not to abide. ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero, #NFDB
57:The body is not a permanent dwelling, but a sort of inn which is to be left behind when one perceives that one is a burden to the host. ~ Seneca the Younger, #NFDB
58:And the ultimate thing is, I may not be the expert that some people are on foreign policy, but I did stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night. ~ Mike Huckabee, #NFDB
59:Near a large inn, the ‘Roter Krug,’ stood a barn and to each of its two doors a naked woman was nailed through the hands, in a crucified posture. ~ Max Hastings, #NFDB
60:Half an hour afterwards Dick emerged from the inn, and if Fancy's lips had been real cherries, probably Dick's would have appeared deeply stained. ~ Thomas Hardy, #NFDB
61:In a Ramada Inn near the grapevine, they stop to rest for the night. Traveling down south, looking for good times. Visiting old friends feels right. ~ Neil Young, #NFDB
62:Classics which at home are drowsily read have a strange charm in a country inn, or in the transom of a merchant brig. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, English Traits (1856), #NFDB
63:May we live here like strangers and make the world not a house, but an inn, in which we sup and lodge, expecting to be on our journey tomorrow. ~ Charles Spurgeon, #NFDB
64:we found a room in a motel close to the hospital, the Mermaid Inn, a pink stucco affliction squeezed between a Starbucks and an independent bookstore. ~ Jan Ellison, #NFDB
65:I bet this is a brothel," she whispered to Gendry. "You don't even know what a brothel is." "I do so," she insisted. "It's like an inn, with girls. ~ George R R Martin, #NFDB
66:It is a decade now since he moved into Gray’s Inn, and of where he had been he would say nothing till the night young Williams bought the Necronomicon. ~ H P Lovecraft, #NFDB
67:Nor do I regret that I have lived, since I have so lived that I think I was not born in vain, and I quit life as if it were an inn, not a home. ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero, #NFDB
68:Another thing: if you should decide you must kill me before you talk to [...], do not do it while we are still inside the inn. You will need help to get out. ~ Mel Odom, #NFDB
69:It was not complicated, and, as my mother pointed out, not even personal: They had a hotel; they didn't want Jews; we were Jews. (The Inn at Lake Devine) ~ Elinor Lipman, #NFDB
70:And she brought forth her firstborn son, wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them in the inn.
Luke 2:7 ~ Anonymous,#NFDB
71:«Hvor langt inn skal vi, tror du?» Assad klodde seg i skjeggstubbene. «Maks femogsytti meter. Kanskje hundre.» Hvordan kunne maks femogsytti bli hundre? ~ Jussi Adler Olsen, #NFDB
72:In London there is a man who screams when the church bells ring. He lives all alone with his streaked cat in Gray’s Inn, and people call him harmlessly mad. ~ H P Lovecraft, #NFDB
73:I WOKE IN A BED. In a room. In an inn. More than that was not immediately clear to me. It felt exactly like someone had hit me in the head with a church. ~ Patrick Rothfuss, #NFDB
74:There was this cheap motel on the outskirts of town called the Tick-Tock Inn, with green-and-yellow vinyl curtains and beds that smelled like mothballs and ass. ~ Maris Black, #NFDB
75:Nothing more alarming occurred than a fear, on Mrs. Allen's side, of having once left her clogs behind her at an inn, and that fortunately proved to be groundless. ~ Jane Austen, #NFDB
76:Selv om vi mennesker har fullt av planer, program, ideer og onsker, så kan doden bare stige inn og sette et definitivt punktum for alt. Midt i setningen. ~ Jason Timbuktu Diakit, #NFDB
77:Speaking from my own religious tradition in this Christmas season, 2,000 years ago a homeless woman gave birth to a homeless child in a manger because the inn was full. ~ Al Gore, #NFDB
78:Delgado had a room on the third floor next door at the West Bay Inn. She was at the Neptune. Both were low-end motels half-filled with tourists from up north looking ~ John Grisham, #NFDB
79:We, some cast members and I, even went on a weekend trip together and spent the weekend at an inn, because we enjoy each other's company so much, and it was so cool. ~ Victor Garber, #NFDB
80:The world is but a great inn, where we are to stay a night or two, and be gone; what madness is it so to set our heart upon our inn, as to forget our home? 1.Consider ~ Thomas Watson, #NFDB
81:Shortly after his launch into eternity, Bonepenney's room at the inn is rifled by a maiden fair whose name I dare not utter aloud but who now sits demurely before me... ~ Alan Bradley, #NFDB
82:The neighbourhood of Pangbourne, where the quaint little Swan Inn stands, must be as familiar to the habitues of the Art Exhibitions as it is to its own inhabitants. ~ Jerome K Jerome, #NFDB
83:Many a wrong, and it's curing song,
many a road, and many an inn,
Room to roam, but only one home,
for all the world to win.
George MacDonald, (Lilith) ~ George MacDonald,#NFDB
84:For the record, folks; I never took a shit on stage and the closest I ever came to eating shit anywhere was at a Holiday Inn buffet in Fayetteville, North Carolina, in 1973. ~ Frank Zappa, #NFDB
85:in order to qualify as a barrister in this country, a historic condition has been that, as a student at Bar school, you had to attend your Inn and eat twelve meals. ~ The Secret Barrister, #NFDB
86:If they're from the village, you take them to the inn. If they're from the city, you treat them with respect when they are beautiful and throw them on the highway when they are dead. ~ Voltaire, #NFDB
87:In the yard of the inn, Daffy Cadwaladyr introduced himself. "Short for Davyd," he said pleasantly.
The Londoner looked as if she'd never heard a sillier name in her life. ~ Emma Donoghue,#NFDB
88:Believe me, I have looked this up, and the roots of fate and faith are not the same. Nonetheless, I picked up my wicker suitcase to follow Herman the German into the Old Faithful Inn. ~ Ivan Doig, #NFDB
89:It is the privilege of tale-tellers to open their story in an inn, the free rendezvous of all travellers, and where the humour of each displays itself, without ceremony or restraint. ~ Walter Scott, #NFDB
90:Vi har aldri vært velorganiserte lesere som leser en bok helt ut på noen slags logisk måte. Vi bukter oss ut og inn av ord, som turister på en sightseeingbuss man kan hoppe av og på. ~ Eleanor Brown, #NFDB
91:There were traces of history everywhere—in street names, on inn signs, in old tracks and ancient hedgerows, buried walls and tumbled gravestones. Scratch the surface and it was there. ~ Nicola Cornick, #NFDB
92:Then you must also spend the night. We are miles from an inn, and I can promise you that the sheets are fresh and clean." And the beds are lumpier than those at any posting house. ~ Karen Hawkins, #NFDB
93:It was the doing, he learned quickly enough—in the first inn that refused to serve him his requested flask of Senzio green wine—of the pinch-buttocked, joy-killing priests of Eanna. The ~ Guy Gavriel Kay, #NFDB
94:He was not to do anything in bad taste, the woman of the inn warned old Eguchi. He was not to put his finger into the mouth of the sleeping girl, or try anything else of that sort. ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez, #NFDB
95:For a metaphysical treat stop at the Big Sur Inn, which is also a haven for stray cats and dogs. Life along the South Coast is just a bed of roses, with a few thorns and nettles interspersed. ~ Henry Miller, #NFDB
96:If a man knows he will sooner or later be robbed upon a journey, he will have a bottle of the best in every inn, and look upon all his extravagances as so much gained upon the thieves. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson, #NFDB
97:A king of greatness and a slave of love,
Host of the stars and guest in Nature’s inn,
A high spectator spirit throned above,
A pawn of passion in the game divine. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Collected Poems, Lila,#NFDB
98:Wisting nikket. Byen summet av lyd. Sterke lukter drev inn gjennom bilvinduet. Krydret og spennende aroma blandet seg med stikkende dunst av diesel, stanken av forråtnelse, kål og ekskrementer. ~ J rn Lier Horst, #NFDB
99:And it is utterly true that he who cannot find wonder, mystery, awe, the sense of a new world and an undiscovered realm in the places by the Gray's Inn Road will never find these secrets elsewhere. ~ Arthur Machen, #NFDB
100:Guð einn veit, hverju fólki datt í hug að ljúga upp á mig,“ segir Jörgen, alltaf jafn viss í eigin sök og tilbúinn að skilja sjálfan sig. Enginn skildi Jörgen Jörgensen betur en hann sjálfur. ~ Einar M r Gu mundsson, #NFDB
101:We were marching against the humiliation of the fact that your money can’t buy a hot dog, can’t rent a Holiday Inn. It was sense of the dollar dignity. We weren’t fighting just to be with white people. ~ Jonathan Eig, #NFDB
102:Clouseau: Does yer dewg bite? Inn Keeper: No Clouseau: Nice Doggy (bends down to pet a dachshund - it snarls and bites him) I thought you said yer dewg did not bite! Inn Keeper: Zat . . . iz not my dog! ~ Peter Sellers, #NFDB
103:Wallace was trying to find out his identity so that we might protect him, but I didn’t like the idea of bringing such a high-profile criminal back to the Wayland Inn. Not when the MM was on a manhunt. ~ Kristen Simmons, #NFDB
104:He was calmly eating his soup, laughing with pleasant good-humour, as if he had come all the way to Calais for the express purpose of enjoying supper at this filthy inn, in the company of his arch-enemy. ~ Emmuska Orczy, #NFDB
105:hoping that the rest of the staff lived up to the Inn’s reputation of “gracious and accommodating” better than the bellhop. When was the last time she’d had a bellhop comment on the weight of her luggage? ~ Mariah Stewart, #NFDB
106:I do not believe I have ever again slept so well as I did that night in the inn at Crythin Gifford. For I see that then I was still all in a state of innocence, but that innocence, once lost, is lost forever. ~ Susan Hill, #NFDB
107:I used to stay at my hotel... I remember looking out of the window once and I saw (GB boxers) Tom Stalker and Kal Yafai skipping out of the Premier Inn and they jumped into a Range Rover to go to training. ~ Anthony Joshua, #NFDB
108:Those who travel heedlessly from place to place, observing only their distance from each other, and attending only to their accommodation at the inn at night, set out fools, and will certainly return so ~ Lord Chesterfield, #NFDB
109:The man looked at her curiously. “Jamaica Inn?” he said. “What would you be doing at Jamaica Inn? That’s no place for a girl. You must have made a mistake, surely.” He stared at her hard, not believing her. ~ Daphne du Maurier, #NFDB
110:6And while they were there, the time came for her to give birth. 7And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
111:It was an eight-harlot inn, if that's how you measure an inn. (I understand that now they measure inns in stars. We are in a four-star inn right now. I don't know what the conversion from harlots to stars is.) ~ Christopher Moore, #NFDB
112:Each evening, students performed in the common room. The inn provided an opportunity for aspiring minstrels to practice their craft in a real situation, and to earn coppers and silvers for tuition at the same time. ~ Kristen Britain, #NFDB
113:Sunlight 's a thing that needs a window Before it enter a dark room. Windows don't happen." So two old poets, Hunched at their beer in the low haze Of an inn parlour, while the talk ran Noisily by them, glib with prose. ~ R S Thomas, #NFDB
114:What is meditation? What is leaving one’s body? . . . It is fleeing from the self. . . The same escape, the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice-wine. . . ~ Hermann Hesse, #NFDB
115:Irene sighed. "...But I do believe the Library wants an answer to what`s happened. Why else would they call you inn?"
" An answer, certainly," Vale agreed. " But the truth? That mighted be a very dangerous commodity. ~ Genevieve Cogman,#NFDB
116:What is meditation? What is leaving one’s body? . . . It is fleeing from
the self. . . The same escape, the same short numbing is what the driver
of an ox-cart finds in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice-wine. . . ~ Hermann Hesse,#NFDB
117:As soon as I enter the door of a tavern, I experience oblivion of care, and a freedom from solicitude. There is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn. ~ Samuel Johnson, #NFDB
118:It's a lucky man, a very lucky man, who is committed to what he believes, who has stifled intellectual detachment and can relax in the luxury of his emotions - like a tipsy traveller resting for the night at wayside inn. ~ Alexander Pushkin, #NFDB
119:Manage the inn, Jane, save it. Have a mission in life. Discover that work worth doing is about more than profit and toil. It's about using the gifts and ability you've been given to serve your fellow man and please your Maker. ~ Julie Klassen, #NFDB
120:He kept his eyes on the road as he drove slowly toward the inn. Slowly, as in a-herd-of-turtles-stampeding-through-peanut-butter slowly. The guy didn’t pass a single indent in the road that didn’t require a nearly complete stop. ~ Jill Shalvis, #NFDB
121:I don’t want you ever to doubt how much I love you, Mom, but I found it. That love you talked to me about at the inn? He’s here, and I have to stay with him. I’m safe and happy, and I know that’s all you’ve ever wanted for me. ~ Bethany Claire, #NFDB
122:on the road halfway between faith and criticism stands the inn of reason. reason is faith in what can be understood without faith, but it's still a faith, since to understand presupposes that there's something understandable. ~ Fernando Pessoa, #NFDB
123:O little feet! that such long years Must wander on through hopes and fears, Must ache and bleed beneath your load; I, nearer to the wayside inn Where toil shall cease and rest begin, Am weary, thinking of your road! ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, #NFDB
124:Rondó por la piscina
Del Holiday Inn
Y de golpe se sintió completamente inútil
La imagen de una piscina
A medianoche
En Texas
Pobre Texas
Excavada
Como todas las demás
3/79
San Marcos, Texas ~ Sam Shepard,#NFDB
125:But when a man’s religion becomes really frantic; when it is a positive torment to him; and in fine, makes this earth of ours an uncomfortable inn to lodge in; then I think it high time to take that individual aside and argue the point with him. ~ Moby, #NFDB
126:Mary shook her head. ‘I’ve only seen the evil,’ she said; ‘I’ve only seen the suffering there’s been, and the cruelty, and the pain. When my uncle came to Jamaica Inn he must have cast his shadow over the good things, and they died. ~ Daphne du Maurier, #NFDB
127:I think he was a little like the lizard that changes color with its surroundings. He appeared far more a gentleman in a gentleman's house. In that inn, I saw him for what he was. And I knew his color there was far more natural than the other. ~ John Fowles, #NFDB
128:She chattered on about the Inn. 'I'm a genius,' she said. 'I got three hundred people into two rooms that were meant to hold two hundred and fifty. And they're happy. Deep down, people are really sardines. They love being squeezed together. ~ Barbara Cohen, #NFDB
129:Look through that clump of trees. There's a hawk sitting on the weathervane at the Red Rooster Inn. I've heard that if someone you love very much passes away, they can come back in the form of a hawk, to look after you and give you comfort. ~ Caroline Fyffe, #NFDB
130:En fin, gylden metallrand stiger i ost hvor solen står opp. Byen begynner å våkne, det lyder allerede en og annen fjern rumling av kjerrer som soker inn i gatene fra landet, store, tunge bondekjerrer, fulle av torvvarer, av hoy og slakt og favnved. ~ Knut Hamsun, #NFDB
131:After a prosperous, but to me very wearisome, voyage, we came at last into port. Immediately on landing I got together my few effects; and, squeezing myself through the crowd, went into the nearest and humblest inn which first met my gaze. ~ Adelbert von Chamisso, #NFDB
132:That was it. Owen grabbed his arm, yanked it toward him, and head-butted the punk. He went down with a yelp and Owen stood up, kicking his chair away behind him. "Respect your elders, lad!"
The inn got quiet the way things will when shit gets real. ~ Kevin Hearne,#NFDB
133:Think you’ve got knocker fever. Come in to the inn tonight and get it cured up.” “Maybe that’s it,” said Adam. “But I never took much satisfaction in a whore.” “It’s all the same,” Charles said. “You shut your eyes and you can’t tell the difference. ~ John Steinbeck, #NFDB
134:This is some sort of joke, isn’t it?” asks Hunt, staring at the flawless blue sky and distant fields. I cough as lightly and briefly as possible into a handkerchief I have made from a towel borrowed from the inn. “Possibly,” I say. “But then, what isn’t? ~ Dan Simmons, #NFDB
135:Rolliver's inn, the single alehouse at this end of the long and broken village, could only boast of an off-licence; hence, as nobody could legally drink on the premises, the amount of overt accommodation for consumers was strictly limited to a little board ~ Thomas Hardy, #NFDB
136:The repose of sleep refreshes only the body. It rarely sets the soul at rest. The repose of the night does not belong to us. It is not the possession of our being. Sleep opens within us an inn for phantoms. In the morning we must sweep out the shadows. ~ Gaston Bachelard, #NFDB
137:When Marian Anderson, the black contralto, came to Princeton for a concert in 1937, the Nassau Inn refused her a room. So Einstein invited her to stay at his house on Mercer Street, in what was a deeply personal as well as a publicly symbolic gesture. Two ~ Walter Isaacson, #NFDB
138:This is some sort of joke, isn't it?" asks Hunt, staring at the flawless blue sky and distant fields.
I cough as lightly and briefly as possible into a handkerchief I have made from a towel borrowed from the inn. "Probably," I say. "But then, what isn't? ~ Dan Simmons,#NFDB
139:Sometimes all you need is to climb a simple hill, to spend time staring at an empty horizon, to jump into a cold river or sleep under the stars, or perhaps share a whisky at a small country inn in order to remind yourself what matters most to you in life. ~ Alastair Humphreys, #NFDB
140:Did you know I never paid taxes before I came here? The Edema don’t own property, as a rule.” He gestured at the inn. “I never understood how galling it was. Some smug bastard with a ledger comes into town, makes you pay for the privilege of owning something. ~ Patrick Rothfuss, #NFDB
141:What inn is this
Where for the night
Peculiar traveller comes?
Who is the landlord?
Where are the maids?
Behold, what curious rooms!
No ruddy fires on the hearth,
No brimming tankards flow.
Necromancer, landlord,
Who are these below? ~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
142:Japan is the most intoxicating place for me. In Kyoto, there's an inn called the Tawaraya which is quite extraordinary. The Japanese culture fascinates me: the food, the dress, the manners and the traditions. It's the travel experience that has moved me the most. ~ Roman Coppola, #NFDB
143:Denny and Rooker were watching too. They had traced the North Carolina license plates on Mercer’s car and done the background. They knew her name, recent employment history, current lodging at the Lighthouse Inn, publishing résumé, and partial ownership of the beach ~ John Grisham, #NFDB
144:Men hvis man er lykkelig i det lette, lykkelig i det overfladiske, hvorfor gå inn i kampen med forestillingene og de forpliktelser det gir? Hvorfor alvor, hvorfor tyngde, hvorfor inderlighet og arbeide når det også alltid forer med seg smerte, plage, angst og usikkerhet? ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
145:Creo que Dios se parece más a alguien que escala el Half Dome que a alguien que se hospeda en el Hampton Inn. Jesús no nos invita a un viaje de negocios. Él nos propone que vayamos tras las cosas que nos inspiran, que nos desafían, y nos invita a experimentarlas juntos. No ~ Bob Goff, #NFDB
146:As we approached the forbidding and squalid inn, with the sign of a game-cock above the door, Holmes gave a sudden groan, and clutched me by the shoulder to save himself from falling. He had had one of those violent strains of the ankle which leave a man helpless. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle, #NFDB
147:They still talk about the night that Augie Pabst, a fresh-faced heir to the brewing fortune, drove a rented Falcon into the swimming pool of the Mark Thomas Inn in Monterey, California. His reviews were so good that he repeated the act at a Howard Johnson's outside Denver. ~ Brock Yates, #NFDB
148:Since every man who lives is born to die, And none can boast sincere felicity, With equal mind, what happens, let us bear, Nor joy nor grieve too much for things beyond our care. Like pilgrims to the' appointed place we tend; The world's an inn, and death the journey's end. ~ John Dryden, #NFDB
149:Mayhap you’d prefer to spend this eve with me at an inn, rather than going straight to my brother’s,” he suggested with a seductive smile. Chloe scowl deepened. “One eve is no’ enough?” he teased, though his eyes were distant. “Greedy lass, would you be wishing a week? ~ Karen Marie Moning, #NFDB
150:We shall have to stay the night here,' he said, as if preparing to spend the night at an inn, and he proceeded to unfasten the collar-straps. The buckles came undone.
'But shan't we be frozen?' remarked Vasili Andreevich.
'Well, if we are we can't help it.' said Nikita. ~ Leo Tolstoy,#NFDB
151:Dorian ... never fell into the error of arresting his intellectual development by any formal acceptance of creed or system, or of mistaking, for a house in which to live, an inn that is but suitable for the sojourn of a night, ~ Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890), ch. 11, p. 106, #NFDB
152:Something told me I’d find you at the Odessa Inn! How about some food?” “That’s already taken care of,” I say. “I’ve ordered dinner for eight.” “What does dinner have to do with it?” says Reb Osher. “Just because dinner is dinner, must we starve while we’re waiting for it? ~ Sholom Aleichem, #NFDB
153:The lead of the first major Times article written by copy boy KURT EICHENWALD, 1986 LINDEN—Fuzzy peach navel is the recommended drink at the Old Tavern Inn here, one of the latest and most unlikely ripple effects of the American auto industry’s march toward high technology. ~ Kurt Eichenwald, #NFDB
154:He had read endless books, he had digested them, pondered over them. Day by day, year after year, he had turned over all the problems of human beings. Yet there were all sorts of simple things he didn't know how to do: he couldn't even walk into an inn and sit down at a table. ~ Georges Simenon, #NFDB
155:Miklos said he's applied to be night clerk at a Ramada Inn near the beach. He said the waiting list was two pages long. 'But I got more experience than most.'
'You're not kidding,' Garcia said. 'Good luck with that job.'
'Thank you,' Miklos said. 'Good luck with your murder. ~ Carl Hiaasen,#NFDB
156:The wise man will follow a star, low and large and fierce in the heavens, but the nearer he comes to it the smaller and smaller it will grow,
till he finds it the humble lantern over some little inn or stable. Not till we know the high things shall we know how lowly they are. ~ G K Chesterton,#NFDB
157:What gave it away? When she loaded me bound and gagged into the back of her truck? Or when she actually said. "I'm ready to kill you and throw your body inn the swamp? "Hey for a while there, it looked like you were going to talk your way out of it. I didn't want to interfere. ~ Kelley Armstrong, #NFDB
158:It was our story. It didn't have to have a happy beginning or a happy ending, but the middle was a feast at a banquet, a rich soapy bath, a night's rest at an inn and full stomach, a warm chest nestled up against my back, the soft heat of lips at my nape, stories whispered in my ear. ~ Mary E Pearson, #NFDB
159:What gave it away? When she loaded me bound and gagged into the back of her truck? Or when she actually said. "I'm ready to kill you and throw your body inn the swamp?
"Hey for a while there, it looked like you were going to talk your way out of it. I didn't want to interfere. ~ Kelley Armstrong,#NFDB
160:You got anything more to eat?"
He walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a cube of butter. Before I could stop him he took a bite. He worked the butter around inn his mouth, then swallowed. "Bit odd," he said, setting the rest of the cube onto the counter. ~ Suzanne Selfors,#NFDB
161:An Old Epitaph Found In Bedford
Mary Wryte and her mother
Her father ande brother-Was Alle of them drowned,
Inn Bvckstones povnde.
6 Febrry : . ---O GODD
IN. MERCYE. THER
SOVLES
PRAYRE. TAKE=TO. HEVENYS,
FOR THYE DEARE SONNE'S
IESUS'S SAKE.
~ Anonymous Olde English,#NFDB
162:Gabri and Myrna were very rich indeed, rich in the things that matter. In friendships and laughter, in kindness and company. People rich in money might belong at the Inn and Spa, but those rich in other ways belonged in the tiny village of Three Pines. Here, kindness was the real currency. ~ Louise Penny, #NFDB
163:If you're thinking of coming to America, this is what it's like: you've got your Comfort Inn, you've got your Best Western, and you've got your Red Lobster where you eat. Everybody's very fat, everybody's very stupid and everybody's very rude - it's not a holiday programme, it's the truth. ~ Jeremy Clarkson, #NFDB
164:I wanted to try dainty Italian fare, and bought spicy Bologna sausage, pink papery hams, hard white bread, and chalky cheeses. I also bought the makings of a Mackeroni Pie I had seen made at an inn, and a new sort of green stuff named brockerly that proved a great deal tastier than cabbage. ~ Martine Bailey, #NFDB
165:The Christian is the most contented man in the world, but he is the least contented with the world. He is like a traveler in an inn, perfectly satisfied with the inn and its accommodation, considering it as an inn, but putting quite out of all consideration the idea of making it his home. ~ Charles Spurgeon, #NFDB
166:I’m fine, thanks. You can go back home now.”
“You’re kidding, right? Did you not look out there?”
“It’s snowing.”
“It’s a blizzard. I’m not going back out.”
“You’re not staying here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “This is an inn.”
“Not yet. We’re not officially open for business. ~ Rachel Hawthorne,#NFDB
167:... er tida en sekk du kan stappe inn i hvor mye som helst, går den aldri bare herfra til dit, men i stedet i sirkel etter sirkel, og så kommer du tilbake hver eneste gang til stedet hvor du begynte.
Men det var ikke sånn heller. For var jeg ung, nå var jeg ikke ung. Jeg ble aldri ung igjen. ~ Per Petterson,#NFDB
168:I had taken this time to fall in love instead - inn love with the sort of helplessness I had not felt inn death - the helplessness of being alive, the dark bright pity of being human - feeling as you went, groping in corners and opening your arms to light - all of it part of nagivating the unknown. ~ Alice Sebold, #NFDB
169:Hun hadde forbrutt seg mot Guds og menneskets strengeste lover og tatt liv, og likevel hadde hun aldri hatt det bedre enn i dette vidunderlige oyeblikket da Michelle Hansens gispende ansikt forsvant inn under bilen med en kraft som knuste kroppen hennes og slengte bilen en halvmeter opp i været. ~ Jussi Adler Olsen, #NFDB
170:I vividly remember a conversation I had many years ago in 1974, which marked a turning point in my leadership journey. I was sitting at a Holiday Inn with my friend, Kurt Campmeyer, when he asked me if I had a personal growth plan. I didn't. In fact, I didn't even know you were supposed to have one. ~ John C Maxwell, #NFDB
171:The Poem On The Wall
My clumsy poem on the inn-wall none cared to see.
With bird-droppings and moss's growth the letters were blotched away.
There came a guest with heart so full, that though a page to the Throne,
He did not grudge with his broidered coat to wipe off the dust, and read.
~ Bai Juyi,#NFDB
172:It isnt only fictional heroes to whom toast means home and comfort. It is related of the Duke of Wellington - I believe by Lord Ellesmere - that when he landed at Dover in 1814, after six years absence from England, the first order he gave at the Ship Inn was for an unlimited supply of buttered toast. ~ Elizabeth David, #NFDB
173:Altfor sent ble hun var den andre bilens hvinende bremser og den svarte skyggen som smeltet inn i panseret på Kaen med et overjordisk, metallisk brak. Glasset singlet til alle kanter og lukten av den ultimate katastrofen bredte seg, mens de sammenfiltrete karosseriene sirklet rundt som et dansende par. ~ Jussi Adler Olsen, #NFDB
174:If you go out on the Appalachian Trail, you have to bring so much more equipment - a tent, sleeping bag - but if you go hiking in England, or Europe, generally, towns and villages are near enough together at the end of the day you can always go to a nice little inn and have a hot bath and something to drink. ~ Bill Bryson, #NFDB
175:From where he lay on his tatami mat, he could see her in profile. Her dark hair was down, spilling around her tiny shoulders, and she was dressed only in one of the snow white yukatas or kimonos that the ryokan (a Japanese inn) supplied its guests. She was beautiful, he decided, yet she was a contradiction. ~ David Hagberg, #NFDB
176:I don’t. I take it he was homeless.” Aaron shrugged. “That’s my guess. A group of them have been congregating in that grassy patch across the street from the Santa Teresa Inn. Before that, they camped in the park adjacent to the municipal swimming pool.” “Who called it in?” He took off his glasses and polished ~ Sue Grafton, #NFDB
177:That is the inconvenience of going away from a difficulty,—it runs after one,—or rather one carries it with oneself, for the difficulty is truly inside, not outside. Outside circumstances only give it the occasion to manifest itself and so long as the inn ~ Sri Aurobindo, Letters on Yoga - III, Difficulties of the Path - VII, #NFDB
178:The dining area of the Premier Inn is geared to dispel elderly apprehensions, not to reinforce them. It is noisy and colourful and full of large busy middle-era middle England middle-aged people talking loudly and cheerfully and eating highly coloured meals, most of them from the hot red end of the spectrum. ~ Margaret Drabble, #NFDB
179:A narrow grave-yard in the heart of a bustling, indifferent city, seen from the windows of a gloomy-looking inn, is at no time an object of enlivening suggestion; and the spectacle is not at its best when the mouldy tombstones and funereal umbrage have received the ineffectual refreshment of a dull, moist snow-fall. ~ Henry James, #NFDB
180:Fame it's like... When you look through a window, say you pass a little pub, or an inn. You look through the window and you see people talking and carrying on. You,can watch outside the window and see them all being very real with each other. But when you walk into the room, it's over. I don't pay any attention to it. ~ Bob Dylan, #NFDB
181:1211
What Inn Is This
115
What Inn is this
Where for the night
Peculiar Traveller comes?
Who is the Landlord?
Where the maids?
Behold, what curious rooms!
No ruddy fires on the hearth—
No brimming Tankards flow—
Necromancer! Landlord!
Who are these below?
~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
182:Perhaps if you were less heavy-handed in your treatment of the guests you claim to honor and protect, your inn would have a higher rating.”
He did not. Oh yes, yes he did. “Perhaps if you trained the knights under your command to follow simple orders, your House would’ve reached greater prominence within your empire. ~ Ilona Andrews,#NFDB
183:Air has no Residence, no Neighbor
Air has no Residence, no Neighbor,
No Ear, no Door,
No Apprehension of Another
Oh, Happy Air!
Ethereal Guest at e'en an Outcast's Pillow Essential Host, in Life's faint, wailing Inn,
Later than Light thy Consciousness accost me
Till it depart, persuading Mine ~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
184:That's never been my life, nor ever will."
"Why not? You'll wed a farmer one day, or small tradesman, and live respectably among your neighbours. Don't tell them you lived once at Jamaica Inn, and had love made to you by a horse-thief. They'd shut their doors against you. Good-bye, and here's prosperity to you. ~ Daphne du Maurier,#NFDB
185:Rosalie!’ said I one evening. “‘Your servant, sir?’ “‘You are not married?’ She started a little. “‘Oh! there is no lack of men if ever I take a fancy to be miserable!’ she replied, laughing. She got over her agitation at once; for every woman, from the highest lady to the inn-servant inclusive, has a native presence of mind. ~ Honor de Balzac, #NFDB
186:I have had the accomplishment of something like this at heart ever since I was a boy.... So I feel tonight like the man who is lodging happily in the inn which lies half way along the journey and that in time, with a fresh impulse, we shall go the rest of the journey and sleep at the journey's end like men with a quiet conscience. ~ Woodrow Wilson, #NFDB
187:I knew firsthand that mysterious state of people who appear to be sure of themselves but are actually eaten alive with fear inside. I had a rather strong inferiority complex. I believe I lacked what my father used to call “character.” So on that nice summer day in an old inn in Sherbrooke, I didn’t find the courage to say no. ~ Alcoholics Anonymous, #NFDB
188:What is meditation?... It is fleeing from the self, it is a short escape of the agony of being a self, it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. The same escape, the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice wine or fermented coconut-milk. ~ Hermann Hesse, #NFDB
189:as we turned the corner and began to walk down the rutted track that led to Staples Inn Gardens. The moment we appeared, the hurdy-gurdy man stopped playing and I recalled that he had behaved in exactly the same way the last time we had come here. It would have been natural for Jones to make straight for the barber’s shop – was that not ~ Anthony Horowitz, #NFDB
190: “I heard something earlier, from Humphrey’s friend, Hubert. We stopped at his inn.”
Morpheus practically beams. “Ah, Hubert. How is the old sot?”
“Glittery.” I furrow my brow. “And grumpy.”
A deep laugh rumbles in Morpheus’s chest. “I’ve always enjoyed his company.”
“Yeah.” I scowl. “He’s a real good egg. ~ A G Howard,#NFDB
191:Where is Arland?"
"Rapunzel decided to walk around in the woods to get 'the feel of the battleground.' He won't leave the grounds and he promises to defend the inn with 'all the strength in his body.' I told him if he gets in trouble, he should try singing prettily so his woodland friends will come to the rescue. I don't think he got it. ~ Ilona Andrews,#NFDB
192:«— Å lofte oss ut av vår ensomhet, det er kanskje det de storste bokene gjor med oss – at de setter oss inn i et ellers uoppnåelig fellesskap, inn i en storre sammenheng, der vår individualitet, og dermed også ensomhet, vrakes til fordel for noe storre. Og hvor vi mister oss selv, mer enn at vi finner oss selv. Det er det deilige ved det,» ~ Stig S terbakken, #NFDB
193:I’d been staying at the Holiday Inn with my girlfriend, honestly the most beautiful woman I’d even known, for three days under a phony name, shooting heroin. We made love in the bed, ate steaks at the restaurant, shot up in the john, puked, cried, accused one another, begged of one another, forgave, promised, and carried one another to heaven. ~ Denis Johnson, #NFDB
194:I'd been staying at the Holiday Inn with my girlfriend, honestly the most beautiful woman I'd ever known, for three days under a phony name, shooting heroin. We made love in the bed, ate steaks at the restaurant, shot up in the john, puked, cried, accused one another, begged of one another, forgave, promised, and carried one another to heaven. ~ Denis Johnson, #NFDB
195:pupils and therefore there was no school of Vermeer. His family obligations with so many children may have taken up much of his time as would acting as both an art-dealer and inn-keeper in running the family businesses. His time spent serving as head of the guild and his extraordinary precision as a painter may have also limited his output. ~ Johannes Vermeer, #NFDB
196:Go ahead. Would you like a preview of what’s gonna happen when you carry me outside the inn?” He tosses the empty bottle at the trash can, misses, then skips over to scoop up the teddy bear. He meets Sloan’s gaze, his bottom lip turning down in a pout. Tears well in his eyes. “I tried to s-stop her, officer, but she t-touched my private p-place. ~ Gena Showalter, #NFDB
197:Like a primitive savage, who sets out to tame the wilderness armed with nothing but a knife and his indomitable will, I will persevere. I will wrestle victory from the greedy jaws of defeat. I shall rise like a bird of prey upon the current of the wind, my talons raised for the kill, and I shall strike true.”
Oh wow. I hope the inn filmed that. ~ Ilona Andrews,#NFDB
198:THE OLD FAITHFUL area was the largest complex in the park, consisting of hundreds of cabins, the Snow Lodge, retail stores, souvenir shops and snack bars, a rambling Park Service visitor center, and the showpiece structure of the entire park: the hundred-plus-year-old Old Faithful Inn that stood in sharp, gabled, epic relief against the star-washed sky. ~ C J Box, #NFDB
199:Du skjonner, det er så mye som ikke for plass om sommeren og hosten og våren", sa hun. "Alle som er litt sjenerte og litt rare. Forskjellige slags nattdyr og folk som ikke passer inn noen steder, og som ingen tror på. De holder seg unna hele året. Og så, når det er helt stille og hvitt og nettene blir lange og alle har gått i hi - da kommer de fram. ~ Tove Jansson, #NFDB
200:I’m surrounded by idiots.” “I heard that, too,” Max said from the loft. “Go to sleep, Romeo. I’m taking Cameron to the inn.” “I won’t tell Mom if you don’t come back tonight.” Cameron couldn’t hold back the laughter. Will glowered at her playfully. “I’m going to kill you in your sleep,” he said to Max before he slammed the door closed. “Pain in my ass. ~ Marie Force, #NFDB
201:Það er ósköp menningarsnautt að sjá inn á heimilin nú til dags þar sem hver hlutur er úr sinni heimsálfunni og oftlega vita menn ekki neitt um hvaðan hluturinn kemur. Og hver er munurinn á heimaunnum hlut og hinum úr verksmiðjunni? Annar hefur sál og hinn ekki, því hver sá sem vinnur hlut í höndum sér, skilur eftir brot af sjálfum sér í verki sínu. ~ Bergsveinn Birgisson, #NFDB
202:Even yet Christ Jesus has to lie out in waste places very often, because there is no room for him in the inn--no room for him in our hearts, because of our worldliness. There is no room for him even in our politics and religion. There is no room in the inn, and we put him in the manger, and he lies outside our faith, coldly and dimly conceived by us. ~ Edwin Hubbel Chapin, #NFDB
203:This was crazy. Celeste had merely said her relatives would love to have her stay with them, they had plenty of room. She hadn’t said that they could have housed a large portion of the Confederate army. Well, she’d stay one night and if things didn’t work out, she’d seen an inn in the little town they’d just driven through. It at least had a coat of paint. ~ Shelley Noble, #NFDB
204:You have a light in you that’s almost blinding. But in me there’s only darkness. Sometimes I think it’s like the darkness that infected you that night in the inn when you began to cry and to tremble. You were so helpless, so unprepared for it. I try to keep the darkness from you because I need your light. I need it desperately, but you don’t need the darkness. ~ Anne Rice, #NFDB
205:Ja, De tvang meg inn under det som De kalte plikt og skyldighet; da De lovpriste som rett og riktig hva hele mitt sinn opprorte seg imot noe vederstyggelig. Da var det jeg begynte å se Deres lærdomme efter i sommene. Jeg ville bare pille ved en eneste knute; men da jeg hadde fått den lost, så raknet det opp alt sammen. Og så skjonte jeg at det var maskinsom. ~ Henrik Ibsen, #NFDB
206:ON HIS BED at the Residence Inn, Decker laid out all the construction plans for the American Grill that David Katz had built about fifteen years ago. The plans seemed pretty normal for such a restaurant buildout, but he didn’t recognize the name of the architect set forth on the plans. In fact, the address of the business showed that it was from out of state ~ David Baldacci, #NFDB
207:Returning to my native village after many years absence:
I put up at a country inn and listen to the rain.
One robe, one bowl is all I have.
I light incense and strain to sit in meditation;
All night a steady drizzle outside the dark window --
Inside, poignant memories of these long years of pilgrimage.
~ Taigu Ryokan, Returning To My Native Village
,#NFDB
208:What happiness there had been in those days! What freedom! What hope! What an abundance of illusions! She had none left now. Each new venture had cost her some of them, each of her successive conditions: as virgin, wife and mistress; she had lost them all along the course of her life, like a traveler who leaves some of his wealth at every inn along the road. ~ Gustave Flaubert, #NFDB
209:In recent years they had fallen in with a gabby, childless couple, older than they were, called the MacNatts. Mr. MacNatt was an auto-parts salesman; Mrs. MacNatt was shaped like a pigeon and sold Avon. They had got my parents doing things like taking bus trips to factory outlets and playing a dice game called “bunko” and hanging around the piano bar at the Ramada Inn. ~ Donna Tartt, #NFDB
210:For a long time I found the celebrities of modern painting and poetry ridiculous. I loved absurd pictures, fanlights, stage scenery, mountebanks backcloths, inn-signs, cheap colored prints; unfashionable literature, church Latin, pornographic books badly spelt, grandmothers novels, fairy stories, little books for children, old operas, empty refrains, simple rhythms. ~ Arthur Rimbaud, #NFDB
211:Supposedly, the cabin was at least a hundred years old, and it had a reputation of bringing lovers together on Christmas Eve. People came there in bad weather, looking for an inn, but there was no record of an inn being on or near that property. There was a Motel 6 twenty miles away and nothing beyond that Keith had ever been able to find on any map, no matter how old. No ~ S E Jakes, #NFDB
212:But that which most attracts the eye is opposite the Lion d'Or inn, the chemist's shop of Monsieur Homais. In the evening especially its argand lamp is lit up and the red and green jars that embellish his shop-front throw far across the street their two streams of colour; then across them as if in Bengal lights is seen the shadow of the chemist leaning over his desk. ~ Gustave Flaubert, #NFDB
213:Caro sat without speaking, turning toward him her look that was neither sullen nor expectant but soberly attentive; and, once, a glance in which tenderness and apprehension were great and indivisible, giving unbearable, excessive immediacy to the living of these moments. Paul had seen that look before, when they first lay down together at the inn beyond Avebury Circle. ~ Shirley Hazzard, #NFDB
214:Jeg tar av meg frakken, hatten og skjerfet og gir meg i kast med å tomme askebegre og plukke opp klær. Tre kvarter senere ser leiligheten ut som om den kunne ha blitt fotografert til Håndbok i husstell for leiemordere. Jeg har nettopp sunket ned i en lenestol, den som vender mot kjokkenet og inngangsdora, da Gunholder stiger inn. Jeg skynder meg å trekke inn magen. ~ Hallgr mur Helgason, #NFDB
215:New York has made me so paranoid, too. Whenever I visit another city, I always act like I'm from there, so the cab driver doesn't rip me off. I'm always like, "Yeah, it's good to be back home. Back here where I grew up. Yeah. Here in Tokyo. ... Uh, driver, I need to go to my old stomping grounds. That would be the Holiday Inn. And the address appears to be the pound sign." ~ Jim Gaffigan, #NFDB
216:Wealthier Mennonites even though they're not technically supposed to be wealthy do their drinking in North Dakota or Hawaii. They are sort of like rock bands on tour in that the rules of this town don't apply to them when they're on the road. An embarrassing situation for wealthy Mennonites is to meet other wealthy Mennonites at the swim-up bar at the Honolulu Holiday Inn. ~ Miriam Toews, #NFDB
217:These people shred. That's what I was saying about Nashville-you can go to an open mic night at the Holiday Inn and probably see more talented musicians than the ones touring. When we first came down here I was like, "Wow I'm glad we didn't cut our teeth down here, there's so much competition." You're being challenged constantly because you're surrounded by these amazing musicians. ~ Lzzy Hale, #NFDB
218:Vishous screamed.
The only thing that was louder was the
pop as the hip was relocated, as it were. And the last thing he saw before he checked out of the Conscious Inn & Suites was Jane's head whipping around in a panic. In her eyes was stark terror, as if the single worst thing that she could imagine was him in agony...
And that was when he knew that he still loved her. ~ J R Ward,#NFDB
219:5.Buggre Alle this for a Larke I amme sick to mye Hart of typefetinge. Master Biltonn if no Gentelmann, and Master Scagges now more that a tighte fisted Southwarke Knobbefticke. I telle you, onne a daye laike thif Ennywone withe half and oz of Sense shoulde bee oute in the Suneshain, ane nott Stucke here alle the lielong dale inn thif mowldey olde By-Our-Lady Workefhoppe *AE@;I* ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
220:Og hví skyldu vér amast við bókinni? Hún neyðir þig ekki til að lesa sig. Hún lætur persónu þína afskiftalausa. Hún liggur þarna einmana í horninu í bóksölubúðinni eins og þrítug piparjómfrú. En sá voði vogir yfir þér alla ævi þína, að rithöfundur setjist inn til þín og þylji yfir þér heila syrpu af óprentuðum ljóðum. Bækur eru saklausir hlutir, en rithöfundur eru ægilegar verur. ~ rbergur r arson, #NFDB
221:I know I must seem unsympathetic and cold, but this is the nineteenth century, you know, and men don’t murder one another without reason. I believe I have as much right to drive you on the King’s highway as your uncle himself. Having gone so far, don’t you think you had better let me hear the rest of your story? What is your name, and how long have you been living at Jamaica Inn? ~ Daphne du Maurier, #NFDB
222:5. Buggre Alle this for a Larke. I amme sick to mye Hart of typefettinge. Master Biltonn if no Gentelmann, and Master Scagges noe more than a tighte fisted Southwarke Knobbefticke. I telle you, onne a day laike thif Ennywone withe half an oz. of Sense shoulde bee oute in the Sunneshain, ane nott Stucke here alle the liuelong daie inn thif mowldey olde By-Our-Lady Workefhoppe. @*Æ@;!* ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
223:Bree stared at the items and the simple silver chain around her finger. Why? The question stayed with her as she paced around the inn, waiting for Alessandro and the boys. Why wouldn’t she keep Adriano’s locket around her neck. Who was in plot 777 in London and why was it important? Whose address was this? Bree wondered, staring at the slip of paper. Her curiosity was most definitely peaked. ~ E Jamie, #NFDB
224:When they weren’t praying, they did what schoolgirls everywhere do. They laughed, they shrieked, they burst into hysterical sobs – all for no apparent reason…
The schoolgirls also played the worst Western music imaginable, and they took a surfeit of baths – so many baths that the traditional inn where Wallingford and Evelyn Arbuthnot stayed was repeatedly running out of hot water. ~ John Irving,#NFDB
225:Uno de los casos que Harry aún no había logrado resolver era el de una persona cuyo cadáver había aparecido en seis pedazos: uno en cada descanso de la escalera de incendios de un hotel de Gower Street. Aquel crimen atroz no había escandalizado a nadie en la oficina. Incluso corría el chiste de que por suerte la víctima no se había alojado en el Holiday Inn, que tenía quince plantas. ~ Michael Connelly, #NFDB
226:And yet he had taken her to that inn wanting to soothe himself with feminine compassion and warmth. Her very silence and self-possession had inflamed him, angered him. He had wanted her to reach out to him as no one had reached out for more years than he could recall, and she had looked at him with steady acceptance of what she must do to earn her living. He cursed softly and turned from the ~ Mary Balogh, #NFDB
227:Og nok en gang fikk professoren rett. Det var noe mindre hyggelig. Det var Harry Hole. Mer presist: den Harry Hole du ikke vil treffe. Den med de ekstra blodskutte oynene, med det jagede, desperate uttrykket i ansiktet som betydde trobbel. «Hypnose,» sa Harry. Han var andpusten, og ansiktet glinset av svette. «God kveld til deg også, Harry. Vil du komme inn? Om ikke doråpningen er for trang, da.» ~ Jo Nesb, #NFDB
228:What happiness there had been at that time, what freedom, what hope! What an abundance of illusions! Nothing was left of them now. She had got rid of them all in her soul's life, in all her successive conditions of life, maidenhood, her marriage, and her love—thus constantly losing them all her life through, like a traveller who leaves something of his wealth at every inn along his road. ~ Gustave Flaubert, #NFDB
229:I was being unreasonable, of course, but a strange sort of melancholy had taken hold of me on our last night in the inn. I should be happy. I should be excited. My life was stretching out before me, a golden path lit by opportunity, a shining city of possibility on the other side. Yet I felt a curious sort of detachment from the prospect, as though I were experiencing my joy at a degree of remove. ~ S Jae Jones, #NFDB
230:I know that to you everything has changed for the worse over the last weeks. But for me..." Elias pauses. rests his forehead into the curve of my neck. "Before you my life was nothing but wandering and solitude and death. Now with you there's possibility." He pulls back until we're looking into each other's eyes. "I'm falling inn love with you, Gabrielle. Not with the person you used to be, but you. ~ Carrie Ryan, #NFDB
231:Two days later, two days before Christmas, I am judged fat and sane enough to be kicked out of the hospital. The plan to send me straight back to New Seasons won't work. There is no room at the inn for a leather Lia-skin plumped full of messy things. Not yet. The director promises Dr. Marrigan he'll have a bed for me next week. I'm stable enough to go home until then. They all say I'm stable. ~ Laurie Halse Anderson, #NFDB
232:But these vague whisperings may arise from Mr. Snagsby's being, in his way, rather a meditative and poetical man; loving to walk in Staple Inn in the summer time; and to observe how countrified the sparrows and the leaves are... and to remark (if in good spirits) that there were old times once, and that you'd find a stone coffin or two, now, under that chapel, he'd be bound, if you was to dig for it. ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
233:Jamaica Inn stands today, hospitable and kindly, a temperance house on the twenty-mile road between Bodmin and Launceston. In the following story of adventure I have pictured it as it might have been over a hundred and twenty years ago; and although existing place-names figure in the pages, the characters and events described are entirely imaginary. Daphne du Maurier Bodinnick-by-Fowey October 1935 ~ Daphne du Maurier, #NFDB
234:Well, that was the end of me, the real end. Two pound ten every Tuesday and a room of the Gray's Inn Road. Saved, rescued and with my place to hide in - what more did I want? I crept in and hid. The lid of the coffin shut down with a bang. Now I no longer wish to be loved, beautiful, happy or successful. I want one thing and one thing only - to be left alone. No more pawings, no more pryings - leave me alone. ~ Jean Rhys, #NFDB
235:The Fiddler’s Roost Inn: the taproom and yard. Sometimes it was not in a lady’s best interests to follow any dictates but those of her own heart. Because Lady Charlotte Ascot, daughter of the Earl of Ware, had discovered this at a young age—eight, to be precise, during a footrace against boys with considerably longer legs than she—when faced with a challenge to her courage at the age of twenty-one, she did ~ Caroline Linden, #NFDB
236:rushing in from the north. That usually meant a sea storm. The Pilgrim Inn bustled with stain-splotched travelers and weary helpers. She looked for any indication that something was wrong. Siler was talking to some guests, but waved to her. The children were playing at the main table with the guests, one of which was an older woman who fawned over them. Lia approached Siler. “Is anything wrong?” she asked him. ~ Jeff Wheeler, #NFDB
237:The Poor Man Dreams
Perhaps an Evening awaits me
when I shall drink I peace in some old Town,
and die the happier: since I am patient!
If my pain submits, if I ever have any gold,
shall I choose the North or the Country of Vines? …
- Oh! It is shameful to dream - since it is pure loss!
And if I become once more the old traveler,
never can the green inn be open to me again.
~ Arthur Rimbaud,#NFDB
238:Uncle Jeff insisted that I also take a tray of unseasoned barbecue, so I could see for myself that what's going on here at the Skylight Inn does not in any way, shape, or form depend for it's flavor or quality on "sauce." That is a word he pronounces with an upturned lip and a slight sneer, suggesting that the use of barbecue sauce was at best a culinary crutch deserving of pity and at worst a moral failing. ~ Michael Pollan, #NFDB
239:After a brief postprandial snooze he ordered the necessaries for washing, and spent an extraordinarily long time lathering both cheeks with soap, while distending each in turn from the inside with his tongue. Then, pulling the towel off the inn-servant’s shoulder, he used it to rub every part of his plump face, beginning behind his ears, after twice snorting straight into the inn-servant’s face as a preliminary. ~ Nikolai Gogol, #NFDB
240:H’mph,” growled the squire, “that’s a damned nuisance. I wanted a word or two with Mr. Joss Merlyn. Now look here, my good woman, your precious husband may have bought Jamaica Inn behind my back, in his blackguardly fashion, and we’ll not go into that again now, but one thing I won’t stand for, and that’s having all my land hereabouts made a byword for everything that’s damnable and dishonest round the countryside. ~ Daphne du Maurier, #NFDB
241:Now, writing every day, and being paid for it and encouraged to do it, it was as if, in the midst of the clich?d dark and stormy night, I found the magical inn, its windows golden lit, and Summer was due to start tomorrow. I can only work at one thing well. Deprive me of that, and my "back-up plan," even now, will be the empty, stormy, darkened heath -- where, incidentally, even unpublished, somehow I'll still be writing. ~ Tanith Lee, #NFDB
242:Okay, y’all,” Ashley announced. “This is our dress rehearsal. Our last chance to get everything perfect before the big night tomorrow. Any questions? Ideas? Opinions?”
“Yeah, I have an idea.” Slumped on the front steps of the Battlefield Inn, Parker choked down a mouthful of cough syrup and tried not to speak above a whisper. “Let’s call it off. That would really make it perfect. No more ghost tour. ~ Richie Tankersley Cusick,#NFDB
243:He pulled back, leaving them both breathless, and then tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll follow you to the inn since it’s on my way home.” She nodded, her lips swollen from his kiss, her eyes a little glazed. “Are you okay to drive?” She smiled then looked down at his dick. “Well, if you can drive with a second stick shift, I think I can make it.” He threw his head back and laughed then let her get in her car. ~ Carrie Ann Ryan, #NFDB
244:I have no objection to any person's religion, be it what it may, so long as that person does not kill or insult any other person, because that other person don't believe it also. But when a man's religion becomes really frantic; when it is a positive torment to him; and, in fine, makes this earth of ours an uncomfortable inn to lodge in; then I think it high time to take that individual aside and argue the point with him. ~ Herman Melville, #NFDB
245:CONTENTS FIRE MAGE 1. The Hunt 2. A Feather for a Friend 3. A Demon's Eyes 4. The Order of the Dawn 5. The Blood Dagger 6. The Ancient Struggle 7. Jiserian Invasion 8. The Surineda Map 9. The Sej Elders 10. The Fire Sword 11. The Nalgoran Desert 12. The Northlands 13. Assault in the Forest 14. The Inn at Blansko 15. The Edge of the Storm 16. Ashtera Summons the Darkness 17. Aurellia 18. Intrigue in Khael 19. Passage to Lorello ~ John Forrester, #NFDB
246:The inn was a white saltbox under a low roof, with additions to either side. Diamond-paned windows glowed warm and welcoming on either side of a heavy carved door.
An older man, impeccably dressed, escorted his beautifully coiffed companion down the front stairs. Her conservative high heels barely showed under her long coat. Kenzie caught the glitter of diamonds against a fur collar. This was definitely not Ye Olde Crabbe Shacke. ~ Janet Dailey,#NFDB
247:Den lange, lange sti over myrene og inn i skogene hvem har trakket opp den? Mannen, mennesket, den forste som var her. Det var ingen sti for ham. Siden fulgte et og annet dyr de svake spor over moer og myrer og gjorde dem tydeligere, og siden igjen begynte en og annen lapp å snuse stien opp og gå den når han skulle fra fjell til fjell og se til sin ren. Slik ble stien til gjennom den store almenning som ingen eiet, det herrelose land. ~ Knut Hamsun, #NFDB
248:For after all, if the lives of most men are examined in detail, it will be found that they have been experts of immense stature in some unremunerated field, the strategy and theory of some sport or the practice of some craft, have had an exhaustive knowledge of old circus posters or eighteenth-century inn signs or the mathematics of comets; and nothing so distinguished Professor Peacock from the ruck of men as his air of amateurishness. ~ Gene Wolfe, #NFDB
249:In an inn somewhere, a wealthy guest mistakes [Rebbe Zusia] for a beggar and treats him accordingly. Later he learns his identity and comes to cry his remorse: "Forgive me, Rebbe, you must - for I didn't know!"
"Why do you ask Zusia to forgive you?" Rebbe Zusia said, shaking his head and smiling. "You haven't done anything bad to him; it is not Zusia you insulted but a poor beggar, so go and ask the beggars, everywhere, to forgive you! ~ Elie Wiesel,#NFDB
250:Vi er alt krek som lever langs breddene, langs elvestrendene. Vi fyller nettene. Vi er alle svarte små skjolddyr lenger inne på land – vi som har små hol å krype inn i når steinane over oss blir vende rundt. Vi er alle som borar i slammet når straumen botnfell. Vi borar i sakene og lever uendeleg. Vi er der nede og der inne som lyset ikkje når, vi har vårt eige lys, vi kravlar forbi einannan med lysa våre, og kravlar vidare einsame i stort morker. ~ Tarjei Vesaas, #NFDB
251:Now, as I before hinted, I have no objection to any person's religion, be it what it may, so long as that person does not kill or insult any other person, because that other person don't believe it also. But when a man's religion becomes really frantic; when it is a positive torment to him; and, in fine, makes this earth of ours an uncomfortable inn to lodge in; then I think it high time to take that individual aside and argue the point with him. ~ Herman Melville, #NFDB
252:Now, as I before hinted, I have no objection to any person’s religion, be it what it may, so long as that person does not kill or insult any other person, because that other person don’t believe it also. But when a man’s religion becomes really frantic; when it is a positive torment to him; and, in fine, makes this earth of ours an uncomfortable inn to lodge in; then I think it high time to take that individual aside and argue the point with him. ~ Herman Melville, #NFDB
253:As they rode, Katsa couldn’t content herself with imagining the strange landscapes ahead. For when she’d awakened to morning in the Sunderan inn, the windstorm of the night before had returned to her mind. Po’s Grace would protect Po from Leck. And Po would protect her. With Po, Katsa would be safe. He’d said it simply, as if it were nothing. But it wasn’t nothing for Katsa to rely on someone else’s protection. She’d never done such a thing in her life. ~ Kristin Cashore, #NFDB
254:Pure Brightness Festival
Pure Brightness time rain disordered and confused
Road on traveller almost broken spirit
Politely ask inn what place be
Shepherd boy far point apricot blossom village
At the time of the Pure Brightness festival, the rain is swirling round,
On the road, the spirit of the traveler is almost broken.
He politely asks at what place an inn can be found?
A shepherd boy points far away to apricot blossom village.
~ Du Mu,#NFDB
255:How Lonesome The Wind Must Feel Nights How lonesome the Wind must feel Nights When people have put out the Lights
And everything that has an Inn
Closes the shutter and goes in How pompous the Wind must feel Noons
Stepping to incorporeal Tunes
Correcting errors of the sky
And clarifying scenery
How mighty the Wind must feel Morns
Encamping on a thousand dawns
Espousing each and spurning all
Then soaring to his Temple Tall ~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
256:Næst þegar þau hjónin sáu konung sinn var hann rúinn öllum völdum en lét Jens fá fiðluna sem sjómaðurinn hafði leikið á, bæði á dansleikjum og þarna í Vatnsmýrinni. Nú átti þessi fiðla sér ansi áhugavert líf fyrir höndum því mörgum árum seinna þegar sonur Jens og Málfríðar sigldi til Ameríku var fiðlan með í farteskinu og varð hún upphaf mikils fiðluleiks í marga ættliði einsog lesa má um í bókum Böðvars Guðmundssonar, Híbýli vindanna og Lífsins tré. ~ Einar M r Gu mundsson, #NFDB
257:The thought of sleep now was impossible. She was too wide awake, too alive in every nerve, and although the dislike and fear of her uncle was as strong as ever within her, a growing interest and curiosity held the mastery. She understood something of his business now. What she had witnessed here tonight was smuggling on the grand scale. There was no doubt that Jamaica Inn was ideally situated for his purpose, and he must have bought it for that reason alone. ~ Daphne du Maurier, #NFDB
258:Esperanza entered the Parker Inn. The first thing that hit her was the smell—a pungent combination of dried vomit and body odor, only less olfactorily pleasing. She wrinkled her nose and continued inside. The floor was hardwood with lots of sawdust. The light was dingy, coming off the pool table ceiling fixtures that were supposed to look like imitation Tiffany lamps. The crowd was probably two-to-one men over women. Everyone was dressed—in a word—cheesy. Esperanza ~ Harlan Coben, #NFDB
259:I picked up the wireset and dialed in the number. “Lion Inn, room service. May we help you?” “Yes. This is Johan Eschbach. I ordered a dinner nearly an hour ago, and we still haven’t seen it. Suite six-oh-three.” “Yes, sir. Just a moment, sir.” I waited. “He’s already left, sir. Let us know if he’s not there in five minutes.” “I will.” I turned to Llysette. “It’s on the way.” “On the way? And how proceeds it—by airship from Paris?” “By Brit rail—wide slow gauge. ~ L E Modesitt Jr, #NFDB
260:Sensationalists miss divinity for just that reason: the true religion is always unspectacular. The foolish virgins go to buy oil for their lamps, and when they come back, they find the Bridegroom already returned. And the door closed. It was so undramatic. A beautiful maiden knocks at the door of an inn, and an innkeeper tells her there is no room. Into a stable she enters, and there a child is born. It was God’s entrance into the world. But it was so undramatic. ~ Fulton J Sheen, #NFDB
261:And then there was the young-male walk to master. At least women swung only their hips. Young men swung everything, from the shoulders down. You have to try to occupy a lot of space, she thought. It makes you look bigger, like a tomcat fluffing his tail. She’d seen it a lot in the inn. The boys tried to walk big in self-defense against all those other big boys out there. I’m bad, I’m fierce, I’m cool, I’d like a pint of shandy and me mam wants me home by nine… Let ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
262:His speech is low and rapid, his manner assured; he is at home in courtroom or waterfront, bishop’s palace or inn yard. He can draft a contract, train a falcon, draw a map, stop a street fight, furnish a house and fix a jury. He will quote you a nice point in the old authors, from Plato to Plautus and back again. He knows new poetry, and can say it in Italian. He works all hours, first up and last to bed. He makes money and he spends it. He will take a bet on anything. ~ Hilary Mantel, #NFDB
263:However grim and hateful was this new country, however barren and untilled, with Jamaica Inn standing alone upon the hill as a buffer to the four winds, there was a challenge in the air that spurred Mary Yellan to adventure. It stung her, bringing color to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes; it played with her hair, blowing it about her face; and as she breathed deep she drew it through her nostrils and into her lungs, more quenching and sweeter than a draft of cider. ~ Daphne du Maurier, #NFDB
264:I’ll be needing a closer look tomorrow.”
“It’s nothing special,” she hedged. “Just an average English village. Hardly worth your time. Cottages, a church, a few shops.”
“Surely there’s an inn,” Lord Payne said.
“There is a rooming house,” Susanna said, leading them back from the edge of the bluff. “The Queen’s Ruby. But I’m afraid it is completely occupied at this time of year. Summer visitors, you understand, come to enjoy the sea.” And to escape men like you. ~ Tessa Dare,#NFDB
265:It was not very long after this that there occurred the first of the mysterious events that rid us at last of the captain, though not, as you will see, of his affairs. It was a bitter cold winter, with long, hard frosts and heavy gales; and it was plain from the first that my poor father was little likely to see the spring. He sank daily, and my mother and I had all the inn upon our hands, and were kept busy enough without paying much regard to our unpleasant guest. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson, #NFDB
266:In front of the inn was a beautiful mountain stream where one could catch lots of firm, colorful fish. Noisy birds were always skimming over the surface of the stream, their calls piercing, and it wasn’t unusual to spot wild boar or monkeys roaming around nearby. The mountains were a treasure trove of edible wild plants. In this isolated environment, young Haida was able to indulge himself in reading and contemplation. He no longer cared what was happening in the real world. ~ Haruki Murakami, #NFDB
267:TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17—and go back to the time when my father kept the “Admiral Benbow” inn, and the brown old seaman, with the sabre cut, first took up his lodging under our roof. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson, #NFDB
268:Just outside Dover we stopped at an inn and I snatched a taste of dainty fried fish named smelts, and some herrings served with their tails in their mouths. Afterwards, me and Mr Loveday went out to take a view of the ocean. The wind was blowing so strong it whistled through my teeth and the sea was horrible; a vast plain of water ceaselessly moiling like a simmering pot. At last my head cold had cleared enough to taste the sea on my tongue; it had a strange salted vegetable tang. ~ Martine Bailey, #NFDB
269:It is not exactly any of these things. It is simply and rather astonishingly an enlarged version of a very common kind of California tract house, a monument not to colossal ego but to a weird absence of ego, a case study in the architecture of limited possibilities, insistently and malevolently “democratic,” flattened out, mediocre and “open” and as devoid of privacy or personal eccentricity as the lobby area in a Ramada Inn. It is the architecture of “background music,” decorators, “good taste. ~ Joan Didion, #NFDB
270:...it is indeed a street of so impertinent a nature, so unfortunately connected with the great London and Oxford roads, and the principal inn of the city, that a day never passes in which parties of ladies, however important their business, whether in quest of pastry, millinery, or even (as in the present case) of young men, are not detained on one side or other by carriages, horsemen, or carts. This evil had been felt and lamented, at least three times a day, by Isabella since her residence in Bath... ~ Jane Austen, #NFDB
271:Miracle” was the word Jonathan had pronounced, and they tested it on their own tongues. They were used to it in the Bible, where it meant impossible things that happened an impossibly long time ago in places so far away from here that they might as well not exist. Here in the inn it applied to the laughably improbable chance that the boat mender would ever pay his slate in full: now that would be a miracle all right. But tonight, at winter solstice in the Swan at Radcot, the word had a different weight. ~ Diane Setterfield, #NFDB
272:Then a Samaritan, an outcast from Jewish society, passed, saw the beaten man, and stopped. He bandaged the man’s wounds and, after taking him to an inn on the Samaritan’s own donkey, paid the innkeeper for his care. This poignant story offered a revolutionary teaching. The behavior it showed—and held up as expected of Christians—moved well beyond the limitations of ritual or bureaucratic law to the benefit of all people. This was not only timely for the burgeoning Christian communities, but essential. ~ Alexander John Shaia, #NFDB
273:Because it may be fine to die in the open, with one’s body still young and healthy amidst the triumphant echoes of the bugles; but it is a sadder fate to die of wounds in a hospital ward after long sufferings, and it is more melancholy still to meet one’s end in one’s bed at home in the midst of fond laments, dim lights and medicine bottles. But nothing is more difficult than to die in some strange, indifferent spot, in the characterless bed of an inn, to die there old and worn and leave no one behind in the world. ~ Dino Buzzati, #NFDB
274:For I think we may look upon our little private war with death somewhat in this light. If a man knows he will sooner or later be robbed upon a journey, he will have a bottle of the best in every inn, and look upon all his extravagances as so much gained upon thieves....So every bit of brisk living, and above all when it is healthful, is just so much gained upon the wholesale filcher, death. We shall have the less in our pockets, the more in our stomachs, when he cries stand and deliver. --An Inland Voyage ~ Robert Louis Stevenson, #NFDB
275:I’m gratified to know that I provide you with so much entertainment,” I said, my voice sharp with sarcasm. His eyes lit up, just as they had at the inn when I had started my game. “Are you really?” he asked. He leaned closer. “In that case, I will tell my mother that you plan to entertain us all with a song later.” I gasped. “You’d never.” He smiled broadly, then turned to his mother and said, “Mother, I have discovered that Miss Daventry is an accomplished singer. You must persuade her to perform for us later. ~ Julianne Donaldson, #NFDB
276:At the inn I could not stay more than three days and there were no apartments available close to the hermitage. Fortunately, I heard of a village about four versts away and I went there to look; God was with me and helped me to find a place. I made arrangements with a farmer to live in a little hut and guard his vegetable garden during the summer months. Praise be to God! I found a quiet place. Now I could begin to study interior prayer according to the method which was shown to me and I could still visit with the elder. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
277:Breakfast delivered on a tray every morning is joy, and so is a meal at noon if she doesn't go out. To dine every evening in an alcove of the inn set aside specially for the Morleys is a fore-taste of heaven. The alcove is large enough to entertain guests; they have use of a secluded parlor as well. Lydia could serve on committees, receive callers, go shopping, order a carriage whenever she felt like it, visit her children's houses and spoil her grandchildren without having them all congregate at the house and make chaos. ~ Ellen Cooney, #NFDB
278:Normality is like a home to us and everyday life a mother. After a long incursion into great poetry, into the mountains of sublime aspiration, the cliffs of the transcendent and the occult, it is the sweetest thing, savouring of all that is warm in life, to return to the inn where the happy fools laugh and joke, to join with them in their drinking, as foolish as they are, just as God made us, content with the universe that was given us, and to leave the rest to those who climb mountains and do nothing when they reach the top. ~ Fernando Pessoa, #NFDB
279:Hun skottet bort på Agatha Christie-boken igjen, tok den til seg og bladde litt i den. Alt var så enkelt, så oversiktlig. Et samfunn eller en familie blir rystet i grunnvollene av et mord. Miss Marple kommer inn i bildet, samler informasjon, analyserer situasjonen, avslorer morderen, og harmonien blir gjenopprettet. Et noye regissert univers, stringent og gjennomsiktig. Og enkelt å navigere i. Hun skulle onske at noen kunne ta regien på hennes liv på samme måte og ordne det slik at alt fikk en enkel, logisk og lykkelig losning. ~ J rn Lier Horst, #NFDB
280:It was an evening of torment, and I remember only one other thing about it. At some point after everyone was asleep, I wandered away from the inn in a daze and ended up on the sea cliffs, staring out into the darkness with sound of the roaring water below me. The thundering of the ocean was like a bitter lament. I seemed to see beneath everything a layering of cruelty I have never known was there. The howling of the wind and shaking of the trees seemed to mock me. Could it really be that the stream of my life had divided forever. ~ Arthur Golden, #NFDB
281:I'm fairly certain that, at this very minute, the [Mars Polar Lander] is floating somewhere around the Neptune feeling tired and cranky and looking for a Holiday Inn.Of course, you'd have to have a heart of titanium not to feel a twinge of sadness while watching those dejected NASA scientiest waiting by the phone like the class wallflower on prom week.On the other hand, it was kind of fun to watch a bunch of men waiting by the phone and seeing how they feel when someone promises they'll call and then YOU NEVER HEAR FROM HIM AGAIN. ~ Celia Rivenbark, #NFDB
282:We have already shown by references to the contemporary drama that the plea of custom is not sufficient to explain Shakespeare’s attitude to the lower classes, but if we widen our survey to the entire field of English letters in his day, we shall see that he was running counter to all the best traditions of our literature. From the time of Piers Plowman down, the peasant had stood high with the great writers of poetry and prose alike. Chaucer’s famous circle of story-tellers at the Tabard Inn in Southwark was eminently democratic. ~ William Shakespeare, #NFDB
283:Y Talbot in Tregaron, Wales On the town square in Tregaron, a convenient base for exploring the Cambrian Mountains or the western coast, the 17th-century Y Talbot inn, above, offers board and bed in a stone-constructed pub with nine rooms. The rooms were recently updated with bright décor, and while each is distinct in layout, several offer walkout access to or balcony views over a rear garden. The pub champions local and sustainable ingredients, and the bar features Welsh cask ales brewed nearby. Doubles from 110 pounds, or about $159 at $1.44 ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
284:is a flight from the Self, it is a temporary escape from the torment of Self. It is a temporary palliative against the pain and folly of life. The driver of oxen makes this same flight, takes this temporary drug when he drinks a few bowls of rice wine or coconut milk in the inn. He then no longer feels his Self, no longer feels the pain of life; he then experiences temporary escape. Falling asleep over his bowl of rice wine, he finds what Siddhartha and Govinda find when they escape from their bodies by long exercises and dwell in the non-Self. ~ Hermann Hesse, #NFDB
285:I'm fairly certain that, at this very minute, the [Mars Polar Lander] is floating somewhere around the Neptune feeling tired and cranky and looking for a Holiday Inn.
Of course, you'd have to have a heart of titanium not to feel a twinge of sadness while watching those dejected NASA scientiest waiting by the phone like the class wallflower on prom week.
On the other hand, it was kind of fun to watch a bunch of men waiting by the phone and seeing how they feel when someone promises they'll call and then YOU NEVER HEAR FROM HIM AGAIN. ~ Celia Rivenbark,#NFDB
286:The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn's sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of the night. If there had been musit . . . but no, of course there was no music. ~ Patrick Rothfuss, #NFDB
287:Gillie was grinning at the boy's indignant anger. He put a hand on the pages shoulder and looked coldly at Augusta. "Do you call my page a liar, old woman? And who are you to speak of this lady as your charge? My page is no liar, just as Thursey is not your charge. Not in any way. She is your landlord, for it is her inn you occupy. And it is to her you will answer for its keeping. She is beholden to no one, unless it would be the people of Gies in the same manner as I am—for she may be their princess soon. If she is willing," he added gently. ~ Shirley Rousseau Murphy, #NFDB
288:For all the unpleasant suggestion that it conjured, it was the one room in the inn that had vitality, and was not morne and drear. The other rooms appeared neglected or unused; even the parlor by the entrance-porch had a solitary air, as though it were many months since an honest traveler had stepped upon the threshold and warmed his back before a glowing fire. The guest-rooms upstairs were in an even worse state of repair. One was used for lumber, with boxes piled against the wall, and old horse-blankets chewed and torn by families of rats or mice. ~ Daphne du Maurier, #NFDB
289:SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17 and go back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof. I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the inn door, ~ Robert Louis Stevenson, #NFDB
290:For the first time since they'd left the inn, his eyes stopped roaming the hills and crags of the countryside and roamed her body's curves instead. Slowly, with a raw, possessive hunger.
A low, simmering heat sparked and built inside her, feeding off that desire in his eyes the same way a flame fed off coal.
He'd once called her uncommonly pretty in conversation, and at the time she had been tempted to argue back. But tonight, for the first time in her life, she felt irresistible. Ravishing.
Truly beautiful. In his eyes, if no one else's.
Oh, this was dangerous. ~ Tessa Dare,#NFDB
291:One of the odder services the Villa Candessa provided for its long-term guests was its “likeness cakes”—little frosted simulacra fashioned after the guests by the inn’s Camorr-trained pastry sculptor. On a silver tray beside the looking glass, a little sweetbread Locke (with raisin eyes and almond-butter blond hair) sat beside a rounder Jean with dark chocolate hair and beard. The baked Jean’s legs were already missing. A few moments later, Jean was brushing the last buttery crumbs from the front of his coat. “Alas, poor Locke and Jean.” “They died of consumption,” said Locke. ~ Scott Lynch, #NFDB
292:All my tendencies are deadly ones, he once said to me, everything in me has a deadly tendency to it, it's in my genes, as Wertheimer said, I thought. He always read books that were obsessed with suicide, with disease and death, I thought while standing in the inn, books that described human misery, the hopeless, meaningless, senseless world in which everything is always devastating and deadly. That's why he especially loved Dostoevsky and all his disciples, Russian literature in general, because it actually is a deadly literature, but also the depressing French philosophers. ~ Thomas Bernhard, #NFDB
293:I’ll lay a bet,” said Sancho, “that before long there won’t be a tavern, roadside inn, hostelry, or barber’s shop where the story of our doings won’t be painted up; but I’d like it painted by the hand of a better painter than painted these.” “Thou art right, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “for this painter is like Orbaneja, a painter there was at Ubeda, who when they asked him what he was painting, used to say, ‘Whatever it may turn out’; and if he chanced to paint a cock he would write under it, ‘This is a cock,’ for fear they might think it was a fox.” —Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote ~ Michael Gruber, #NFDB
294:You believe in heaven, Mister Stoner?'
'More than I believe in here, aye.'
She smoothed a corner of the folded blanket. 'Out here in the quiet heaven seems near, nearer than the inn where it's all bustle and noise.'
'You can hear the Almighty speak in the silences, you mean. See His hand most clear. I believe so too, but you got to want to see Him. hear Him.' He looked toward the hatchet throwers. 'Not turn a blind eye and ride right over what He's put in your path, nor try to outrun Him. Mebbe it's up to you and me to slow some folks down so they get quiet enough to hear Him. ~ Laura Frantz,#NFDB
295:One response was given by the innkeeper when Mary and Joseph wanted to find a room where the Child could be born. The innkeeper was not hostile; he was not opposed to them, but his inn was crowded; his hands were full; his mind was preoccupied. This is the answer that millions are giving today. Like a Bethlehem innkeeper, they cannot find room for Christ. All the accommodations in their hearts are already taken up by other crowding interests. Their response is not atheism. It is not defiance. It is preoccupation and the feeling of being able to get on reasonably well without Christianity. ~ Billy Graham, #NFDB
296:I loved you when you wore that hideous yellow gown. I loved you later that evening, when you stood amongst the dunes with the wind rippling through your glorious hair and the moon reflected in your eyes. I loved you when you burst into my bedchamber the following day. I loved you even more when you appeared at the inn that evening.’ He allowed a brief smile to curve his lips. ‘I loved and adored you when I held you in my arms and made love to you. Like Whitney with his Janette, I have loved everything about you in every moment of every day since the moment I first laid eyes on you, Jane! ~ Carole Mortimer, #NFDB
297:My dear loser, Glenn greeted Wertheimer, with his Canadian-American cold-bloodedness he always called him the loser, he called me quite dryly the philosopher, which didn’t bother me. Wertheimer, the loser, was for Glenn always busy losing, constantly losing out, whereas Glenn noticed I had the word philosopher in my mouth at all times and probably with sickening regularity, and so quite naturally we were for him the loser and the philosopher, I said to myself upon entering the inn. The loser and the philosopher went to America to see Glenn the piano virtuoso again, for no other reason. And ~ Thomas Bernhard, #NFDB
298:Einstein also became a supporter of racial tolerance. When Marian Anderson, the black contralto, came to Princeton for a concert in 1937, the Nassau Inn refused her a room. So Einstein invited her to stay at his house on Mercer Street, in what was a deeply personal as well as a publicly symbolic gesture. Two years later, when she was barred from performing in Washington’s Constitution Hall, she gave what became a historic free concert on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Whenever she returned to Princeton, she stayed with Einstein, her last visit coming just two months before he died.63 One ~ Walter Isaacson, #NFDB
299:On Broadway
About me young careless feet
Linger along the garish street;
Above, a hundred shouting signs
Shed down their bright fantastic glow
Upon the merry crowd and lines
Of moving carriages below.
Oh wonderful is Broadway -- only
My heart, my heart is lonely.
Desire naked, linked with Passion,
Goes trutting by in brazen fashion;
From playhouse, cabaret and inn
The rainbow lights of Broadway blaze
All gay without, all glad within;
As in a dream I stand and gaze
At Broadway, shining Broadway -- only
My heart, my heart is lonely.
~ Claude McKay,#NFDB
300:Wat ons, Europeanen, snel tegenstaat was voor de Amerikaanse reiziger vanaf de jaren vijftig juist een groot pluspunt: waar je ook belandde, de kamers in een Holiday Inn en de smaak van een McDonald’s waren precies hetzelfde. De consistentie en de eenheid van het product, de saaiheid zo je wilt, vormden de basis van deze succesformule. Je kon – en kunt – er altijd van op aan. Aan de andere kant, in de lijn van wat Steinbeck ook schrijft: als mensen smakeloos – en bovenal hygiënisch – voedsel niet alleen acceptabel vinden, maar zelfs gewenst, wat betekent dat dan voor het emotionele leven van een land? ~ Geert Mak, #NFDB
301:THE HIDDEN PAINTING THE AMUSEMENT PARK MYSTERY THE MYSTERY OF THE MIXED-UP ZOO THE CAMP-OUT MYSTERY THE MYSTERY GIRL THE MYSTERY CRUISE THE DISAPPEARING FRIEND MYSTERY THE MYSTERY OF THE SINGING GHOST MYSTERY IN THE SNOW THE PIZZA MYSTERY THE MYSTERY HORSE THE MYSTERY AT THE DOG SHOW THE CASTLE MYSTERY THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST VILLAGE THE MYSTERY ON THE ICE THE MYSTERY OF THE PURPLE POOL THE GHOST SHIP MYSTERY THE MYSTERY IN WASHINGTON, DC THE CANOE TRIP MYSTERY THE MYSTERY OF THE HIDDEN BEACH THE MYSTERY OF THE MISSING CAT THE MYSTERY AT SNOWFLAKE INN THE MYSTERY ON STAGE THE DINOSAUR MYSTERY T ~ Gertrude Chandler Warner, #NFDB
302:derfor kjenner Mette, når ho går forbi misjonshuset på veg til eitt av mange hustrekalde mote, at ho misunner dei som sit innanfor veggene der og spelar gitar: Dei er mange. Dei er trygge, dei folgjer kvarandre mildt opp som åra går, med yngres lag og eldres lag og barnelag, dei spaserer ei opptrekt rute fram, og det er opplagt for dei som smor at verda er vond, men Gud god, alt forklarleg er greitt og det uforklarlege er også greitt, eit under er eit under, og skrifta som dei held seg til, er ikkje til å gå seg vill i, men delt opp og nummerert i passelege småstykke til å ta inn og tygge på og glede seg over, ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
303:The raw afternoon is rawest, and the dense fog is densest, and the muddy streets are muddiest near that leaden-headed old obstruction, appropriate ornament for the threshold of a leaden-headed old corporation, Temple Bar. And hard by Temple Bar, in Lincoln's Inn Hall, at the very heart of the fog, sits the Lord High Chancellor in his High Court of Chancery. Never can there come fog too thick, never can there come mud and mire too deep, to assort with the groping and floundering condition which this High Court of Chancery, most pestilent of hoary sinners, holds this day in the sight of heaven and earth. On ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
304:Hun stupte inn i bokene, etterlignet hver bidige figur hun motte der. Hun leste en historie om en jente som satt og leste i klesskapet mens hun spiste kjeks med sjokoladebiter i, og da gjorde hun det samme. Hun leste Nancy Drew og Hardyguttene og lette etter ledetråder overalt, skrev dem ned i Harriet spion-notisboka si, selv om hun aldri fikk noe mer ut av dem enn stadig tilbakevendende skuffelser. Hun provde å romme og gjore som millioner av barn i millioner av boker, men hun og kofferten med bilde av en liten, gammeldags jente med kysehatt på, kom aldri lenger enn til rododendronbuskene for hun mistet motet. ~ Eleanor Brown, #NFDB
305:The Death of the Poor”, by Baudelaire; that helped me enormously.’ The sublime verses came back to me immediately, as if they had always been present in a corner of my consciousness, as if my whole life had only been a more or less explicit commentary on them: Death, alas! consoles and brings to life; The end of it all, the solitary hope; We, drunk on death’s elixir, face the strife, Take heart, and climb till dusk the weary slope. All through the storm, the frost, and the snow, Death on our black horizon pulses clear; Death is the famous inn that we all know, Where we can rest and sleep and have good cheer. ~ Michel Houellebecq, #NFDB
306:Soldier from the wars returning
Soldier from the wars returning,
Spoiler of the taken town,
Here is ease that asks not earning;
Turn you in and sit you down.
Peace is come and wars are over,
Welcome you and welcome all,
While the charger crops the clover
And his bridle hangs in stall.
Now no more of winters biting,
Filth in trench from tall to spring,
Summers full of sweat and fighting
For the Kesar or the King.
Rest you, charger, rust you, bridle;
Kings and kesars, keep your pay;
Soldier, sit you down and idle
At the inn of night for aye.
~ Alfred Edward Housman,#NFDB
307:His first coming He was wrapped in swadding clothes. In His second coming He will be clothed royally in a robe dipped in blood. common people. In His second coming He will be accompanied by the massive armies of heaven. In His first coming the door of the inn was closed to Him. In His second coming the door of the heavens will be opened to Him. In His first coming His voice was the tiny cry of a baby. In His second coming His voice will thunder as the sound of many waters. In His first coming, He was the lamp of God who came bringing salvation. In His second coming, He will be the Lion of the tribe of Judah who comes bringing ~ David Jeremiah, #NFDB
308:Sleeping On Horseback
We had rode long and were still far from the inn;
My eyes grew dim; for a moment I fell asleep.
Under my right arm the whip still dangled;
In my left hand the reins for an instant slackened.
Suddenly I woke and turned to question my groom:
'We have gone a hundred paces since you fell asleep.'
Body and spirit for a while had exchanged place;
Swift and slow had turned to their contraries.
For these few steps that my horse had carried me
Had taken in my dream countless aeons of time!
True indeed is that saying of Wise Men
'A hundred years are but a moment of sleep.'
~ Bai Juyi,#NFDB
309:On Egdon there was no absolute hour of the day. The time at any moment was a number of varying doctrines professed by the different hamlets, some of them having originally grown up from a common root, and then become divided by secession, some having been alien from the beginning. West Egdon believed in Blooms-End time, East Egdon in the time of the Quiet Woman Inn. Grandfer Cantle's watch had numbered many followers in years gone by, but since he had grown older faiths were shaken. Thus, the mummers having gathered here from scattered points, each came with his own tenets on early and late; and they waited a little longer as a compromise. ~ Thomas Hardy, #NFDB
310:When he awoke Rivers found the doors of the inn locked. He asked the reason for this precaution. Gloucester and Buckingham met him with scowling gaze and accused him of “trying to set distance” between the King and them. He and Grey were immediately made prisoners. Richard then rode with his power to Stony Stratford, arrested the commanders of the two thousand horse, forced his way to the young King, and told him he had discovered a design on the part of Lord Rivers and others to seize the Government and oppress the old nobility. On this declaration Edward V took the only positive action recorded of his reign. He wept. Well he might. ~ Winston S Churchill, #NFDB
311:Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn,
We should have sat us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin!
But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place.
I shot him dead because —
Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
That's clear enough; although
He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,
Off-hand like — just as I —
Was out of work — had sold his traps —
No other reason why.
Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You'd treat if met where any bar is,
Or help to half-a-crown. ~ Thomas Hardy,#NFDB
312:Polly?' Said Wazzer.
'Yes?'
'You don't believe in The Duchess, do you? I mean the real Duchess, not your inn.'
Polly looked into the small, pinched, intense face.
'Well I mean, they say she's dead, and I prayed to her when I was small, but since you asked I don't exactly, um, believe as-' She gabbled.
'She is standing just behind you. Just behind your right shoulder.'
In the silence of the wood, Polly turned. 'I can't see her,' she said.
'I am happy for you,' said Wazzer, handing her the empty mug.
'But I didn't see anything,' said Polly.
'No,' said Wazzer. 'But you turned around. ~ Terry Pratchett,#NFDB
313:I wish there was a song called “Nguyen and Ari,” a little ditty about a hardworking Vietnamese girl who helps her parents withthe franchised Holiday Inn they run, and does homework in thelobby, and Ari, a hardworking Jewish boy who does volunteerwork at his grandmother’s old-age home, and they meet afterschool at Princeton Review. They help each other study for theSATs and different AP courses, and then, after months of study-ing, and mountains of flashcards, they kiss chastely upon hear-ing the news that they both got into their top college choices.This is a song teens need to inadvertently memorize. Now that’sa song I’d request at Johnny Rockets! ~ Mindy Kaling, #NFDB
314: Lila
In us is the thousandfold Spirit who is one,
An eternal thinker calm and great and wise,
A seer whose eye is an all-regarding sun,
A poet of the cosmic mysteries.
A critic Witness pieces everything
And binds the fragments in his brilliant sheaf;
A World-adventurer borne on Destiny's wing
Gambles with death and triumph, joy and grief.
A king of greatness and a slave of love,
Host of the stars and guest in Nature's inn,
A high spectator spirit throned above,
A pawn of passion in the game divine,
One who has made in sport the suns and seas
Mirrors in our being his immense caprice.
~ Sri Aurobindo, - Lila
,#NFDB
315:The inn's guests were sometimes friendly, but more often they were rude. As bad as the ones who stared were the ones who looked away in embarrassment. Some guests didn't want me to serve their food, and some didn't want me to clean their rooms.
We Ayorthians are sensitive to beauty, more sensitive than the subjects in other kingdoms, I think. We love a fine voice especially, but we also admire a rosy sunset, a sweet scent, a fetching face. And when we're not pleased, we're displeased.
I developed the habit of holding my hand in front of my face when guests arrived, a foolish practice, because it raised curiosity and concealed little. ~ Gail Carson Levine,#NFDB
316:We got out at Sonning, and went for a walk round the village. It is the most fairy-like little nook on the whole river. It is more like a stage village than one built of bricks and mortar. Every house is smothered in roses, and now, in early June, they were bursting forth in clouds of dainty splendour. If you stop at Sonning, put up at the “Bull,” behind the church. It is a veritable picture of an old country inn, with green, square courtyard in front, where, on seats beneath the trees, the old men group of an evening to drink their ale and gossip over village politics; with low, quaint rooms and latticed windows, and awkward stairs and winding passages. ~ Jerome K Jerome, #NFDB
317:The Man He Killed
Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn,
We should have set us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin!
But ranged as infantry,
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place.
I shot him dead because—
Because he was my foe,
Just so: my foe of course he was;
That's clear enough; although
He thought he'd 'list, perhaps,
Off-hand like—just as I—
Was out of work—had sold his traps—
No other reason why.
Yes; quaint and curious war is!
You shoot a fellow down
You'd treat, if met where any bar is,
Or help to half a crown. ~ Thomas Hardy,#NFDB
318:Through the open doorway I heard the warm, bustling sounds of a busy inn: the low murmur of conversation, punctuated with laughter, the bright clink of bottle glass, and the dull thump of wooden tankards on tabletops. And, threading gently through it all, a lute played in the background. It was faint, almost drowned by the other noise, but I heard it the same way a mother can mark her child crying from a dozen rooms away. the music was like a memory of family, of friendship and warm belonging. It made my gut twist and my teeth ache. For a moment my hands stopped aching from the cold, and instead longed for the familiar feel of music running through them. ~ Patrick Rothfuss, #NFDB
319:Norm made his way behind a wet bar. “You want something, Myron? I don’t think they have any Yoo-Hoo in here, but I’m sure—” “Nothing,” Myron interrupted. Norm did the mock surrender thing with his hands. “Sheesh, Myron, relax,” he said. “What’s twisting your nipple?” “I wanted to warn you, Norm.” “Warn me about what?” “I don’t want to do this. As far as I’m concerned, your love life should be personal. But it’s not that easy. Not anymore. It’s going to get out, Norm. I’m sorry.” Norm Zuckerman did not move. He opened his mouth as though readying to protest. Then he stopped. “How did you find out?” “You were with Jack. At the Court Manor Inn. A maid saw you.” Norm ~ Harlan Coben, #NFDB
320:There’s someone in town asking for directions to Bhaile Anois,” she said. “He checked in late last night at the inn.”
Any and Dan exchanged uneasy glances.
“What does he look like?” Amy asked.
Fiona narrowed her eyes. “Sneaky, for certain,” she said. “And he’s quite a waster. Good for nothin’ but complaining. Nora over at the inn said he’s never satisfied with the temperature if his tea, and he asked for a cashmere throw in his room.”
Any and Dan exchanged another glance.
“IAN,” they said together, and sighed.
“You know the eejit?” Fiona asked.
“The eejit is our cousin,” Amy said.
“Distant cousin,” Dan added. “Very, very distant. ~ Jude Watson,#NFDB
321:Quillonians were a reclusive race, proud, prone to drama, and violent when cornered. A couple of them had stayed at my parents’ inn, and as long as everything went their way, they were perfectly cordial, but the moment any small problem appeared, they would start putting exclamation marks at the end of all their sentences. My mother didn’t like dealing with them. She was very practical. If you brought a problem to her, she’d take it apart and figure out how best to resolve it. From what I remembered, Quillonians didn’t always want their problems resolved. They wanted a chance to shake their clawed fists at the sky, invoke their gods, and act as if the world was ending. ~ Ilona Andrews, #NFDB
322:By the time we had reached the chestnut grove in front of the inn I had said so little that my companion was sure I was one of the most intelligent women he had ever met. I know he thought so, for he turned suddenly to me as we were walking past the Frau Förster’s wash-house and rose-garden up to the chestnuts, and said, ‘How is it that German women are so infinitely more intellectual than English women?’ Intellectual! How nice. And all the result of keeping quiet in the right places. ‘I did not know they were,’ I said modestly; which was true. ‘Oh but they are,’ he assured me with great positiveness; and added, ‘Perhaps you have noticed that I am English?’ Noticed ~ Elizabeth von Arnim, #NFDB
323:They passed several sleazy motels and a potpourri of gas stations on Route 4. No-tell motels in New Jersey always gave themselves lofty names that belied their social station. Right now, for example, they were driving past the “Courtesy Inn.” This fine establishment not only gave you courteous attention, but they gave it to you by the hour at a rate, according to the sign, of $19.82. Not twenty dollars, mind you, but $19.82—so priced, Myron guessed, because it was also the year they last changed sheets. The CHEAP BEER DEPOT, according to another sign, was the next building on Myron’s right. Truth in advertising. Nice to see. The Courtesy Inn could learn a lesson from them. ~ Harlan Coben, #NFDB
324:Jeg har alltid sagt at du ikke legger tilstrekkelig vekt på bifigurene. En roman skal ligne en gate full av ukjente, hvor to-tre personer man kjenner til bunns, går forbi. Ikke flere. Se på andre forfattere, som Proust - de visste å gjore bruk av bifigurene. De bruker dem for å ydmyke hovedpersonene og gjore dem mindre. Det finnes ikke noe mer helsebringende i en roman enn å gi heltene en slik leksjon i ydmykhet. Tenk på de små bondekonene i Krig og fred, de som krysser veien foran vognen til fyrst Andrej og ler. De er de forste som ser ham, han snakker til dem, rett inn i orene deres, og dermed lofter leserens blikk seg, nå blir det bare ett eneste ansikt, en eneste sjel. ~ Ir ne N mirovsky, #NFDB
325:Cheerfulness Taught By Reason
I THINK we are too ready with complaint
In this fair world of God's. Had we no hope
Indeed beyond the zenith and the slope
Of yon gray blank of sky, we might grow faint
To muse upon eternity's constraint
Round our aspirant souls; but since the scope
Must widen early, is it well to droop,
For a few days consumed in loss and taint ?
O pusillanimous Heart, be comforted
And, like a cheerful traveller, take the road
Singing beside the hedge. What if the bread
Be bitter in thine inn, and thou unshod
To meet the flints ? At least it may be said
' Because the way is short, I thank thee, God. '
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,#NFDB
326:Up-Hill
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.
~ Christina Georgina Rossetti,#NFDB
327:The duty of the inn-keeper,is to sell to the first comer, stews, repose, light, fire, dirty
sheets, a servant, lice, and a smile; to stop passers-by, to empty small
purses, and to honestly lighten heavy ones; to shelter travelling families
respectfully: to shave the man, to pluck the woman, to pick the child
clean; to quote the window open, the window shut, the chimney-corner,the arm-chair, the chair, the ottoman, the stool, the feather-bed, the mattress
and the truss of straw; to know how much the shadow uses up the
mirror, and to put a price on it; and, by five hundred thousand devils, to
make the traveller pay for everything, even for the flies which his dog
eats! ~ Victor Hugo,#NFDB
328:After Ian left for the Greenleaf Inn, where he planned to stop for the night before continuing the trip to his own home, Elizabeth stayed downstairs to put out the candles and tidy up the drawing room. In one of the guest chambers above, Jordan glanced at his wife’s faint, preoccupied smile and suppressed a knowing grin. “Now what do you think of the Marquess of Kensington?” he asked.
Her eyes were shining as she lifted them to his. “I think,” she softly said, “that unless he does something dreadful, I’m prepared to believe he could truly be your cousin.”
“Thank you, darling,” Jordan replied tenderly, paraphrasing Ian’s words. “I’m happy to see your opinion of him is already improving. ~ Judith McNaught,#NFDB
329:IT WAS NIGHT AGAIN. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts. The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music . . . but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained. ~ Patrick Rothfuss, #NFDB
330:I see life as a roadside inn where I have to stay until the coach from the abyss pulls up. I don’t know where it will take me, because I don’t know anything. I could see this inn as a prison, for I’m compelled to wait in it; I could see it as a social centre, for it’s here that I meet others. But I’m neither impatient nor common. I leave who will to stay shut up in their rooms, sprawled out on beds where they sleeplessly wait, and I leave who will to chat in the parlours, from where their songs and voices conveniently drift out here to me. I’m sitting at the door, feasting my eyes and ears on the colours and sounds of the landscape, and I softly sing – for myself alone – wispy songs I compose while waiting. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
331:Women think differently to men; they travel separate paths. That's why I have no liking for them; they make for trouble and confusion. It was pleasure enough to take you to Launceston, Mary, but when it comes to life and death, like my business now, God knows I wish you a hundred miles away, or sitting primly, your sewing in your lap, in a trim parlour somewhere, where you belong to be."
"That's never been my life, nor ever will."
"Why not? You'll wed a farmer one day, or small tradesman, and live respectably among your neighbours. Don't tell them you lived once at Jamaica Inn, and had love made to you by a horse-thief. They'd shut their doors against you. Good-bye, and here's prosperity to you. ~ Daphne du Maurier,#NFDB
332:Don’t you see?” she cried. “I cannot have been wrong that you don’t have a heart.”
He came toward her swiftly, grasped her wrist, and flattened her hand to his chest. Through his ribs, his heartbeats beneath her palm were fast and hard. “You are denying me this?” he said close to her brow, the depth of his voice coating her rawness. “Because it has been like this since you walked through the door of that inn four days ago. It was like this when you stood across your parlor in London refusing me. And in Edinburgh in April. And each time I have seen you for longer than I can say.”
“Stop. Do not say this.”
“I don’t need to kiss you to feel this,” he said. “You have been turning me inside out for years. ~ Katharine Ashe,#NFDB
333:What is meditation? What is leaving one's body? What is fasting? What is holding one's breath? It is fleeing from the self, it is a short escape of the agony of being a self, it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. The same escape, the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice-wine or fermented coconut-milk. Then he won't feel his self any more, then he won't feel the pains of life any more, then he finds a short numbing of the senses. When he falls asleep over his bowl of rice-wine, he'll find the same what Siddhartha and Govinda find when they escape their bodies through long exercises, staying in the non-self. ~ Hermann Hesse, #NFDB
334:Faktisk burde jeg ha skrevet til de andre 66 enkene også. Jeg burde ha sendt et standard kondolansebrev til hver og én: Kjære Det er med stor beklagelse og et visst vemod jeg skriver for å opplyse Dem om at det var jeg som drepte Deres ektemann. Jeg er selvfolgelig klar over at intet kan erstatte Deres livs storste kjærlighet, og uansett hvor dypt min beklagelse måtte stikke, kan den aldri bringe ham tilbake. Allikevel vil jeg be Dem om å forsoke å sette Dem inn i min situasjon. På det tidspunktet da deres ektemann ble henrettet, var jeg profesjonell leiemorder for en viss landsomfattende organisasjon. Drap var levebrodet mitt. Fra 2000 til 2006 drepte jeg 67 mennesker. Deres ektemann var én av mange. ~ Hallgr mur Helgason, #NFDB
335:What is meditative absorption? What is leaving the body? What is fasting? What is holding the breath? These are a flight from the ego, a brief escape from the torment of being an ego, a short-term deadening of the pain and absurdity of life. This same escape, this same momentary deadening, is achieved by the ox driver in an inn when he drinks a bowl of rice wine or fermented coconut milk. Then he no longer feels his self, then he no longer feels the pains of life—he achieves momentary numbness. Falling asleep over his bowl of rice wine, he reaches the same result Siddhartha and Govinda reach when, through long practice sessions, they escape their bodies and dwell in nonego. That is the way it is, Govinda.” Govinda ~ Hermann Hesse, #NFDB
336:Life
Life's a name
That nothing here can truly claim;
This wretched inn, where we scarce stay to bait,
We call our dwelling-place!
And mighty voyages we take,
And mighty journeys seem to make,
O'er sea and land, the little point that has no space.
Because we fight and battles gain,
Some captives call, and say, 'the rest are slain';
Because we heap up yellow earth, and so
Rich, valiant, wise, and virtuous seem to grow;
Because we draw a long nobility
From hieroglyphic proofs of heraldryWe grow at last by Custom to believe,
That really we Live;
Whilst all these Shadows, that for Things we take,
Are but the empty Dreams which in Death's sleep we make.
~ Abraham Cowley,#NFDB
337:The Tavern Of Last Times
At Box Hill, Surrey
A modern hour from London (as we spin
Into a silver thread the miles of space
Between us and our goal), there is a place
Apart from city traffic, dust, and din,
Green with great trees, where hides a quiet Inn.
Here Nelson last looked on the lovely face
Which made his world; and by its magic grace
Trailed rosy clouds across each early sin.
And, leaning lawnward, is the room where Keats
Wrote the last one of those immortal songs
(Called by the critics of his day 'mere rhymes').
A lark, high in the boxwood bough repeats
Those lyric strains, to idle passing throngs,
There by the little Tavern-of-Last-Times.
~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox,#NFDB
338:Det var bare en bit som ennå ikke hadde funnet sitt puslespill. Nei, det var et puslespill som ikke hadde funnet sine biter. Det var bare skyen som ikke hadde funnet sin himmel. Jeg trodde jeg skulle bli et helere menneske ved å fylle ut tomrommene i meg. Det omvendte var tilfelle. Jo mer jeg fylte på, desto tommere ble jeg, alt jeg tok inn hulte meg ut, og alt jeg kastet opp tynget meg mer og mer. Enda en gang visste jeg: Det er for mye innhold i verden. Verden trekker deg ned. Det er ikke plass i et menneske, i et enkelt menneske, til alt dette. Jeg lengtet etter overflater. Jeg lengtet etter en eske som jeg kunne legge alt i. Men verden er som sagt påtrengende og ublu. Verden gir seg ikke med det forste. ~ Lars Saabye Christensen, #NFDB
339:1And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2aThis census first took place while Quirinius was governing Syria. 3So all went to be registered, everyone to his own city. 4Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, to bthe city of David, which is called Bethlehem, cbecause he was of the house and lineage of David, 5to be registered with Mary, dhis betrothed 1wife, who was with child. 6So it was, that while they were there, the days were completed for her to be delivered. 7And eshe brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a 2manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
340:One interesting side-effect of the fire in Ankh-Morpork concerns the inn-sewer-ants policy, which left the city through the ravaged roof of the Broken Drum, was wafted high into the discworld's atmosphere on the ensuing thermal, and came to earth several days and a few thousand miles away on an uloruaha bush in the beTrobi islands. The simple, laughing islanders subsequently worshipped it as a god, much to the amusement of their more sophisticated neighbours. Strangely enough the rainfall and harvests in the next few years were almost supernaturally abundant, and this led to a research team being despatched to the islands by the Minor Religions faculty of Unseen University. Their verdict was that it only went to show. * ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
341:Fire auge med glimt og strålar under vippene. Heile spegelglaset fullt. Sporsmål som skyt fram og goymer seg att. Eg veit ikkje: Glimt og strålar, glimt frå deg til meg, frå meg til deg, og frå meg til deg åleine - inn i glaset og tilbake, og aldri noko svar på kva dette er, aldri noko loysning. Dei raude putande leppene dine, nei det er mine, så likt! Håret på same måten, og glimt og strålar. Det er oss! Vi kan ikkje gjera noko med det, det er som frå ei anna verd. Biletet byrjar å svive, flyt ut til kantane, samlar seg, nei samlar seg ikkje. Det er ein munn som smiler. Ein munn frå ei anna verd. Nei det er ingen munn, det er ikkje noko smil, det er noko ingen veit - det er berre oppspana augevipper over glimt og strålar. ~ Tarjei Vesaas, #NFDB
342:The Death Of The Poor
It is Death, alas, persuades us to keep on living:
the goal of life and the only hope we have,
like an elixir, rousing, intoxicating, giving
the strength to march on towards the grave:
through the frost and snow and storm-wind, look
it’s the vibrant light on our black horizon:
the fabulous inn, written of in the book,
where one can eat, and sleep and sit oneself down:
it’s an Angel, who holds in his magnetic beams,
sleep and the gift of ecstatic dreams,
who makes the bed where the poor and naked lie:
it’s the glory of the Gods, the mystic granary,
it’s the poor man’s purse, his ancient country,
it’s the doorway opening on an unknown sky!
~ Charles Baudelaire,#NFDB
343:En eina grundvallaraðgerð hafði honum ekki tekist að framkvæma, að uppfæra sjálfan sig, útgáfu 2.0. Þótt hann væri fæddur fréttaskýrandi, með virðingu fyrir málfrelsinu í merg og beinum, fífldirfsku í hjartanu, tæknisnilli í heilanum og liminn sem áttavita, hafði það ekki dugað til, dagarnir höfðu verið of stuttir, runnið of hratt úr greipum hans, og nú var allt um seinan. Tíminn var takmarkalaus þar til hann var allt í einu liðinn. Hin óhlutdræga, rannsakandi, upplýsandi blaðamennska, eins og hún var í augum þeirra allra, allra nútíma-þátttakendanna, hún yrði ekkert annað en stutt málsgrein í sögu mannsins, og það var hann, hann sjálfur í eigin persónu, sem hafði haldið um stýrið þegar þau hröpuðu beint niður til helvítis. ~ Liza Marklund, #NFDB
344:An inn, of course, was a place you came to at night (not at three o'clock in the afternoon), preferably a rainy night—wind, too, if it could be managed; and it should be situated on a moor (“bleak,” Kate knew, was the adjective here). And there should be scullions; mine host should be gravy-stained and broad in the beam with a tousled apron pulled across his stomach; and there should be a tall, dark stranger—the one who speaks to nobody—warming thin hands before the fire. And the fire should be a fire—crackling and blazing, laid with an impossible size log and roaring its great heart out up the chimney. And there should be some sort of cauldron, Kate felt, somewhere about—and, perhaps, a couple of mastiffs thrown in for good measure. ~ Mary Norton, #NFDB
345:Since the beginning of storytelling, he explained, Death has called on the unwitting. In one tale or another, it arrives quietly in town and takes a room at an inn, or lurks in an alleyway, or lingers in the marketplace, surreptitiously. Then just when the hero has a moment of respite from his daily affairs, Death pays him a visit. This is all well and good, allowed the Count. But what is rarely related is the fact that Life is every bit as devious as Death. It too can wear a hooded coat. It too can slip into town, lurk in an alley, or wait in the back of a tavern. Hadn't it paid such a visit to Mishka? Hadn't it found him hiding behind his books, lured him out of the library, and taken his hand on a secluded spot overlooking the Neva? ~ Amor Towles, #NFDB
346:Early-stage religion is largely preparing you for the immense gift of this burning, this inner experience of God, as though creating a proper stable into which the Christ can be born. Unfortunately, most people get so preoccupied with their stable, and whether their stable is better than your stable, or whether their stable is the only “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic” stable, that they never get to the birth of God in the soul. There is no indication in the text that Jesus demanded ideal stable conditions; in fact, you could say that the specific mentioning of his birth in a “manger” is making the exact opposite point. Animals at least had room for him, while there was “no room for him in the inn” (Luke 2:8) where humans dwelled. As ~ Richard Rohr, #NFDB
347:She made a creche outside the Inn. The natives thought it was wonderful, and Sister Honey was gratified by their numbers.
Why have the devils with wings come to mock at the poor baby?' asked the children, pointing to the angels.
The baby is the Number One Lord Jesus Christ,' Ayah told them.
But he hasn't any clothes on! Aren't they going to give Him anything? Not a little red robe? Not a bit of melted butter?'
This is His Mother,' said Ayah, showing them the little porcelain Virgin in blue and white and pink. 'He is her child.'
That isn't true,' said the women, measuring the baby with their eyes. 'He's too big to be possible. Probably He's a dragon, an evil spirit in the shape of a child, and presently He'll eat up the woman. ~ Rumer Godden,#NFDB
348:What is meditation? What is leaving one's body? What is fasting? What is holding one's breath? It is fleeing from the self, it is a short escape of the agony of being a self, it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. The same escape, the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice-wine or fermented coconut-milk. Then he won't feel his self any more, then he won't feel the pains of life any more, then he finds a short numbing of the senses. When he falls asleep over his bowl of rice-wine, he'll find the same what Siddhartha and Govinda find when they escape their bodies through long exercises, staying in the non-self. This is how it is, oh Govinda. ~ Hermann Hesse, #NFDB
349:The Owl
DOWNHILL I came, hungry, and yet not starved,
Cold, yet had heat within me that was proof
Against the north wind; tired, yet so that rest
Had seemed the sweetest thing under a roof.
Then at the inn I had food, fire, and rest,
Knowing how hungry, cold, and tired was I.
All of the night was quite barred out except
An owl's cry, a most melancholy cry.
Shaken out long and clear upon the hill
No merry note, nor cause of merriment,
But one telling me plain what I escaped
And others could not, that night, as in I went.
And salted was my food, and my repose,
Salted and sobered too, by the bird's voice
Speaking for all who lay under the stars,
Soldiers and poor, unable to rejoice.
~ Edward Thomas,#NFDB
350:Anonymous > Quotes > Quotable Quote
“I see life as a roadside inn where I have to stay until the coach from the abyss pulls up. I don’t know where it will take me, because I don’t know anything. I could see this inn as a prison, for I’m compelled to wait in it; I could see it as a social centre, for it’s here that I meet others. But I’m neither impatient nor common. I leave who will to stay shut up in their rooms, sprawled out on beds where they sleeplessly wait, and I leave who will to chat in the parlours, from where their songs and voices conveniently drift out here to me. I’m sitting at the door, feasting my eyes and ears on the colours and sounds of the landscape, and I softly sing – for myself alone – wispy songs I compose while waiting. ~ Fernando Pessoa,#NFDB
351:At their first official leadership retreat in January 2009, the model that the House Republicans chose to emulate was the Taliban. The Texas congressman Pete Sessions, the new leader of the Republican House campaign committee, held up Afghanistan’s infamous Islamic extremists as providing an example of how they could wage “asymmetric warfare.” The country might be in an economic crisis, but governing, he told his colleagues, was not the reason they had been elected. As he flashed through a slide presentation at the Annapolis Inn, he asked his colleagues, “If the Purpose of the Majority is to Govern…What is Our Purpose?” His answer was simple: “The Purpose of the Minority is to become the Majority.” That one goal, he said, was “the entire Conference’s mission. ~ Jane Mayer, #NFDB
352:The Maid-Servant At The Inn
"It's queer," she said; "I see the light
As plain as I beheld it then,
All silver-like and calm and brightWe've not had stars like that again!
"And she was such a gentle thing
To birth a baby in the cold.
The barn was dark and frighteningThis new one's better than the old.
"I mind my eyes were full of tears,
For I was young, and quick distressed,
But she was less than me in years
That held a son against her breast.
"I never saw a sweeter childThe little one, the darling one!I mind I told her, when he smiled
You'd know he was his mother's son.
"It's queer that I should see them soThe time they came to Bethlehem
Was more than thirty years ago;
I've prayed that all is well with them."
~ Dorothy Parker,#NFDB
353:All over the world for a hundred years, almost, there have been people reading Dickens. In town and in country, at home and abroad, in winter with the candles lighted and the outside world forgotten; in summer beneath a shadowing tree or in a sheltered corner of the beach; in garret bedrooms, in frontier cabins, in the light of the camp fire and in the long vigil of the sickroom — people reading Dickens.
And everywhere the mind enthralled, absorbed, uplifted; the anxieties of life, the grind of poverty, the loneliness of bereavement, and the longings of exile, forgotten, conjured away, as there arises from the magic page the inner vision of the lanes and fields of England, and on the ear the murmured sounds of London, the tide washing up the Thames, and the fog falling upon Lincoln's Inn. ~ Stephen Leacock,#NFDB
354:A couple, both age seventy-eight, went to a sex therapist’s office. The doctor asked, “What can I do for you?” The man said, “Will you watch us have sexual intercourse?” The doctor looked puzzled, but agreed. When the couple finished, the doctor said, “There’s nothing wrong with the way you have intercourse,” and charged them $50. The couple asked for another appointment and returned once a week for several weeks. They would have intercourse, pay the doctor, then leave. Finally, the doctor asked, “Just exactly what are you trying to find out?” The old man said, “We’re not trying to find out anything. She’s married and we can’t go to her house. I’m married and we can’t go to my house. The Holiday Inn charges $93 and the Hilton Inn charges $108. We do it here for $50, and I get $43 back from Medicare. ~ Burton G Malkiel, #NFDB
355:If you are a millionaire beset by blackmailers or anyone else to whose comfort the best legal advice is essential, and have decided to put your affairs in the hands of the ablest and discreetest firm in London, you proceed through a dark and grimy entry and up a dark and grimy flight of stairs; and, having felt your way along a dark and grimy passage, you come at length to a dark and grimy door. There is plenty of dirt in other parts of Ridgeway's Inn, but nowhere is it so plentiful, so rich in alluvial deposits, as on the exterior of the offices of Marlowe, Thorpe, Prescott, Winslow and Appleby. As you tap on the topmost of the geological strata concealing the ground-glass of the door, a sense of relief and security floods your being. For in London grubbiness is the gauge of a lawyer's respectability. ~ P G Wodehouse, #NFDB
356:I sent a messenger to the inn where they’re staying,” he told us. “They’ll look after you while Castor and I are with the Pythia. Have a good time in Delphi.” He acted as though he’d just solved every problem in the world.
I didn’t see it that way.
As we crossed the temple grounds together, I asked Polydeuces, “Is there a good reason you’re treating me like a silly sheep?” I indicated the two soldiers behind me. “Or are you embarrassing me like this just because you can?”
Castor spoke up before his twin could answer. “Stop making a fuss over nothing, Helen. These men will protect you, not steer you.”
“That’s right, Lady Helen,” the taller of the two said. “We’re your shadows, not your sheepdogs. Go anywhere you want.”
I gave him a sweet, innocent smile. Then I barked at him. ~ Esther M Friesner,#NFDB
357:One of the villagers had left his home to try his luck abroad. After twenty five years, having made a fortune, he returned to his country with his wife and child. Meanwhile his mother and sister had been running a small hotel in the village where he was born. He decided to give them a surprise and, leaving his wife and child in another inn, he went to stay at his mother’s place, booking a room under an assumed name. His mother and sister completely failed to recognize him. At dinner that evening he showed them a large sum of money he had on him, and in the course of the night they slaughtered him with a hammer. After taking the money they flung the body into the river. Next morning his wife came and, without thinking, betrayed the guest’s identity. His mother hanged herself. His sister threw herself into a well. ~ Albert Camus, #NFDB
358:So what I want to know is why it is that I can no longer find you, in my mind. You are still there, just, but you are there like a ghost, a will o' the wisp. Not long ago you burned--your heart burned--in my mind like silver fire. But after that night in the inn it became patchy and dim, and now it is not there at all."
"Could it be that the heart that you seek is no longer my own? I have given my heart to another."
"The boy? The one in the inn? With the unicorn?"
"Yes."
"You should have let me take it back then, for my sisters and me. We could have been young again, well into the next age of the world. Your boy will break it, or waste it, or lose it. They all do."
"Nonetheless, he has my heart. I hope your sisters will not be too hard on you, when you return to them without it. ~ Neil Gaiman,#NFDB
359:Tear
Far away from birds and herds and village girls,
I was drinking, kneeling down in some heather
Surrounded by soft hazel copses,
In an afternoon mist, warm and green.
What can I have been drinking in that young Oise,
Voiceless elms, flowerless turf, overcast sky.
What did I draw from the gourd of the wine ?
Some golden liquor, pale, which causes sweating.
Such as I was, I should have made a poor inn-sign.
Then the storm changed the sky, until the evening.
It was black countries, lakes, poles,
Colonnades under the blue night, railway stations.
The water from the woods trickled away into virgin sands,
The wind, from the sky, threw sheets of ice across the ponds ...
But ! like a fisher for gold or shellfish,
To think that I did not bother to drink !
~ Arthur Rimbaud,#NFDB
360:Same day, 11 o'clock p. m..—Oh, but I am tired! If it were not that I had made my diary a duty I should not open it tonight. We had a lovely walk. Lucy, after a while, was in gay spirits, owing, I think, to some dear cows who came nosing towards us in a field close to the lighthouse, and frightened the wits out of us. I believe we forgot everything, except of course, personal fear, and it seemed to wipe the slate clean and give us a fresh start. We had a capital `severe tea' at Robin Hood's Bay in a sweet little oldfashioned inn, with a bow window right over the seaweedcovered rocks of the strand. I believe we should have shocked the `New Woman' with our appetites. Men are more tolerant, bless them! Then we walked home with some, or rather many, stoppages to rest, and with our hearts full of a constant dread of wild bulls. ~ Bram Stoker, #NFDB
361:A Gentleman
'He has robbed two clubs. The judge at Salisbury
Can't give him more than he undoubtedly
Deserves. The scoundrel! Look at his photograph!
A lady-killer! Hanging's too good by half
For such as he.' So said the stranger, one
With crimes yet undiscovered or undone.
But at the inn the Gipsy dame began:
'Now he was what I call a gentleman.
He went along with Carrie, and when she
Had a baby he paid up so readily
His half a crown. Just like him. A crown'd have been
More like him. For I never knew him mean.
Oh! but he was such a nice gentleman. Oh!
Last time we met he said if me and Joe
Was anywhere near we must be sure and call.
He put his arms around our Amos all
As if he were his own son. I pray God
Save him from justice! Nicer man never trod.'
~ Edward Thomas,#NFDB
362:My dear," said my mother suddenly, "take the money and run on. I am going to faint." This was certainly the end for us both, I thought. How I cursed the cowardice of the neigbors; how I blamed my poor mother for her honesty and her greed, for her past foolhardiness and present weakness! We were just at the little bridge, by good fortune, and I helped her, tottering as she was, to the edge of the bank, where, sure enough, she gave a sigh and fell on my shoulder. I do not know how I found the strength to do it all, and I am afraid it was roughly done, but I managed to drag her down to the bank and a little way under the arch. Farther I could not mover her, for the bridge was too low to let me do more than crawl below it. So there we had to stay--my mother almost entirely visible and both of us within earshot of the inn. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson, #NFDB
363:The Inn Of Apollo
Have you supped at the Inn of Apollo,
While the last light fades from the West?
Has the Lord of the Sun, at the world's end,
Poured you his ripest and best?
O, there's wine in that Inn of Apollo;
Wine, mellow and deep as the sunset,
With mirth in it, singing as loud
As the skylark sings in a high wind,
High over a crisp white cloud.
Have you laughed in that Inn of Apollo?
Was the whole world molten in music
At once, by the heat of that wine?
Did the stars and the tides and your own heart
Dance with the heavenly Nine?
For they dance in that Inn of Apollo.
Was their poetry croaked by the sages,
Or born in a whisper of wings?
For the music that masters the ages,
Be sure, is the music that sings!
Yes, they sing in that Inn of Apollo.
~ Alfred Noyes,#NFDB
364:We went back to the hotel to take our clothes off immediately, as though this were our only purpose, and I recollect that this was about loneliness, as far as I was concerned. The thing you did to alleviate the loneliness was to take off your clothes and touch someone, even if you didn’t really know the person well. I could just as easily have asked her to let me lie down on top of her fully clothed on a couch in the lobby of the Hampton Inn and Suites, but I didn’t know that then. I thought I was supposed to take off my clothes, and I wanted her to take off her clothes, and somehow this seemed a foregone conclusion, perhaps because each of us had started with no face and no body, as a condition of modern life, and now we were here and we wanted to celebrate the fact that we were not hideous, not entirely, and we were in the flesh. ~ Rick Moody, #NFDB
365:He smiled. "You’re into me, I can tell."
"I’m not into you," I said hotly. Hotly, because as soon as the words left my lips, sparklers erupted on top of my head.
Hudson looked at them, and a grin spread across his face. The baby cooed and reached out, trying to grab the flaring light. Hudson moved farther away. "Don’t touch. Just look at Mommy’s pretty liar hat."
He was enjoying this way too much. "Okay," I said. "Maybe I like you a little."
The sparklers dimmed, but didn’t go out.
Hudson raised an eyebrow.
"All right," I said, nervously eyeing the area to make sure no one saw us. "I’m into you."
The sparklers died, but I didn’t wait around for more commentary. I headed to the inn. Behind me I heard Hudson still talking to the baby. "Yes, we like Mommy’s flaming hairdo, don’t we? ~ Janette Rallison,#NFDB
366:Moving on, I at last came to a dim sort of light not far from the docks, and heard a forlorn creaking in the air; and looking up, saw a swinging sign over the door with a white painting upon it, faintly representing a tall straight jet of misty spray, and these words underneath—"The Spouter Inn:—Peter Coffin." Coffin?—Spouter?—Rather ominous in that particular connexion, thought I. But it is a common name in Nantucket, they say, and I suppose this Peter here is an emigrant from there. As the light looked so dim, and the place, for the time, looked quiet enough, and the dilapidated little wooden house itself looked as if it might have been carted here from the ruins of some burnt district, and as the swinging sign had a poverty-stricken sort of creak to it, I thought that here was the very spot for cheap lodgings, and the best of pea coffee. ~ Herman Melville, #NFDB
367:Meanwhile, all the travellers whom Candide met in the inns along his route, said to him, "We go to Paris." This general eagerness at length gave him, too, a desire to see this capital; and it was not so very great a détour from the road to Venice. He entered Paris by the suburb of St. Marceau, and fancied that he was in the dirtiest village of Westphalia. Scarcely was Candide arrived at his inn, than he found himself attacked by a slight illness, caused by fatigue. As he had a very large diamond on his finger, and the people of the inn had taken notice of a prodigiously heavy box among his baggage, there were two physicians to attend him, though he had never sent for them, and two devotees who warmed his broths. "I remember," Martin said, "also to have been sick at Paris in my first voyage; I was very poor, thus I had neither friends, devotees, nor doctors, and I recovered. ~ Voltaire, #NFDB
368:I see life as a roadside inn where I have to stay until the coach from the abyss pulls up. I don't know where it will take me, because I don't know anything. I could see this inn as a prison, for I'm compelled to wait in it; I could see it as a social centre, for it's here that I meet others. But I'm neither impatient nor sociable. I leave who will to stay shut up in their rooms, sprawled out on beds where they sleeplessly wait, and I leave who will to chat in the parlours, from where their songs and voices conveniently drift out here to me. I'm sitting at the door, feasting my eyes and ears on the colours and sounds of the landscape, and I softly sing - for myself alone - wispy songs I compose while waiting.
Night will fall on us all and the coach will pull up. I enjoy the breeze I'm given and the soul I'm given to enjoy it with, and I no longer question or seek. ~ Fernando Pessoa,#NFDB
369:system. I mustn’t look to individuals. It’s the system. I mustn’t go into court and say, ‘My Lord, I beg to know this from you — is this right or wrong? Have you the face to tell me I have received justice and therefore am dismissed?’ My Lord knows nothing of it. He sits there to administer the system. I mustn’t go to Mr. Tulkinghorn, the solicitor in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and say to him when he makes me furious by being so cool and satisfied — as they all do, for I know they gain by it while I lose, don’t I? — I mustn’t say to him, ‘I will have something out of some one for my ruin, by fair means or foul!’ HE is not responsible. It’s the system. But, if I do no violence to any of them, here — I may! I don’t know what may happen if I am carried beyond myself at last! I will accuse the individual workers of that system against me, face to face, before the great eternal bar! ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
370:Over The Hills
Often and often it came back again
To mind, the day I passed the horizon ridge
To a new country, the path I had to find
By half-gaps that were stiles once in the hedge,
The pack of scarlet clouds running across
The harvest evening that seemed endless then
And after, and the inn where all were kind,
All were strangers. I did not know my loss
Till one day twelve months later suddenly
I leaned upon my spade and saw it all,
Though far beyond the sky-line. It became
Almost a habit through the year for me
To lean and see it and think to do the same
Again for two days and a night. Recall
Was vain: no more could the restless brook
Ever turn back and climb the waterfall
To the lake that rests and stirs not in its nook,
As in the hollow of the collar-bone
Under the mountain's head of rush and stone.
~ Edward Thomas,#NFDB
371:Mrs. Forbes said that hating yellow and borwn is just being silly. And Siobhan said that she shouldn't say things like that and everyone has favorite colors. And Siobhan was right. But Mrs. Forbes was a bit right, too. Because it is sort of being silly. But in life you have to take lots of decisions and if you don't take decisions you would never do anything because you would spend all your time choosing between things you could do. So it is good to have a reason why you hate some things and you like others. It is like being in a restaurant like when Father takes me out to a Berni Inn sometimes and you look at the menu and you have to choose what you are going to have. But you don't know if you are going to like something because you haven't tasted it yet, so you have favorite foods and you choose these, and you have foods you dno't like and you don't choose these, and then it is simple. ~ Mark Haddon, #NFDB
372:The Town
You said: “I’ll go to another land, to other seaways wandering,
Some other town may yet be found better than this,
Where every effort of mine is a writ of guiltiness;
And my heart seems buried like a corpse. My mind--How long is it to be in this decay confined?
Wherever I turn, wherever I lift my eyes,
The blackening ruins of my life arise,
here I have spent so many years spoiling and swquandering.”
“You’ll find no other places, no new seas in all your wanderings,
The town will follow you about. You’ll range
In the same streets. In the same suburbs change
From youth to age; inn this same house grow white.
No hope of another town; this is where you’ll always alight.
There is no road to another, there is no ship
To take you there. As here in this small strip
You spoiled your life, the whole earth felt your squanderings.”
~ Constantine P. Cavafy,#NFDB
373:from head to foot, and the brim of his soft felt hat hid every inch of his face but the shiny tip of his nose; the snow had piled itself against his shoulders and chest, and added a white crest to the burden he carried. He staggered into the “Coach and Horses” more dead than alive, and flung his portmanteau down. “A fire,” he cried, “in the name of human charity! A room and a fire!” He stamped and shook the snow from off himself in the bar, and followed Mrs. Hall into her guest parlour to strike his bargain. And with that much introduction, that and a couple of sovereigns flung upon the table, he took up his quarters in the inn. Mrs. Hall lit the fire and left him there while she went to prepare him a meal with her own hands. A guest to stop at Iping in the wintertime was an unheard-of piece of luck, let alone a guest who was no “haggler,” and she was resolved to show herself worthy of her good fortune. ~ H G Wells, #NFDB
374:Tomorrow
for: max and alyssa
malyyssax worelish
tomorrow we'll see the lightbulb in schenectady,
go to gems farms in schodack, then on to howe caverns,
then to see the wayne thiebaud show at the clark
where we'll stop to notice the melting ice sculpture
then excellent spinach sap soup at the thai restaurant
in williamstown, a brief stop at the octagonal museum,
on to northampton to see the smith college art museum
& greenhouse where we'll see a green heron
it would be nice to be able to walk today
so we could go to opus 40 in saugerties
followed by a dinner of oysters & mussels at the bear
then on to check out the sheep at the sheepherding inn
where we're able to buy riccotta cheese
which means twice-baked, with which we're able
to make a pizza with fresh figs gotten from the berry farm
war what is it good for?
absolutely nothing
~ Bernadette Mayer,#NFDB
375:Horror is a woman’s genre, and it has been all the way back to the oldest horror novel still widely read today: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, daughter of pioneering feminist author Mary Wollstonecraft. Ann Radcliffe’s gothic novels (The Mysteries of Udolpho, The Italian) made her the highest-paid writer of the late eighteenth century. In the nineteenth century, Mary Elizabeth Braddon and Charlotte Riddell were book-writing machines, turning out sensation novels and ghost stories by the pound. Edith Wharton wrote ghost stories before becoming a novelist of manners, and Vernon Lee (real name Violet Paget) wrote elegant tales of the uncanny that rival anything by Henry James. Three of Daphne du Maurier’s stories became Hitchcock films (Jamaica Inn, Rebecca, The Birds), and Shirley Jackson’s singular horror novel The Haunting of Hill House made her one of the highest-regarded American writers of the twentieth century. ~ Grady Hendrix, #NFDB
376:Christians and Jews hold in common one theological basis for hospitality: Creation. Creation is the ultimate expression of God's hospitality to His creatures. In the words of on rabbi, everything God created is a "manifestation of His kindness. [The] world is one big hospitality inn." As Church historian Amy Oden has put it, "God offers hospitality to all humanity... by establishing a home.. for all." To invite people into our homes is to respond with gratitude to the God who made a home for us.
In the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, we find another resource for hospitality. The trinity shows God in relationships with Himself. our Three-in-one God has welcomed us into Himself and invited us to participate in divine life. And so the invitation that we as Christians extend to one another is not simply an invitation into our homes or to our tables; what we ask of other people it that hey enter into our lives. ~ Lauren F Winner,#NFDB
377:For me life is an inn where I must stay until the carriage from the abyss calls to collect me [...] I could consider this inn to be a prison, since I’m compelled to stay here; I could consider it a kind of club, because I meet other people here. However, unlike others, I am neither impatient nor sociable. I leave those who chatter in the living room, from where the cosy sound of music and voices reaches me. I sit at the door and fill my eyes and ears with the colours and sounds of the landscape and slowly, just for myself, I sing vague songs that I compose while I wait.
Night will fall on all of us and the carriage will arrive. I enjoy the breeze given to me and the soul given to me to enjoy it and I ask no more questions, look no further. If what I leave written in the visitors’ book is one day read by others and entertains them on their journey, that’s fine. If no one reads it or is entertained by it, that’s fine too. ~ Fernando Pessoa,#NFDB
378:Much I marvelled at the sagacity evinced by waiters and chamber-maids in proportioning the accommodation to the guest. How could inn-servants and ship-stewardesses everywhere tell at a glance that I, for instance, was an individual of no social significance, and little burdened by cash? They did know it evidently: I saw quite well that they all, in a moment’s calculation, estimated me at about the same fractional value. The fact seemed to me curious and pregnant: I would not disguise from myself what it indicated, yet managed to keep up my spirits pretty well under its pressure.
Having at last landed in a great hall, full of skylight glare, I made my way somehow to what proved to be the coffee room.It cannot be denied that on entering this room I trembled somewhat; felt uncertain, solitary, wretched; wished to Heaven I knew whether I was doing right or wrong; felt convinced that it was the last, but could not help myself. ~ Charlotte Bront,#NFDB
379:I was suffering with profound personality change, and if I had to go out onto the highway and stick out my thumb and secure a ride to a Waffle House in order to consume grits in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, I would go to a Waffle House, leaving behind the unwanted back hair and the expanding belt lines and the godforsaken cheese grits to make of myself a person of the road, a person of the highway, a person of indeterminate location. You could get some grits at a Waffle House, and it wouldn’t cost you an arm and leg, because it was presumed at Waffle House that you were on your last nickel, that you had squandered opportunities, that all was illusion. A man still has to eat, however, and coarsely ground cornmeal was best. It needed nothing other than what it was, and if an inn with a bunch of nauseating pastels and some faux-Mexican decor could not provide you with true and authentic grits, then you might go elsewhere, as you did, eventually. ★ ~ Rick Moody, #NFDB
380:Entering that gable-ended Spouter-Inn, you found yourself in a wide, low, straggling entry with old-fashioned wainscots, reminding one of the bulwarks of some condemned old craft. On one side hung a very large oil painting so thoroughly besmoked, and every way defaced, that in the unequal crosslights by which you viewed it, it was only by diligent study and a series of systematic visits to it, and careful inquiry of the neighbors, that you could any way arrive at an understanding of its purpose. Such unaccountable masses of shades and shadows, that at first you almost thought some ambitious young artist, in the time of the New England hags, had endeavored to delineate chaos bewitched. But by dint of much and earnest contemplation, and oft repeated ponderings, and especially by throwing open the little window towards the back of the entry, you at last come to the conclusion that such an idea, however wild, might not be altogether unwarranted. ~ Herman Melville, #NFDB
381:He bared thick teeth. ‘I am Zacchariah. My price will be right. You show me now?’
In that moment, ten generations of horse-traders counted for more than half a lifetime in the legions. I was my father made young again, itching to make a sale. Abandoning the Eagle – I was a horse-trader, what did I care for a gold bird on a stick, however venerated by the Hebrews? – I gathered Pantera and Horgias about me, and trekked back to the inn of the Cedar Tree.
Along the way, we collected Zacchariah’s well-muscled younger relatives, three other, unrelated, horse merchants who gazed at him with undisguised venom, a woman who claimed she could more accurately assess the sex of the foal our pregnant mare carried, a bone-setter who set to arguing with Horgias but gave up when his poor Greek met Horgias’ worse Greek – and Nicodemus and his seven zealots who stood about as we conducted our business, obviously waiting for a chance to inflict violence upon us. ~ M C Scott,#NFDB
382:The stranger came early in February, one wintry day, through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last snowfall of the year, over the down, walking as it seemed from Bramblehurst railway station, and carrying a little black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand. He was wrapped up from head to foot, and the brim of his soft felt hat hid every inch of his face but the shiny tip of his nose; the snow had piled itself against his shoulders and chest, and added a white crest to the burden he carried. He staggered into the Coarch and Horses, more dead than alive as it seemed, and flung his portmanteau down. "A fire," he cried, "in the name of human charity! A room and a fire!" He stamped and shook the snow from off himself in the bar, and followed Mrs. Hall into her guest parlour to strike his bargain. And with that much introduction, that and a ready acquiescence to terms and a couple of sovereigns flung upon the table, he took up his quarters in the inn. ~ H G Wells, #NFDB
383:The three senior guys in the campaign,” an incredulous Bannon went on, “thought it was a good idea to meet with a foreign government inside Trump Tower in the conference room on the twenty-fifth floor—with no lawyers. They didn’t have any lawyers. Even if you thought that this was not treasonous, or unpatriotic, or bad shit, and I happen to think it’s all of that, you should have called the FBI immediately. Even if you didn’t think to do that, and you’re totally amoral, and you wanted that information, you do it in a Holiday Inn in Manchester, New Hampshire, with your lawyers who meet with these people and go through everything and then they verbally come and tell another lawyer in a cut-out, and if you’ve got something, then you figure out how to dump it down to Breitbart or something like that, or maybe some other more legitimate publication. You never see it, you never know it, because you don’t need to.… But that’s the brain trust that they had. ~ Michael Wolff, #NFDB
384:You've got to understand one of the tricks of the modern mind, a tendency that most people obey without noticing it. In the village or suburb outside there's an inn with the sign of St. George and the Dragon. Now suppose I went about telling everybody that this was only a corruption of King George and the Dragoon. Scores of people would believe it, without any inquiry, from a vague feeling that it's probable because it's prosaic. It turns something romantic and legendary into something recent and ordinary. And that somehow makes it sound rational, though it is unsupported by reason. Of course some people would have the sense to remember having seen St. George in old Italian pictures and French romances, but a good many wouldn't think about it at all. They would just swallow the skepticism because it was skepticism. Modern intelligence won't accept anything on authority. But it will accept anything without authority. That's exactly what has happened here. ~ G K Chesterton, #NFDB
385:In a perfect Friendship this Appreciative love is, I think, often so great and so firmly based that each member of the circle feels, in his secret heart, humbled before the rest. Sometimes he wonders what he is doing there among his betters. He is lucky beyond desert to be in such company. Especially when the whole group is together; each bringing out all that is best, wisest, or funniest in all the others. Those are the golden sessions; when four or five of us after a hard day's walk have come to our inn; when our slippers are on, our feet spread out toward the blaze and our drinks are at our elbows; when the whole world, and something beyond the world, opens itself to our minds as we talk; and no one has any claim on or any responsibility for another, but all are freemen and equals as if we had first met an hour ago, while at the same time an Affection mellowed by the years enfolds us. Life — natural life — has no better gift to give. Who could have deserved it? ~ C S Lewis, #NFDB
386:I realized I was actually in some Hilton Garden Inn somewhere in the middle of America, and I had to remind myself of what I had been doing for the last ten months. Literally, step by step, campaign stop by campaign stop, I had to rebuild my memory. Think about that for a second. I had to remind myself of breaking up with my boyfriend, leaving my home, and following a man some call a maniac around, trying to keep up with the daily lies and outrages. He lies a lot. That sounds overly negative. But you have to understand something. Most people, even those who would qualify as political junkies, have other things going on in their lives. They follow politics—but they also go to work, pick up their kids, exercise, shop for groceries, daydream, and live a full life. I do not. I live the Trump campaign. That means I live every lie. And I live every controversy. And they pile up daily. Every time Trump opens his mouth in public, I get a verbatim log of it sent to my e-mail. ~ Katy Tur, #NFDB
387:Robart blinked, momentarily thrown off track, but recovered. “I will have my knight returned to me.”
Knight? What knight? Oh shoot. I had completely forgotten about the vampire who’d almost chopped the police car in a half. I’d left him in the basement holding cell for almost four hours. I concentrated. The knight was alive and well. He was sitting on the floor meditating. I gave the floor a little push and felt it slide up, carrying the knight with it.
“You will find your knight in your quarters.”
Robart nodded. His gaze narrowed. “Perhaps if you were less heavy-handed in your treatment of the guests you claim to honor and protect, your inn would have a higher rating.”
He did not. Oh yes, yes he did. “Perhaps if you trained the knights under your command to follow simple orders, your House would’ve reached greater prominence within your empire.”
Robart locked his jaw.
If my smile were any sweeter, you could pour it on pancakes and call it syrup. ~ Ilona Andrews,#NFDB
388:Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17—, and go back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof. I remember him as if it were yesterday, as he came plodding to the inn door, his sea-chest following behind him in a hand-barrow—a tall, strong, heavy, nut-brown man, his tarry pigtail falling over the shoulder of his soiled blue coat, his hands ragged and scarred, with black, broken nails, and the sabre cut across one cheek, a dirty, livid white. I remember him looking round the cover and whistling to himself as he did so, and then breaking out in that old sea-song that he sang so often afterwards: ~ Robert Louis Stevenson, #NFDB
389:Christmas Welcome
Under the wintry skies,
Sundered from home and kin,
With patience and love in her eyes,
Mary is journeying.
The angels keep watch and ward,
And Joseph is there to guard,
But – ‘there is no room at the inn.”
No room in the inns of Life,
No place for Christ the King,
Through the Heavens with joy are rife,
Where worshipping angels sing,
In palace, and street and mart,
In the worlds great pagan heart
There is no welcoming.
But in far cathedrals dim,
Where Christmas lilies bloom
‘Mid incense and holy hymn,
And tapers lighting the gloom,
Where the Christmas crib is laid,
And children come, unafraid
His own are finding Him room.
Here the humble ones of the earth,
The poor, and the sorely tried
Are waiting the dear Lord’s birth,
And their arms are open wide,
And Mary will find them grace
Who makes for Her child a place
In their hearts, this Christmas-tide.
~ Alice Guerin Crist,#NFDB
390:Miss Dupree wants a rough outline Monday. So let’s start working on ideas and meet again tomorrow.” Jumping up from the blanket, she chattered just a little too brightly. “Outside the inn, ten o’clock. Oh, Etienne--you can come, right?”
“Sure.” Slowly he ran a hand back through his hair. “As long as I’m at work by one.”
“Perfect! We can walk the route and time it. And pick out which buildings are…historic.”
“They’re all historic,” Roo said.
“Well…scarily historic.”
“If each of us looks up just one or two buildings, it shouldn’t be that hard.” Gage slid lightly to his feet. “I don’t mind doing some research tonight.”
Parker stretched and stood, wrapping his arms around Ashley and nuzzling her neck. “Yeah, that’s exactly what we had in mind, too. Right, Ash? Some good, basic, investigative research.”
“Forget it.” Pushing him off, Ashley tried to keep a straight face. “Only if you’re a ghost.”
Roo raised her hand. “No problem there. I’ll be glad to kill him. ~ Richie Tankersley Cusick,#NFDB
391:Here Will Be Echoes In The Mountains...
Here will be echoes in the mountains,
The distant landslides' rumbling boom,
The rocks, the dwellings in the village,
The sorry little inn, the gloom
Of something black beyond the Terek,
Clouds moving heavily. Up there
The day was breaking very slowly;
It dawned, but light was nowhere near.
One sensed the heaviness of darkness
For miles ahead around Kazbek
Wound on the heights: though some were trying
To throw the halter from their neck.
As if cemented in an oven,
In the strange substance of a dream,
A pot of poisoned food, the region
Of Daghestan there slowly steamed.
Its towering peaks towards us rolling,
All black from top to foot, it strained
To meet our car, if not with clashing
Of daggers, then with pouring rain.
The mountains were preparing trouble.
The handsome giants, fierce and black,
Each one more evil than the other
Were closing down upon our track.
~ Boris Pasternak,#NFDB
392:The debate was long and furious but, after a fifth meeting at the Freemason’s Tavern in Lincoln’s Inn Fields in London, at 7:00 p.m. on December 8, 1863, carrying the ball by hand was outlawed, and soccer and rugby went their separate ways. The dispute, strangely, was not over the use of the hand but over hacking; that is, whether kicking opponents in the shins should be allowed. F. W. Campbell of Blackheath was very much in favor. “If you do away with [hacking],” he said, “you will do away with all the courage and pluck of the game, and I will be bound to bring over a lot of Frenchmen who would beat you with a week’s practice.” Sports, he appears to have believed, were about pain, brutality, and manliness; without that, if it actually came down to skill, any old foreigner might be able to win. A joke it may have been, but that his words were part of a serious debate is indicative of the general ethos, even if Blackheath did end up resigning from the association when hacking was eventually outlawed. ~ Jonathan Wilson, #NFDB
393:His stories were what frightened people worst of all. Dreadful stories they were--about hanging, and walking the plank, and storms at sea, and the Dry Tortugas, and wild deeds and places on the Spanish Main. By his own account he must have lived his life among some of the wickedest men that God ever allowed upon the sea, and the language in which he told these stories shocked our plain country people almost as much as the crimes that he described. My father was always saying the inn would be ruined, for people would soon cease coming there to be tyrannized over and put down, and sent shivering to their beds; but I really believe his presence did us good. People were frightened at the time, but on looking back they rather liked it; it was a fine excitement in a quiet country life, and there was even a party of the younger men who pretended to admire him, calling him a "true sea-dog" and a "real old salt" and such like names, and saying there was the sort of man that made England terrible at sea. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson, #NFDB
394:In the great cities we see so little of the world, we drift into our minority. In the little towns and villages there are no minorities ; people are not numerous enough. You must see the world there, perforce. Every man is himself a class; every hour carries its new challenge. When you pass the inn at the end of the village you leave your favourite whimsy behind you; for you will meet no one who can share it. We listen to eloquent speaking, read books and write them, settle all the affairs of the universe. The dumb village multitudes pass on unchanging; the feel of the spade in the hand is no different for all our talk: good seasons and bad follow each other as of old. The dumb multitudes are no more concerned with us than is the old horse peering through the rusty gate of the village pound. The ancient map-makers wrote across unexplored regions, ‘Here are lions.’ Across the villages of fishermen and turners of the earth, so different are these from us, we can write but one line that is certain, ‘Here are ghosts. ~ W B Yeats, #NFDB
395:Must you say things like that in public, for God's sake?"
"What do you mean?"
He lowered his voice to a hiss. "Remember yesterday at the inn? My 'pistol' is making an appearance, thanks to you."
She glanced down at his trousers, which only made them bulge more obviously. Then she lifted a mischievous gaze to his face. "Whatever will you do, now that you're in this...state?"
"Conjugate Latin," he said tersely. "Think of England. Think of anything but you and me doing--Bloody hell, there it goes again, and we're nearly to Rotten Row." He stopped short and stepped behind a bench with a high back that sat near the river.
She stood next to him, pretty as the proverbial picture, her eyes dropping to his trousers with virginal curiosity.
"Would you stop looking at me there? he growled. "You're not helping."
She laughed. "You're the one who started it by trying to seduce me with words. Serves you right if you have to suffer for it."
-Giles and Minerva ~ Sabrina Jeffries,#NFDB
396:I had noticed also that Queequeg never consorted at all, or but very little, with the other seamen in the inn. He made no advances whatever; appeared to have no desire to enlarge the circle of his acquaintances. All this struck me as mighty singular; yet, upon second thoughts, there was something almost sublime in it. Here was a man some twenty thousand miles from home, by the way of Cape Horn, that is--which was the only way he could get there--thrown among people as strange to him as though he were in the planet Jupiter; and yet he seemed entirely at his ease; preserving the utmost serenity; content with his own companionship; always equal to himself. Surely this was a touch of fine philosophy; though no doubt he had never heard there was such a thing as that. But, perhaps, to be true philosophers, we mortals should no be conscious of so living or so striving. So soon as I hear that such and such a man gives himself out for a philosopher, I conclude that, like the dyspeptic old woman, he must have 'broken his digester. ~ Herman Melville, #NFDB
397:As it is, I guess I find "Jack and Diane" a little disgusting.
As a child of immigrant professionals, I can't help but notice the wasteful frivolity of it all. Why are these kids not at home doing their homework? Why aren't they setting the table for dinner or helping out around the house? Who allows their kids to hang out in parking lots? Isn't that loitering?
I wish there was a song called "Nguyen & Ari," a little ditty about a hardworking Vietnamese girl who helps her parents with the franchised Holiday Inn they run, and does homework in the lobby, and Ari, a hardworking Jewish boy who does volunteer work at his grandmother's old-age home, and they meet after school at Princeton Review. They help each other study for the SATs and different AP courses, and then, after months of studying, and mountains of flashcards, they kiss chastely upon hearing the news that they both got into their top college choices. This is a song teens need to inadvertently memorize. Now that's a song I'd request at Johnny Rockets! ~ Mindy Kaling,#NFDB
398:In the great cities we see so little of the world, we drift into our minority. In the little towns and villages there are no minorities; people are not numerous enough. You must see the world there, perforce. Every man is himself a class; every hour carries its new challenge. When you pass the inn at the end of the village you leave your favourite whimsy behind you; for you will meet no one who can share it. We listen to eloquent speaking, read books and write them, settle all the affairs of the universe. The dumb village multitudes pass on unchanging; the feel of the spade in the hand is no different for all our talk: good seasons and bad follow each other as of old. The dumb multitudes are no more concerned with us than is the old horse peering through the rusty gate of the village pound. The ancient map-makers wrote across unexplored regions, 'Here are lions.' Across the villages of fishermen and turners of the earth, so different are these from us, we can write but one line that is certain, 'Here are ghosts.' ("Village Ghosts") ~ W B Yeats, #NFDB
399:(I) went to see the noble knights of Holy Anocracy.
By the time they assembled, the inn finished assimilating the new gaming consoles. I waved my hand and three huge flat screen opened in the stone walls of the vampire quarters. Wall spat out sets of controllers.
“Greetings,” I said. “House Krah, House Sabla and House Vorga, may I present Call of Duty.”
The three screens ignited simultaneously, playing the opening of the Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare. Soldiers in high tech armor shot at target, flew across the screen from bomb impacts, and walked dramatically in slow motion. Vehicles roared, Marines roared louder, and Kevin Spacey informed us that politicians didn’t know how to solve problems but he did.
The vampires stared at the screens.
“This is a game of cooperative action,” I said, “Where a small elite force can triumph against overwhelming odds.”
At the word elite, they perked up like wild dogs who heard a rabbit cry.
“The game will teach you how to play it. May the best House triumph over their opponents. ~ Ilona Andrews,#NFDB
400:I spent my day on the scorching
hot dust of the road.
Now, in the cool of the evening, I
knock at the door of the inn. It is
deserted and in ruins.
A grim ashath tree spreads its
hungry clutching roots through the
gaping fissures of the walls.
Days have been when wayfarers
came here to wash their weary feet.
They spread their mats in the
courtyard in the dim light of the
early moon, and sat and talked of
strange lands.
They woke refreshed in the morning
when birds made them glad, and
friendly flowers nodded their heads
at them from the wayside.
But no lighted lamp awaited me
when I came here.
The black smudges of smoke left by
many a forgotten evening lamp stare,
like blind eyes, from the wall.
Fireflies flit in the bush near the
dried-up pond, and bamboo branches
fling their shadows on the grass-
grown path.
I am the guest of no one at the end
of my day.
The long night is before me, and I
am tired.
~ Rabindranath Tagore, The Gardener LXIV - I Spent My Day
,#NFDB
401:I see life as a roadside inn where I have to stay until the coach from the abyss pulls up. I don’t know where it will take me, because I don’t know anything. I could see this inn as a prison, for I’m compelled to wait in it; I could see it as a social centre, for it’s here that I meet others. But I’m neither impatient nor common. I leave who will to stay shut up in their rooms, sprawled out on beds where they sleeplessly wait, and I leave who will to chat in the parlours, from where their songs and voices conveniently drift out here to me. I’m sitting at the door, feasting my eyes and ears on the colours and sounds of the landscape, and I softly sing – for myself alone – wispy songs I compose while waiting.
Night will fall on us all and the coach will pull up. I enjoy the breeze I’m given and the soul I was given to enjoy it with, and I no longer question or seek. If what I write in the book of travellers can, when read by others at some future date, also entertain them on their journey, then fine. If they don’t read it, or are not entertained, that’s fine too ~ Fernando Pessoa,#NFDB
402:I see life as a roadside inn where I have to stay until the coach from the abyss pulls up. I don't know where it will take me, because I don't know anything. I could see this inn as a prison, for I'm compelled to wait in it; I could see it as a social center, for it's here that I meet others. But I'm neither impatient nor common. I leave who will to stay shut up in their rooms, sprawled out on beds where they sleeplessly wait, and I leave who will to chat in the parlors, from where their songs and voices conveniently drift out here to me. I'm sitting at the door, feasting my eyes and ears on the colors and sounds of the landscape, and I softly sing - for myself alone - wispy songs I compose while waiting.
Night will fall on us all and the coach will pull up. I enjoy the breeze I'm given and the soul I'm given to enjoy it with, and I no longer question or seek. If what I write in the book of travellers can, when read by others at some future date, also entertain them on their journey, then fine. If they don't read it, or are not entertained, that's fine too. ~ Fernando Pessoa,#NFDB
403:Everything was in confusion in the Oblonskys' house. The wife had discovered that the husband was carrying on an intrigue with a French girl, who had been a governess in their family, and she had announced to her husband that she could not go on living in the same house with him. This position of affairs had now lasted three days, and not only the husband and wife themselves, but all the members of their family and household, were painfully conscious of it. Every person in the house felt that there was so sense in their living together, and that the stray people brought together by chance in any inn had more in common with one another than they, the members of the family and household of the Oblonskys. The wife did not leave her own room, the husband had not been at home for three days. The children ran wild all over the house; the English governess quarreled with the housekeeper, and wrote to a friend asking her to look out for a new situation for her; the man-cook had walked off the day before just at dinner time; the kitchen-maid, and the coachman had given warning. ~ Leo Tolstoy, #NFDB
404:I close the book and text Livia back.
Okay, Fern Woman. I’ll meet you at 8. Then I add, Are you super sure about the Nite’s Inn?
She responds right away. I’ll see you then, and I’m very sure. I’m doing this on a public servant’s budget! And it’s close to a Steak’n Shake, so you know it’s in a good neighborhood.
...Liv. Kitten. They found a body in that Steak’n Shake’s dumpster last year.
One body and all of a sudden it’s a ‘bad’ place. You are so judgey! I, for one, won’t be scared away by that one tiny thing. I like to see the best in places.
My radio goes off in my ear—a senior is causing a disturbance at a nursing home and they need all available units to respond. With a rueful smile to myself at my idealistic little librarian, I send her a final message and then climb out of my car.
See you tonight, Livvy-girl. Don’t get thrown into a dumpster before I get there.
Even though I was mostly joking about the Murder Steak’n Shake, I get to the Nite’s Inn half an hour early so that I can be extra sure she’s not in the parking lot alone ~ Laurelin Paige,#NFDB
405:I Watched The Moon Around The House (629)
I watched the Moon around the House
Until upon a Pane -She stopped -- a Traveller's privilege -- for Rest -And there upon
I gazed -- as at a stranger -The Lady in the Town
Doth think no incivility
To lift her Glass -- upon -But never Stranger justified
The Curiosity
Like Mine -- for not a Foot -- nor Hand -Nor Formula -- had she -But like a Head -- a Guillotine
Slid carelessly away -Did independent, Amber -Sustain her in the sky -Or like a Stemless Flower -Upheld in rolling Air
By finer Gravitations -Than bind Philosopher -No Hunger -- had she -- nor an Inn -Her Toilette -- to suffice -Nor Avocation nor Concern
for little Mysteries
As harass us -- like Life -- and Death -And Afterwards -- or Nay -But seemed engrossed to Absolute -With shining -- and the Sky -The privilege to scrutinize
Was scarce upon my Eyes
When, with a Silver practise -She vaulted out of Gaze --
511
And next -- I met her on a Cloud -Myself too far below
To follow her superior Road -Or its advantage -- Blue -~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
406:As she passed Nick’s Bar & Bistro, she felt a moment’s longing, wishing she could stop for a reassuring hug that she knew would be fast in coming. But even more than his comfort, a few hours sleep was in order. She parked outside the Inn, dragged her large suitcase out of the trunk and wheeled it into the lobby. When she stepped up to the check-in counter, a young woman smiled. “Ms. Braxton. Geoff let us know you were on your way. We’ve given you a room on the second floor. Room 204. Just need your signature and a credit card.” “Thanks so much. Everyone in this town is so welcoming.” She forced a smile. “Never seen anything like it.” “My name is Helen Watson,” the young girl replied. “I’m from Nebraska, and I’ve been here for two years. The friendliness is genuine, and it doesn’t get old.” As Jennie’s mother had said, the Inn was small, but charming—English Tudor in style both inside and out. The lobby had a tartan carpet, four plaid high back chairs next to a hearth and fireplace. The walls were decorated with hunting scenes and floral gardens. A small bar was tucked away in the far corner of the ~ Patrice Wilton, #NFDB
407:thought he was fooling Kiki, and Kiki thought he was fooling Ruggedo; so both were pleased. "It's a long way across the Desert," remarked the boy, "and the sands are hot and send up poisonous vapors. Let us wait until evening and then fly across in the night when it will be cooler." The former Nome King agreed to this, and the two spent the rest of that day in talking over their plans. When evening came they paid the inn-keeper and walked out to a little grove of trees that stood near by. "Remain here for a few minutes and I'll soon be back," said Kiki, and walking swiftly away, he left the Nome standing in the grove. Ruggedo wondered where he had gone, but stood quietly in his place until, all of a sudden, his form changed to that of a great eagle, and he uttered a piercing cry of astonishment and flapped his wings in a sort of panic. At once his eagle cry was answered from beyond the grove, and another eagle, even larger and more powerful than the transformed Ruggedo, came sailing through the trees and alighted beside him. "Now we are ready for the start," said the voice of Kiki, coming from the eagle. ~ L Frank Baum, #NFDB
408:I
My Paistin Finn is my sole desire,
And I am shrunken to skin and bone,
For all my heart has had for its hire
Is what I can whistle alone and alone.
Oro, oro.!
Tomorrow night I will break down the door.
What is the good of a man and he
Alone and alone, with a speckled shin?
I would that I drank with my love on my knee
Between two barrels at the inn.
Oro, oro.!
To-morrow night I will break down the door.
Alone and alone nine nights I lay
Between two bushes under the rain;
I thought to have whistled her down that
I whistled and whistled and whistled in vain.
Oro, oro!
To-morrow night I will break down the door.
II
I would that I were an old beggar
Rolling a blind pearl eye,
For he cannot see my lady
Go gallivanting by;
A dreary, dreepy beggar
Without a friend on the earth
But a thieving rascally cur
O a beggar blind from his birth;
Or anything else but a rhymer
Without a thing in his head
But rhymes for a beautiful lady,
He rhyming alone in his bed.
~ William Butler Yeats, Two Songs Rewritten For The Tunes Sake
,#NFDB
409:And so to read is, in truth, to be in the constant act of creation. The old lady on the bus with her Orwell, the businessman on the Tube with Patricia Cornwell, the teenager roaring through Capote -- they are not engaged in idle pleasure. Their heads are on fire. Their hearts are flooding. With a book, you are the landscape, the sets, the snow, the hero, the kiss -- you are the mathematical calculation that plots the trajectory of the blazing, crashing zeppelin. You -- pale, punchable reader -- are terraforming whole worlds in your head, which will remain with you until the day you die. These books are as much a part of you as your guts and your bone. And when your guts fail and your bones break, Narnia, or Jamaica Inn, or Gormenghast will still be there; as pin-sharp and bright as the day you first imagined them -- hiding under the bedclothes, sitting on the bus. Exhausted, on a rainy day, weeping over the death of someone you never met, and who was nothing more than words until you transfused them with your time, and your love, and the imagination you constantly dismiss as "just being a bit of a bookworm. ~ Caitlin Moran, #NFDB
410:And so to read is, in truth, to be in the constant act of creation. The old lady on the bus with her Orwell, the businessman on the Tube with Patricia Cornwell, the teenager roaring through Capote -- they are not engaged in idle pleasure. Their heads are on fire. Their hearts are flooding. With a book, you are the landscape, the sets, the snow, the hero, the kiss -- you are the mathematical calculation the plots the trajectory of the blazing, crashing zeppelin. You -- pale, punchable reader -- are terraforming whole worlds in your head, which will remain with you until the day you die. These books are as much a part of you as your guts and your bone. And when your guts fail and your bones break, Narnia, or Jamaica Inn, or Gormenghast will still be there; as pin-sharp and bright as the day you first imagined them -- hiding under the bedclothes, sitting on the bus. Exhausted, on a rainy day, weeping over the death of someone you never met, and who was nothing more than words until you transformed them with your time, and your love, and the imagination you constantly dismiss as "just being a bit of a bookworm. ~ Caitlin Moran, #NFDB
411:Ballade 2
In Antwerp, Bruges, Ostend and Ghent
I used to order food with flair,
But in every inn to which I went
They always brought me, with my fare,
With every roast and mutton dish,
With boar, with rabbit, pigeon, bustard,
With fresh and with salt-water fish,
Always, never asking, mustard.
I ordered herring, said I'd like
Carp for supper at the bar,
And called for simple boiled pike,
And two large sole, when I ate at Spa.
I ordered green sauce when in Brussels;
The waiter stared and looked disgusted;
The bus boy brought in with my mussels
As always, never asking, mustard.
I couldn't eat or drink without it.
They add it to the water they
Boil the fish in and-don't doubt itThe drippings from the roast each day
Are tossed into a mustard vat
In which they're mixed, and then entrusted
To those who bring-they're trained at thatAlways, never asking, mustard.
Prince, it's clear a spice like clove
can drop its guard. It won't be busted.
There's just one thing these people serve:
Always, never asking, mustard.
~ Eustache Deschamps,#NFDB
412:Ged saw all these things from outside and apart, alone, and his heart was very heavy in him, though he would not admit to himself that he was sad. As night fell he still lingered in the streets, reluctant to go back to the inn. He heard a man and a girl talking together merrily as they came down the street past him towards the town square, and all at once he turned, for he knew the man's voice.
He followed and caught up with the pair, coming up beside them in the late twilight lit only by distant lantern-gleams. The girl stepped back, but the man stared at him and then flung up the staff he carried, holding it between them as a barrier to ward off the threat or act of evil. And that was somewhat more than Ged could bear. His voice shook a little as he said, "I thought you would know me, Vetch."
Even then Vetch hesitated for a moment.
"I do know you," he said, and lowered the staff and took Ged's hand and hugged him round the shoulders-" I do know you! Welcome, my friend, welcome! What a sorry greeting I gave you, as if you were a ghost coming up from behind– and I have waited for you to come, and looked for you- ~ Ursula K Le Guin,#NFDB
413:Past the woodshed, past the creek that ran behind our inn, deep in the wild heart of the forest, was a circle of alder trees we called the Goblin Grove. The trees grew in such a way as to suggest twisted arms and monstrous limbs frozen in an eternal dance, and Constanze liked to tell us that the trees had once been humans- naughty young women- who displeased Der Erlkönig. As children we had played here, Josef and me, played and sang and danced, offering our music to the Lord of Mischief. The Goblin King was the silhouette around which my music was composed, and the Goblin Grove was the place my shadows came to life.
I spied a scarlet shape in the woods ahead of me. Käthe in my cloak, walking to my sacred space. An irrational, petty slash of irritation cut through my dread and unease. The Goblin Grove was my haunt, my refuge, my sanctuary. Why must she take everything that was mine? My sister had a gift for turning the extraordinary into the ordinary. Unlike my brother and me- who lived in the ether of magic and music- Käthe lived in the world of the real, the tangible, the mundane. Unlike us, she never had faith. ~ S Jae Jones,#NFDB
414:How to describe Lord Wellington? How can such a thing be necessary or even possible? His face is everywhere one looks – a cheap print upon the wall of the coaching inn – a much more elaborate one, embellished with flags and drums, at the top of the Assembly-room staircase. Nowadays no young lady of average romantic feeling will reach the age of seventeen without purchasing at least one picture of him. She will think a long, aquiline nose infinitely preferable to a short, stubby one and consider it the worst misfortune of her life that he is married already. To make up for it she fully intends to name her first-born son, Arthur. Nor is she alone in her devotion. Her younger brothers and sisters are every bit as fanatical. The handsomest toy soldier in an English nursery is always called Wellington and has more adventures than the rest of the toy box put together. Every schoolboy impersonates Wellington at least once a week, and so do his younger sisters. Wellington embodies every English virtue. He is Englishness carried to perfection. If the French carry Napoleon in their bellies (which apparently they do), then we carry Wellington in our hearts. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
415:Aspens
All day and night, save winter, every weather,
Above the inn, the smithy and the shop,
The aspens at the cross-roads talk together
Of rain, until their last leaves fall from the top.
Out of the blacksmith's cavern comes the ringing
Of hammer, shoe and anvil; out of the inn
The clink, the hum, the roar, the random singing The sounds that for these fifty years have been.
The whisper of the aspens is not drowned,
And over lightless pane and footless road,
Empty as sky, with every other sound
No ceasing, calls their ghosts from their abode,
A silent smithy, a silent inn, nor fails
In the bare moonlight or the thick-furred gloom,
In the tempest or the night of nightingales,
To turn the cross-roads to a ghostly room.
And it would be the same were no house near.
Over all sorts of weather, men, and times,
Aspens must shake their leaves and men may hear
But need not listen, more than to my rhymes.
Whatever wind blows, while they and I have leaves
We cannot other than an aspen be
That ceaselessly, unreasonably grieves,
Or so men think who like a different tree.
~ Edward Thomas,#NFDB
416:Erstatt kaos med struktur – skap en langsiktig plan for når og hva du skal spise, også når det gjelder godsaker som vil gi deg velbefinnende. Grunnlaget er at du helt skal unngå enhver spontan beslutning, og at du aldri skal spise noe som ikke inngår i planen. Spis bare mat som du liker. Du kan ikke lure underbevisstheten din. Velg kjott dersom du alltid har likt det, og velg fet mat, salat eller frukt dersom det er slikt du liker. Det viktige er å ta kontroll over mengden og bryte den ubevisste spisingen din. Etter hvert kan du utforske nye matretter. Lær deg å kjenne sulten din – det meste du spiser i lopet av et måltid, er ikke for å dempe sultfornemmelsen, men for å gi deg selv en belonning. Skjær suksessivt ned på porsjonene dine, og ta tiden på hvor lang tid det tar for du på ny blir sulten. Velg mat som er mettende – industrien lager bevisst mat som er letttygd og lettdrukket. Sukker og raske karbohydrater metter ikke lenge. Fullkorn, fiberrike gronnsaker og proteiner gir rask og langvarig metthet. Også fett gir en metthet som varer lenge, men det tar en stund for metthetsfolelsen slår inn. Spis derfor langsomt når det ligger fet mat på tallerkenen. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
417:I'm not resigned, Jean. I'm angry. We need to cease being powerless as soon as possible.'
'Right. So where do we start?'
'Well, I'm going back to the inn. I'm going to pour a gallon of cold water down my throat. I'm going to get into bed, put a pillow over my head and stay there until sunset.'
'I approve.'
'Good. Then we'll both be well rested when it comes time to get up and find a black alchemist. I want a second opinion on latent poisons. I want to know everything there is to know about the subject, and whether there are any antidotes we can start trying,'
'Agreed.'
'After that, we can add one more small item to our agenda for this Tal Verrar holiday of ours.'
'Kick the Archon in the teeth?'
'Gods yes,' said Locke, smacking a fist into an open palm. 'Whether or not we finish the Requin job first. Whether or not there really is poison! I'm going to take his whole bloody palace and shove it so far his are he'll have stone towers for tonsils.'
'Any plans to that effect?'
'No idea. I've no idea whatsoever. I'll reflect on it, that's for damn sure. But as for not being rash, well, no promises. ~ Scott Lynch,#NFDB
418:A Cure At Porlock
For whatever did it—the cider
at the Ship Inn, where the crowd
from the bar that night had overflowed
singing into Southey’s Corner, or
an early warning of appendicitis—
the remedy the chemist in the High Street
purveyed was still a dose of kaopectate
in morphine—the bane and the afflatus
of S.T.C. when Alph, the sacred river,
surfaced briefly in the unlikely
vicinity of Baker Farm, and as quickly
sank again, routed forever by the visitor
whose business, intent and disposition—
whether ill or well is just as immaterial—
long ago sunk Lethewards, a particle
of the unbottled ultimate solution.
I drank my dose, and after an afternoon
prostrate, between heaves, on the
coldly purgatorial tiles of the W.C.,
found it elysium simply to recline,
sipping flat ginger beer as though it were
honeydew, in that billowy bed,
under pink chenille, hearing you read
The Mystery of Edwin Drood! For whether
the opium was worth it for John Jasper,
from finding being with you, even sick
at Porlock, a rosily addictive picnic,
I left less likely ever to recover.
~ Amy Clampitt,#NFDB
419:I went straight back to my room, surprising Mora and one of her staff in the act of packing up my trunk. Apologizing, I hastily unlaced the traveling gown and reached for my riding gear.
Mora gave me a slight smile as she curtsied. “That’s my job, my lady,” she said. “You needn’t apologize.”
I grinned at her as I pulled on the tunic. “Maybe it’s not very courtly, but I feel bad when I make someone do a job twice.”
Mora only smiled as she made a sign to the other servant, who reached for the traveling gown and began folding it up. I thrust my feet into my riding boots, smashed my fancy new riding hat onto my head, and dashed out again.
The Marquis was waiting in the courtyard, standing between two fresh mares. I was relieved that he did not have that fleet-footed gray I remembered from the year before. On his offering me my pick, I grabbed the reins of the nearest mount and swung up into the saddle. The animal danced and sidled as I watched Bran and Nimiar come out of the inn hand in hand. They climbed into the coach, solicitously seen to by the innkeeper himself.
The Marquis looked across at me. “Let’s go.”
And he was off, with me right on his heels. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
420:Down through this verdant land Carter walked at evening, and saw twilight float up from the river to the marvelous golden spires of Thran. And just at the hour of dusk he came to the southern gate, and was stopped by a red-robed sentry till he had told three dreams beyond belief, and proved himself a dreamer worthy to walk up Thran's steep mysterious streets and linger in the bazaars where the wares of the ornate galleons were sold. Then into that incredible city he walked; through a wall so thick that the gate was a tunnel, and thereafter amidst curved and undulant ways winding deep and narrow between the heavenward towers. Lights shone through grated and balconied windows, and, the sound of lutes and pipes stole timid from inner courts where marble fountains bubbled. Carter knew his way, and edged down through darker streets to the river, where at an old sea tavern he found the captains and seamen he had known in myriad other dreams. There he bought his passage to Celephais on a great green galleon, and there he stopped for the night after speaking gravely to the venerable cat of that inn, who blinked dozing before an enormous hearth and dreamed of old wars and forgotten gods. ~ H P Lovecraft, #NFDB
421:A book about a lady knight with purple eyes and a passion for justice—one of her few treasured possessions—lay near the window. So far she’d paid Amanda at the Green Inn twice to read it to her. It was that precious. With her mind made up to leave Vaneis, she packed the three dresses she owned, the scarf, the book, some herbs for soap mix, and thirty shillings for the road in her satchel. The next morning, she made sure to pay the innkeeper five shillings for her month's rent. She filled a small rucksack full of food for her journey and left the inn with a smile on her face. Once outside, Ciardis squinted, looking up and down the caravan line. There were six wagons attached to huraks – large, ponderous beasts that looked like oxen with claws. The huraks were all clearly anxious to go as they snorted and pawed the fresh snow with the three dagger-shaped claws on each foot. You and me both, friend. She clutched her two cloth bags and stared around for Lady Serena, trying not to seem too obvious. "All riders up!" rang the call down the line. Ciardis gave up her nonchalant look in favor of panic and began to search frantically. She didn't see Lady Serena anywhere. What if it had all been a cruel joke? ~ Terah Edun, #NFDB
422:The Man And His Horse
Within a Meadow, on the way,
A sordid Churl resolv'd to stay,
And give his Horse a Bite;
Purloining so his Neighbours Hay,
That at the Inn he might not pay
For Forage all the Night.
With Heart's content th' unloaded Steed
Began to neigh, and frisk, and feed;
For nothing more he car'd,
Since none of all his Master's breed
E'er found such Pasture, at their need,
Or half so well had far'd.
When, in the turning of a Hand,
Out comes the Owner of the Land,
And do's the Trespass eye;
Which puts poor Bayard to a Stand,
For now his Master do's command
Him to return and fly.
But Hunger quick'ning up his Wit,
And Grass being sweeter than the Bit,
He to the Clown reply'd;
Shall I for you this Dinner quit,
Who to my Back hard Burdens fit,
And to the Death wou'd ride?
No; shou'd I as a Stray be found,
And seiz'd upon forbidden Ground,
I'll on this Spot stand still;
For tho' new Riders shou'd abound,
(Or did Mankind this Field surround)
They cou'd but use me ill.
Urge no Man to despair; lest in the Fit
He with some Counterblow thy Head may hit.
157
~ Anne Kingsmill Finch,#NFDB
423:He made up his mind to see Kate, and with this view he went down to Westmoreland; and took himself to a small wayside inn at Shap among the fells, which had been known to him of old. He gave his sister notice that he would be there, and begged her to come over to him as early as she might find it possible on the’ morning after his arrival. He himself reached the place late in the evening by train from London. There is a station at Shap, by which the railway company no doubt conceives that it has conferred on that somewhat rough and remote locality all the advantages of a refined civilization; but I doubt whether the Shappites have been thankful for the favour. The landlord at the inn, for one, is not thankful. Shap had been a place owing all such life as it had possessed to coaching and posting. It had been a stage on the high road from Lancaster to Carlisle, and though it lay high and bleak among the fells, and was a cold, windy, thinly-populated place, – filling all travellers with thankfulness that they had not been made Shappites, nevertheless, it had had its glory in its coaching and posting. I have no doubt that there are men and women who look back with a fond regret to the palmy days of Shap. ~ Anthony Trollope, #NFDB
424:Okay, y’all,” Ashley announced. “This is our dress rehearsal. Our last chance to get everything perfect before the big night tomorrow. Any questions? Ideas? Opinions?”
“Yeah, I have an idea.” Slumped on the front steps of the Battlefield Inn, Parker chocked down a mouthful of cough syrup and tried not to speak above a whisper. “Let’s call it off. That would really make it perfect. No more ghost tour.”
“Walk of the Spirits,” Ashley corrected him, irritated. “Walk of the Spirits. And we’re not calling it off. After all this time? All this work?”
“All this suffering?” Roo added. She was perched one step below Parker, and was digging through her pockets for a cigarette. Her face still bore some major bruises from the storm, and a wide gash zigzagged across her forehead, not quite healed. She’d taken great pains to highlight this zigzag with dark, red lipstick.
“You like suffering,” Parker reminded her. “And, excuse me, but you’re not the one with pneumonia.”
"You don’t have pneumonia. You’re just jealous because Gage was in worse shape than you, and he got more attention.”
“Well, it’s almost pneumonia. It’s turning into pneumonia. ~ Richie Tankersley Cusick,#NFDB
425:That night our new husbands took us quickly. They took us calmly. They took us gently, but firmly, and without saying a word. They assumed we were the virgins the matchmakers had promised them we were and they took us with exquisite care. Now let me know if it hurts.
They took us flat on our backs on the bare floor of the Minute Motel. They took us downtown, in second-rate rooms at the Kumamoto Inn. They took us in the best hotels in San Francisco that a yellow man could set foot in at the time. The Kinokuniya Hotel. The Mikado. The Hotel Ogawa. They took us for granted and assumed we would do for them whatever it was we were told. Please turn toward the wall and drop down on your hands and knees (...)
They took us violently, with their fists, whenever we tried to resist. They took us even though we bit them. They took us even though we hit them (...).
They took us cautiously, as though they were afraid we might break. You’re so small. They took us coldly but knowledgeably — In 20 seconds you will lose all control —
and we knew there had been many others before us. They took us as we stared up blankly at the ceiling and waited for it to be over, not realizing that it would not be over for years. ~ Julie Otsuka,#NFDB
426:THE HAPPY SPRUCE INN, it said. Cartoon trees with googly eyes and idiotically smiling faces grinned down at the Stiff as it pulled into the driveway of a large, boxy building with all the charm of a haunted mental institution.
“What a lovely setting,” Driggs said. “For murder.”
“Okay, Lex,” Uncle Mort said as Pandora put the car into park some distance away from the front door. “You’re going in. Now—”
“Wait, I’m going in? Why not you?”
“Because I’m deriving far too much enjoyment from the Stiff’s leaky fumes. Now just go in, tell the person at the front desk your Uncle Mort sent you, and find the rest of the Juniors. It shouldn’t be hard. You seem to have a knack for attracting large groups of angry people.”
She cringed. “You think they’ll be angry?”
“No time like the present to find out. Now go.”
“By myself? What about—” She looked at her other choices. Pandora was picking her teeth in the rearview mirror. Grotton was Grotton. And Driggs’s hand was still stuck.
“Sorry,” he said to her, giving his wrist another futile tug. “The old arm-in-the-seat dilemma.”
Lex haughtily unbuckled her seat belt and got out of the car. “You are the worst band of fugitives ever,” she said, slamming the door. ~ Gina Damico,#NFDB
427:To summarize, these are the three main problems of bed-and-breakfast establishments: throw pillows, potpourri, and breakfast conversation, and the fourth problem is gazebos. And the fifth problem is water features. And the sixth problem is themed rooms, and the seventh problem is provenance (who owned the inn before and who owned the inn before that, and who owned it before that, and what year the bed-and-breakfast was built, and how old the timber is in the main hall), and the eighth problem is pride of ownership, because why can't it just be a place you stay, why does it always have to be an ideological crusade? And the ninth problem is excessive amounts of regional advice. And the tenth problem is the absence of telephones. Even if you aren't going to use the telephone, you want to know that the telephone is there. And the eleventh problem is price. There is no bed-and-breakfast that you can see from the interstate that says $39.95 in a neon sign above it, and although you can really sleep peacefully in the bed-and-breakfast if you are the sort of person who can be comfortable in the presence of a superabundance of pillows, that rush of uncertainty and danger that you get from the motel by the interstate is absent. ~ Rick Moody, #NFDB
428:Deter mulig at andre er helt klar over dette og har forsonet seg med det, men for meg ble det plutselig så tydelig at det alltid er natt og alltid dag og alltid morgen og kveld og alltid blir noen fodt mens andre dor og noen ligger med hverandre og noen ler og andre gråter og noen venter på ting eller arbeider. Alltid. Og i dag akkurat som i går og akkurat som en hvilken som helst annen dag i et hvilket som helst annet år. Og hvis jeg bryter det ned til mindre deler og tenker små oyeblikk, blir det svimlende, for da tenker jeg at akkurat nå, mens jeg ligger her og ser gjennom rommet og mot verandadoren som står på glott og solen som kommer inn i rommet, så opplever andre sine livs verste oyeblikk, noen er livredde og kommer til å bli drept på fryktelig vis i neste sekund, det vil si nå, eller nå, mens andre opplever fine ting og tar imot et lite barn eller blir stroket nedover ryggen av en de i går ikke trodde ville gjengjelde de sterke folelsene, og atter andre, sikkert de fleste, gjor ting som de i morgen på denne tiden vil ha problemer med å huske fordi det de gjorde ikke utgjor noen forskjell, men bare foyer seg inn i rekken av ting som vi hele tiden gjor og må gjore.
Idag er alle dager. Og alle oyeblikk er nå. ~ Erlend Loe,#NFDB
429:I've stuck like a plaster to the old faith I was born in. Yes; there's this to be said for the Church, a man can belong to the Church and bide in his cheerful old inn, and never trouble or worry his mind about doctrines at all. But to be a meetinger, you must go to chapel in all winds and weathers, and make yerself as frantic as a skit. Not but that chapel members be clever chaps enough in their way. They can lift up beautiful prayers out of their own heads, all about their families and shipwrecks in the newspaper."
"They can -- they can," said Mark Clark, with corroborative feeling; "but we Churchmen, you see, must have it all printed aforehand, or, dang it all, we should no more know what to say to a great gaffer like the Lord than babes unborn,"
"Chapelfolk be more hand-in-glove with them above than we," said Joseph, thoughtfully.
"Yes," said Coggan. "We know very well that if anybody do go to heaven, they will. They've worked hard for it, and they deserve to have it, such as 'tis. I bain't such a fool as to pretend that we who stick to the Church have the same chance as they, because we know we have not. But I hate a feller who'll change his old ancient doctrines for the sake of getting to heaven. ~ Thomas Hardy,#NFDB
430:Regrets about leaving your home?” she asked.
“No,” I said--making my first Court white lie.
Her relief was unmistakable as she sat back against the satin pillows, and I was glad I’d lied. “I hope we make it to Carad-on-Whitewater by nightfall,” she said. “I really think you’ll like the inn there.”
“Why?” I asked.
She smiled. “You’ll see.”
I made a face. “You can’t tell me? I think I’ve already had a lifetime’s worth of surprises.”
She laughed. “Dancing.”
I rubbed my hands together. “Great. Strangers to practice on.”
Still smiling, she shook her head. “I confess I find your attitude difficult to comprehend. When I learned, it was a relief to practice with my cousins before I tried dancing with people I didn’t know.”
“Not me,” I said. “Like I told you, if I have to tread on someone’s toes, better some poor fellow I’ll never see again--and who’ll never see me--than someone who’ll be afraid whenever he sees me coming. And as for practicing with Bran…”
She tried unsuccessfully to smother a laugh. “Well, he was just as outspoken about his own mistakes when he was learning,” she said. “Frequently had a roomful of people in stitches. Not so bad a thing, in those early days,” she added reflectively. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
431:Preparations
YET if His Majesty, our sovereign lord,
Should of his own accord
Friendly himself invite,
And say 'I'll be your guest to-morrow night,'
How should we stir ourselves, call and command
All hands to work! 'Let no man idle stand!
'Set me fine Spanish tables in the hall;
See they be fitted all;
Let there be room to eat
And order taken that there want no meat.
See every sconce and candlestick made bright,
That without tapers they may give a light.
'Look to the presence: are the carpets spread,
The dazie o'er the head,
The cushions in the chairs,
And all the candles lighted on the stairs?
Perfume the chambers, and in any case
Let each man give attendance in his place!'
Thus, if a king were coming, would we do;
And 'twere good reason too;
For 'tis a duteous thing
To show all honour to an earthly king,
And after all our travail and our cost,
So he be pleased, to think no labour lost.
But at the coming of the King of Heaven
All 's set at six and seven;
We wallow in our sin,
Christ cannot find a chamber in the inn.
We entertain Him always like a stranger,
And, as at first, still lodge Him in the manger.
~ Anonymous,#NFDB
432:The Vault--After Sedgmoor
You need not call at the Inn;
I have ordered my bed:
Fair linen sheets therein
And a tester of lead.
No musty fusty scents
Such as inn chambers keep,
But tapestried with content
And hung with sleep.
My Inn door bears no bar
Set up against fear.
The guests have journeyed far,
They are glad to be here.
Where the damp arch curves up grey,
Long, long shall we lie;
Good King's men all are they,
A King's man I.
Old Giles, in his stone asleep,
Fought at Poictiers.
Piers Ralph and Roger keep
The spoil of their fighting years.
I shall lie with my folk at last
In a quiet bed;
I shall dream of the sword held fast
In a round-capped head.
Good tale of men all told
My Inn affords;
And their hands peace shall hold
That once held swords.
And we who rode and ran
On many a loyal quest
Shall find the goal of man A bed, and rest.
We shall not stand to the toast
Of Love or King;
We be all too tired to boast
409
About anything.
We be dumb that did jest and sing;
We rest who laboured and warred . . .
Shout once, shout once for the King.
Shout once for the sword!
~ Edith Nesbit,#NFDB
433:The Inn-Keeper Makes Excuses
'Oh, if only I had known!'
Said the keeper of the inn.
'But no hint to me was shown,
And I didn't let them in.
'Yes, a star gleamed overhead,
But I couldn't read the skies,
And I'd given every bed
To the very rich and wise.
'And she was so poorly clad,
And he hadn't much to say!
But no room for them I had,
So I ordered them away.
'She seemed tired, and it was late
And they begged so hard, that I
Feeling sorry for her state,
In the stable let them lie.
'Had I turned some rich man out
Just to make a place for them
'Twould have killed, beyond a doubt,
All my trade at Bethlehem.
'Then there came the wise men three
To the stable, with the morn,
Who announced they'd come to see
The great King who had been born.
'And they brought Him gifts of myrrh,
Costly frankincense and gold,
And a great light shone on her
In the stable, bleak and cold.
'All my patrons, now are dead
And forgotten, but to-day
All the world to peace is led
By the ones I sent away
818
'It was my unlucky fate
To be born that Inn to own,
Against Christ I shut my gate—
Oh, if only I had known!'
~ Edgar Albert Guest,#NFDB
434:To be in touch with wilderness is to have stepped past the proud cattle of the field and wandered far from the twinkles of the Inn's fire. To have sensed something sublime in the life/death/life movement of the seasons, to know that contained in you is the knowledge to pull the sword from the stone and to live well in fierce woods in deep winter.
Wilderness is a form of sophistication, because it carries within it true knowledge of our place in the world. It doesn't exclude civilization but prowls through it, knowing when to attend to the needs of the committee and when to drink from a moonlit lake. It will wear a suit and tie when it has to, but refuses to trim its talons or whiskers. Its sensing nature is not afraid of emotion: the old stories are full of grief forests and triumphant returns, banquets and bridges of thorns. Myth tells us that the full gamut of feeling is to be experienced.
Wilderness is the capacity to go into joy, sorrow, and anger fully and stay there for as long as needed, regardless of what anyone else thinks. Sometimes, as Lorca says, it means 'get down on all fours for twenty centuries and eat the grasses of the cemetaries.' Wilderness carries sobriety as well as exuberance, and has allowed loss to mark its face. ~ Martin Shaw,#NFDB
435:Far from birds, from flocks and village girls, What did I drink, on my knees in the heather Surrounded by a sweet wood of hazel trees, In the warm and green mist of the afternoon? What could I drink from that young Oise, − Voiceless elms, flowerless grass, an overcast sky! − Drinking from these yellow gourds, far from the hut I loved? Some golden spirit that made me sweat. I would have made a dubious sign for an inn. − A storm came to chase the sky away. In the evening Water from the woods sank into the virgin sand, And God’s wind threw ice across the ponds. Weeping, I saw gold − but could not drink. − ——— At four in the morning, in the summer, The sleep of love still continues. Beneath the trees the wind disperses The smells of the evening feast. Over there, in their vast wood yard, Under the sun of the Hesperidins, Already hard at work − in shirtsleeves − Are the Carpenters. In their Deserts of moss, quietly, They raise precious panelling Where the city Will paint fake skies. O for these Workers, charming Subjects of a Babylonian king, Venus! Leave for a moment the Lovers Whose souls are crowned with wreaths. O Queen of Shepherds, Carry the water of life to these labourers, So their strength may be appeased As they wait to bathe in the noon-day sea. ~ Arthur Rimbaud, #NFDB
436:In the East, he then believed, a man went to college not for vocational training but in disciplined search for wisdom and beauty, and nobody over the age of twelve believed that those words were for sissies. In the East, wearing rumpled tweeds and flannels, he could have strolled for hours among ancient elms and clock towers, talking with his friends, and his friends would have been the cream of their generation. The girls of the East were marvelously slim and graceful; they moved with the authority of places like Bennington and Holyoke; they spoke intelligently in low, subtle voices, and they never giggled. On sharp winter evenings you could meet them for cocktails at the Biltmore and take them to the theater, and afterwards, warmed with brandy, they would come with you for a drive to a snowbound New England inn, where they’d slip happily into bed with you under an eiderdown quilt. In the East, when college was over, you could put off going seriously to work until you’d spent a few years in a book-lined bachelor flat, with intervals of European travel, and when you found your true vocation at last it was through a process of informed and unhurried selection; just as when you married at last it was to solemnize the last and best of your many long, sophisticated affairs. ~ Richard Yates, #NFDB
437:The Ballade Of The Automobile
When our yacht sails seaward on steady keel
And the wind is moist with breath of brine
And our laughter tells of our perfect weal,
We may carol the praises of ruby wine;
But if, automobiling, my woes combine
And fuel gives out in my road-machine
And it's sixteen miles to that home of mine-Then ho! For a gallon of gasoline!
When our coach rides smoothly on iron-shod wheel
With a deft touch guiding each taut drawn line
And the inn ahead holds a royal meal,
We may carol the praises of ruby wine;
But when, on some long and steep incline,
In a manner entirely unforeseen
The motor stops with a last sad whine-Then ho! For a gallon of gasoline!
When the air is crisp and the brooks congeal
And our sleigh glides on with a speed divine
While the gay bells echo with peal on peal,
We may carol the praises of ruby wine;
But when, with perverseness most condign,
In the same harsh snowstorm, cold and keen,
My auto stops at the six-mile sign-Then ho! For a gallon of gasoline!
ENVOY
When yacht or Coach Club fellows dine
We may carol the praises of ruby wine;
But when Automobile Clubmen convene
Then ho! For a gallon of gasoline!
Submitted by John Martin
~ Ellis Parker Butler,#NFDB
438:But as he went up to London he told himself that the air of the House of Commons was now the very breath of his nostrils. Life to him without it would be no life. To have come within the reach of the good things of political life, to have made his mark so as to have almost insured future success, to have been the petted young official aspirant of the day, — and then to sink down into the miserable platitudes of private life, to undergo daily attendance in law-courts without a brief, to listen to men who had come to be much below him in estimation and social intercourse, to sit in a wretched chamber up three pairs of stairs at Lincoln’s Inn, whereas he was now at this moment provided with a gorgeous apartment looking out into the Park from the Colonial Office in Downing Street, to be attended by a mongrel between a clerk and an errand boy at 17s. 6d. a week instead of by a private secretary who was the son of an earl’s sister, and was petted by countesses’ daughters innumerable, — all this would surely break his heart. He could have done it, so he told himself, and could have taken glory in doing it, had not these other things come in his way. But the other things had come. He had run the risk, and had thrown the dice. And now when the game was so nearly won, must it be that everything should be lost at last? ~ Anthony Trollope, #NFDB
439:There are two kinds of learning, from the inside and from the outside. The fist is regarded as the best, or even the only kind. And so people learn through distant journeys, watching, reading, universities and lectures — they learn from what is happening outside them. Man is a stupid creature who had to learn. So he tacks knowledge onto himself, he gathers it like a bee, gaining more and more of it, putting it to use and processing it. But the thing inside that is "stupid" and needs learning doesn't change.
Cornspike learned by absorbing things from the outside to the inside.
Knowledge that is only grown on the outside changes nothing inside a man, or merely changes him on the surface, as one garment is changed for another. But he who learns by taking things inside himself undergoes constant transformation, because he incorporates what he learns into his being.
So by taking the stinking, dirty peasants from Primeval and the district into herself, Cornspike became just like them, was drunk just like them, frightened by the war just like them, and aroused just like them. What's more, by taking them into herself in the bushes behind the inn, Cornspike also took in their wives, their children, and their stuffy, stinking wooden cottages around Maybug Hill. In a way she took the entire village into herself, every pain in the village, and every hope. ~ Olga Tokarczuk,#NFDB
440:Wednesday evening arrived, eight o'clock came, and eight members of the committee were punctual in their attendance. Mr Loggins, the solicitor, of Boswell-court, sent an excuse, and Mr Samuel Briggs, the ditto of Furnival's Inn, sent his brother, much to his (the brother's) satisfaction, and greatly to the discomfiture of Mr Percy Noakes. Between the Briggses and the Tauntons there existed a degree of implacable hatred, quite unprecedented. The animosity between the Montagues and Capulets was nothing to that which prevailed between these two illustrious houses. Mrs Briggs was a widow, with three daughters and two sons; Mr Samuel, the eldest, was an attorney, and Mr Alexander, the youngest, was under articles to his brother. They resided in Portland-street, Oxford-street, and moved in the same orbit as the Tauntons - hence their mutual dislike. If the Miss Briggs appeared in smart bonnets, the Miss Tauntons eclipsed them with smarter. If Mrs Taunton appeared in a cap of all the hues of the rainbow, Mrs Briggs forthwith mounted a toque, with all the patterns of a kaleidoscope. If Miss Sophia Taunton learnt a new song, two of the Miss Briggses came out with a new duet. The Tauntons had once gained a temporary triumph with the assistance of a harp, but the Briggses brought three guitars into the field, and effectually routed the enemy. There was no end to the rivalry between them. ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
441:Survival Spanish:
Your uncle's hotel sounds very nice, but I have reservations at the Holiday Inn.
El hotel de su tio debe de ser muy lindo, pero tengo reservacions en el Holiday Inn.
I would like your least expensive room.
Quisiera su habitacion menos cara.
I would like a better room.
Quisiera una habitacion mejor.
I would like any room not damaged by the recent earthquake.
Quisiera cualquier habitacion que no sufrio danos en el temblor reciente.
The local women do WHAT to cause fermentation?
Las mujures aqui hacen QUE para causar la fermentacion?
I don't question your abilities, but I am already married.
No dudo sus habilidades, pero estoy botin.
My friend is drunk and I am lost.
Mi amigo esta borracho y estoy perdido.
My friend is lost and I am drunk.
Mi amigo esta perdido y estoy borracho.
My apologies. I thought you asked me to dance.
Disculpeme. Pense que me invito a bailar.
Have I broken a law?
He violado un ley?
May I offer you the gift of money?
Puedo ofrecerle un regalito de dinero?
Did I say twenty dollars? I meant fifty.
Dije veinte dolares? Queria decir CINCUENTA!
You can have our women, but leave the plane tickets.
Pueden llevarse a nuestras majeres, pero dejen nuestros boletos de avion. ~ Randy Wayne White,#NFDB
442:Tranquility is the soul of our community.”
Not a quarter mile’s distance away, Susanna Finch sat in the lace-curtained parlor of the Queen’s Ruby, a rooming house for gently bred young ladies. With her were the room house’s newest prospective residents, a Mrs. Highwood and her three unmarried daughters.
“Here in Spindle Cove, young ladies enjoy a wholesome, improving atmosphere.” Susanna indicated a knot of ladies clustered by the hearth, industriously engaged in needlework. “See? The picture of good health and genteel refinement.”
In unison, the young ladies looked up from their work and smiled placid, demure smiles.
Excellent. She gave them an approving nod.
Ordinarily, the ladies of Spindle Cove would never waste such a beautiful afternoon stitching indoors. They would be rambling the countryside, or sea bathing in the cove, or climbing the bluffs. But on days like these, when new visitors came to the village, everyone understood some pretense at propriety was necessary. Susanna was not above a little harmless deceit when it came to saving a young woman’s life.
“Will you take more tea?” she asked, accepting a fresh pot from Mrs. Nichols, the inn’s aging proprietress. If Mrs. Highwood examined the young ladies too closely, she might notice that mild Gaelic obscenities occupied the center of Kate Taylor’s sampler. Or that Violet Winterbottom’s needle didn’t even have thread. ~ Tessa Dare,#NFDB
443:Maybe we shouldn’t live here,” I found myself saying.
“Don’t start that again. We’ve been posted here.”
“No, I mean maybe we shouldn’t live in this house.”
“Where else would we live?”
“I’m sure we could find an inn or something.” That was what Pairs often did.
“And we would tell my cousin what as we throw her hospitality back in her face?”
“Blame it on artistic temperament.”
“Mine, I suppose.”
“We can claim it’s mine, if you want. I don’t care.” Actually, it would irk me a little, but that was better than having Taro tied in knots all the time.
He snorted. “You must be really worried about me if you’re willing to admit to any kind of emotional turmoil.”
Hey, was he trying to claim I actually had emotional turmoil? He was the moody one. “Your mother lives right next door, Taro. I’m more than willing to put some space between us and her.”
“Oh, my gods.” He put a hand over his eyes. “Her.”
Actually, I found it strange that she hadn’t come over yet, but I didn’t say so. Speaking it out loud, I feared most irrationally, might actually make it happen.
“I don’t think we should move,” said Taro. “It makes sense for us to be here. It is the place that has the most empty space, and we’re family. I’m just being ridiculous. You’re supposed to smack me up the back of the head and tell me to be sensible.”
“You’re too far away. ~ Moira J Moore,#NFDB
444:Unlike many at court, who tried to spend as much time in front of the king as they could, Destin valued his privacy. So, in addition to his apartment within the palace, he kept a suite of rooms at the Cup and Comfort Inn on the riverfront. Any kind of pleasure could be had at the Cup and Comfort for a price, but what Destin treasured most was anonymity. This was a place where he could be himself.
So it was with not a little alarm that he unlocked the door to his rooms at the inn to find Lila Barrowhill sleeping in his fireside chair.
He froze in the doorway, but she must have heard him, because she opened her eyes and smiled at him sleepily. “I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in. I didn’t want to draw attention by sitting outside your door.”
Destin stepped inside and shut and locked the door behind him. Then turned to glare at her, his arms folded.
Lila grinned when she saw his expression. “Blood and bones, Karn, I’m so glad you’re still alive. It always seems that I’m a lot happier to see you than you are to see me. Well, except for that time you came to Oden’s Ford. Then there was that time in King Gerard’s garden—”
“How did you find this place?”
“I needed a cup and some comfort, and this place was recommended,” she said. She held up a cup she’d no doubt filled down in the taproom. “It’s truly amazing. You really can get anything you want here.” She winked at him. ~ Cinda Williams Chima,#NFDB
445:I wish you’d stop acting as if-as if everything is normal!”
“What would you have me do?” he replied, getting up and walking over to the tray of liquor. He poured some Scotch into two glasses and handed one to Jordan. “If you’re waiting for me to rant and weep, you’re wasting your time.”
“No, at the moment I’m glad you’re not given to the masculine version of hysterics. I have news, as I said, and though you aren’t going to find it pleasant from a personal viewpoint, it’s the best possible news from the standpoint of your trial next week. Ian,” he said uneasily, “our investigators-yours, I mean-have finally picked up Elizabeth’s trail.”
Ian’s voice was cool, his expression unmoved. “Where is she?”
“We don’t know yet, but we do know she was seen traveling in company of a man on the Bernam Road two nights after she disappeared. They put up at the inn about fifteen miles north of Lister. They”-he hesitated and expelled his breath in a rush-“they were traveling as man and wife, Ian.”
Other than the merest tightening of Ian’s hand upon the glass of Scotch, there was no visible reaction to this staggering news, or to all its heartbreaking and unsavory implications. “There’s more news, and it’s as good-I mean as valuable-to us.”
Ian tossed down the contents of his glass and said with icy finality, “I can’t see how any news could be better. She has now proven that I didn’t kill her, and at the same time she’s given me irrefutable grounds for divorce. ~ Judith McNaught,#NFDB
446:ONCE UPON A time there was a king who had three beautiful daughters. As he grew old, he began to wonder which should inherit the kingdom, since none had married and he had no heir. The king decided to ask his daughters to demonstrate their love for him. To the eldest princess he said, “Tell me how you love me.” She loved him as much as all the treasure in the kingdom. To the middle princess he said, “Tell me how you love me.” She loved him with the strength of iron. To the youngest princess he said, “Tell me how you love me.” This youngest princess thought for a long time before answering. Finally she said she loved him as meat loves salt. “Then you do not love me at all,” the king said. He threw his daughter from the castle and had the bridge drawn up behind her so that she could not return. Now, this youngest princess goes into the forest with not so much as a coat or a loaf of bread. She wanders through a hard winter, taking shelter beneath trees. She arrives at an inn and gets hired as assistant to the cook. As the days and weeks go by, the princess learns the ways of the kitchen. Eventually she surpasses her employer in skill and her food is known throughout the land. Years pass, and the eldest princess comes to be married. For the festivities, the cook from the inn makes the wedding meal. Finally a large roast pig is served. It is the king’s favorite dish, but this time it has been cooked with no salt. The king tastes it. Tastes it again. “Who would dare to serve ~ E Lockhart, #NFDB
447:There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.
For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay on their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.
Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honour and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.
A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost - how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky's dome.
This world is wild as an old wives' tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.
To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home. ~ G K Chesterton,#NFDB
448:Where did you come up with that granny story?”
“I saw it on a TV show about ghosts. The Jenningses really ate it up, didn’t they?”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Corey grinned. “Ghosts are about to reappear at the inn,” she said. “In fact, I predict the Jenningses will have their own experience with the supernatural before they leave.”
“They’ll go home and tell other people,” I said, “who’ll come to the inn hoping to see ghosts. They won’t be disappointed.”
“Soon Fox Hill will be booked up every night,” Corey went on. “Grandmother will have to turn people away.”
“They’ll camp out in the yard.”
“They’ll look in the windows.”
“There’ll be a traffic jam from here to Burlington.”
“The Learning Channel will send a team of psychics and ghost hunters.”
“We’ll be on the evening news.”
“Anderson Cooper will do a week long special on CNN.”
“Someone will write a book like The Amityville Horror.”
“It’ll be a bestseller.”
“They’ll make a movie of it!”
“We’ll star in it!”
“We’ll be famous!”
By this time we were shouting and laughing and jumping on Corey’s bed.
“Travis!” Grandmother shouted from the doorway. “Corey! What on earth is all this ruckus?”
We tried to stop laughing. “We’re just fooling around,” I said while Corey hiccupped hysterically.
“Well, please calm down,” Grandmother said. “You’ll disturb the guests.”
That made Corey and me laugh again. Grandmother had no idea how disturbed the guests were going to be. ~ Mary Downing Hahn,#NFDB
449:At The Green Inn, Five In The Evening (Au CabaretVert, Cinq Heures Du Soir)
For a whole week I had ripped up my boots
on the stones of the roads.
I walked into Charleroi. -Into the Green Inn:
I asked for some slices of bread and butter,
and some half-cooked ham. Happy, I stuck out my legs under
the green table: I studied the artless patterns of the wallpaper
- and it was charming when the girl with the huge breasts
and lively eyes, - a kiss wouldn't scare that one!
- smilingly brought me some bread and butter and lukewarm ham,
on a coloured plate; - pink and white ham,
scented with a clove of garlic - and filled my huge beer mug,
whose froth was turned into gold
by a ray of late sunshine.
Original French
Au Cabaret-Vert, cinq heures du soir.
Depuis huit jours, j'avais déchiré mes bottines
Aux cailloux des chemins. J'entrais à Charleroi.
- Au Cabaret-Vert : je demandai des tartines
Du beurre et du jambon qui fût à moitié froid.
Bienheureux, j'allongeai les jambes sous la table
Verte : je contemplai les sujets très naïfs
De la tapisserie. - Et ce fut adorable,
Quand la fille aux tétons énormes, aux yeux vifs,
- Celle-là, ce n'est pas un baiser qui l'épeure ! Rieuse, m'apporta des tartines de beurre,
Du jambon tiède, dans un plat colorié,
Du jambon rose et blanc parfumé d'une gousse
D'ail, - et m'emplit la chope immense, avec sa mousse
Que dorait un rayon de soleil arriéré.
15
~ Arthur Rimbaud,#NFDB
450:Billy’s story ended very curiously in a suburb untouched by fire and explosions. The guards and the Americans came at nightfall to an inn which was open for business. There was candlelight. There were fires in three fireplaces downstairs. There were empty tables and chairs waiting for anyone who might come, and empty beds with covers turned down upstairs.
There was a blind innkeeper and his sighted wife, who was the cook, and their two young daughters, who worked as waitresses and maids. This family knew that Dresden was gone. Those with eyes had seen it burn and burn, understood that they were on the edge of a desert now. Still—they had opened for business, had polished the glasses and wound the clocks and stirred the fires, and waited and waited to see who would come.
There was no great flow of refugees from Dresden. The clocks ticked on, the fires crackled, the translucent candles dripped. And then there was a knock on the door, and in came four guards and one hundred American prisoners of war.
The innkeeper asked the guards if they had come from the city.
“Yes.”
“Are there more people coming?”
And the guards said that, on the difficult route they had chosen, they had not seen another living soul.
The blind innkeeper said that the Americans could sleep in his stable that night, and he gave them soup and ersatz coffee and a little beer. Then he came out to the stable to listen to them bedding down in the straw.
“Good night, Americans,” he said in German. “Sleep well. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,#NFDB
451:Pen-Y-Gwrydd: To Tom Hughes, Esq.,
There is no inn in Snowdon which is not awful dear,
Excepting Pen-y-gwrydd (you can't pronounce it, dear),
Which standeth in the meeting of noble valleys threeOne is the vale of Gwynant, so well beloved by me,
One goes to Capel-Curig, and I can't mind its name,
And one it is Llanberris Pass, which all men knows the same;
Between which radiations vast mountains does arise,
As full of tarns as sieves of holes, in which big fish will rise,
That is, just one day in the year, if you be there, my boy,
Just about ten o'clock at night; and then I wish you joy.
Now to this Pen-y-gwrydd inn I purposeth to write,
(Axing the post town out of Froude, for I can't mind it quite),
And to engage a room or two, for let us say a week,
For fear of gents, and Manichees, and reading parties meek,
And there to live like fighting-cocks at almost a bob a day,
And arterwards toward the sea make tracks and cut away,
All for to catch the salmon bold in Aberglaslyn pool,
And work the flats in Traeth-Mawr, and will, or I'm a fool.
And that's my game, which if you like, respond to me by post;
But I fear it will not last, my son, a thirteen days at most.
Flies is no object; I can tell some three or four will do,
And John Jones, Clerk, he knows the rest, and ties and sells 'em too.
Besides of which I have no more to say, leastwise just now,
And so, goes to my children's school and 'umbly makes my bow.
Eversley, 1857.
~ Charles Kingsley,#NFDB
452:Inexpensive Progress
Encase your legs in nylons,
Bestride your hills with pylons
O age without a soul;
Away with gentle willows
And all the elmy billows
That through your valleys roll.
Let's say goodbye to hedges
And roads with grassy edges
And winding country lanes;
Let all things travel faster
Where motor car is master
Till only Speed remains.
Destroy the ancient inn-signs
But strew the roads with tin signs
'Keep Left,' 'M4,' 'Keep Out!'
Command, instruction, warning,
Repetitive adorning
The rockeried roundabout;
For every raw obscenity
Must have its small 'amenity,'
Its patch of shaven green,
And hoardings look a wonder
In banks of floribunda
With floodlights in between.
Leave no old village standing
Which could provide a landing
For aeroplanes to roar,
But spare such cheap defacements
As huts with shattered casements
Unlived-in since the war.
Let no provincial High Street
Which might be your or my street
Look as it used to do,
But let the chain stores place here
Their miles of black glass facia
And traffic thunder through.
And if there is some scenery,
Some unpretentious greenery,
Surviving anywhere,
It does not need protecting
For soon we'll be erecting
A Power Station there.
When all our roads are lighted
By concrete monsters sited
Like gallows overhead,
Bathed in the yellow vomit
Each monster belches from it,
We'll know that we are dead. ~ John Betjeman,#NFDB
453:Striking
It was a railway passenger,
And he lept out jauntilie.
'Now up and bear, thou stout porter,
My two chattels to me.
'Bring hither, bring hither my bag so red,
And portmanteau so brown:
(They lie in the van, for a trusty man
He labelled them London town
'And fetch me eke a cabman bold,
That I may be his fare, his fare;
And he shall have a good shilling,
If by two of the clock he do me bring
To the Terminus, Euston Square.'
'Now,--so to thee the saints alway,
Good gentleman, give luck, As never a cab may I find this day,
For the cabman wights have struck:
And now, I wis, at the Red Post Inn,
Or else at the Dog and Duck,
Or at Unicorn Blue, or at Green Griffin,
The nut-brown ale and the fine old gin
Right pleasantly they do suck.'
'Now rede me aright, thou stout porter,
What were it best that I should do:
For woe is me, an I reach not there
Or ever the clock strike two.'
'I have a son, a lytel son;
Fleet is his foot as the wild roebuck's:
Give him a shilling, and eke a brown,
And he shall carry thy chattels down,
To Euston, or half over London town,
On one of the station trucks.'
Then forth in a hurry did they twain fare,
53
The gent, and the son of the stout porter,
Who fled like an arrow, nor turned a hair,
Through all the mire and muck:
'A ticket, a ticket, sir clerk, I pray:
For by two of the clock must I needs away.'
'That may hardly be,' the clerk did say,
'For indeed--the clocks have struck.'
~ Charles Stuart Calverley,#NFDB
454:The Maid Of The Sweet Brown Knowe
COME all ye lads and lassies and listen to me a while,
And I’ll sing for you a verse or two will cause you all to smile;
It’s all about a young man, and I’m going to tell you now,
How he lately came a-courting of the Maid of the Sweet Brown Knowe.
Said he, “My pretty fair maid, will you come along with me,
We’ll both go off together, and married we will be;
We’ll join our hands in wedlock bands, I’m speaking to you now,
And I’ll do my best endeavour for the Maid of the Sweet Brown Knowe.”
This fair and fickle young thing, she knew not what to say,
Her eyes did shine like silver bright and merrily did play;
She said, “Young man, your love subdue, for I am not ready now,
And I’ll spend another season at the foot of the Sweet Brown Knowe.
Said he, “My pretty fair maid, how can you say so,
Look down in yonder valley where my crops do gently grow,
Look down in yonder valley where my horses and my plough
Are at their daily labour for the Maid of the Sweet Brown Knowe.”
“If they’re at their daily labour, kind sir, it’s not for me,
For I’ve heard of your behaviour, I have, indeed,” she said;
“There is an Inn where you call in, I have heard the people say,
Where you rap and call and pay for all, and go home at the break of day.”
“If I rap and call and pay for all, the money is all my own,
And I’ll never spend your fortune, for I hear you have got none.
You thought you had my poor heart broke in talking with me now,
But I’ll leave you where I found you, at the foot of the Sweet Brown Knowe.”
~ Anonymous English,#NFDB
455:A story best told at speed. After finals, more exams, then the call to the bar, pupillage, a lucky invitation to prestigious chambers, some early success defending hopeless cases—how sensible it had seemed, to delay a child until her early thirties. And when those years came, they brought complex worthwhile cases, more success. Jack was also hesitant, arguing for holding back another year or two. Mid-thirties then, when he was teaching in Pittsburgh and she worked a fourteen-hour day, drifting deeper into family law as the idea of her own family receded, despite the visits of nephews and nieces. In the following years, the first rumors that she might be elected precociously to the bench and required to be on circuit. But the call didn’t come, not yet. And in her forties, there sprang up anxieties about elderly gravids and autism. Soon after, more young visitors to Gray’s Inn Square, noisy demanding great-nephews, great-nieces, reminded her how hard it would be to squeeze an infant into her kind of life. Then rueful thoughts of adoption, some tentative inquiries—and throughout the accelerating years that followed, occasional agonies of doubt, firm late-night decisions concerning surrogate mothers undone in the early-morning rush to work. And when at last, at nine thirty one morning at the Royal Courts of Justice, she was sworn in by the Lord Chief Justice and took her oath of allegiance and her Judicial Oath before two hundred of her bewigged colleagues, and she stood proudly before them in her robes, the subject of a witty speech, she knew the game was up; she belonged to the law as some women had once been brides of Christ. ~ Ian McEwan, #NFDB
456:Natural philosophy is the genius that has regulated my fate; I desire, therefore, in this narration, to state those facts which led to my predilection for that science. When I was thirteen years of age, we all went on a party of pleasure to the baths near Thonon: the inclemency of the weather obliged us to remain a day confined to the inn. In this house I chanced to find a volume of the works of Cornelius Agrippa. I opened it with apathy; the theory which he attempts to demonstrate, and the wonderful facts which he relates, soon changed this feeling into enthusiasm. A new light seemed to dawn upon my mind; and, bounding with joy, I communicated my discovery to my father. My father looked carelessly at the title page of my book, and said, "Ah! Cornelius Agrippa! My dear Victor, do not waste your time upon this; it is sad trash."
If, instead of this remark, my father had taken the pains to explain to me that the principles of Agrippa had been entirely exploded, and that a modern system of science had been introduced, which possessed much greater powers than the ancient, because the powers of the latter were chimerical, while those of the former were real and practical; under such circumstances, I should certainly have thrown Agrippa aside, and have contented my imagination, warmed as it was, by returning with greater ardour to my former studies. It is even possible that the train of my ideas would never have received the fatal impulse that led to my ruin. But the cursory glance my father had taken of my volume by no means assured me that he was acquainted with its contents; and I continued to read with the greatest avidity. ~ Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley,#NFDB
457:I know why you are here.”
She knew!
“We receive extensive financial statements, and I know you did not pay your own way, so let us put that drama out of the way, shall we?”
“Is it a drama?” Jane said with a laugh, relieved the woman was just referring to Carolyn’s bequest.
“Hm?” Mrs. Wattlesbrook would not budge from her intended course of conversation. Jane sighed.
“Yes, my great-aunt left me this vacation in her will, but I don’t know what you mean by drama. I never intended to hide--”
“No need to make a fuss.” She waved her arms as if wafting Jane’s exclamations out the window like a foul odor. “You are here, you are paid in full. I would not have you worry that we will not take care of you just because you are not our usual type of guest and there is no chance, given your economic conditions, that you would ever be a repeat client or likely to associate with and recommend us to potential clients. Let me assure you that we will still do all in our power to make your visit, such as it is, enjoyable.”
Mrs. Wattlesbrook smiled, showing both rows of yellowing teeth. Jane blinked. Economic conditions? Usual type of guest? She made herself take two deep-rooted yoga breaths, smiled back, and thought of men in breeches. “Okay then.”
“Good, good.” Mrs. Wattlesbrook patted Jane’s arm, suddenly the picture of hospitality and maternal tenderness. “Now, do have some tea. You must be quite chilled from your journey.”
In fact, the temperature of the limo, unlike this pseudo-inn, had been quite comfortable, and in the blazing heat the last thing Jane wanted was hot tea, but she reminded herself to play along, so she sweated and drank. ~ Shannon Hale,#NFDB
458: ~ glow of the light of daybreak is in your emerald vault, the goblet of the blood of twilight is your blood-measuring bowl
author class:Jalaluddin Rumi
/Farsi & Turkish The glow of the light of daybreak is in your emerald vault, the goblet of the blood of twilight is your blood-measuring bowl. Mile on mile, torrent on torrent come dancing and gliding to the shore of your sea. With all the abstention and aspiration of the moon, the cap falls off the head of the moon when the moon raises its face to gaze upon your height. Every morn the nightingales lament like the heart-forlorn ones to the melodies of those attaining your verdant meadow. The spirits seek vision, the hearts all seek the Beloved; you in whose broad orchard four streams are let flow -- one stream pure water, another honey, the third fresh milk, the fourth your ruby wine. You never give me a chance, you are giving wine upon wine; where is the head, that I may describe the drinking-cup of your wine? Yet who am I? Heaven itself in the round of this heavy bumper finds not a moment's peace from your love and the craving for you. Moon of silver girdle, you have experience of love; heaven, loverhood is apparent in your features. When love is yoked to the heart it wearies of the heart's chatter; heart, be silent! How long this striving and inquiring of yours? The heart said, "I am His reed pipe, I wail as the breath inn me." I said, "Be lamenting now, the slave of whose passion is the soul." We have opened your door; do not desert your companions; in thankfulness for an all-embracing love which has seized you from head to toe. [1494.jpg] -- from Mystical Poems of Rumi: Volume 2, Translated by A. J. Arberry
,#NFDB
459:She groaned again as a knock sounded at the door, and she stumbled over to answer it.
“Roo said you’d forget,” Etienne greeted her.
“I didn’t forget.” Conscious of her thin nightgown, Miranda stepped behind the door.
“And Roo said even if you didn’t forget, you still wouldn’t be there on time.”
His hair was damp, as though he’d just washed it. His black jeans fit casually over his narrow hips, and his black T-shirt had BOUCHER SWAMP TOURS stamped across the front in faded red letters.
“You should be feeling proud of yourself,” he added offhandedly. “So far she hasn’t told me one word about boiling you in oil. Not many people can pass the Roo test.”
“Is that supposed to thrill me?”
“It thrills me. You sure don’t want Roo putting a gris-gris on you. Very bad luck, cher.”
“I have to get dressed,” Miranda grumbled.
“I’ll wait.”
“I don’t need you to wait for me.”
“You might get lost.”
“It’s only a fifteen-minute walk to the inn, right? How lost could I get?”
She felt his eyes rake over her. She doubted if those eyes ever missed much.
“Bad night?” he asked her.
Miranda hesitated. Was he trying to be funny? Self-righteous? But the expression on his face wasn’t joking or smug, and she didn’t feel like answering any questions right now.
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Your grand-père? Miss Teeta says he’s better,” Etienne said. “Just in case you were wondering.”
“Great. Maybe today he’ll do something else for the whole town to talk about.”
“The town, it won’t talk if it doesn’t know.” Etienne’s voice hardened. “I don’t think you give your friends enough credit.”
“What friends?” But she shut the door before he had a chance to respond. ~ Richie Tankersley Cusick,#NFDB
460:At last I came upon the hedge maze. Far from the warm circles of light cast by torch and lamp, the leaves and twigs here were wedged in a silver lacework of starlight and shadow. The entrance was framed by two large trees, their branches still bare of any new growth. In the darkness, they seemed less like garden posts marking the way into the labyrinth than two silent sentinels guarding the doorway to the underworld. Shapes writhed in the shadows beyond the archway of bramble and vine, both inviting and intimidating.
Yet I was not frightened. The hedge maze smelled like the forest outside the inn, a deep green scent of growth and decay, where life and death were intermingled. A familiar scent. A welcoming scent.
The scent of home. Removing my mask, I crossed the threshold, letting darkness swallow me whole.
There were no torches or candles lit upon the paths, and neither moonlight nor starlight penetrated the dense bramble. Yet my footing along these paths was sure, every part of me attuned to the wildness around me. Unlike the maze of Schönbrunn Palace, a meticulously manicured and man-made construction, this labyrinth breathed. Nature creeped in along the edges, reclaiming groomed, orderly, and civilized corridors into a twisting tangle of tunnels and tracks, weeds and wildflowers. Paths grew vague, roots unruly, branches untamed. Somewhere deep in the labyrinth, I could hear the giggles and gasps of illicit encounters in the shrubbery. I was careful of my step, lest I trip over a pair of trysting lovers, but when I came upon no one else, I let myself fall into a meditative state of mind. I wandered the recursive spirals of the hedge maze, turn after turn after turn, feeling a measure of calm for the first time in a long time. ~ S Jae Jones,#NFDB
461:I do not like to remember that trip.
Not that I was awake for much of it--for which I am grateful. I kept sliding in and out of consciousness, and believe me, the outs were much more welcome than the ins.
I knew that Chovilun Fortress lay at the base of the mountains on the Akaeriki River, which bisects the kingdom, but I didn’t know how long it took to reach it.
All I can report is that I felt pretty sick, nearly as sick as I’d been when I fell into Ara’s chickenyard. Sick at heart as well, for I knew there was no escape for Meliara Astiar after all; therefore I resolved that my last job was to summon enough presence of mind to die well.
Not, of course, that the truth would ever get to Branaric. The Merindars had captured and held a kingdom by a winning combination of treachery, bullying, and lying. I had made the Baron look silly during that episode at the inn, and I knew he was going to take his revenge on me in the privacy of his fortress, making it last as long as possible. And every weakness he could get me to display was going to get noised as excruciatingly as possible over the entire kingdom--especially aimed at Tlanth.
So my only hope, therefore, was to make him so angry he’d kill me outright and save us both a lot of effort.
These were my cheery thoughts--not that my head was any too clear--as we clattered into a stone courtyard at last. The ever-present rain had nearly drowned me. My hands and feet were numb. When the guards cut me loose I fell like an old bundle of laundry onto the stone courtyard, and once again hands gripped my upper arms and yanked me upright.
This time I made no pretense of walking as I was borne into a dank tunnel, then down steep steps into an even danker, nasty-smelling chamber. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
462:Dead Man's Morrice
There came a crowder to the Mermaid Inn,
One dark May night,
Fiddling a tune that quelled our motley din,
With quaint delight,
It haunts me yet, as old lost airs will do,
A phantom strain:
_Look for me once, lest I should look for you,
And look in vain._
In that old wood, where ghosts of lovers walk,
At fall of day,
Gleaning such fragments of their ancient talk
As poor ghosts may,
From leaves that brushed their faces, wet with dew,
Or tears, or rain,...
_Look for me once, lest I should look for you,
And look in vain._
Have we not seen them--pale forgotten shades
That do return,
Groping for those dim paths, those fragrant glades,
Those nooks of fern,
Only to find that, of the may they knew,
No wraiths remain;
_Yet they still look, as I should look for you,
And look in vain._
They see those happier ghosts that waned away-Whither, who knows?-Ghosts that come back with music and the may,
And Spring's first rose,
Lover and lass, to sing the old burden through,
Stave and refrain:
_Look for me once, lest I should look for you,
And look in vain._
So, after death, if in that starless deep,
I lose your eyes,
I'll haunt familiar places. I'll not keep
31
Tryst in the skies.
I'll haunt the whispering elms that found us true,
The old grass-grown lane.
_Look for me there, lest I should look for you,
And look in vain._
There, as of old, under the dreaming moon,
A phantom throng
Floats through the fern, to a ghostly morrice tune,
A thin sweet song,
Hands link with hands, eyes drown in eyes anew,
Lips meet again....
_Look for me, once, lest I should look for you,
And look in vain._
~ Alfred Noyes,#NFDB
463:You were never as much to blame as you thought,” she told him softly.
A brief smile touched his lips. “That’s what you say. But you’re biased.”
She shrugged. “Maybe a little. But I would never have agreed to marry you if I’d thought you capable of real wickedness. I wouldn’t have risked having a child of mine suffer the same torments you and your siblings suffered.”
Oliver went still. “And does this sudden mention of some future child have anything to do with your sneaking out of the house to consult with a physician this morning?”
She gaped at him. “You knew? How did you find out?”
“Believe me, angel, I know whenever you leave my bed.” His eyes gleamed at her. “I feel the loss of it right here.” He struck his heart dramatically.
“Aunt Rose spoke the truth about you,” she grumbled. “You are a smooth-tongued devil. And apparently you read minds, as well.”
He chuckled. “Your aunt simply cannot keep secrets. But to be honest, it’s not been hard to notice how little interest you show in your breakfast these days, and how often you like to nap. I know the signs of a woman with child. I watched my mother go through them with four children.”
“And here I was hoping to surprise you,” she said with a pout. “I swear you are impossible to surprise.”
“That’s only because you used up all your surprises in the first hour of our meeting.”
“How so?”
“By boldly threatening me with Freddy’s sword. And by agreeing to my insane proposal. Then by showing sympathy for the loss of my parents. Few people ever did that for me.”
As a lump caught in her throat, he pulled her into his arms. “But your greatest surprise came long after, on that day at the inn.” Laying his hand on her still flat belly, his voice grew husky. “You surprised me by loving me. That was the best surprise of all. ~ Sabrina Jeffries,#NFDB
464:If the threat was from the borders, it seemed unlikely that I’d find Renselaeus warriors roaming around the royal palace Athanarel. So, was there a threat at home?
Like a rival for the kingship? My thoughts went immediately to the Marquise of Merindar--and to the conversation with Shevraeth at the inn. The Marquise had made no attempt to communicate with me, and I had not even seen her subsequent to that dinner the night of my arrival. In the days since, I’d managed to lose sight of my purpose in coming.
When I’d surprised Shevraeth in the archive, it had seemed he was actually willing to discuss royal business--at least that portion that pertained to cleaning up after Galdran--for why else would he offer me a look at the old king’s papers? But I’d managed to turn the discussion into a quarrel, and so lost the chance.
I groaned aloud. What was wrong with me? As I hurried up the steps to our wing, I promised myself that next time Shevraeth tried to talk to me, I’d listen, and even if he insulted me, my family, and my land, I’d keep my tongue between my teeth.
“My own conscience demands that I make the attempt.” Would there even be another try?
I sighed as I opened my door, then Nessaren and Shevraeth and the rain went out of my mind when I saw that my letter table was not empty.
Two items awaited me. The first was a letter--and when I saw the device on the heavy seal, my heart sped: the Marquise of Merindar.
I ripped it open, to find only an invitation to a gathering three weeks hence. No hint of any personal message.
Laying it aside, I turned my gaze to the other object.
Sitting in the middle of the table was a fine little vase cut from luminous starstone, and in it, bordered by the most delicate ferns, was a single rose, just barely blooming.
One white rose. I knew what that meant, thanks to Nee: Purity of Intent. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
465:Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Have ye souls in heaven too,
Doubled-lived in regions new?
Yes, and those of heaven commune
With the spheres of sun and moon;
With the noise of fountains wondrous,
And the parle of voices thund'rous;
With the whisper of heaven's trees
And one another, in soft ease
Seated on Elysian lawns
Browsed by none but Dian's fawns;
Underneath large blue-bells tented,
Where the daisies are rose-scented,
And the rose herself has got
Perfume which on earth is not;
Where the nightingale doth sing
Not a senseless, tranced thing,
But divine melodious truth;
Philosophic numbers smooth;
Tales and golden histories
Of heaven and its mysteries.
Thus ye live on high, and then
On the earth ye live again;
And the souls ye left behind you
Teach us, here, the way to find you,
Where your other souls are joying,
Never slumber'd, never cloying.
Here, your earth-born souls still speak
To mortals, of their little week;
Of their sorrows and delights;
Of their passions and their spites;
Of their glory and their shame;
What doth strengthen and what maim.
Thus ye teach us, every day,
Wisdom, though fled far away.
Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Ye have souls in heaven too,
Double-lived in regions new!
'From the fact that this poem is written in Keats's Beaumont and Fletcher, now in Sir Charles Dilke's possession, and from internal evidence, we may judge it to be addressed to the brother poets of passion and mirth who wrote the tragi-comedy of The Fair Maid Of The Inn, and not to poets at large, as indicated by the title given in the Golden Treasury, to wit Ode on the Poets.' ~ John Keats, Ode. Written On The Blank Page Before Beaumont And Fletchers Tragi-Comedy The Fair Maid Of The In
,#NFDB
466:Lucinda,” Elizabeth said for the third time in an hour, “I cannot tell you how sorry I am about this.” Five days ago, Lucinda had arrived at the inn at the Scottish border where she joined Elizabeth for the journey to Ian Thornton’s house. This morning, their hired coach broke an axle, and they were now ignominiously ensconced on the back of a hay wagon belonging to a farmer, their trunks and valises tipping precariously to and fro along the rutted path that evidently passed for a road in Scotland. The prospect of arriving in a hay wagon on Ian Thornton’s doorstep was so horrible that Elizabeth preferred to concentrate on her guilt, rather than her forthcoming meeting with the monster who had ruined her life.
“As I said the last time you apologized, Elizabeth,” Lucinda replied, “it is not your fault, and therefore not your responsibility to apologize, for the deplorable lack of roads and conveyances in this heathen country.”
“Yes, but if it weren’t for me you wouldn’t be here.”
Lucinda sighed impatiently, clutched the side of the hay wagon as it made a particularly sharp lurch, and righted herself. “And as I have already admitted, if I hadn’t been deceived into mentioning Mr. Thornton’s name to your uncle, neither of us would be here. You are merely experiencing some nervousness at the disagreeable prospect of confronting the man, and there is no reason in the world-“The wagon tipped horribly and they both clutched at the sides of it for leverage. “-no reason in the world to continue apologizing. Your time would be better spent preparing yourself for the unhappy occasion.”
“You’re right, of course.”
“Of course,” Lucinda agreed unhesitatingly. “I am always right, as you know. Nearly always,” she amended, obviously thinking of how she had been misled by Julius Cameron into revealing the name of Ian Thornton as one of Elizabeth’s former suitors. ~ Judith McNaught,#NFDB
467:The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed trough the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with coversation and laughter, the clatter and clamour one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of the night. If there had been music…but no, of curse there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained.
Inside the Waystone a pair of men huddled at one corner of the bar. they drank with quiet determination, avoiding serious discussions of troubling news. In doing these they added a small, sullen silenceto the lager, hollow one. it made an alloy of sorts, a counterpoint.
The third silence was not an easy thing to notice. If you listened for an hour, you might begin to feel it in the wooden floor underfoot and in the rough, splintering barrels behind the bar. It was in the weight of the black stone heart that held the heat of a long-dead fire. It was in the slow back and forth of a white linen cloth rubbing along the grain of the bar. and it was in the hands of the man who stood there, polishing a strech of mahogany that already gleamed in the lamplight.
The man had true-red hair, red as flame. his eyes was dark and distant, and he moved with the subtle certainty that comes from knowing many things.
The Waystone was is, just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wapping the other inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn’s ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die. ~ Patrick Rothfuss,#NFDB
468:The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed trough the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamour one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of the night. If there had been music… but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained.
Inside the Waystone a pair of men huddled at one corner of the bar. They drank with quiet determination, avoiding serious discussions of troubling news. In doing these they added a small, sullen silence to the lager, hollow one. It made an alloy of sorts, a counterpoint.
The third silence was not an easy thing to notice. If you listened for an hour, you might begin to feel it in the wooden floor underfoot and in the rough, splintering barrels behind the bar. It was in the weight of the black stone hearth that held the heat of a long-dead fire. It was in the slow back and forth of a white linen cloth rubbing along the grain of the bar. And it was in the hands of the man who stood there, polishing a stretch of mahogany that already gleamed in the lamplight.
The man had true-red hair, red as flame. His eyes were dark and distant, and he moved with the subtle certainty that comes from knowing many things.
The Waystone was his, just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn’s ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die. ~ Patrick Rothfuss,#NFDB
469:The Three Tailors
I shall tell you in rhyme how, once on a time,
Three tailors tramped up to the inn Ingleheim,
On the Rhine, lovely Rhine;
They were broke, but the worst of it all, they were curst
With that malady common to tailors--a thirst
For wine, lots of wine.
"Sweet host," quoth the three, "we're hard up as can be,
Yet skilled in the practice of cunning are we,
On the Rhine, genial Rhine;
And we pledge you we will impart you that skill
Right quickly and fully, providing you'll fill
Us with wine, cooling wine."
But that host shook his head, and he warily said:
"Though cunning be good, we take money instead,
On the Rhine, thrifty Rhine;
If ye fancy ye may without pelf have your way
You'll find that there's both host and the devil to pay
For your wine, costly wine."
Then the first knavish wight took his needle so bright
And threaded its eye with a wee ray of light
From the Rhine, sunny Rhine;
And, in such a deft way, patched a mirror that day
That where it was mended no expert could say-Done so fine 't was for wine.
The second thereat spied a poor little gnat
Go toiling along on his nose broad and flat
Towards the Rhine, pleasant Rhine;
"Aha, tiny friend, I should hate to offend,
But your stockings need darning"--which same did he mend,
All for wine, soothing wine.
And next there occurred what you'll deem quite absurd-His needle a space in the wall thrust the third,
By the Rhine, wondrous Rhine;
And then all so spry, he leapt through the eye
375
Of that thin cambric needle--nay, think you I'd lie
About wine--not for wine.
The landlord allowed (with a smile) he was proud
To do the fair thing by that talented crowd
On the Rhine, generous Rhine.
So a thimble filled he as full as could be-"Drink long and drink hearty, my jolly friends three,
Of my wine, filling wine."
~ Eugene Field,#NFDB
470:It was night again. The Waystone Inn lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts.
The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a wind it would have sighed through the trees, set the inn’s sign creaking on its hooks, and brushed the silence down the road like trailing autumn leaves. If there had been a crowd, even a handful of men inside the inn, they would have filled the silence with conversation and laughter, the clatter and clamor one expects from a drinking house during the dark hours of night. If there had been music...but no, of course there was no music. In fact there were none of these things, and so the silence remained.
Inside the Waystone a pair of men huddled at one corner of the bar. They drank with quiet determination, avoiding serious discussions of troubling news. In doing this they added a small, sullen silence to the larger, hollow one. It made an alloy of sorts, a counterpoint.
The third silence was not an easy thing to notice. If you listened for an hour, you might begin to feel it in the wooden floor underfoot and in the rough, splintering barrels behind the bar. It was in the weight of the black stone hearth that held the heat of a long dead fire. It was in the slow back and forth of a white linen cloth rubbing along the grain of the bar. And it was in the hands of the man who stood there, polishing a stretch of mahogany that already gleamed in the lamplight.
The man had true-red hair, red as flame. His eyes were dark and distant, and he moved with the subtle certainty that comes from knowing many things.
The Waystone was his, just as the third silence was his. This was appropriate, as it was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. It was deep and wide as autumn’s ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of a man who is waiting to die. ~ Patrick Rothfuss,#NFDB
471:A Visit November 30 I REMEMBER AN especially dark time of my life. One of my children was sick, and in my anxiety for her I was in my own way as sick as she was. Then one day the phone rang, and it was a man I didn’t know very well then though he has become a great friend since, a minister from Charlotte, North Carolina, which is about 800 miles or so from where I live in Vermont. I assumed he was calling from home and asked him how things were going down there only to hear him say that no, he wasn’t in Charlotte. He was at an inn about twenty minutes away from my house. He’d known I was having troubles, he said, and he thought maybe it would be handy to have an extra friend around for a day or two. The reason he didn’t tell me in advance that he was coming must have beer that he knew I would tell him for Heaven’s sake not to do anything so crazy, so for Heaven’s sake he did something crazier still which was to come those 800 miles without telling me he was coming so that for all he knew I might not even have been there. But as luck had it, I was there, and for a day or two he was there with me. He was there for me. I don’t think anything we found to say to each other amounted to very much or had anything particularly religious about it. I don’t remember even spending much time talking about my troubles with him. We just took a couple of walks, had a meal or two together and smoked our pipes, drove around to see some of the countryside, and that was about it. I have never forgotten how he came all that distance just for that, and I’m sure he has never forgotten it either. I also believe that although as far as I can remember we never so much as mentioned the name of Christ, Christ was as much in the air we breathed those few days as the smoke of our pipes was in the air, or the dappled light of the woods we walked through. I believe that for a little time we both of us touched the hem of Christ’s garment, were both of us, for a little time anyway, healed. ~ Frederick Buechner, #NFDB
472:We began the show by asking: Who did more for the world, Michael Milken or Mother Teresa?
This seems like a no-brainer. Milken is the greedy junk-bond king. One year, his firm paid him $550 million. Then he went to jail for breaking securities laws. Mother Teresa is the nun who spent her lifetime helping the poor and died without a penny. Her good deeds live on even after her death; several thousand sisters now continue the charities she began. At first glance, of course Mother Teresa did more for the world.
But it's not so simple. Milken's selfish pursuit of profit helped a lot of people, too. Think about it: By pioneering a new way for companies to raise money, Milken created millions of jobs. The ignorant media sneered at 'junk bonds', but Milken's innovative use of them meant exciting new ideas flourished.
We now make calls on a national cellular network established by a company called McCaw Cellular, which Milken financed. And our calls are cheaper because Milken's junk bonds financed MCI. CEO Bill McGowan simply couldn't get the money anywhere else. Without Milken, MCI wouldn't have grown from 11 to 50,000 employees. CNN's 24-hour news and Ted Turner's other left-wing ventures were made possible by Milken's 'junk'.
The world's biggest toy company, Mattel, the cosmetics company Revlon, and the supermarket giant Safeway were among many rescued from bankruptcy by Milken's junk bonds. He financed more than 3,000 companies, including what are now Barnes & Noble, AOL Time Warner, Comcast, Mellon Bank, Occidental Petroleum, Jeep Eagle, Calvin Klein, Hasbro, Days Inn, 7-Eleven, and Computer Associates. Millions of people have productive employment today because of Michael Milken. (Millions of jobs is hard to believe, and when 'Greed' aired, I just said he created thousands of jobs; but later I met Milken, and he was annoyed with me because he claimed he'd created millions of jobs. I asked him to document that, to name the companies and the jobs, and he did.) ~ John Stossel,#NFDB
473:What are you doing here?”
“My dad called and--what the hell is that?”
He pointed to the cleaver.
I angled my chin. “I was in the middle of cutting my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“With a meat cleaver?”
“It’s quick and makes a perfectly straight cut.”
He grinned. “Yeah, right. You’ve obviously watched too many movies. Who’d you think I was? Freddy Krueger?”
“What are you doing here?” I repeated, not in the mood for his sarcasm or teasing. Plus I was feeling a little silly holding my weapon of choice.
“Like I said, my dad called. The ferry shut down before they could get back. I decided to check to make sure that you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“The storms here can get pretty intense, and if you’ve never been through one”--he dropped his gaze back to the cleaver--“I just thought you might get freaked if you were all alone.”
It was nice of him to worry about me but totally unnecessary.
I sighed. “I’m fine, thanks. You can go back home now.”
“You’re kidding, right? Did you not look out there?”
“It’s snowing.”
“It’s a blizzard. I’m not going back out.”
“You’re not staying here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “This is an inn.”
“Not yet. We’re not officially open for business.”
“Tough. It’s easy to get disoriented out there. Last year a guy froze to death three feet from his front porch.”
“Call a taxi.”
The other eyebrow shot up. “Is this any way to thank me for showing concern?”
“You know, I think you probably came over here because you were afraid to be alone.”
“I really did want to make sure you were okay.”
“You could have called.”
“It’s not the same.”
I didn’t want to admit to him that a little part of me was glad not to be alone anymore. Because the wind was loud and now that it was right, it was scary.
“Oh, all right.” Besides, if the ferry wasn’t running, the taxi probably wasn’t either. “Come on. I’ll split my sandwich with you.”
“I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich, and I’m really in the mood for something warm. ~ Rachel Hawthorne,#NFDB
474:Hearken, thou craggy ocean pyramid!
Give answer by thy voice, the sea-fowls' screams!
When were thy shoulders mantled in huge streams?
When, from the sun, was thy broad forehead hid?
How long is't since the mighty Power bid
Thee heave to airy sleep from fathom dreams?
Sleep in the lap of thunder or sunbeams,
Or when grey clouds are thy cold coverlid.
Thou answer'st not; for thou art dead asleep;
Thy life is but two dead eternities--
The last in air, the former in the deep;
First with the whales, last with the eagle-skies--
Drowned wast thou till an earthquake made thee steep,
Another cannot wake thy giant-size!
'From Kirkcudbright [Keats and Brown] went to Newton Stewart and thence through Wigtonshire to Port Patrick, visiting Glenluce and Stranraer on the way. From Port Patrick they crossed in the mail packet to Ireland, reaching Donaghadee on the 5th of July. They walked from Donaghadee to Belfast and back, having abandoned the idea of seeing the Giant's Causeway on account of the expense,-- crossed again so as to sleep at Port Patrick on the 8th, and then resumed their Scotch walk. Lord Houghton says,--
"Returning from Ireland, the travellers proceeded northwards by the coast, Ailsa Rock constantly in their view. That fine object first appeared to them, in the full sunlight, like a transparent tortoise asleep upon the calm water, then, as they advanced, displaying its lofty shoulders, and, as they still went on, losing its distinctness in the mountains of Arran and the extent of Cantire that rose behind."
His Lordship records that the sonnet to Ailsa Rock was written in the inn at Girvan; and, as Keats was at Maybole on the 11th, and Girvan is more than three quarters of the way from Port Patrick to Maybole, the sonnet should be dated the 10th or 11th of July 1818. It appeared in Leigh Hunt's Literary Pocket-book for 1819.'
~ Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ John Keats, To Ailsa Rock
,#NFDB
475:It was well past sunset before we got away. All the details that couldn’t be settled had to be delegated, which meant explanations and alternative orders. But at last we were on the road, riding flat out for the capital. The wind and our speed made conversation under a shout impossible, so for a long time we rode in silence.
It was just as well, leastwise for me. I really needed time to think, and--so I figured--if my life was destined to continue at such a headlong pace, I was going to have to learn to perform my cerebrations while dashing back and forth cross-country at the gallop.
Of course my initial thoughts went right back to that kiss, and for a short time I thought wistfully about how much I’d been missing. But I realized that, though it was splendid in a way nothing had been hitherto and I hoped there’d be plenty more--and soon--it didn’t solve any of the puzzles whose pieces I’d only recently begun to comprehend. If anything, it made things suddenly more difficult.
I wished that I had Nee to talk to, or better, Oria. Except what would be the use? Neither of them had ever caused someone to initiate a courtship by letter.
I sighed, glad for the gentle rain, and for the darkness, as I made myself reconsider all of my encounters with Shevraeth--this time from, as much as I was able, his perspective.
This was not a pleasant exercise. By the time we stopped, sometime after white-change, to get fresh horses and food and drink, I was feeling contrite and thoroughly miserable.
We stepped into the very inn in which we’d had our initial conversation; we passed the little room I had stood outside of, and I shuddered. Now we had a bigger one, but I was too tired to notice much beyond comfortable cushions and warmth. As I sank down, I saw glowing rings around the candles and rubbed my eyes.
When I looked up at Shevraeth, it was in time to catch the end of one of those assessing glances. Then he smiled, a real smile of humor and tenderness.
“I knew it,” he said. “I knew that by now you would have managed to see everything as your fault, and you’d be drooping under the weight. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
476:It felt like being shot with an arrow, and Will jerked back. His wineglass crashed to the floor and shattered. He lurched to his feet, leaning both hands on the table. He was vaguely aware of stares, and the landlords anxious voice in his ear, but the pain was too great to think through, almost too great to breathe through. The tightness in his chest, the one he had thought of as one end of a cord tying him to Jem, had pulled so taut that it was strangling his heart. He stumbled away from his table, pushing through a knot of customers near the bar, and passed to the front door of the inn. All he could think of was air, getting air into his lungs to breathe. He pushed the doors open and half-tumbled out into the night. For a moment the pain in his chest eased, and he fell back against the wall of the inn. Rain was sheeting down, soaking his hair and clothes. He gasped, his heart stuttering with a misture of terror and desperation. Was this just the distance from Jem affecting him? He had never felt anything like this, even when Jem was at his worst, even when he'd been injured and Will had ached with sympathetic pain.
The cord snapped.
For a moment everything went white, the courtyard bleeching through as if with acid. Will jackknifed to his knees, vomiting up his supper into the mud. When the spasms had passed , he staggard to his feet and blindly away from the inn, as if trying to outpace his own pain. He fetched up against the wall of the stables, beside the horse trough. He dropped to his knees to plunge his hands into the icy water-and saw his own reflection. There was his face, as white as death, and his shirt, and a spreading stain of red across the front. With wet hands he siezed at his lapels and jerked the shirt open. In the dim light that spilled from the inn, he could see that his parabati rune, just over his heart, was bleeding. His hands were covered in blood, blood mixed with rain, the same ran that was washing the blood away from his chest, showing the rune as it began to fade from black to silver, changing all that had been sense in Will's life into nonsense.
Jem was dead. ~ Cassandra Clare,#NFDB
477:A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
enough money within her control to move out
and rent a place of her own even if she never wants
to or needs to...
A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
something perfect to wear if the employer or date of her
dreams wants to see her in an hour...
A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
a youth she's content to leave behind....
A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to
retelling it in her old age....
A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .....
a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black
lace bra...
A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
one friend who always makes her laugh... and one who
lets her cry...
A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone
else in her family...
A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a
recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honored...
A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
a feeling of control over her destiny...
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to fall in love without losing herself..
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
HOW TO QUIT A JOB,
BREAK UP WITH A LOVER,
AND CONFRONT A FRIEND WITHOUT RUINING THE FRIENDSHIP...
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
when to try harder... and WHEN TO WALK AWAY...
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that she can't change the length of her calves,
the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that her childhood may not have been perfect...but it's over...
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
what she would and wouldn't do for love or more...
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to live alone... even if she doesn't like it...
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
whom she can trust,
whom she can't,
and why she shouldn't
take it personally...
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
where to go...
be it to her best friend's kitchen table...
or a charming inn in the woods...
when her soul needs soothing...
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
what she can and can't accomplish in a day...
a month...and a year... ~ Pamela Redmond Satran,#NFDB
478:Governors On Sominex
It had been four days of no weather
as if nature had conceded its genius to the indoors.
They'd closed down the Bureau of Sad Endings
and my wife sat on the couch and read the paper out loud.
The evening edition carried the magic death of a child
backlit by a construction site sunrise on its front page.
I kept my back to her and fingered the items on the mantle.
Souvenirs only reminded you of buying them.
***
The moon hung solid over the boarded-up Hobby Shop.
P.K. was in the precinct house, using his one phone call
to dedicate a song to Tammy, for she was the light
by which he traveled into this and that
And out in the city, out in the wide readership,
his younger brother was kicking an ice bucket
in the woods behind the Marriott,
his younger brother who was missing that part of the brain
that allows you to make out with your pillow.
Poor kid.
It was the light in things that made them last.
***
Tammy called her caseworker from a closed gas station
to relay ideas unaligned with the world we loved.
The tall grass bent in the wind like tachometer needles
and he told her to hang in there, slowly repeating
the number of the Job Info Line.
She hung up and glared at the Killbuck Sweet Shoppe.
The words that had been running through her head,
"employees must wash hands before returning to work,"
kept repeating and the sky looked dead.
***
Hedges formed the long limousine a Tampa sky could die behind.
A sailor stood on the wharf with a clipper ship
reflected on the skin of the bell pepper he held.
He'd had mouthwash at the inn and could still feel
the ice blue carbon pinwheels spinning in his mouth.
There were no new ways to understand the world,
only new days to set our understandings against.
Through the lanes came virgins in tennis shoes,
their hair shining like videotape,
singing us into a kind of sleep we hadn't tried yet.
Each page was a new chance to understand the last.
And somehow the sea was always there to make you feel stupid.
Submitted by sallack
~ David Berman,#NFDB
479:What seemed to be the entire staff of the place turned out, all bowing and scurrying, to make our debarkation as easy as possible. As I watched this--from beneath the rain canopy that two eager young inn-helpers held over our heads--I couldn’t help remember last spring’s sojourn at various innyards, as either a prisoner or a fugitive, and it was hard not to laugh at the comparison.
We had a splendid dinner in a private room overlooking the river. From below came the merry sounds of music, about as different from the haunting rhythms of the Hill Folk’s music as can be, yet I loved it too.
When we had finished, Nee said, “Come! Let’s go dance.”
“Not me,” Bran said. He lolled back on his cushions and grabbed for his mulled wine. “In the saddle all day. I’ll finish this, then I’m for bed.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said to Nee, rising to my feet.
Nee turned to Shevraeth, who sat with both hands round his goblet. “Lord Vidanric? Will you come with us?”
I looked out the window, determined to say nothing. But I was still angry, convinced as I was that he had been spying on me.
“Keep me company,” Bran said. “Don’t want to drink by myself.”
The Marquis said to Nee, “Another time.”
I kept my face turned away to hide the relief I was sure was plain to see, and Nee and I went downstairs to the common room, which smelled of spicy drinks and braised meats and fruit tarts.
In one corner four musicians played, and the center of the room was clear save for a group of dancers, the tables and cushions having been pushed back to make space. Nee and I went to join, for we had come in on a circle dance. These were not the formal Court dances with their intricate steps, where each gesture has to be just so, right down to who asks for a partner and how the response is made. These were what Nee called town dances, which were based on the old country dances--line dances for couples, and circles either for men or for women--that people had stamped and twirled and clapped to for generations.
Never lacking for partners, we danced until we were hot and tired, and then went up to the spacious bedrooms. I left my windows wide open and fell asleep listening to the sound of the river. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
480:The Comet -1858
Erratic Soul of some great Purpose, doomed
To track the wild illimitable space,
Till sure propitiation has been made
For the divine commission unperformed!
What was thy crime? Ahasuerus' curse
Were not more stern on earth than thine in Heaven!
Art thou the Spirit of some Angel World,
For grave rebellion banished from thy peers,
Compelled to watch the calm, immortal stars,
Circling in rapture the celestial void,
While the avenger follows in thy train
To spur thee on to wretchedness eterne?
Or one of nature's wildest fantasies,
From which she flies in terror so profound,
And with such whirl of torment in her breast,
That mighty earthquakes yearn where'er she treads;
While War makes red its terrible right hand,
And Famine stalks abroad all lean and wan?
To us thou art as exquisitely fair
As the ideal visions of the seer,
Or gentlest fancy that e'er floated down
Imagination's bright, unruffled stream,
Wedding the thought that was too deep for words
To the low breathings of inspired song.
When the stars sang together o'er the birth
Of the poor Babe at Bethlehem, that lay
In the coarse manger at the crowded Inn,
Didst thou, perhaps a bright exalted star,
Refuse to swell the grand, harmonious lay,
Jealous as Herod of the birth divine?
Or when the crown of thorns on Calvary
Pierced the Redeemer's brow, didst thou disdain
To weep, when all the planetary worlds
Were blinded by the fulness of their tears?
138
E'en to the flaming sun, that hid his face
At the loud cry, 'Lama Sabachthani!'
No rest! No rest! the very damned have that
In the dark councils of remotest Hell,
Where the dread scheme was perfected that sealed
Thy disobedience and accruing doom.
Like Adam's sons, hast thou, too, forfeited
The blest repose that never pillowed Sin?
No! none can tell thy fate, thou wandering Sphinx!
Pale Science, searching by the midnight lamp
Through the vexed mazes of the human brain,
Still fails to read the secret of its soul
As the superb enigma flashes by,
A loosed Prometheus burning with disdain.
~ Charles Sangster,#NFDB
481:Shhhhhh!" Bang! "Damn it, Chilcot, I said toss the pebble, not break the damned window! Here, I'll do it." They had found her after checking every coaching inn on the London road in a desperate race to catch her before she reached the capital and was lost to them forever. The proprietor of this inn just outside Hounslow had confirmed their frantic queries. Yes, a pretty young woman with dark hair had taken a room for the night. Yes, she spoke with a strange accent. And yes, she had a baby with her. "Put her upstairs, Oi did," the garrulous landlord had said. "She wants an early start, so I gave 'er the east bedroom. Catches the mornin' sun, it does." But Gareth had no intention of waiting until morning to see Juliet. Now, standing in the muddy road beside the inn, he unearthed a piece of flint with his toe, picked it up, and flung it at the black square of the east-facing upstairs window. Nothing. "Throw it harder," urged Perry, standing a few feet away with his arms folded and the reins of both Crusader and his own mare in his hands. "Any harder and I'll break the damned thing." "Maybe you don't have the right window." "Maybe you ought to just do it the easy way and ask the bloody innkeeper to rouse her." "Yes, that would save time and trouble, Gareth. Why don't you do that?" Gareth leveled a hard stare at them all. His temper was short tonight. "Right. And just what do you think that's going to do to her reputation if I go knocking on the door at three-o'-bloody-clock in the morning asking after her, eh?" Chilcot shrugged. "As for her reputation, she's already ruined it herself, getting a bastard babe off your brother and all —" Without warning, Gareth's fist slammed into Chilcot's cheekbone and sent him sprawling in the mud. "'Sdeath, Gareth, you didn't have to take it so personally!" Chilcot cried, scowling and rubbing the side of his face. "She's family. Any slur upon her name and I will take it personally. Understand?" "Sorry," Chilcot muttered, sulking as he gingerly touched his cheek. "But you didn't have to thump me so damned hard." "Another remark like the last one and I'll thump you even harder. Now, stop whining before you wake everyone in town and word gets back to my damned brother." With ~ Danelle Harmon, #NFDB
482:To resume--and we’d better hurry, or they’ll be down here clamoring for our company before their supper goes cold--Lord Vidanric has been working very hard ever since the end of the war. Too hard, some say. He came to Athanarel sick and has been ill off and on since then, for he seldom sleeps. He’s either in the saddle, or else his lamps are burning half the night in his wing of the Residence. He’s here on his mother’s orders, to rest. He and your brother have become fast friends, I think because Branaric, in his own way, is so very undemanding. He wants no favors or powers. He just likes to enjoy his days. This seems to be what Vidanric needs just now.”
“Do you think he’ll make a good king?” I asked.
Again she seemed surprised. “Yes,” she said. “But then I’ve known him all my life.”
As if that explains everything, I thought. Then I realized that to her it did. He was a good prospect for a king because he was her friend, and because they were both courtiers, raised the same way.
And then I wondered just who--if anyone--at Court was willing to speak not for themselves, but for the people, to find out who really would be the best ruler?
A discreet tap outside the door brought our attention round. Calden, the server from the inn, parted the tapestry and said, “Count Branaric sent me to find out if you’re coming?”
“In just a moment, thanks,” I said.
“Will you agree to my pact, then?” Nimiar asked.
I opened my mouth to ask why they couldn’t just marry here, but I knew that was the coward’s way out. I did not wish to get involved in any more wars, but that didn’t mean I ought not do what I could to ensure that the next reign would be what Papa had wished for when he commenced planning his revolt.
And the best way to find out, I realized as I looked into Nimiar’s face, would not be by asking questions of third parties, but by going to the capital and finding out on my own.
So I squashed down my reluctance and said, “If you can teach me not to make a fool of myself at that Court, I’ll gladly come to see you marry Bran.”
“You will like Court life, I promise,” she said, smiling sweetly as we went out of the parlor.
I took care to walk behind her so she could not see my face. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
483:The color is yet another variant in another dimension of variation, that of its relations with the surroundings: this red is what it is only by connecting up from its place with other reds about it, with which it forms a constellation, or with other colors it dominates or that dominate it, that it attracts or that attracts it, that it repels or that repel it. In short, it is a certain node in the woof of the simultaneous and the successive. It is a concretion of visibility, it is not an atom. The red dress a fortiori holds with all its fibers onto the fabric of
the visible, and thereby onto a fabric of invisible being. A punctuation in the field of red things, which includes the tiles of roof tops, the flags of gatekeepers and of the Revolution, certain terrains near Aix or in Madagascar, it is also a punctuation in the field of red garments, which includes, along with the dresses of women, robes of professors, bishops, and advocate generals, and also in the field of adornments and that of uniforms. And its red literally is not the same as it appears in one constellation or in the other, as the pure essence of the Revolution of 1917 precipitates in it, or that of the eternal feminine, or that of the public prosecutor, or that of the gypsies dressed like hussars who reigned twenty-five years ago over an inn on the Champs-Elysées. A certain red is also a fossil drawn up from the depths of imaginary worlds. If we took all these participations into account, we would recognize that a naked color, and in general a visible, is not a chunk of absolutely hard, indivisible being, offered all naked to a vision which could be only total or null, but is rather a sort of straits between exterior horizons and interior horizons ever gaping open, something that comes to touch lightly and makes diverse regions of the colored or visible world resound at the distances, a certain differentiation, an ephemeral modulation of this world—less a color or a thing, therefore, than a difference between things and colors, a momentary crystallization of colored being or of
visibility. Between the alleged colors and visibles, we would find anew the tissue that lines them, sustains them, nourishes them, and which for its part is not a thing, but a possibility, a latency, and a flesh of things. ~ Maurice Merleau Ponty,#NFDB
484:We’ll meet you at Ringrose’s Inn tomorrow for a late breakfast. Say, around ten A.M.?”
Tristan barked a laugh.
“What?” Jane asked. “Is that too late?”
Now Dom laughed, too, and Tristan laughed even harder.
“What’s so funny?” Jane snapped.
“It’s not about you,” Lisette said dryly. “They’re laughing at me. My brothers think me incapable of rising early. Or getting off in a timely fashion.”
“That’s because, dear girl, we have yet to see you rise before eleven or leave by noon for a trip,” Dom teased.
Tristan grinned at Jane. “Better schedule that meeting in York for a bit later, Freckles.”
Freckles. Tristan had dubbed her with the nickname during Dom’s courtship of her, and that reminder of her past with Dom and his family roused an ache in her chest.
She avoided Dom’s gaze. “How about midafternoon then?”
“Nonsense.” Lisette rolled her eyes. “I can rise early, no matter what my idiot brothers think. We’ll be there midmorning for breakfast if I have to dunk my head in ice water to accomplish it. Max wanted to get an early start, anyway.”
Dom chuckled. “Max always wants to get an early start. But he’d have to have a different wife in order to manage that.”
The two men nudged each other with smug looks.
“Yes, he would,” Lisette said in a voice of pure sweetness, “one he wasn’t quite so enamored of. But since sampling my particular charms always takes him so very long in the morning, I admit that we do end up lying abed late more times than not.”
Jane knew she ought to be shocked by such frankness, but she was having too much fun watching the men’s mouths fall open, and a red flush creep up their faces.
Lisette flashed them a coy look. “But I shall endeavor to prevent my husband from enjoying his usual pleasures tomorrow morning. That should resolve the matter.” She threaded her arm through Jane’s. “Now come, my dear, let’s join the others for dinner. I’d love a glass of wine, wouldn’t you?”
The two women had barely made it out into the hall before they burst into laughter. “That’ll teach…them,” Lisette gasped. “Did you see…Tristan’s face?”
“And Dom’s,” Jane choked out. “Oh, Lord, you are so wicked!”
“Why, of course.” Lisette’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “What’s the point of being a duchess if you can’t shock people from time to time? ~ Sabrina Jeffries,#NFDB
485:Ode Upon The Censure Of His New Inn
Come, leave the loathed stage,
And the more loathsome age;
Where pride and impudence, in faction knit,
Usurp the chair of wit!
Indicting and arraigning every day
Something they call a play.
Let their fastidious, vain
Commission of the brain
Run on and rage, sweat, censure, and condemn;
They were not made for thee, less thou for them.
Say that thou pour'st them wheat,
And they will acorns eat;
'Twere simple fury still thyself to waste
On such as have no taste!
To offer them a surfeit of pure bread
Whose appetites are dead!
No, give them grains their fill,
Husks, draff to drink and swill:
If they love lees, and leave the lusty wine,
Envy them not, their palate's with the swine.
No doubt some mouldy tale,
Like Pericles, and stale
As the shrieve's crusts, and nasty as his fishScraps out of every dish
Thrown forth, and rak'd into the common tub,
May keep up the Play-club:
There, sweepings do as well
As the best-order'd meal;
For who the relish of these guests will fit,
Needs set them but the alms-basket of wit.
And much good do't you then:
Brave plush-and-velvet-men
Can feed on orts; and, safe in your stage-clothes,
Dare quit, upon your oaths,
The stagers, and the stage-wrights too (your peers)
Of larding your large ears
77
With their foul comic socks,
Wrought upon twenty blocks;
Which if they are torn, and turn'd, and patch'd enough,
The gamesters share your gilt, and you their stuff.
Leave things so prostitute,
And take the Alcaic lute;
Or thine own Horace, or Anacreon's lyre;
Warm thee by Pindar's fire:
And though thy nerves be shrunk, and blood be cold,
Ere years have made thee old,
Strike that disdainful heat
Throughout, to their defeat,
As curious fools, and envious of thy strain,
May blushing swear, no palsy's in thy brain.
But when they hear thee sing
The glories of thy king,
His zeal to God, and his just awe o'er men:
They may, blood-shaken then,
Feel such a flesh-quake to possess their powers,
As they shall cry: 'Like ours
In sound of peace or wars,
No harp e'er hit the stars,
In tuning forth the acts of his sweet reign,
And raising Charles his chariot 'bove his Wain.'
~ Ben Jonson,#NFDB
486:The careful, embroidered stitches delineated a coil of some sort. It looked rather like a halved snail shell, but the interior was divided into dozen of intricate chambers.
"Is that a nautilus?" he asked.
"Close, but no. It's an ammonite."
"An ammonite? What's an ammonite? Sounds like an Old Testament people overdue for smiting."
"Ammonites are not a biblical people," she replied in a tone of strained forbearance. "But they have been smited."
"Smote."
With a snap of linen, she shot him a look. "Smote?"
"Grammatically speaking, I think the word you want is 'smote.' "
"Scientifically speaking, the word I want is 'extinct.' Ammonites are extinct. They're only known to us in fossils."
"And bedsheets, apparently."
"You know..." She huffed aside a lock of hair dangling
in her face. "You could be helping."
"But I'm so enjoying watching," he said, just to devil her. Nonetheless, he picked up the edge of the top sheet and fingered the stitching as he pulled it straight. "So you made this?"
"Yes." Though judging by her tone, it hadn't been a labor of love. "My mother always insisted, from the time I was twelve years old, that I spend an hour every evening on embroidery. She had all three of us forever stitching things for our trousseaux."
'Trousseaux.' The word hit him queerly. "You brought your trousseau?"
"Of course I brought my trousseau. To create the illusion of an elopement, obviously. And it made the most logical place to store Francine. All these rolls of soft fabric made for good padding."
Some emotion jabbed his side, then scampered off before he could name it. Guilt, most likely. These were sheets meant to grace her marriage bed, and she was spreading them over a stained straw-tick mattress in a seedy coaching inn.
"Anyhow," she went on, "so long as my mother forced me to embroider, I insisted on choosing a pattern that interested me. I've never understood why girls are always made to stitch insipid flowers and ribbons."
"Well, just to hazard a guess..." Colin straightened his edge. "Perhaps that's because sleeping on a bed of flowers and ribbons sounds delightful and romantic. Whereas sharing one's bed with a primeval sea snail sounds disgusting."
Her jaw firmed. "You're welcome to sleep on the floor."
"Did I say disgusting? I meant enchanting. I've always wanted to go to bed with a primeval sea snail. ~ Tessa Dare,#NFDB
487:She had been unable to stand the people at the inn. The company had disgusted her. For an instant, but that instant was now long gone, she had thought of returning to her home, to Persia. Or to Greece, where she had friends, but she had dropped the idea
again. From me she had expected salvation, but I too had disappointed her. I was, much as she was, a lost and ultimately ruinous person, even though I did not admit that to her, she could feel it, she knew it. No salvation could come from such a person. On the contrary, such a person only pushed one even deeper into despair and hopelessness. Schumann, Schopenhauer, these were the two words she said after a prolonged silence and I had the impression that she was smiling as she said them, and then nothing again for a long time. She had had everything, heard and seen everything, that was enough. She did not wish to hear from anyone any more. People were utterly distasteful to her, the whole of human society had profoundly disappointed her and abandoned her in her disappointment. There would have been no point in saying anything, and so I just listened and said nothing. I had, she said, on our second walk in the larch-wood, been the first person to explain to her the concept of anarchy in such a clear and decisive manner. Anarchy she said and no more, after that she was again silent. An anarchist, I had said to her in the larch-wood, was only a person who practised anarchy, she now reminded me. Everything in an intellectual mind is anarchy, she said, repeating another of my quotations. Society, no matter what society, must always be turned upside down and abolished, she said, and what she said were again my words. Everything that is is a lot more terrible and horrible than described by you, she said. You were right, she said, these people here are malicious and violent and this country is a dangerous and an inhuman country. You are lost, she said, just as I am lost. You may escape to wherever you choose. Your science is an absurd science, as is every science. Can you hear yourself? she asked. All these things you yourself said. Schumann and Schopenhauer, they no longer give you anything, you have got to admit it. Whatever you have done in your life, which you are always so fond of describing as
existence, you have, naturally enough, failed. You are an absurd person. I listened to her for a while, then I could bear it no longer and took my leave. ~ Thomas Bernhard,#NFDB
488:It was a relief when we reached the village of Lumm. We did not go into it but rode on the outskirts. When the great mage-built bridge came into view I felt Shevraeth’s arm tighten as he looked this way and that.
On a grassy sward directly opposite the approach to the bridge a plain carriage waited with no markings on its sides, the wheels and lower portions muddy. The only sign that this might not be some inn’s rental equipment were the five high-bred horses waiting nearby, long lines attached to their bits. A boy wearing the garb of a stable hand sat on a large rock holding the horses’ lines; nearby a footman and a driver, both in unmarked clothing but wearing servants’ hats, stood conversing in between sips from hip flagons. Steady traffic, mostly merchants, passed by, but no one gave them more than a cursory glance.
The gray threaded through a caravan of laden carts. As soon as the waiting servants saw us, the flagons were hastily stowed, the horse boy leaped to his feet, and all three bowed low.
“Hitch them up,” said the Marquis.
The boy sprang to the horses’ mouths and the driver to the waiting harnesses as the footman moved to the stirrup of the gray.
No one spoke. With a minimum of fuss the Marquis dismounted, pulled me down himself, and deposited me in the carriage on a seat strewn with pillows. Then he shut the door and walked away.
By then the driver was on her box, and the horse boy was finishing the last of the harnesses, helped by the footman. Levering myself up on the seat, I watched through the window as the footman hastily transferred all the gear on the gray to the last waiting horse, and then the Marquis swung into the saddle, leaning down to address a few words to the footman. Then the gray was led out of sight, and without any warning the carriage gave a great jolt and we started off.
Not one of the passerby showed the least interest in the proceedings. I wondered if I had missed yet another chance at escape, but if I did yell for help, who knew what the partisanship of the Lumm merchants was? I might very well have gotten my mouth gagged for my pains.
This did not help my spirits any, for now that the immediate discomforts had eased, I realized again that I was sick. How could I effect an escape when I had as much spunk as a pot of overboiled noodles?
I lay back down on the pillows, and before long the warmth and swaying of the carriage sent me off to sleep. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
489:I have this special license burning a hole in my pocket, so I was thinking we might go find a vicar and use it. Pinter and Freddy can be witnesses.” He looked anxiously at her. “What do you think?”
“Don’t you want your family present when we marry? I thought you lordly sorts had to have grand weddings.”
“Is that what you want?”
In truth, she’d never been one to dream of her wedding day as a brilliant spectacle. Clandestine weddings were always what captured her imagination, complete with a dangerous, brooding fellow and mysterious goings-on. In this instance, she had both.
He said, “Let me put it this way: we can spend an untold number of days sneaking around just to steal a kiss, being chaperoned every minute while my sisters and Gran plan the wedding of the century. Or we can marry today and share a bed at the inn tonight like a respectable husband and wife. I’m not keep on waiting, but then, I never am when it comes to you. So what is your opinion in the matter?”
She couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “I think you just want to punish your grandmother for her sly tactics by depriving her of the weddings.”
He smiled. “Perhaps a little. And God knows my friends are never going to let me live this down. I’m not looking forward to hours of their torment at a wedding breakfast.”
He stopped in a little copse where they would be hidden from the street. “But if you want a big wedding, I can endure it.” His expression was solemn as he took her hands in his. “I can endure anything, as long as you marry me. And keep loving me for the rest of your life.”
Staring into his earnest face, she felt something flip over in her chest. She stretched up to brush his mouth with hers, and he pulled her in for a long, ardent kiss.
“Well?” he said huskily when he was done. “If I had any sense of decency, I would give you a chance to consult with a lawyer about settlements and such, especially since you’ll be coming into some money. But-“
“-you have no sense of decency, I know,” she teased. She tapped her finger against her chin. “Or was that morals you claimed not to have? I can’t remember.”
“Watch it, minx,” he warned with a lift of his brow. “If you intend to taunt me for every foolish statement I’ve made in my life, you’ll force me to play Rockton and lock you up in my dark, forbidding manor while I have my wicked way with you.”
“That sounds perfectly awful,” she said, gazing at the man she loved. “How soon can we start? ~ Sabrina Jeffries,#NFDB
490:Hic Vir, Hic Est
Often, when o'er tree and turret,
Eve a dying radiance flings,
By that ancient pile I linger
Known familiarly as 'King's.'
And the ghosts of days departed
Rise, and in my burning breast
All the undergraduate wakens,
And my spirit is at rest.
What, but a revolting fiction,
Seems the actual result
Of the Census's enquiries
Made upon the 15th ult.?
Still my soul is in its boyhood;
Nor of year or changes recks.
Though my scalp is almost hairless,
And my figure grows convex.
Backward moves the kindly dial;
And I'm numbered once again
With those noblest of their species
Called emphatically 'Men':
Loaf, as I have loafed aforetime,
Through the streets, with tranquil mind,
And a long-backed fancy-mongrel
Trailing casually behind:
Past the Senate-house I saunter,
Whistling with an easy grace;
Past the cabbage-stalks that carpet
Still the beefy market-place;
Poising evermore the eye-glass
In the light sarcastic eye,
Lest, by chance, some breezy nursemaid
Pass, without a tribute, by.
Once, an unassuming Freshman,
Through these wilds I wandered on,
Seeing in each house a College,
34
Under every cap a Don:
Each perambulating infant
Had a magic in its squall,
For my eager eye detected
Senior Wranglers in them all.
By degrees my education
Grew, and I became as others;
Learned to court delirium tremens
By the aid of Bacon Brothers;
Bought me tiny boots of Mortlock,
And colossal prints of Roe;
And ignored the proposition
That both time and money go.
Learned to work the wary dogcart
Artfully through King's Parade;
Dress, and steer a boat, and sport with
Amaryllis in the shade:
Struck, at Brown's, the dashing hazard;
Or (more curious sport than that)
Dropped, at Callaby's, the terrier
Down upon the prisoned rat.
I have stood serene on Fenner's
Ground, indifferent to blisters,
While the Buttress of the period
Bowled me his peculiar twisters:
Sung 'We won't go home till morning';
Striven to part my backhair straight;
Drunk (not lavishly) of Miller's
Old dry wines at 78:When within my veins the blood ran,
And the curls were on my brow,
I did, oh ye undergraduates,
Much as ye are doing now.
Wherefore bless ye, O beloved ones:Now unto mine inn must I,
Your 'poor moralist,' {51a} betake me,
In my 'solitary fly.'
35
~ Charles Stuart Calverley,#NFDB
491:Dom stood dumbfounded as Jane disappeared into the street. Then he hurried to catch up to her, to get some answers.
She knew. How the blazes did she know?
The answer to that was obvious. “So, Nancy told you the truth, did she?” he snapped as he fell into step beside her.
Jane didn’t reply, just kept marching toward the inn like a Hussar bent on battle.
“When?” he demanded. “How long have you known?”
“For nine years, you…you conniving…lying--”
“Nine years? You knew all this time, and you didn’t say anything?”
“Say anything!” She halted just short of the innyard entrance to glare at him. “How the devil was I to do that? You disappeared into the streets of London as surely as if you were a footpad or a pickpocket.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Oh, I read about your heroic exploits from time to time, but other than that, I neither heard nor saw anything of you until last year, when you showed up at George’s town house. It was only pure chance that I happened to be at dinner with Nancy that day. As you’ll recall, you didn’t stay long. Nor did you behave as if you would welcome any confidences.”
Remembering the cool reception he’d given her, he glanced away, unable to bear the accusation in her eyes. “No, I suppose I didn’t.”
“Besides,” she said, “it hardly mattered that I knew the truth. I assumed that if you ever changed your mind about making a life with me, you would seek me out. Since you never did, you were clearly determined to remain a bachelor.”
His gaze shot back to her. “It was more complicated than that.”
She snorted. “It always is with you. Which is precisely why I’m happy I’m engaged to someone else.”
That sent jealousy roaring through him. “Yet you let me kiss you.”
A pretty blush stained her cheeks. “You…you took me by surprise, that’s all. But it was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
The blazes it wouldn’t. He intended to find out if the past was as firmly in the past as she claimed. But obviously he couldn’t do it here in the street. He glanced up at the gloomy sky. Or right now.
She followed the direction of his gaze. “Yes,” she said in a dull voice. “It looks like we’ll have a rainy trip back.” She headed into the innyard. “Perhaps if we hurry, we can reach Winborough before it starts. Besides, we’ve got only three hours until sunset, and it’s not safe to ride in an open phaeton after dark.”
She was right, but he didn’t mean to drop this discussion. He needed answers, and once they were on the road, he meant to get them. ~ Sabrina Jeffries,#NFDB
492:LONDON. Michaelmas Term lately over, and the Lord Chancellor sitting in Lincoln’s Inn Hall. Implacable November weather. As much mud in the streets as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill. Smoke lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle, with flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snow-flakes — gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun. Dogs, undistinguishable in mire. Horses, scarcely better; splashed to their very blinkers. Foot passengers, jostling one another’s umbrellas in a general infection of ill-temper, and losing their foot-hold at street-corners, where tens of thousands of other foot passengers have been slipping and sliding since the day broke (if the day ever broke), adding new deposits to the crust upon crust of mud, sticking at those points tenaciously to the pavement, and accumulating at compound interest.
Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on the yards, and hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats. Fog in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin; fog cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering little ’prentice boy on deck. Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon, and hanging in the misty clouds.
Gas looming through the fog in divers places in the streets, much as the sun may, from the spongey fields, be seen to loom by husbandman and ploughboy. Most of the shops lighted two hours before their time — as the gas seems to know, for it has a haggard and unwilling look.
The raw afternoon is rawest, and the dense fog is densest, and the muddy streets are muddiest near that leaden-headed old obstruction, appropriate ornament for the threshold of a leaden-headed old corporation, Temple Bar. And hard by Temple Bar, in Lincoln’s Inn Hall, at the very heart of the fog, sits the Lord High Chancellor in his High Court of Chancery. ~ Charles Dickens,#NFDB
493:ONCE UPON A time there was a king who had three beautiful daughters. As he grew old, he began to wonder which should inherit the kingdom, since none had married and he had no heir. The king decided to ask his daughters to demonstrate their love for him. To the eldest princess he said, “Tell me how you love me.” She loved him as much as all the treasure in the kingdom. To the middle princess he said, “Tell me how you love me.” She loved him with the strength of iron. To the youngest princess he said, “Tell me how you love me.” This youngest princess thought for a long time before answering. Finally she said she loved him as meat loves salt. “Then you do not love me at all,” the king said. He threw his daughter from the castle and had the bridge drawn up behind her so that she could not return. Now, this youngest princess goes into the forest with not so much as a coat or a loaf of bread. She wanders through a hard winter, taking shelter beneath trees. She arrives at an inn and gets hired as assistant to the cook. As the days and weeks go by, the princess learns the ways of the kitchen. Eventually she surpasses her employer in skill and her food is known throughout the land. Years pass, and the eldest princess comes to be married. For the festivities, the cook from the inn makes the wedding meal. Finally a large roast pig is served. It is the king’s favorite dish, but this time it has been cooked with no salt. The king tastes it. Tastes it again. “Who would dare to serve such an ill-cooked roast at the future queen’s wedding?” he cries. The princess-cook appears before her father, but she is so changed he does not recognize her. “I would not serve you salt, Your Majesty,” she explains. “For did you not exile your youngest daughter for saying that it was of value?” At her words, the king realizes that not only is she his daughter—she is, in fact, the daughter who loves him best. And what then? The eldest daughter and the middle sister have been living with the king all this time. One has been in favor one week, the other the next. They have been driven apart by their father’s constant comparisons. Now the youngest has returned, the king yanks the kingdom from his eldest, who has just been married. She is not to be queen after all. The elder sisters rage. At first, the youngest basks in fatherly love. Before long, however, she realizes the king is demented and power-mad. She is to be queen, but she is also stuck tending to a crazy old tyrant for the rest of her days. She will not leave him, no matter how sick he becomes. Does she stay because she loves him as meat loves salt? Or does she stay because he has now promised her the kingdom? It is hard for her to tell the difference. ~ E Lockhart, #NFDB
494:Until that moment Elizabeth wouldn’t have believed she could feel more humiliated than she already did. Robbed of even the defense of righteous indignation, she faced the fact that she was the unwanted gest of someone who’d made a fool of her not once but twice.
“How did you get here? I didn’t hear any horses, and a carriage sure as well can’t make the climb.”
“A wheeled conveyance brought us most of the way,” she prevaricated, seizing on Lucinda’s earlier explanation, “and it’s gone on now.” She saw his eyes narrow with angry disgust as he realized he was stuck with them unless he wanted to spend several days escorting them back to the inn. Terrified that the tears burning the backs of her eyes were going to fall, Elizabeth tipped her head back and turned it, pretending to be inspecting the ceiling, the staircase, the walls, anything. Through the haze of tears she noticed for the first time that the place looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in a year.
Beside her Lucinda glanced around through narrowed eyes and arrived at the same conclusion.
Jake, anticipating that the old woman was about to make some disparaging comment about Ian’s house, leapt into the breach with forced joviality.
“Well, now,” he burst out, rubbing his hands together and striding forward to the fire. “Now that’s all settled, shall we all be properly introduced? Then we’ll see about supper.” He looked expectantly at Ian, waiting for him to handle the introductions, but instead of doing the thing properly he merely nodded curtly to the beautiful blond girl and said, “Elizabeth Cameron-Jake Wiley.”
“How do you do, Mr. Wiley,” Elizabeth said.
“Call me Jake,” he said cheerfully, then he turned expectantly to the scowling duenna. “And you are?”
Fearing that Lucinda was about to rip up at Ian for his cavalier handling of the introductions, Elizabeth hastily said, “This is my companion, Miss Lucinda Throckmorton-Jones.”
“Good heavens! Two names. Well, no need to stand on formality, since we’re going to be cooped up together for at least a few days! Just call me Jake. What shall I call you?”
“You may call me Miss Throckmorton-Jones,” she informed him, looking down the length of her beaklike nose.
“Er-very well,” he replied, casting an anxious look of appeal to Ian, who seemed to be momentarily enjoying Jake’s futile efforts to create an atmosphere of conviviality. Disconcerted, Jake ran his hands through his disheveled hair and arranged a forced smile on her face. Nervously, he gestured about the untidy room. “Well, now, if we’d known we were going to have such…ah…gra…that is, illustrious company, we’d have-“
“Swept off the chairs?” Lucinda suggested acidly. “Shoveled off the floor? ~ Judith McNaught,#NFDB
495:She thought she was getting out of the Water Rising clean, because she didn’t see her father anywhere around: there was only Ash and Lillian sitting at a table, and a few other patrons at as much of a distance from Ash and Lillian as they could get. She made for the door, at which point Lillian caught her arm.
“Where are you going?”
“Uh,” said Kami, eyeballing her wildly. “I’m going to buy some drugs.”
Lillian stared. “I beg your pardon?”
“This is a really stressful time for everyone,” said Kami. “So I thought maybe I could buy a little weed, take the edge off. I might be a while. This is a very clean-living town, apart from all the murders, so I don’t actually know any drug dealers. I realize Jared kind of looks like one, but he’s not, which is a shame because I think the drug dealer’s girlfriend gets her drugs free.”
“I realize you are attempting to be humorous,” said Lillian, after a pause during which she stared some more. “I don’t understand it.”
“Hey, you’re not the only family with a legacy. ‘Glass’ rhymes with ‘sass.’ Have you met my dad?”
“I have had that dubious pleasure,” said Lillian. “He is, in fact, meant to be meeting me in order to, and I quote, ‘teach me to integrate better with society, display leadership skills, win over the populace, and stop acting like a robot princess from space.’ I admit that the humor in his humor escapes me as well.” She paused and suddenly looked determined. “I’m going to start without him.”
She climbed off the stool and headed toward the group of people in the corner. Kami and Ash watched as they collectively shrank away.
“Come on, quick,” said Kami, and as if summoned by some spirit warning him of his child’s intended reckless behavior, her dad appeared through the inn doors.
He looked distracted. “Where’s Lillian?’
Kami checked over her shoulder. “Appears to be trying to wrest a screaming baby from the arms of her frightened mother in order to kiss it.”
“Oh no no no,” murmured Jon, and raised his voice as he made his way over. “Libba, we’ve talked about this!”
“The good news is the grown-ups are distracted by politics,” said Kami.
You mean that your poor father is distracted by my awful mother, said Ash, who was far too polite to say such a thing out loud and looked vaguely embarrassed to be thinking it.
Kami grinned. “Why quibble when we have the results we want!”
I wish I could ask you what you’re planning, but I know what you’re planning, said Ash. Lucky me. I know this is important information, but going to Aurimere at all is a huge risk.
“See, the thing is, if I ran a business it would probably be called Risky Business, ~ Sarah Rees Brennan,#NFDB
496:I went straight back to my room, surprising Mora and one of her staff in the act of packing up my trunk. Apologizing, I hastily unlaced the traveling gown and reached for my riding gear.
Mora gave me a slight smile as she curtsied. “That’s my job, my lady,” she said. “You needn’t apologize.”
I grinned at her as I pulled on the tunic. “Maybe it’s not very courtly, but I feel bad when I make someone do a job twice.”
Mora only smiled as she made a sign to the other servant, who reached for the traveling gown and began folding it up. I thrust my feet into my riding boots, smashed my fancy new riding hat onto my head, and dashed out again.
The Marquis was waiting in the courtyard, standing between two fresh mares. I was relieved that he did not have that fleet-footed gray I remembered from the year before. On his offering me my pick, I grabbed the reins of the nearest mount and swung up into the saddle. The animal danced and sidled as I watched Bran and Nimiar come out of the inn hand in hand. They climbed into the coach, solicitously seen to by the innkeeper himself.
The Marquis looked across at me. “Let’s go.”
And he was off, with me right on his heels.
At first all I was aware of was the cold rain on my chin and the exhilaration of speed. The road was paved, enabling the horses to dash along at the gallop, sending mud and water splashing.
Before long I was soaked to the skin everywhere except my head, which was hot under my riding hat, and when we bolted down the road toward the Akaeriki, I had to laugh aloud at how strange life is! Last year at this very time I was running rain-sodden for my life in the opposite direction, chased by the very same man now racing neck and neck beside me.
The thought caused me to look at him, though there was little to see beyond flying light hair under the broad-brimmed black hat and that long black cloak. He glanced over, saw me laughing, and I looked away again, urging my mount to greater efforts.
At the same pace still, we reached the first staging point. Together we clattered into the innyard and swung down from the saddle. At once two plain-dressed young men came out of the inn, bowed, and handed Shevraeth a blackweave bag. It was obvious from their bearing that they were trained warriors, probably from Renselaeus. For a moment the Marquis stood conversing with them, a tall mud-splashed and anonymously dressed figure. Did anyone else know who he was? Or who I was? Or that we’d been enemies last year?
Again laughter welled up inside me. When I saw stablehands bring forth two fresh mounts, I sprang forward, taking the reins of one, and mounted up. Then I waited until Shevraeth turned my way, stuck my tongue out at him, and rode out at the gallop, laughing all the way. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
497:It’s no wonder your grandmother despairs of you. God only knows what a trial you are to your poor parents.”
The humor vanished abruptly from his face. “Sadly, my parents are too dead to be overly concerned about my behavior.”
His words were flip, but the sudden glint of grief in his eyes told another tale. “Please forgive me,” she said hastily, cursing her quick tongue. “It’s awful to lose your parents. I know that better than anyone.”
“No need for apologies.” He pushed away from the door. “They despaired of me long before they died, so you weren’t far off the mark.”
“Still, it was very wrong of me to-“
“Come now, Miss Butterfield, this has naught to do with my proposal. Will you pretend to be my fiancée or not?” When she hesitated, he went on with a hint of anger, “I don’t see why you make such a fuss over it. It’s not as if I’m asking you to do anything wicked.”
That ridiculous remark banished her brief moment of sympathy. “You’re asking me to lie! To deceive a woman for the sake of your purpose, whatever that is. It goes against every moral principle-“
“And threatening to stab a man does not?” He cast her a thin smile. “Think of it as playing a role, like an actress. You and your cousin will be guests at my estate for a week or two, entirely at your leisure.” A dark gleam shone in his eyes. “I can even set up an effigy of myself for you to stab at will.”
“That does sound tempting,” she shot back.
“As for Freddy there, he can ride and hunt and play cards with my brothers. It’s better entertainment than he’d find in the gaol.”
“As long as you feed me, sir,” Freddy said, “I’ll follow you anywhere.”
“Freddy!” Maria cried.
“What? That blasted inn where we’re staying is flea-ridden and cold as a witch’s tit. Plus, you keep such tight hold on my purse strings that I’m famished all the time. What’s wrong with helping this fellow if it means we finally sleep in decent beds? And it’s not a big thing, your pretending to be betrothed to him.”
“I’m already betrothed, thank you very much,” she shot back. “And what about Nathan? While we’re off deceiving this man’s poor grandmother, Nathan might be hurt or in trouble. You expect me just to give up searching for him so you can get a decent meal?”
“And keep from being hanged,” Freddy pointed out. “Let’s not forget that.”
“Ah, the missing fiancé,” Lord Stoneville said coldly. “I did wonder when you would bring him back into it.”
She glowered at him. “I never let him out of it. he’s the reason I’m here.”
“So you say.”
That inflamed her temper. “Now see here, you insufferable, arrogant-“
“Fine. If you insist on clinging to your wild story, how about this: while you pretend to be my fiancée, I’ll hire someone to look for fiancé. A simple trade of services. ~ Sabrina Jeffries,#NFDB
498:One Autumn night, in Sudbury town,
Across the meadows bare and brown,
The windows of the wayside inn
Gleamed red with fire-light through the leaves
Of woodbine, hanging from the eaves
Their crimson curtains rent and thin.
As ancient is this hostelry
As any in the land may be,
Built in the old Colonial day,
When men lived in a grander way,
With ampler hospitality;
A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall,
Now somewhat fallen to decay,
With weather-stains upon the wall,
And stairways worn, and crazy doors,
And creaking and uneven floors,
And chimneys huge, and tiled and tall.
A region of repose it seems,
A place of slumber and of dreams,
Remote among the wooded hills!
For there no noisy railway speeds,
Its torch-race scattering smoke and gleeds;
But noon and night, the panting teams
Stop under the great oaks, that throw
Tangles of light and shade below,
On roofs and doors and window-sills.
Across the road the barns display
Their lines of stalls, their mows of hay,
Through the wide doors the breezes blow,
The wattled cocks strut to and fro,
And, half effaced by rain and shine,
The Red Horse prances on the sign.
Round this old-fashioned, quaint abode
Deep silence reigned, save when a gust
Went rushing down the county road,
And skeletons of leaves, and dust,
A moment quickened by its breath,
Shuddered and danced their dance of death,
And through the ancient oaks o'erhead
Mysterious voices moaned and fled.
These are the tales those merry guests
Told to each other, well or ill;
Like summer birds that lift their crests
Above the borders of their nests
And twitter, and again are still.
These are the tales, or new or old,
In idle moments idly told;
Flowers of the field with petals thin,
Lilies that neither toil nor spin,
And tufts of wayside weeds and gorse
Hung in the parlor of the inn
Beneath the sign of the Red Horse.
Uprose the sun; and every guest,
Uprisen, was soon equipped and dressed
For journeying home and city-ward;
The old stage-coach was at the door,
With horses harnessed,long before
The sunshine reached the withered sward
Beneath the oaks, whose branches hoar
Murmured: "Farewell forevermore.
Where are they now? What lands and skies
Paint pictures in their friendly eyes?
What hope deludes, what promise cheers,
What pleasant voices fill their ears?
Two are beyond the salt sea waves,
And three already in their graves.
Perchance the living still may look
Into the pages of this book,
And see the days of long ago
Floating and fleeting to and fro,
As in the well-remembered brook
They saw the inverted landscape gleam,
And their own faces like a dream
Look up upon them from below. ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,#NFDB
499:One Autumn night, in Sudbury town,
Across the meadows bare and brown,
The windows of the wayside inn
Gleamed red with fire-light through the leaves
Of woodbine, hanging from the eaves
Their crimson curtains rent and thin.”
“As ancient is this hostelry
As any in the land may be,
Built in the old Colonial day,
When men lived in a grander way,
With ampler hospitality;
A kind of old Hobgoblin Hall,
Now somewhat fallen to decay,
With weather-stains upon the wall,
And stairways worn, and crazy doors,
And creaking and uneven floors,
And chimneys huge, and tiled and tall.
A region of repose it seems,
A place of slumber and of dreams,
Remote among the wooded hills!
For there no noisy railway speeds,
Its torch-race scattering smoke and gleeds;
But noon and night, the panting teams
Stop under the great oaks, that throw
Tangles of light and shade below,
On roofs and doors and window-sills.
Across the road the barns display
Their lines of stalls, their mows of hay,
Through the wide doors the breezes blow,
The wattled cocks strut to and fro,
And, half effaced by rain and shine,
The Red Horse prances on the sign.
Round this old-fashioned, quaint abode
Deep silence reigned, save when a gust
Went rushing down the county road,
And skeletons of leaves, and dust,
A moment quickened by its breath,
Shuddered and danced their dance of death,
And through the ancient oaks o'erhead
Mysterious voices moaned and fled.
These are the tales those merry guests
Told to each other, well or ill;
Like summer birds that lift their crests
Above the borders of their nests
And twitter, and again are still.
These are the tales, or new or old,
In idle moments idly told;
Flowers of the field with petals thin,
Lilies that neither toil nor spin,
And tufts of wayside weeds and gorse
Hung in the parlor of the inn
Beneath the sign of the Red Horse.
Uprose the sun; and every guest,
Uprisen, was soon equipped and dressed
For journeying home and city-ward;
The old stage-coach was at the door,
With horses harnessed, long before
The sunshine reached the withered sward
Beneath the oaks, whose branches hoar
Murmured: "Farewell forevermore.
Where are they now? What lands and skies
Paint pictures in their friendly eyes?
What hope deludes, what promise cheers,
What pleasant voices fill their ears?
Two are beyond the salt sea waves,
And three already in their graves.
Perchance the living still may look
Into the pages of this book,
And see the days of long ago
Floating and fleeting to and fro,
As in the well-remembered brook
They saw the inverted landscape gleam,
And their own faces like a dream
Look up upon them from below. ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,#NFDB
500:Even with the questions and worries that flooded her, Lillian was overcome with sudden exhaustion. The waking nightmare had come to a precipitate end, and it seemed that for now there was nothing more she could do. She waited docilely, her cheek resting against the steady support of Marcus’s shoulder, only half hearing the conversation that ensued.
“… have to find St. Vincent…” Marcus was saying.
“No,” Simon Hunt said emphatically, “I’ll find St. Vincent. You take care of Miss Bowman.”
“We need privacy.”
“I believe there is a small room nearby— more of a vestibule, actually…”
But Hunt’s voice trailed away, and Lillian became aware of a new, ferocious tension in Marcus’s body. With a lethal shift of his muscles, he turned to glance in the direction of the staircase.
St. Vincent was descending, having entered the rented room from the other side of the inn and found it empty. Stopping midway down the stairs, St. Vincent took in the curious tableau before him… the clusters of bewildered onlookers, the affronted innkeeper… and the Earl of Westcliff, who stared at him with avid bloodlust.
The entire inn fell silent during that chilling moment, so that Westcliff’s quiet snarl was clearly audible. “By God, I’m going to butcher you.”
Dazedly Lillian murmured, “Marcus, wait—”
She was shoved unceremoniously at Simon Hunt, who caught her reflexively as Marcus ran full-bore toward the stairs. Instead of skirting around the banister, Marcus vaulted the railings and landed on the steps like a cat. There was a blur of movement as St. Vincent attempted a strategic retreat, but Marcus flung himself upward, catching his legs and dragging him down. They grappled, cursed, and exchanged punishing blows, until St. Vincent aimed a kick at Marcus’s head. Rolling to avoid the blow of his heavy boot, Marcus was forced to release him temporarily. The viscount lurched up the stairs, and Marcus sprang after him. Soon they were both out of sight. A crowd of enthusiastic men followed, shouting advice, exchanging odds, and exclaiming in excitement over the spectacle of a pair of noblemen fighting like spurred roosters.
White-faced, Lillian glanced at Simon Hunt, who wore a faint smile. “Aren’t you going to help him?” she demanded.
“Oh no. Westcliff would never forgive me for interrupting. It’s his first tavern brawl.” Hunt’s gaze flickered over Lillian in friendly assessment. She swayed a little, and he placed a large hand on the center of her back and guided her to the nearby grouping of chairs. A cacophony of noise drifted from upstairs. There were heavy thudding sounds that caused the entire building to shake, followed by the noises of furniture breaking and glass shattering.
“Now,” Hunt said, ignoring the tumult, “if I may have a look at that remaining handcuff, I may be able to do something about it. ~ Lisa Kleypas,#NFDB
501:The Innkeeper’s Wife
I love this byre. Shadows are kindly here.
The light is flecked with travelling stars of dust,
So quiet it seems after the inn-clamour,
Scraping of fiddles and the stamping feet.
Only the cows, each in her patient box,
Turn their slow eyes, as we and the sunlight enter,
Their slowly rhythmic mouths.
‘That is the stall,
Carpenter. You see it’s too far gone
For patching or repatching. My husband made it,
And he’s been gone these dozen years and more…’
Strange how this lifeless thing, degraded wood
Split from the tree and nailed and crucified
To make a wall, outlives the mastering hand
That struck it down, the warm firm hand
That touched my body with its wandering love.
‘No, let the fire take them. Strip every board
And make a new beginning. Too many memories lurk
Like worms in this old wood. That piece you’re holding –
That patch of grain with the giant’s thumbprint –
I stared at it a full hour when he died:
Its grooves are down my mind. And that board there
Baring its knot-hole like a missing jig-saw –
I remember another hand along its rim.
No, not my husband’s and why I should remember
I cannot say. It was a night in winter.
Our house was full, tight-packed as salted herrings –
So full, they said, we had to hold our breaths
To close the door and shut the night-air out!
And then two travellers came. They stood outside
Across the threshold, half in the ring of light
And half beyond it. I would have let them in
Despite the crowding – the woman was past her time –
But I’d no mind to argue with my husband,
The flagon in my hand and half the inn
Still clamouring for wine. But when trade slackened,
And all out guests had sung themselves to bed
Or told the floor their troubles, I came out here
Where he had lodged them. The man was standing
As you are now, his hand smoothing that board –
He was a carpenter, I heard them say.
She rested on the straw, and on her arm
A child was lying. None of your crease-faced brats
Squalling their lungs out. Just lying there
As calm as a new-dropped calf – his eyes wide open,
And gazing round as if the world he saw
In the chaff-strewn light of the stable lantern
Was something beautiful and new and strange.
Ah well, he’ll have learnt different now, I reckon,
Wherever he is. And why I should recall
A scene like that, when times I would remember
Have passed beyond reliving, I cannot think.
It’s a trick you’re served by old possessions:
They have their memories too – too many memories.
Well, I must go in. There are meals to serve.
Join us there, Carpenter, when you’ve had enough
Of cattle-company. The world is a sad place,
But wine and music blunt the truth of it.
~ Clive Sansom,#NFDB
502:The Vagabonds
We are the vagabonds of time,
And rove the yellow autumn days,
When all the roads are gray with rime
And all the valleys blue with haze.
We came unlooked for as the wind
Trooping across the April hills,
When the brown waking earth had dreams
Of summer in the Wander Kills.
How far afield we joyed to fare,
With June in every blade and tree!
Now with the sea-wind in our hair
We turn our faces to the sea.
We go unheeded as the stream
That wanders by the hill-wood side,
Till the great marshes take his hand
And lead him to the roving tide.
The roving tide, the sleeping hills,
These are the borders of that zone
199
Where they may fare as fancy wills
Whom wisdom smiles and calls her own.
It is a country of the sun,
Full of forgotten yesterdays,
When Time takes Summer in his care,
And fills the distance of her gaze.
It stretches from the open sea
To the blue mountains and beyond;
The world is Vagabondia
To him who is a vagabond.
In the beginning God made man
Out of the wandering dust, men say;
And in the end his life shall be
A wandering wind and blown away.
We are the vagabonds of time,
Willing to let the world go by,
With joy supreme, with heart sublime,
200
And valor in the kindling eye.
We have forgotten where we slept,
And guess not where we sleep to-night,
Whether among the lonely hills
In the pale streamers' ghostly light
We shall lie down and hear the frost
Walk in the dead leaves restlessly,
Or somewhere on the iron coast
Learn the oblivion of the sea.
It matters not. And yet I dream
Of dreams fulfilled and rest somewhere
Before this restless heart is stilled
And all its fancies blown to air.
Had I my will! . . . The sun burns down
And something plucks my garment's hem:
The robins in their faded brown
Would lure me to the south with them.
201
'Tis time for vagabonds to make
The nearest inn. Far on I hear
The voices of the Northern hills
Gather the vagrants of the year.
Brave heart, my soul! Let longings be!
We have another day to wend.
For dark or waylay what care we
Who have the lords of time to friend?
And if we tarry or make haste,
The wayside sleep can hold no fear.
Shall fate unpoise, or whim perturb,
The calm-begirt in dawn austere?
There is a tavern, I have heard,
Not far, and frugal, kept by One
Who knows the children of the Word,
And welcomes each when day is done.
202
Some say the house is lonely set
In Northern night, and snowdrifts keep
The silent door; the hearth is cold,
And all my fellows gone to sleep….
Had I my will! I hear the sea
Thunder a welcome on the shore;
I know where lies the hostelry
And who should open me the door.
~ Bliss William Carman,#NFDB
503:They seemed so right together-both of them sophisticated, dark-haired, and striking; no doubt they had much in common, she thought a little dismally as she picked up her knife and fork and went to work on her lobster.
Beside her, Lord Howard leaned close and teased, “It’s dead, you know.”
Elizabeth glanced blankly at him, and he nodded to the lobster she was still sawing needlessly upon. “It’s dead,” he repeated. “There’s no need to try to kill it twice.”
Mortified, Elizabeth smiled and sighed and thereafter made an all-out effort to ingratiate herself with the rest of the party at their table. As Lord Howard had forewarned the gentlemen, who by now had all seen or heard about her escapade in the card room, were noticeably cooler, and so Elizabeth tried ever harder to be her most engaging self. It was only the second time in her life she’d actually used the feminine wiles she was born with-the first time being her first encounter with Ian Thornton in the garden-and she was a little amazed by her easy success. One by one the men at the table unbent enough to talk and laugh with her. During that long, trying hour Elizabeth repeatedly had the strange feeling that Ian was watching her, and toward the end, when she could endure it no longer, she did glance at the place where he was seated. His narrowed amber eyes were leveled on her face, and Elizabeth couldn’t tell whether he disapproved of this flirtatious side of her or whether he was puzzled by it.
“Would you permit me to offer to stand in for my cousin tomorrow,” Lord Howard said as the endless meal came to an end and the guests began to arise, “and escort you to the village?”
It was the moment of reckoning, the moment when Elizabeth had to decide whether she was going to meet Ian at the cottage or not. Actually, there was no real decision to make, and she knew it. With a bright, artificial smile Elizabeth said, “Thank you.”
“We’re to leave at half past ten, and I understand there are to be the usual entertainments-sopping and a late luncheon at the local inn, followed by a ride to enjoy the various prospects of the local countryside.”
It sounded horribly dull to Elizabeth at that moment. “It sounds lovely,” she exclaimed with such fervor that Lord Howard shot her a startled look.
“Are you feeling well?” he asked, his worried gaze taking in her flushed cheeks and overbright eyes.
“I’ve never felt better,” she said, her mind on getting away-upstairs to the sanity and quiet of her bedchamber. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have the headache and should like to retire,” she said, leaving behind her a baffled Lord Howard.
She was partway up the stairs before it dawned on her what she’d actually said. She stopped in midstep, then gave her head a shake and slowly continued on. She didn’t particularly care what Lord Howard-her fiance’s own cousin-thought. And she was too miserable to stop and consider how very odd that was. ~ Judith McNaught,#NFDB
504:We stepped into the very inn in which we’d had our initial conversation; we passed the little room I had stood outside of, and I shuddered. Now we had a bigger one, but I was too tired to notice much beyond comfortable cushions and warmth. As I sank down, I saw glowing rings around the candles and rubbed my eyes.
When I looked up at Shevraeth, it was in time to catch the end of one of those assessing glances. Then he smiled, a real smile of humor and tenderness.
“I knew it,” he said. “I knew that by now you would have managed to see everything as your fault, and you’d be drooping under the weight.”
“Why did you do it?” I answered, too tired to even try to keep my balance. Someone set down a tray of hot chocolate, and I hiccupped, snorted in a deep breath, and with an attempt at the steadying influence of laughter, added, “Near as I can see I’ve been about as pleasant to be around as an angry bee swarm.”
“At times,” he agreed. “But I take our wretched beginning as my own fault. I merely wanted to intimidate you--and through you, your brother--into withdrawing from the field. What a mess you made of my plans! Every single day I had to re-form them. I’d get everyone and everything set on a new course, and you’d manage to hare off and smash it to shards again, all with the best of motives, and actions as gallant as ever I’ve seen, from man or woman.” He smiled, but I just groaned into my chocolate. “By the time I realized I was going to have to figure you into the plans, you were having none of me, or them. At the same time, you managed to win everyone you encountered--save the Merindars--to your side.”
“I understand about the war. And I even understand why you had to come to Tlanth.” I sighed. “But that doesn’t explain the letters.”
“I think I fell in love with you the day you stood before Galdran in the Throne Room, surrounded by what you thought were enemies, and glared at him without a trace of fear. I knew it when you sat across from me at your table in Tlanth and argued so passionately about the fairest way to disperse an army, with no other motive besides testing your theories. It also became clear to me on that visit that you showed one face to all the rest of the world, and another to me. But after you had been at Athanarel a week, Russav insisted that my cause was not hopeless.”
“Savona? How did he know?”
The Marquis shook his head. “You’d have to address that question to him.”
I rubbed my eyes again. “So his flirtation was false.”
“I asked him to make you popular,” Shevraeth admitted. “Though he will assure you that he found the task thoroughly enjoyable. I wanted your experience of Court to be as easy as possible. Your brother just shrugged off the initial barbs and affronts, but I knew they’d slay you. We did our best to protect you from them, though your handling of the situation with Tamara showed us that you were very capable of directing your own affairs. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
505:Did the countess tell you what was said between her and me?” Lillian asked tentatively.
Marcus shook his head, his mouth twisting. “She told me that you had decided to elope with St. Vincent.”
“Elope?” Lillian repeated in shock. “As if I deliberately… as if I had chosen him over—” She stopped, aghast, as she imagined how he must have felt. Although she had not shed a single tear during the entire day, the thought that Marcus might have wondered for a split second if yet another woman had left him for St. Vincent… it was too much to bear. She burst into noisy sobs, startling herself as well as Marcus. “You didn’t believe it, did you? My God, please say you didn’t!”
“Of course I didn’t.” He stared at her in astonishment, and hastily reached for a table napkin to wipe at the stream of tears on her face. “No, no, don’t cry—”
“I love you, Marcus.” Taking the napkin from him, Lillian blew her nose noisily and continued to weep as she spoke. “I love you. I don’t mind if I’m the first one to say it, nor even if I’m the only one. I just want you to know how very much—”
“I love you too,” he said huskily. “I love you too. Lillian… Please don’t cry. It’s killing me. Don’t.”
She nodded and blew into the linen folds again, her complexion turning mottled, her eyes swelling, her nose running freely. It appeared, however, that there was something wrong with Marcus’s vision. Grasping her head in his hands, he pressed a hard kiss to her mouth and said hoarsely, “You’re so beautiful.”
The statement, though undoubtedly sincere, caused her to giggle through her last hiccupping sobs. Wrapping his arms around her in an embrace that was just short of crushing, Marcus asked in a muffled voice, “My love, hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s bad form to laugh at a man when he’s declaring himself?”
She blew her nose with a last inelegant snort. “I’m a hopeless case, I’m afraid. Do you still want to marry me?”
“Yes. Now.”
The statement shocked her out of her tears. “What?”
“I don’t want to return with you to Hampshire. I want to take you to Gretna Green. The inn has its own coach service— I’ll hire one in the morning, and we’ll reach Scotland the day after tomorrow.”
“But… but everyone will expect a respectable church wedding…”
“I can’t wait for you. I don’t give a damn about respectability.”
A wobbly grin spread across Lillian’s face as she thought of how many people would be astonished to hear such a statement from him. “It smacks of scandal, you know. The Earl of Westcliff rushing off for an anvil wedding in Gretna Green…”
“Let’s begin with a scandal, then.” He kissed her, and she responded with a low moan, clinging and arching against him, until he pushed his tongue deeper, molding his lips tighter over hers, feasting on the warm, open silkiness of her mouth. Breathing heavily, he dragged his lips to her quivering throat. “Say, ‘Yes, Marcus,’” he prompted.
“Yes, Marcus. ~ Lisa Kleypas,#NFDB
506:I wanted your experience of Court to be as easy as possible. Your brother just shrugged off the initial barbs and affronts, but I knew they’d slay you. We did our best to protect you from them, though your handling of the situation with Tamara showed us that you were very capable of directing your own affairs.”
“What about Elenet?” I asked, and winced, hating to sound like the kind of jealous person I admired least. But the image of that goldenwood throne had entered my mind and would not be banished.
He looked slightly surprised. “What about her?”
“People--some people--put your names together. And,” I added firmly, “she’d make a good queen. Better than I.”
He lifted his cup, and I saw my ring gleaming on his finger. He’d worn that since he left Bran and Nee’s ball. He’d been wearing it, I thought, when we sat in this very inn and he went through that terrible inner debate on whether or not I was a traitor.
I dropped my head and stared into my cup.
“Elenet,” he said, “is an old friend. We grew up together and regard one another as brother and sister, a comfortable arrangement since neither of us had siblings.”
I thought of that glance she’d given him when I spied on them in the Royal Wing courtyard. She had betrayed feelings that were not sisterly. But he hadn’t seen that look because his heart lay otherwhere.
I pressed my lips together. She was worthy, but her love was not returned. Suddenly I understood why she had been so guarded around me. The honorable course for me would be to keep to myself what I had seen.
Shevraeth continued, “She spent her time with me as a mute warning to the Merindars, who had to know that she came to report on Grumareth’s activities, and I didn’t want them trying any kind of retaliation. She realized that our social proximity would cause gossip. That was inevitable. But she heeded it not; she just wants to return to Grumareth and resume guiding her lands to prosperity again.” He paused, then said, “As for her quality, it is undeniable. But I think the time has come for a different perspective, one that is innate in you. It is a problem, I have come to realize, with our Court upbringing. No one, including Elenet, has the gift you have of looking every person you encounter in the face and accepting the person behind the status. We all were raised to see servants and merchants as faceless as we pursued the high strategy. I’m half convinced this is part of the reason why the kingdom ended up in the grip of the likes of the Merindars.”
I nodded, and for the first time comprehended what a relationship with him really meant for the rest of my life. “The goldenwood throne,” I said. “In the letter. I thought you had it ordered for, well, someone else.”
His smile was gone. “It doesn’t yet exist. How could it? Though I intend for there to be one, for the duties of ruling have to begin as a partnership. Until the other night, I had no idea if I would win you or not.”
“Win me,” I repeated. “What a contest! ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
507:As we climbed, the air got colder. But when the woods closed around me at last, I forgot about the discomfort. I was breathing the scents of home again, the indefinable combination of loam and moss and wood and fern that I had loved all my life.
And I sensed presence.
The woods were quiet, except for the tapping of raindrops on leaves and, once or twice, the sudden crash and scamper of hidden animals breaking cover and retreating. No birds, no great beasts. Yet I felt watchers.
And so, tired as I was, I tipped back my head and began to sing.
At the best of times I don’t have the kind of voice anyone would want to hear mangling their favorite songs. Now my throat was dry and scratchy, but I did what I could, singing wordlessly some of the old, strange patterns, not quite melodies, that I’d heard in my childhood. I sang my loudest, and at first echoes rang off stones and trees and down into hollows. After a time my voice dropped to a husky squeak, but as the light bent west and turned golden, I heard a rustle, and suddenly I was surrounded by Hill Folk, more of them than I had ever seen at once before.
They did not speak. Somewhere in the distance I heard the breathy, slightly sinister cry of a reed pipe.
I began to talk, not knowing if they understood words, such as “Marquise” and “mercenary,” or if they somehow took the images from my thoughts. I told them about the Merindars, and Flauvic, and the Renselaeuses, ending with what Azmus had told me. I described the wagons on the road behind me. I finally exhorted them to go north and hide, and that we--Shevraeth and his people and I--would first get rid of the kinthus, then find a way to keep the Covenant.
When I ran out of words, for a long moment there was that eerie stillness, so soundless yet full of presence. Then they moved, their barky hides dappling with shadows, until they disappeared with a rustling sound like wind through the trees.
I was alone again, but I felt no sense of danger. My pony lifted her head and blinked at me. She hadn’t reacted at all to being surrounded by Hill Folk.
“All right,” I said to her. “First thing, water. And then we have some wagons to try to halt. Or I do. I suppose your part will be to reappear at the inn as mute testimony to the fallen heroine.”
We stopped at a stream. I drank deeply of the sweet, cold water and splashed my face until it was numb. Then we started on the long ride down. From time to time quick flutings of reed pipes echoed from peak to peak, and from very far away, the rich chordal hum of the distant windharps answered. Somehow these sounds lifted my spirits.
I remained cheery, too, as if the universe had slipped into a kind of dream existence. I was by now far beyond mere tiredness, so that nothing seemed real. In fact, until I topped a rise and saw the twenty wagons stretched out in a formidable line directly below me, the worst reaction I had to rain, to stumbles, to my burning eyes, was a tendency to snicker.
The wagons sobered me. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
508:When I woke the air was hot and stuffy, and I was immediately aware of being shut up in a small painted-canvas box. But before I could react with more than that initial flash of distress, I realized that the carriage had stopped. I struggled up, wincing against a thumping great headache, just as the door opened.
There was the Marquis, holding his hand out. I took it, making a sour face. At least, I thought as I recognized an innyard, he looks as wind tousled and muddy as I must.
But there was no fanfare, no groups of gawking peasants and servants. He picked me up and carried me through a side door, and thence into a small parlor that overlooked the innyard. Seated on plain hemp-stuffed pillows, I looked out at the stable boy and driver busily changing the horses. The longshadows of late afternoon obscured everything; a cheap time-candle in a corner sconce marked the time as green-three.
Sounds at the door brought my attention around. An inn servant entered, carrying a tray laden with steaming dishes. As she set them out I looked at her face, wondering if I could get a chance to talk to her alone--if she might help a fellow-female being held prisoner?
“Coffee?” the Marquis said, splintering my thoughts.
I looked up, and I swear there was comprehension in those gray eyes.
“Coffee?” I repeated blankly.
“A drinkable blend, from the aroma.” He tossed his hat and riding gloves onto the cushion beside him and leaned forward to pour a brown stream of liquid into two waiting mugs. “A miraculous drink. One of the decided benefits of our world-hopping mages,” he said.
“Mages.” I repeated that as well, trying to marshal my thoughts, which wanted to scamper, like frightened mice, in six different directions.
“Coffee. Horses.” A careless wave toward the innyard. “Chocolate. Kinthus. Laimun. Several of the luxuries that are not native to our world, brought here from others.”
I could count the times we’d managed to get ahold of coffee, and I hadn’t cared for its bitterness. But as I watched, honey and cream were spooned into the dark beverage, and when I did take a cautious sip, it was delicious. With the taste came warmth, a sense almost of well-being. For a short time I was content to sit, with my eyes closed, and savor the drink.
The welcome smell of braised potatoes and clear soup brought my attention back to the present. When I opened my eyes, there was the food, waiting before me.
“You had probably better not eat much more than that,” said the Marquis. “We have a long ride ahead of us tonight, and you wouldn’t want to regret your first good meal in days.”
In weeks, I thought as I picked up a spoon, but I didn’t say it out loud--it felt disloyal somehow.
Then the sense of what he’d said sank in, and I almost lost my appetite again. “How long to the capital?”
“We will arrive sometime tomorrow morning,” he said.
I grimaced down at my soup, then braced myself up, thinking that I’d better eat, hungry or not, for I’d need my strength. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
509:Let us begin, then, with the mad-house; from this evil and fantastic inn let us set forth on our intellectual journey. Now, if we are to glance at the philosophy of sanity, the first thing to do in the matter is to blot out one big and common mistake. There is a notion adrift everywhere that imagination, especially mystical imagination, is dangerous to man’s mental balance. Poets are commonly spoken of as psychologically unreliable; and generally there is a vague association between wreathing laurels in your hair and sticking straws in it. Facts and history utterly contradict this view. Most of the very great poets have been not only sane, but extremely business-like; and if Shakespeare ever really held horses, it was because he was much the safest man to hold them. Imagination does not breed insanity. Exactly what does breed insanity is reason. Poets do not go mad; but chess-players do. Mathematicians go mad, and cashiers; but creative artists very seldom. I am not, as will be seen, in any sense attacking logic: I only say that this danger does lie in logic, not in imagination. Artistic paternity is as wholesome as physical paternity. Moreover, it is worthy of remark that when a poet really was morbid it was commonly because he had some weak spot of rationality on his brain. Poe, for instance, really was morbid; not because he was poetical, but because he was specially analytical. Even chess was too poetical for him; he disliked chess because it was full of knights and castles, like a poem. He avowedly preferred the black discs of draughts, because they were more like the mere black dots on a diagram. Perhaps the strongest case of all is this: that only one great English poet went mad, Cowper. And he was definitely driven mad by logic, by the ugly and alien logic of predestination. Poetry was not the disease, but the medicine; poetry partly kept him in health. He could sometimes forget the red and thirsty hell to which his hideous necessitarianism dragged him among the wide waters and the white flat lilies of the Ouse. He was damned by John Calvin; he was almost saved by John Gilpin. Everywhere we see that men do not go mad by dreaming. Critics are much madder than poets. Homer is complete and calm enough; it is his critics who tear him into extravagant tatters. Shakespeare is quite himself; it is only some of his critics who have discovered that he was somebody else. And though St. John the Evangelist saw many strange monsters in his vision, he saw no creature so wild as one of his own commentators. The general fact is simple. Poetry is sane because it floats easily in an infinite sea; reason seeks to cross the infinite sea, and so make it finite. The result is mental exhaustion, like the physical exhaustion of Mr. Holbein. To accept everything is an exercise, to understand everything a strain. The poet only desires exaltation and expansion, a world to stretch himself in. The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. It is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head. And it is his head that splits. ~ G K Chesterton, #NFDB
510:Why, all our art treasures of to-day are only the dug-up commonplaces of three or four hundred years ago. I wonder if there is real intrinsic beauty in the old soup-plates, beer-mugs, and candle-snuffers that we prize so now, or if it is only the halo of age glowing around them that gives them their charms in our eyes. The “old blue” that we hang about our walls as ornaments were the common every-day household utensils of a few centuries ago; and the pink shepherds and the yellow shepherdesses that we hand round now for all our friends to gush over, and pretend they understand, were the unvalued mantel-ornaments that the mother of the eighteenth century would have given the baby to suck when he cried. Will it be the same in the future? Will the prized treasures of to-day always be the cheap trifles of the day before? Will rows of our willow-pattern dinner-plates be ranged above the chimneypieces of the great in the years 2000 and odd? Will the white cups with the gold rim and the beautiful gold flower inside (species unknown), that our Sarah Janes now break in sheer light-heartedness of spirit, be carefully mended, and stood upon a bracket, and dusted only by the lady of the house? That china dog that ornaments the bedroom of my furnished lodgings. It is a white dog. Its eyes blue. Its nose is a delicate red, with spots. Its head is painfully erect, its expression is amiability carried to verge of imbecility. I do not admire it myself. Considered as a work of art, I may say it irritates me. Thoughtless friends jeer at it, and even my landlady herself has no admiration for it, and excuses its presence by the circumstance that her aunt gave it to her. But in 200 years’ time it is more than probable that that dog will be dug up from somewhere or other, minus its legs, and with its tail broken, and will be sold for old china, and put in a glass cabinet. And people will pass it round, and admire it. They will be struck by the wonderful depth of the colour on the nose, and speculate as to how beautiful the bit of the tail that is lost no doubt was. We, in this age, do not see the beauty of that dog. We are too familiar with it. It is like the sunset and the stars: we are not awed by their loveliness because they are common to our eyes. So it is with that china dog. In 2288 people will gush over it. The making of such dogs will have become a lost art. Our descendants will wonder how we did it, and say how clever we were. We shall be referred to lovingly as “those grand old artists that flourished in the nineteenth century, and produced those china dogs.” The “sampler” that the eldest daughter did at school will be spoken of as “tapestry of the Victorian era,” and be almost priceless. The blue-and-white mugs of the present-day roadside inn will be hunted up, all cracked and chipped, and sold for their weight in gold, and rich people will use them for claret cups; and travellers from Japan will buy up all the “Presents from Ramsgate,” and “Souvenirs of Margate,” that may have escaped destruction, and take them back to Jedo as ancient English curios. ~ Jerome K Jerome, #NFDB
511:Okay, y’all,” Ashley announced. “This is our dress rehearsal. Our last chance to get everything perfect before the big night tomorrow. Any questions? Ideas? Opinions?”
“Yeah, I have an idea.” Slumped on the front steps of the Battlefield Inn, Parker choked down a mouthful of cough syrup and tried not to speak above a whisper. “Let’s call it off. That would really make it perfect. No more ghost tour.”
“Walk of the Spirits,” Ashley corrected him, irritated. “Walk of the Spirits. And we’re not calling it off. After all this time? All this work?”
“All this suffering?” Roo added. She was perched one step below Parker, and was digging through her pockets for a cigarette. Her face still bore some major bruises from the storm, and a wide gash zigzagged across her forehead, not quite healed. She’d taken great pains to highlight this zigzag with dark, red lipstick.
“You like suffering,” Parker reminded her. “And, excuse me, but you’re not the one with pneumonia.”
"You don’t have pneumonia. You’re just jealous because Gage was in worse shape than you, and he got more attention.”
“Well, it’s almost pneumonia. It’s turning into pneumonia.” Tensing, Parker let out a gigantic sneeze. “Shit, I hate this. I feel like my brain’s ten times its normal size.”
Roo gave him a bland stare. “You know, when people lose a leg or an arm, they think they still feel it, even though it’s not really there.”
“Will you two behave?” Ashley scolded. “And, Parker, where’s that newspaper article your mom was going to give us?”
“Somewhere.” Parker thought a moment, then shrugged. “In my car, I think.”
“Well, will you please go get it? The sooner we start, the sooner we can all go home.”
“She’s right.” Though unable to hold back a laugh, Miranda came loyally to Ashley’s rescue. “Let’s just walk it through, and read the script, and make sure we’ve covered all the basic information. Ashley, what about your costume?”
“I’ve got the final fitting after I leave here.” Ashley’s eyes shone with excitement. “Can you believe Mrs. Wilmington went to all that trouble to make it for me?”
“She didn’t.” Parker scowled. “She got her dressmaker, or designer, or whoever the hell she calls him, to make it for you.”
“Parker, that doesn’t matter--it was still really nice of your mother to do that.”
“You’re a southern belle--how could she resist that?”
Ashley shot Miranda a grateful smile. “That was Miranda’s idea.”
“It made sense,” Miranda explained. “A costume sets the mood. It’s all about southern history and heritage, so our tour guide should be a southern hostess--hoopskirt and all.”
“And I’m the only one who gets to dress up! And I can’t wait to wear it! It’s like cotton candy!”
Roo arched an eyebrow. “Sticky?”
“No! All pink and fluffy and…sweet. I love the way I feel in it.”
“I agree,” Parker said hoarsely. “I love the way you feel in it, too. And I love the way you feel out of it even better.”
Roo stared at him. “Wow. You should write greeting cards. ~ Richie Tankersley Cusick,#NFDB
512:The Morning Quatrains
THE cock has crow'd an hour ago,
'Tis time we now dull sleep forego;
Tir'd Nature is by sleep redress'd,
And Labour's overcome by rest.
We have out-done the work of Night,
'Tis time we rise t'attend the Light,
And e'er he shall his beams display,
To plot new bus'ness for the Day.
None but the slothful, or unsound,
Are by the Sun in feathers found,
Nor, without rising with the Sun,
Can the world's bus'ness e'er be done.
Hark! Hark! the watchful Chanticler
Tells us the Day's bright harbinger
Peeps o'er the eastern hills, to awe
And warm night's sov'reign to withdraw.
The morning curtains now are drawn,
And now appears the blushing dawn;
Aurora has her roses shed,
To strew the way Sol's steeds must tread.
Xanthus and Aethon harness'd are,
To roll away the burning car,
And, snorting flame, impatient bear
The dressing of the charioteer.
The sable cheeks of sullen Night
Are streak'd with rosy streams of light,
Whilst she retires away in fear,
To shade the other hemisphere.
The merry lark now takes her wings,
And long'd-for Day's loud welcome sings,
Mounting her body out of sight,
As if she meant to meet the Light.
Now doors and windows are unbarr'd,
Each-where are cheerful voices heard,
And round about 'Good-morrows' fly,
As if Day taught Humanity.
The chimnies now to smoke begin,
And the old wife sits down to spin,
Whilst Kate, taking her pail, does trip
10
Mull's swoll'n and straddl'ing paps to strip.
Vulcan now makes his anvil ring,
Dick whistles loud, and Maud doth sing,
And Silvio with his bugle horn
Winds an Imprime unto the Morn.
Now through the morning doors behold
Phoebus array'd in burning gold,
Lashing his fiery steeds, displays
His warm and all-enlight'ning rays.
Now each one to his work prepares,
All that have hands are labourers,
And manufactures of each trade
By op'ning shops are open laid.
Hob yokes his oxen to the team,
The angler goes unto the stream,
The woodman to the purlews hies,
And lab'ring bees to load their thighs.
Fair Amarillis drives her flocks,
All night safe-folded from the fox,
To flow'ry downs, where Colin stays,
To court her with his roundelays.
The traveller now leaves his inn
A new day's journey to begin,
As he would post it with the day,
And early rising makes good way.
The slick-fac'd school-boy satchel takes,
And with slow pace small riddance makes;
For why, the haste we make, you know
To Knowledge and to Virtue's slow.
The fore-horse jingles on the road,
The wagoner lugs on his load,
The field with busy people snies,
And city rings with various cries.
The World is now a busy swarm,
All doing good, or doing harm;
But let's take heed our acts be true,
For Heaven's eye sees all we do.
None can that piercing sight evade,
It penetrates the darkest shade,
And sin, though it could 'scape the eye,
Would be discover'd by the cry.
11
~ Charles Cotton,#NFDB
513:What did he do?”
I whipped around, startled. I had been so immersed in my own thoughts that I hadn’t even noticed Philantha standing into the doorway to one of the sitting rooms.
“Pardon?”
“Well, in my experience, it’s usually the man who bumbles about causing most of the problems in relationships of romance,” she said. “So, naturally, I assumed that your young man has done or said or thought something that caused you to come bursting in like a hurricane. Am I correct?”
I shook my head so violently the braid coiled around my head threatened to come loose. “We’re not in a…relationship of romance. He’s just my friend.”
Philantha made a sound surprisingly like a snicker. “Truly?” she asked. “I suppose that’s why he’s been with you most evenings.”
“Like I said, we’re friends. And we haven’t seen each other in a long time.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I may not care about it--or at least I didn’t, until recently--but I do hear some of the court gossip when I visit the college. The noble students, they bring it with them, you know. And one of the stories is how the Earl of Rithia and his wife are scrambling to find eligible matches for their son.”
I felt suddenly dizzy for no reason, and a hot flush--disturbingly like the jealous feeling I had experienced at the inn--rushed through me. “Matches?” I repeated.
“Girls, young women, marriageable prospects. Strange, how suddenly they started. Right after the princess came back, it’s been noted. As if they had had hope for another match before, and it was ruined.”
“Me?” I asked. “People think Kiernan’s parents wanted him to marry me? That’s…ridiculous. Princesses don’t marry earls--a duke, maybe, but not an earl, not unless he’s foreign and brings some grand alliance. And besides, we’re just--”
“Friends,” Philantha finished. “I know. That’s what you keep saying.” She eyed me, before saying, “They haven’t had much luck, though, from the gossip. He’s polite to everyone they trot out, but nothing more. But that’s neither here nor there, since you don’t love him.”
I glared at her, my face and chest still filled with that rush of heat.
“In fact, he’s made you angry, hasn’t he?”
“He did. Well, I said…Yes, we fought. He says that Na--the princess--wants to see me. And I told him that he couldn’t bring her to me, that I didn’t want to see her. He said that if she asked, he would have to. But he’s wormed his way out of stickier situations than that. He could find a way to avoid it, if he wanted to.”
“Then perhaps he doesn’t want to,” Philantha answered before gliding away up the stairs and out of sight.
I had plenty of time to mull over Philantha’s words, because I didn’t see Kiernan for the next three days. It was the longest we had been parted since I returned to the city, and even through my anger at him it drove me to distraction. I mangled my spells even worse than usual, spilled ink, and tripped so frequently that Philantha threatened to call Kiernan to the house herself and turn him into a sparrow if we didn’t make up. Her eyes glinted dangerously when she said it, and only that was enough to force away a bit of my muddleheadedness. ~ Eilis O Neal,#NFDB
514:The Old Man With The Broken Arm
At Hsin-fëng—an old man—four-score and eight;
The hair on his head and the hair of his eyebrows—white as the new snow.
Leaning on the shoulders of his great-grandchildren, he walks in front of the Inn;
With his left arm he leans on their shoulders; his right arm is broken.
I asked the old man how many years had passed since he broke his arm;
I also asked the cause of the injury, how and why it happened.
The old man said he was born and reared in the District of Hsin-fëng;
At the time of his birth—a wise reign; no wars or discords.
“Often I listened in the Pear-Tree Garden to the sound of flute and song;
Naught I knew of banner and lance; nothing of arrow or bow.
Then came the wars of T’ien-pao and the great levy of men;
Of three men in each house—one man was taken.
And those to whom the lot fell, where were they taken to?
Five months’ journey, a thousand miles—away to Yiin-nan.
We heard it said that in Yiin-nan there flows the Lu River;
As the flowers fall from the pepper-trees, poisonous vapors rise.
When the great army waded across, the water seethed like a cauldron;
When barely ten had entered the water, two or three were dead.
To the north of my village, to the south of my village the sound of weeping and
wailing,
Children parting from fathers and mothers; husbands parting from wives.
Everyone says that in expeditions against the Min tribes
Of a million men who are sent out, not one returns.
I, that am old, was then twenty-four;
My name and fore-name were written down in the rolls of the Board of War.
In the depth of the night not daring to let any one know
I secretly took a huge stone and dashed it against my arm.
For drawing the bow and waving the banner now wholly unfit;
I knew henceforward I should not be sent to fight in Yün-nan.
Bones broken and sinews wounded could not fail to hurt;
I was ready enough to bear pain, if only I got back home.
My arm—broken ever since; it was sixty years ago.
One limb, although destroyed—whole body safe!
But even now on winter nights when the wind and rain blow
From evening on till day’s dawn I cannot sleep for pain.
Not sleeping for pain
Is a small thing to bear,
Compared with the joy of being alive when all the rest are dead.
82
For otherwise, years ago, at the ford of Lu River
My body would have died and my soul hovered by the bones that no one
gathered.
A ghost, I’d have wandered in Yiin-nan, always looking for home.
Over the graves of ten thousand soldiers, mournfully hovering.’’
So the old man spoke,
And I bid you listen to his words.
Have you not heard
That the Prime Minister of K’ai-yüan, Sung K’ai-fu,
Did not reward frontier exploits, lest a spirit of aggression should prevail?
And have you not heard
That the Prime Minster of T’ien-Pao, Yang Kuo-chung
Desiring to win imperial favour, started a frontier war?
But long before he could win the war, people had lost their temper;
Ask the man with thy broken arm in the village of Hsin-fëng!
~ Bai Juyi,#NFDB
515:You’re the one that whupped Galdran Merindar?”
Unbidden, Shevraeth’s voice spoke inside my head: “You have never lied to me…” I thought desperately, Better late than never! And for a brief moment I envisioned myself snarling Yes, ha ha! And I minced fifty more like him, so you’d better run! Except it wasn’t going to stop them; I could see it in their eyes and in the way the woman gripped her sword.
“No,” I said. “He knocked me off my horse. But I’d taken an oath, so I had to do my best.” I drew in a shaky breath. “I know I can’t fight forty of you, but I’m going to stand here and block you until you either go away or my arms fall off, because this, too, is an oath I took.”
The woman muttered something in their home language. Her stance, her tone, made it almost clear it was “I don’t like this.”
And he said something in a hard voice, his eyes narrowed. It had to mean “We have no choice. Better her than us.” And he took up a guard position again, his muscles tightening.
My sweaty hand gripped my sword, and I raised it, gritting my teeth--
And there came the beat of hooves on the ground. All three of us went still. Either this was reinforcements for them, in which case I was about to become a prisoner--or a ghost--or…
Blue and black and white tunicked riders thundered down through the trees toward the wagons. On the other side of the road, another group rounded the rise, and within the space of ten heartbeats, the wagons were surrounded by nine ridings of warriors, a full wing, all with lances pointed and swords at the ready.
One of them flashed a grin my way--Nessaren! Then my attention was claimed when the wing commander trotted up, stopped, and bowed low over his horse’s withers. “Your orders, my lady?”
He was utterly serious, but the impulse to dissolve into helpless laughter was shaking my already watery insides. “These gentle people may unload their stones, and pile them neatly for the locals to collect,” I said. “And then the drivers and their companions are yours. I think local villagers might be hired to drive the cargo of the wagons to the sea. Brine-soaked kinthus won’t hurt anyone and becomes mere wood. The wagons then might be offered to said villagers as partial payment.”
The wing commander bowed again, turned, and issued orders. I noted from the salutes that Nessaren had risen in rank--she now appeared to have three ridings under her.
Within a very short time, the prisoners were marched off in one direction and the wagons trundled slowly in another, driven by warriors whose fellows had taken their horses’ reins.
All except for one riding. Nessaren presented herself to me and said, “My lady, if it pleases you, I have specific orders.”
“And they are?”
“You’re to come with us to the nearest inn, where you are to sleep for at least two candles. And then--”
I didn’t even hear the “and then.” Suddenly, very suddenly, it was all I could do to climb back onto my pony. Nessaren saw this and, with a gesture, got her group to surround me. In tight formation we rode slowly back down the mountain…
And I dismounted…
And walked inside the inn…
I don’t even remember falling onto the bed. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
516:. . . Faust was an actual person. Somewhere between 1510 and 1540 this "wandering conjurer and medical quack" made his travels about the southwest German Empire, telling people his knowledge of "secret things." I always puzzled over why such a legend was so basic to the Western mind; but I've thought about it and now I think I know the answer. Can't you imagine this man traveling about with his bad herbs, love philters, physicks and potions, charms, overcharging the peasants but dazzling them with his badly constructed Greek and sometimes labeling his "wonder cures" with gibberish titles like "Polyunsaturated 99 1/2% pure." Hocus-pocus. He makes a living and can always get a free night's lodging at an inn with his ability to prescribe cures and tell fortunes, that is, predict the future. You see he travels about the Empire and is able to serve as a kind of national radio for people in the locales. Well 1 day while he is leeching people, cutting hair or raising the dead who only have diseases which give the manifestations of death, something really works. He knows that he's a bokor adept at card tricks, but something really works. He tries it again and it works. He continues to repeat this performance and each time it works. The peasants begin to look upon his as a supernatural being and he encourages the tales about him, that he heals the sick and performs marvels. He becomes wealthy with his ability to do The Work. Royalty visits him. He is a counselor to the king. He lives in a castle. Peasants whisper, a Black man, a very bearded devil himself visits him. That strange coach they saw, the black horses. They say that he has made a pact with the devil because he invites the Africans who work in various cities throughout the Empire to his castle. There were 1000s in Europe at the time: blackamoors who worked as butlers, coachmen, footmen, pint-sized page boys; and conjurors whom only the depraved consulted. The villagers hear "Arabian" music, drums coming from the place but as soon as the series of meetings begin it all comes to a halt. Rumors circulate that Faust is dead. The village whispers that the Black men have collected. This the nagging notion of the Western man. China had rocketry, Africa iron furnaces, but he didn't know when to stop with his newly found Work. That's the basic wound. He will create fancy systems 13 letters long to convince himself he doesn't have this wound. What is the wound? Someone will even call it guilt. But guilt implies a conscience. Is Faust capable of charity? No it isn't guilt but the knowledge in his heart that he is a bokor. A charlatan who has sent 1000000s to the churchyard with his charlatan panaceas. Western man doesn't know the difference between a houngan and a bokor. He once knew this difference but the knowledge was lost when the Atonists crushed the opposition. When they converted a Roman emperor and began rampaging and book-burning. His sorcery, white magic, his bokorism will improve. Soon he will be able to annihilate 1000000s by pushing a button. I do not believe that a Yellow or Black hand will push this button but a robot-like descendant of Faust the quack will. The dreaded bokor, a humbug who doesn't know when to stop. ~ Ishmael Reed, #NFDB
517:To the door of an inn in the provincial town of N. there drew up a smart britchka—a light spring-carriage of the sort affected by bachelors, retired lieutenant-colonels, staff-captains, land-owners possessed of about a hundred souls, and, in short, all persons who rank as gentlemen of the intermediate category. In the britchka was seated such a gentleman—a man who, though not handsome, was not ill-favoured, not over-fat, and not over-thin. Also, though not over-elderly, he was not over-young. His arrival produced no stir in the town, and was accompanied by no particular incident, beyond that a couple of peasants who happened to be standing at the door of a dramshop exchanged a few comments with reference to the equipage rather than to the individual who was seated in it. "Look at that carriage," one of them said to the other. "Think you it will be going as far as Moscow?" "I think it will," replied his companion. "But not as far as Kazan, eh?" "No, not as far as Kazan." With that the conversation ended. Presently, as the britchka was approaching the inn, it was met by a young man in a pair of very short, very tight breeches of white dimity, a quasi-fashionable frockcoat, and a dickey fastened with a pistol-shaped bronze tie-pin. The young man turned his head as he passed the britchka and eyed it attentively; after which he clapped his hand to his cap (which was in danger of being removed by the wind) and resumed his way. On the vehicle reaching the inn door, its occupant found standing there to welcome him the polevoi, or waiter, of the establishment—an individual of such nimble and brisk movement that even to distinguish the character of his face was impossible. Running out with a napkin in one hand and his lanky form clad in a tailcoat, reaching almost to the nape of his neck, he tossed back his locks, and escorted the gentleman upstairs, along a wooden gallery, and so to the bedchamber which God had prepared for the gentleman's reception. The said bedchamber was of quite ordinary appearance, since the inn belonged to the species to be found in all provincial towns—the species wherein, for two roubles a day, travellers may obtain a room swarming with black-beetles, and communicating by a doorway with the apartment adjoining. True, the doorway may be blocked up with a wardrobe; yet behind it, in all probability, there will be standing a silent, motionless neighbour whose ears are burning to learn every possible detail concerning the latest arrival. The inn's exterior corresponded with its interior. Long, and consisting only of two storeys, the building had its lower half destitute of stucco; with the result that the dark-red bricks, originally more or less dingy, had grown yet dingier under the influence of atmospheric changes. As for the upper half of the building, it was, of course, painted the usual tint of unfading yellow. Within, on the ground floor, there stood a number of benches heaped with horse-collars, rope, and sheepskins; while the window-seat accommodated a sbitentshik[1], cheek by jowl with a samovar[2]—the latter so closely resembling the former in appearance that, but for the fact of the samovar possessing a pitch-black lip, the samovar and the sbitentshik might have been two of a pair. ~ Nikolai Gogol, #NFDB
518:And you really are the Countess of Tlanth?”
I nodded.
She closed her eyes and sighed. “Emis over on Nikaru Farm is going to be soooo jealous when she finds out. She thinks she’s so very fine a lady, just because she has a cousin in service at Athanarel and her brother in the Guard. There is no news from Athanarel if she doesn’t know it first, or more of it than anyone.”
“What is the news?” I asked, feeling the old fear close round me.
She pursed her lips. “Maybe Mama is right about my tongue running like a fox in the wild. Are you certain you want all this now?”
“Very much,” I said.
“It comes to this: The Duke of Savona and the Marquis of Shevraeth have another wager, on which one can find you first. The King thinks it great sport, and they have people on all the main roads leading west to the mountains.”
“Did they say anything about my escape?”
She shook her head. “Luz overheard some merchants at the Harvest--that’s the inn down the road at Garval--saying they thought it was wizard work or a big conspiracy. I went with Papa when he returned to the Three Rings in Remalna-city, and everyone was talking about it.” She grinned. “Elun Kepruid--he’s the innkeeper’s son at Three Rings, and he likes me plenty--was telling me all the real gossip from the palace. The King was very angry, and at first wanted to execute all the guards who had duty the night you got out, except the ones he really wanted had disappeared, and everyone at Court thought there was a conspiracy, and they were afraid of attack. But then the lords started the wagers and turned it all into a game. Savona swore he’d fling you at the King’s feet inside of two weeks. Baron Debegri, who was just returned from the mountains, said he’d bring your head--then take it and fling it at your brother’s feet. He’s a hard one, the Baron, Emis’s brother said.” She grimaced. “Is this too terrible to hear?”
“No…No. I just need…to think.”
She put her chin on her hands. “Did you see the Duke?”
“Which duke?”
“Savona.” She sighed. “Emis has seen him--twice. She gets to visit her cousin at Winter Festival. She says he’s even more handsome than I can imagine. Four duels…Did you?”
I shook my head. “All I saw was the inside of my cell. And the King. And that Shevraeth,” I added somewhat bitterly.
“He’s supposed to have a head for nothing but clothes. And gambling.” Ara shrugged dismissively. “Everybody thinks it’s really Debegri who--well, got you.”
“What got me was a trap. And it was my own fault.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Mama says I ought not to ask much about what happened. She says the less I know, the less danger there is to my family. You think that’s true?”
Danger to her family. It was a warning. I nodded firmly. “Just forget it, and I’ll make you a promise. If I live through this mess, and things settle down, I’ll tell you everything. How’s that?”
Ara clapped her hands and laughed. “That’s nacky! Especially if you tell me all about your palace in Tlanth. How Emis’s nose will turn purple from envy--when I can tell her, that is!”
I thought of our old castle, with its broken windows and walls, the worn, shabby furnishings and overgrown garden, and sighed. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
519:But the greatest human problems are not social problems, but decisions that the individual has to make alone. The most important feelings of which man is capable emphasise his separateness from other people, not his kinship with them. The feelings of a mountaineer towards a mountain emphasise his kinship with the mountain rather than with the rest of mankind. The same goes for the leap of the heart experienced by a sailor when he smells the sea, or for the astronomer’s feeling about the stars, or for the archaeologist’s love of the past. My feeling of love for my fellowmen makes me aware of my humanness; but my feeling about a mountain gives me an oddly nonhuman sensation. It would be incorrect, perhaps, to call it ‘superhuman’; but it nevertheless gives me a sense of transcending my everyday humanity.
Maslow’s importance is that he has placed these experiences of ‘transcendence’ at the centre of his psychology. He sees them as the compass by which man gains a sense of the magnetic north of his existence. They bring a glimpse of ‘the source of power, meaning and purpose’ inside himself. This can be seen with great clarity in the matter of the cure of alcoholics. Alcoholism arises from what I have called ‘generalised hypertension’, a feeling of strain or anxiety about practically everything. It might be described as a ‘passively negative’ attitude towards existence. The negativity prevents proper relaxation; there is a perpetual excess of adrenalin in the bloodstream. Alcohol may produce the necessary relaxation, switch off the anxiety, allow one to feel like a real human being instead of a bundle of over-tense nerves. Recurrence of the hypertension makes the alcoholic remedy a habit, but the disadvantages soon begin to outweigh the advantage: hangovers, headaches, fatigue, guilt, general inefficiency. And, above all, passivity. The alcoholics are given mescalin or LSD, and then peak experiences are induced by means of music or poetry or colours blending on a screen. They are suddenly gripped and shaken by a sense of meaning, of just how incredibly interesting life can be for the undefeated. They also become aware of the vicious circle involved in alcoholism: misery and passivity leading to a general running-down of the vital powers, and to the lower levels of perception that are the outcome of fatigue.
‘The spirit world shuts not its gates, Your heart is dead, your senses sleep,’ says the Earth Spirit to Faust. And the senses sleep when there is not enough energy to run them efficiently. On the other hand, when the level of will and determination is high, the senses wake up. (Maslow was not particularly literary, or he might have been amused to think that Faust is suffering from exactly the same problem as the girl in the chewing gum factory (described earlier), and that he had, incidentally, solved a problem that had troubled European culture for nearly two centuries). Peak experiences are a by-product of this higher energy-drive. The alcoholic drinks because he is seeking peak experiences; (the same, of course, goes for all addicts, whether of drugs or tobacco.) In fact, he is moving away from them, like a lost traveller walking away from the inn in which he hopes to spend the night. The moment he sees with clarity what he needs to do to regain the peak experience, he does an about-face and ceases to be an alcoholic. ~ Colin Wilson,#NFDB
520:As I emerged onto a lovely brick-patterned street some of the noise I heard resolved into music. My steps turned automatically that way, and I saw an inn, its windows bright with golden light, its doors wide open. As always when I heard music, my heart felt light and the tiredness in my body diminished. This was good music, too, not just the awkward plunkings and tweetings that served merely to mark the right melody for enthusiastic but untrained singers, as I was used to in Tlanth. It had been a very long while since a minstrel, much less wandering players, had dared our mountain heights. Though we did love entertainment, the word had probably spread down-mountain that about all they’d get from us for their pains would be loud applause and a bit of plain food.
But this inn seemed to have no such problem. Stepping inside, I counted six different instruments, all of them played well. The noises of people having a good time made listening difficult, so I pressed between merrymakers, trying to get closer to the musicians.
Someone moved, someone else changed position, and I found myself wedged against a table against one wall--a high table with ironwork chairs, instead of the usual low tables and cushions. The metal frame of the table dug into my hip, but at least no one could push me away, and I had a reasonably good view of the musicians.
And so I stood for a time, swaying and nodding with the complicated rhythms. People got up and danced, something I longed to do. I told myself it was just as well that I did not know any of the latest steps, for the last thing I needed was to risk drawing attention to myself--especially if my ankle suddenly twinged and gave out.
It did ache, I realized as I stood there, and my stomach growled and rumbled. But it was so good to be warm, and to feel safe, and to listen to--
A player faltered; the musicians stopped. Around me the voices altered a little, from loud and jovial to questioning. I felt tension dart through the room, like a frightened bird. Faces turned toward the door. Terror leaped in me as I shifted my shoulder just a little, then peeked swiftly under the gesturing arm of the man standing next to me.
Baron Debegri stood at the entrance. He negligently waved a gloved hand toward the table he wanted--a central table, with the best view of the musicians. Two stone-faced warriors motioned to the people already seated there.
No word had been spoken. The people at the table picked up their dishes and glasses and disappeared silently into the crowd. Debegri sat down, hands on thighs, looking well pleased with himself.
I stared at him, astounded at my amazingly bad luck. But of course he wouldn’t search at night. And of course he’d quarter himself in the best place available, and if this were indeed a resort town, the inns would be the best.
I couldn’t stop sneaking peeks at him as he was served a substantial meal and a bottle of what had to be the very best bluewine. No one sat with him, but one of his personal guards stood at the doorway, another behind his chair, silent, watchful, awaiting his command. He didn’t offer them anything to eat, just sat there and gorged himself.
As I watched, my fear slowly turned into anger, and then to rage. Heady with hunger, I struggled within myself. I felt if I didn’t do something, make some kind of gesture, I would be a coward forever. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
521:I’d been proud of the parlor, over which I had spent a great deal of time. The ceiling had inlaid tiles in the same summer-sky blue that comprised the main color of the rugs and cushions and the tapestry on the wall opposite the newly glassed windows. Now I sneaked a look at the Marquis, dreading an expression of amusement or disdain. But his attention seemed to be reserved for the lady as he led her to the scattering of cushions before the fireplace, where she knelt down with a graceful sweeping of her skirts. Bran went over and opened the fire vents.
“If I’d known of your arrival, it would have been warm in here.”
Bran looked over his shoulder in surprise. “Well, where d’you spend your days? Not still in the kitchens?”
“In the kitchens and the library and wherever else I’m needed,” I said; and though I tried to sound cheery, it came out sounding resentful. “I’ll be back after I see about food and drink.”
Feeling very much like I was making a cowardly retreat, I ran down the long halls to the kitchen, cursing my bad luck as I went. There I found Julen, Oria, the new cook, and his assistant all standing in a knot talking at once. As soon as I appeared, the conversation stopped.
Julen and Oria turned to face me--Oria on the verge of laughter.
“The lady can have the new rose room, and the lord the corner suite next to your brother. But they’ve got an army of servants with them, Countess,” Julen said heavily. Whenever she called me Countess, it was a sure sign she was deeply disturbed over something. “Where’ll we house them? There’s no space in our wing, not till we finish the walls.”
“And who’s to wait on whom?” Oria asked as she carefully brought my mother’s good silver trays out from the wall-shelves behind the new-woven coverings. “Glad we’ve kept these polished,” she added.
“I’d say find out how many of those fancy palace servants are kitchen trained, and draft ‘em. And then see if some of the people from that new inn will come up, for extra wages. Bran can unpocket the extra pay,” I said darkly, “if he’s going to make a habit of disappearing for half a year and reappearing with armies of retainers. As for housing, well, the garrison does have a new roof, so they can all sleep there. We’ve got those new Fire Sticks to warm ‘em up with.”
“What about meals for your guests?” Oria said, her eyes wide.
I’d told Oria last summer that she could become steward of the house. While I’d been ordering books on trade, and world history, and governments, she had been doing research on how the great houses were currently run; and it was she who had hired Demnan, the new cook. We’d eaten well over the winter, thanks to his genius.
I looked at Oria. “This is it. No longer just us, no longer practice, it’s time to dig out all your plans for running a fine house for a noble family. Bran and his two Court guests will need something now after their long journey, and I have no idea what’s proper to offer Court people.”
“Well, I do,” Oria said, whirling around, hands on hips, her face flushed with pleasure. “We’ll make you proud, I promise.”
I sighed. “Then…I guess I’d better go back.”
As I ran to the parlor, pausing only to ditch my blanket in an empty room, I steeled myself to be polite and pleasant no matter how much my exasperating brother inadvertently provoked me--but when I pushed aside the tapestry at the door, they weren’t there.
And why should they be? This was Branaric’s home, too. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
522:That was when it dawned on her--Dom wanted to unearth her secrets. Nancy’s secrets. Just as Jane had feared, he really had deduced that she hid some.
A shiver ran down her spine, and she jerked her gaze from him, fighting to hide her consternation. “Merely the same reason I gave you before. Nancy could be in trouble. And it’s your duty as her brother-in-law to keep her safe.”
“From what?” he demanded. “From whom? Is there more to this than you’re saying?”
Ooh, the fact that he was so determined to unveil the truth about Nancy while hiding his former collusion with her scraped Jane raw. “I could ask the same of you,” she said primly. “You’re obviously holding something back. You have some reason for your determination to believe ill of Nancy. I wonder what that might be.”
Two can play your game, Almighty Dom. Hah!
He was silent so long that she ventured a glance at him to find him looking rather discomfited. Good! It was about time.
“I am merely keeping an open mind about your cousin, which is more than I can say for you,” Dom finally answered. “She isn’t the woman you think she is.”
“Because she wouldn’t give in to your advances twelve years ago, you mean?” She would make him admit the truth about that night if it was the last thing she did! “Perhaps that’s why you’re determined to blacken her character. You’re angry that she resisted you and married your brother instead.”
“That’s a lie!” When several people on the street turned to look in his direction, Dom lowered his voice. “It wasn’t like that.”
She stifled a smile of satisfaction. At last she was getting a reaction from him that was something other than levelheaded logic. “Wasn’t it? If you’d convinced Nancy to marry you, you might not have had to go off to be a Bow Street runner. You could have had an easier life, a better life in high society than you could have had with me if you’d married me. Without being able to access my fortune, I could only have dragged you down.”
“You don’t really believe that I wanted to marry her for her money,” he gritted out.
“It’s either that or assume that you fell madly in love with her in the few weeks we were apart.” They were nearly to the inn now, so she added a plaintive note to her voice. “Or perhaps it was her you wanted all along. You knew my uncle would never accept a second son as a husband for his rich heiress of a daughter, so you courted me to get close to her. Nancy was always so beautiful, so--”
“Enough!”
Without warning, he dragged her into one of the many alleyways that crisscrossed York. This one was deeply shadowed, the houses leaning into each other overhead, and as he pulled her around to face him, the brilliance of his eyes shone starkly in the dim light.
“I never cared one whit about Nancy.”
She tamped down her triumph--he hadn’t admitted the whole truth yet. “It certainly didn’t look that way to me. It looked like you had already forgotten me, forgotten what we meant to each--”
“The hell I had.” He shoved his face close to hers. “I never forgot you for one day, one hour, one moment. It was you--always you. Everything I did was for you, damn it. No one else.”
The passionate profession threw her off course. Dom had never been the sort to say such sweet things. But the fervent look in his eyes roused memories of how he used to look at her. And his hands gripping her arms, his body angling in closer, were so painfully familiar...
“I don’t…believe you,” she lied, her blood running wild through her veins.
His gleaming gaze impaled her. “Then believe this.” And suddenly his mouth was on hers. ~ Sabrina Jeffries,#NFDB
523:Glasgerion
Glasgerion was a kings owne sonne,
And a harper he was goode;
He harped in the kings chambere,
Where cuppe and caudle stoode,
And soe did hee in the queens chambere,
Till ladies waxed 'glad,'
And then bespake the kinges daughter,
And these wordes thus shee sayd:
'Strike on, strike on, Glasgerion,
Of thy striking doe not blinne;
Theres never a stroke comes oer thy harpe,
But it glads my hart withinne.'
'Faire might he fall,' quoth hee,
'Who taught you nowe to speake!
I have loved you, ladye, seven longe yeere,
My minde I neere durst breake.'
'But come to my bower, my Glasgerion,
When all men are att rest:
As I am a ladie true of my promise,
Thou shalt bee a welcome guest.'
Home then came Glasgerion,
A glad man, lord! was hee:
'And, come thou hither, Jacke my boy,
Come hither unto mee.
'For the kinges daughter of Normandye
Hath granted mee my boone;
And att her chambere must I bee
Beffore the cocke have crowen.
'O master, master,' then quoth hee,
'Lay your head downe on this stone;
For I will waken you, master deere,
Afore it be time to gone.'
254
But up then rose that lither ladd,
And hose and shoone did on;
A coller he cast upon his necke,
Hee seemed a gentleman.
And when he came to the ladyes chamber,
He thrild upon a pinn:
The lady was true of her promise,
And rose and lett him inn.
He did not take the lady gaye
To boulster nor to bed:
'Nor thoughe hee had his wicked wille,
A single word he sed.'
He did not kisse that ladyes mouthe,
Nor when he came, nor yode:
And sore that ladye did mistrust,
He was of some churls bloud.
But home then came that lither ladd,
And did off his hose and shoone;
And cast the coller from off his necke:
He was but a churcles sonne.
'Awake, awake, my deere master,
The cock hath well-nigh crowen;
Awake, awake, my master deere,
I hold it time to be gone.
'For I have saddled your horse, master,
Well bridled I have your steede,
And I have served you a good breakfast,
For thereof ye have need.'
Up then rose good Glasgerion,
And did on hose and shoone,
And cast a coller about his necke:
For he was a kinge his sonne.
And when he came to the ladyes chambere,
255
He thrilled upon the pinne;
The lady was more than true of promise,
And rose and let him inn.
'O whether have you left with me
Your bracelet of your glove?
Or are you returned backe againe
To know more of my love?'
Glasgerion swore a full great othe,
By oake, and ashe, and thorne;
'Ladye, I was never in your chambere,
Sith the time that I was borne.'
'O then it was your lither footpage,
He hath beguiled mee:'
Then shee pulled forth a little penkniffe,
That hanged by her knee.
Sayes, 'There shall never noe churles blood
Within my bodye spring:
No churles blood shall eer defile
The daughter of the kinge.'
Home then went Glasgerion,
And woe, good lord! was hee:
Sayes, 'Come thou hither, Jacke my boy,
Come hither unto mee.
'If I had killed a man to-night,
Jacke, I would tell it thee:
But if I have not killed a man to-night,
Jacke, thou hast killed three.'
And he puld out his bright browne sword,
And dryed it on his sleeve,
And he smote off that lither ladds head,
Who did his ladye grieve.
He sett the swords poynt till his brest,
The pummil until a stone:
Throw the falsenesse of that lither ladd,
256
These three lives were all gone.
~ Anonymous Olde English,#NFDB
524:My bout with the Marquis was much like the others. Even more than usual I was hopelessly outclassed, but I stuck grimly to my place, refusing to back up, and took hit after hit, though my parrying was steadily improving. Of course I lost, but at least it wasn’t so easy a loss as I’d had when I first began to attend practice--and he didn’t insult me with obvious handicaps, such as never allowing his point to hit me.
Bran and Savona finished a moment later, and Bran was just suggesting we exchange partners when the bells for third-gold rang, causing a general outcry. Some would stay, but most, I realized, were retreating to their various domiciles to bathe and dress for open Court.
I turned away--and found Shevraeth beside me. “You’ve never sampled the delights of Petitioners’ Court,” he said.
I thought of the Throne Room again, this time with Galdran there on the goldenwood throne, and the long lines of witnesses. I repressed a shiver.
Some of my sudden tension must have exhibited itself in my countenance because he said, “It is no longer an opportunity for a single individual to practice summary justice such as you experienced on your single visit.”
“I’m certain you don’t just sit around happily and play cards,” I muttered, looking down at the toes of my boots as we walked.
“Sometimes we do, when there are no petitioners. Or we listen to music. But when there is business, we listen to the petitioners, accept whatever they offer in the way of proof, and promise a decision at a later date. That’s for the first two greens. The last is spent in discussing impressions of the evidence at hand; sometimes agreement is reached, and sometimes we decide that further investigation is required before a decision can be made.”
This surprised me so much I looked up at him. There was no amusement, no mockery, no threat in the gray eyes. Just a slight question.
I said, “You listen to the opinions of whoever comes to Court?”
“Of course,” he said. “It means they want to be a part of government, even if their part is to be merely ornamental.”
I remembered that dinner when Nee first brought up Elenet’s name, and how Shevraeth had lamented how most of those who wished to give him advice had the least amount worth hearing.
“Why should I be there?” I asked. “I remember what you said about worthless advisers.”
“Do you think any opinion you would have to offer would be worthless?” he countered.
“It doesn’t matter what I think of my opinion,” I retorted, and then caught myself. “I mean to say, it is not me making the decisions.”
“So what you seem to be implying is that I think your opinion worthless.”
“Well, don’t you?”
He sighed. “When have I said so?”
“At the inn in Lumm, last year. And before that. About our letter to Galdran, and my opinion of courtiers.”
“It wasn’t your opinion I pointed up, it was your ignorance,” he said. “You seem to have made truly admirable efforts to overcome that handicap. Why not share what you’ve learned?”
I shrugged, then said, “Why don’t you have Elenet there?”--and hated myself for about as stupid a bit of pettiness as I’d ever uttered.
But he took the words at face value. “An excellent suggestion, and one I acted on immediately after she arrived at Athanarel. She’s contributed some very fine insights. She’s another, by the way, who took her own education in hand. Three years ago about all she knew was how to paint fans.”
I had talked myself into a corner, I realized--all through my own efforts. So I said, “All right, then. I’ll go get Mora to dig out that Court dress I ordered and be there to blister you all with my brilliance.”
He bowed, lifted his gray-gloved hand in a casual salute, and walked off toward the Royal Wing.
I retreated in quick order to get ready for the ordeal ahead. ~ Sherwood Smith,#NFDB
525:I'm unaccustomed to being cooped up all day-I really must insist that you permit me to enjoy a short walk."
"Not on your life," Fletcher growled.
From the sound, Breckenridge realized the group had moved closer to the tap.
"You don't need to think you're going to give us the slip so easily," Fletcher said again.
"My dear good man"-Heather with her nose in the air; Breckenridge could tell by her tone-"just where in this landscape of empty fields do you imagine I'm going to slip to?"
Cobbins opined that she might try to steal a horse and ride off.
"Oh,yes-in a round gown and evening slippers," Heather jeered. "But I wasn't suggesting you let me ramble on my own-Martha can come with me."
That was Martha's cue to enter the fray, but Heather stuck to her guns, refusing to back down through the ensuing, increasingly heated verbal stoush.
Until Fletcher intervened, aggravated frustration resonating in his voice. "Look you-we're under strict orders to keep you safe, not to let you wander off to fall prey to the first shiftless rake who rides past and takes a fancy to you."
Silence reigned for half a minute, then Heather audibly sniffed. "I'll have you know that shiftless rakes know better than to take a fancy to me."
Not true, Breckenridge thought, but that wasn't the startling information contained in Fletcher's outburst. "Come on, Heather-follow up."
As if she'd heard his muttered exhortation, she blithely swept on. "But if rather than standing there arguing, you instead treated me like a sensible adult and told me what your so strict orders with respect to me were, I might see my way to complying-or at least to helping you comply with them."
Breckenridge blinked as he sorted through that pronouncement; he could almost feel for Fletcher when he hissed out a sigh.
"All right," Fletcher's frustration had reached breaking point. "If you must know, we're to keep you safe from all harm. We're not to let a bloody pigeon pluck so much as a hair from your head. We're to deliver you up in prime condition, exactly as you were when he grabbed you."
From the change in Fletcher's tone, Breckenridge could visualize him moving closer to tower over Heather to intimidate her into backing down; he could have told him it wouldn't work.
"So now you see," Fletcher went on, voice low and forceful, "that it's entirely out of the question for you to go out for any ramble."
"Hmm." Heather's tone was tellingly mild.
Fletcher was about to get floored by an uppercut. For once not being on the receiving end, Breckenridge grinned and waited for it to land.
"If, as you say, your orders are to-do correct me if I'm wrong-keep me in my customary excellent health until you hand me over to your employer, then, my dear Fletcher, that will absolutely necessitate me going for a walk. Being cooped up all day in a carriage has never agreed with me-if you don't wish me to weaken or develop some unhealthy affliction, I will require fresh air and gentle exercise to recoup." She paused, then went on, her tone one of utmost reasonableness, "A short excursion along the river at the rear of the inn, and back, should restore my constitution."
Breckenridge was certain he could hear Fletcher breathing in and out through clenched teeth.
A fraught moment passed on, then, "Oh, very well! Martha-go with her. Twenty minutes, do you hear? Not a minute more."
"Thank you, Fletcher. Come, Martha-we don't want to waste the light."
Breckenridge heard Heather, with the rather slower Martha, leave the inn by the main door. He sipped his ale, waited. Eventually, Fletcher and Cobbins climbed the stairs, Cobbins grumbling, Fletcher ominously silent.
The instant they passed out of hearing, Breckenridge stood, stretched, then walked out of the tap and into the foyer. Seconds later, he slipped out of the front door. ~ Stephanie Laurens,#NFDB
526:If you’d convinced Nancy to marry you, you might not have had to go off to be a Bow Street runner. You could have had an easier life, a better life in high society than you could have had with me if you’d married me. Without being able to access my fortune, I could only have dragged you down.”
“You don’t really believe that I wanted to marry her for her money,” he gritted out.
“It’s either that or assume that you fell madly in love with her in the few weeks we were apart.” They were nearly to the inn now, so she added a plaintive note to her voice. “Or perhaps it was her you wanted all along. You knew my uncle would never accept a second son as a husband for his rich heiress of a daughter, so you courted me to get close to her. Nancy was always so beautiful, so--”
“Enough!”
Without warning, he dragged her into one of the many alleyways that crisscrossed York. This one was deeply shadowed, the houses leaning into each other overhead, and as he pulled her around to face him, the brilliance of his eyes shone starkly in the dim light.
“I never cared one whit about Nancy.”
She tamped down her triumph--he hadn’t admitted the whole truth yet. “It certainly didn’t look that way to me. It looked like you had already forgotten me, forgotten what we meant to each--”
“The hell I had.” He shoved his face close to hers. “I never forgot you for one day, one hour, one moment. It was you--always you. Everything I did was for you, damn it. No one else.”
The passionate profession threw her off course. Dom had never been the sort to say such sweet things. But the fervent look in his eyes roused memories of how he used to look at her. And his hands gripping her arms, his body angling in closer, were so painfully familiar...
“I don’t…believe you,” she lied, her blood running wild through her veins.
His gleaming gaze impaled her. “Then believe this.” And suddenly his mouth was on hers.
This was not what she’d set out to get from him.
But oh, the joy of it. The heat of it. His mouth covered hers, seeking, coaxing. Without breaking the kiss, he pushed her back against the wall, and she grabbed for his shoulders, his surprisingly broad and muscular shoulders. As he sent her plummeting into unfamiliar territory, she held on for dear life.
Time rewound to when they were in her uncle’s garden, sneaking a moment alone. But this time there was no hesitation, no fear of being caught.
Glorying in that, she slid her hands about his neck to bring him closer. He groaned, and his kiss turned intimate. He used lips and tongue, delving inside her mouth in a tender exploration that stunned her. Enchanted her. Confused her.
Something both sweet and alien pooled in her belly, a kind of yearning she’d never felt with Edwin. With any man but Dom.
As if he sensed it, he pulled back to look at her, his eyes searching hers, full of surprise. “My God, Jane,” he said hoarsely, turning her name into a prayer.
Or a curse? She had no time to figure out which before he clasped her head to hold her for another darkly ravishing kiss. Only this one was greedier, needier. His mouth consumed hers with all the boldness of Viking raiders of yore. His tongue drove repeatedly inside in a rhythm that made her feel all trembly and hot, and his thumbs caressed her throat, rousing the pulse there.
Thank heaven there was a wall to hold her up, or she was quite sure she would dissolve into a puddle at his feet. Because after all these years apart, he was riding roughshod over her life again. And she was letting him.
How could she not? His scent of leather and bergamot engulfed her, made her dizzy with the pleasure of it. He roused urges she’d never known she had, sparked fires in places she’d thought were frozen. Then his hands swept down her possessively as if to memorize her body…or mark it as belonging to him.
Belonging to him. ~ Sabrina Jeffries,#NFDB
527:The Other
The forest ended. Glad I was
To feel the light, and hear the hum
Of bees, and smell the drying grass
And the sweet mint, because I had come
To an end of forest, and because
Here was both road and inn, the sum
Of what's not forest. But 'twas here
They asked me if I did not pass
Yesterday this way. 'Not you? Queer.'
'Who then? and slept here?' I felt fear.
I learnt his road and, ere they were
Sure I was I, left the dark wood
Behind, kestrel and woodpecker,
The inn in the sun, the happy mood
When first I tasted sunlight there.
I travelled fast, in hopes I should
Outrun that other. What to do
When caught, I planned not. I pursued
To prove the likeness, and, if true,
To watch until myself I knew.
I tried the inns that evening
Of a long gabled high-street grey,
Of courts and outskirts, travelling
And eager but a weary way,
In vain. He was not there. Nothing
Told me that ever till that day
Had one like me entered those doors,
Save once. That time I dared: 'You may
Recall' -- but never-foamless shores
Make better friends than those dull boors.
Many and many a day like this
Aimed at the unseen moving goal
And nothing found but remedies
For all desire. These made not whole;
They sowed a new desire, a kiss
Desire's self beyond control,
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Desire of desire. And yet
Life stayed on within my soul.
One night in sheltering from the wet
I quite forgot I could forget.
A customer, then the landlady
Stared at me. With a kind of smile
They hesitated awkwardly:
Their silence gave me time for guile.
Had anyone called there like me,
I asked. It was quite plain the wile
Succeeded. For they poured out all.
And that was naught. Less than a mile
Beyond the inn, I could recall
He was like me in general.
He had pleased them, but I less.
I was more eager than before
To find him out and to confess,
To bore him and to let him bore.
I could not wait: children might guess
I had a purpose, something more
That made an answer indiscreet.
One girl's caution made me sore,
Too indignant even to greet
That other had we chanced to meet.
I sought then in solitude.
The wind had fallen with the night; as still
The roads lay as the ploughland rude,
Dark and naked, on the hill.
Had there been ever any feud
'Twixt earth and sky, a mighty will
Closed it: the crocketed dark trees,
A dark house, dark impossible
Cloud-towers, one star, one lamp, one peace
Held on an everlasting lease:
And all was earth's, or all was sky's;
No difference endured between
The two. A dog barked on a hidden rise;
A marshbird whistled high unseen;
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The latest waking blackbird's cries
Perished upon the silence keen.
The last light filled a narrow firth
Among the clouds. I stood serene,
And with a solemn quiet mirth,
An old inhabitant of earth.
Once the name I gave to hours
Like this was melancholy, when
It was not happiness and powers
Coming like exiles home again,
And weaknesses quitting their bowers,
Smiled and enjoyed, far off from men,
Moments of everlastingness.
And fortunate my search was then
While what I sought, nevertheless,
That I was seeking, I did not guess.
That time was brief: once more at inn
And upon road I sought my man
Till once amid a tap-room's din
Loudly he asked for me, began
To speak, as if it had been a sin,
Of how I thought and dreamed and ran
After him thus, day after day:
He lived as one under a ban
For this: what had I got to say?
I said nothing. I slipped away.
And now I dare not follow after
Too close. I try to keep in sight,
Dreading his frown and worse his laughter.
I steal out of the wood to light;
I see the swift shoot from the rafter
By the inn door: ere I alight
I wait and hear the starlings wheeze
And nibble like ducks: I wait his flight.
He goes: I follow: no release
Until he ceases. Then I also shall cease.
~ Edward Thomas,#NFDB
528:Childhood
I.
That idol, black eyes and yellow mop, without parents or court,
nobler than Mexican and Flemish fables;
his domain, insolent azure and verdure,
runs over beaches called by the shipless waves,
names ferociously Greek, Slav, Celt.
At the border of the forest-- dream flowers tinkle, flash, and flare,-the girl with orange lips, knees
crossed in the clear flood that gushes from the fields,
nakedness shaded, traversed, dressed by rainbow, flora, sea.
Ladies who stroll on terraces adjacent to the sea;
baby girls and giantesses,
superb blacks in the verdigris moss,
jewels upright on the rich ground
of groves and little thawed gardens,-young mothers and big sisters with eyes full of pilgrimages,
sultanas, princesses tyrannical of costume and carriage,
little foreign misses and young ladies gently unhappy.
What boredom, the hour of the 'dear body' and 'dear heart.'
II.
It is she, the little girl, dead behind the rosebushes. -The young mamma, deceased, comes down the stoop.-The cousin's carriage creaks on the sand.-The little brother (he is in India!) there,
before the western sky in the meadow of pinks.
The old men who have been buried upright
in the rampart overgrown with gillyflowers.
Swarms of golden leaves surround the general's house.
They are in the south.-You follow the red road to reach the empty inn.
The chateau is for sale; the shutters are coming off.
The priest must have taken away the key of the church.
Around the park the keepers' cottages are uninhabited.
24
The enclosures are so high that nothing
can be seen but the rustling tree tops.
Besides, there is nothing to be seen within.
The meadows go up to the hamlets without anvils or cocks.
The sluice gate is open.
O the Calvaries and the windmills of the desert,
the islands and the haystacks!
Magic flowers droned.
The slopes cradled him.
Beasts of a fabulous elegance moved about.
The clouds gathered over the high sea,
formed of an eternity of hot tears.
III.
In the woods there is a bird;
his song stops you and makes you blush.
There is a clock that never strikes.
There is a hollow with a nest of white beasts.
There is a cathedral that goes down and a lake that goes up.
There is a little carriage abandoned in the copse
or that goes running down the road beribboned.
There is a troupe of little actors in costume, glimpsed on the road
through the border of the woods.
And then, when you are hungry and thirsty,
there is someone who drives you away.
IV.
I am the saint at prayer on the terrace
like the peaceful beasts
that graze down to the sea of Palestine.
I am the scholar of the dark armchair.
Branches and rain hurl themselves at the windows of my library.
I am the pedestrian of the highroad by way of the dwarf woods;
the roar of the sluices drowns my steps.
I can see for a long time the melancholy wash of the setting sun.
I might well be the child abandoned on the jetty
on its way to the high seas, the little farm boy following the lane,
its forehead touching the sky. The paths are rough.
The hillocks are covered with broom.
25
The air is motionless. How far away are the birds and the springs!
It can only be the end of the world ahead.
V.
Let them rent me this whitewashed tomb, at last,
with cement lines in relief,-- far down under ground.
I lean my elbows on the table,
the lamp shines brightly on these newspapers
I am fool enough to read again, these stupid books.
An enormous distance above my subterranean parlor,
houses take root, fogs gather.
The mud is red or black.
Monstrous city, night without end!
Less high are the sewers. At the sides,
nothing but the thickness of the globe.
Chasms of azure, wells of fire perhaps.
Perhaps it is on these levels that moons and comets meet,
fables and seas. In hours of bitterness,
I imagine balls of sapphire, of metal.
I am master of silence.
Why should the semblance of an opening
pale under one corner of the vault?
~ Arthur Rimbaud,#NFDB
529:Old Robin Of Portingale
Let the mayors daughter of Lin, God wott,
He chose her to his wife,
And thought with her to have lived in love,
But they fell to hate and strife.
They scarce were in their wee-bed laid,
And scarce was hee asleepe,
But upp shee rose, and forth shee goes,
To the steward, and gan to weepe.
'Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles?
Or be you not within?
Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles,
Arise and let me inn.'
'O, I am waking, sweete,' he said,
'Sweete ladye, what is your will?'
'I have unbethought me of a wile,
How my wed-lord weel spill.
'Twenty-four good knights,' shee sayes,
'That dwell about this towne,
Even twenty-four of my next cozens,
Will helpe to dinge him downe.
All that beheard his litle foote-page,
As he watered his masters steed,
And for his masters sad perille
His verry heart did bleed.
He mourned, sighed, and wept full sore;
I sweare by the holy roode,
The teares he for his master wept
Were blent water and bloude.
And that beheard his deare master
As he stood at his garden pale:
Sayes, 'Ever alacke, my litle footpage,
What causes thee to wail?
496
'Hath any one done to thee wronge,
Any of thy fellowes here?
Or is any of thy good friends dead,
That thou shedst manye a teare?
'Or, if it be my head bookes-man,
Aggrieved he shal bee,
For no man here within my howse,
Shall doe wrong unto thee.'
'O, it is not your head bookes-man,
Nor none of his degree,
But on to-morrow, ere it be noone,
All deemed to die are yee.
'And of that bethank your head steward,
And thank your gay ladye.'
'If this be true, my litle foot-page,
The heyre of my land thoust bee.'
'If it be not true, my dear master,
No good death let me die.'
'If it be not true, thou litle foot-page,
A dead corse shalt thou lie.
'O call now downe my faire ladye,
O call her downe to mee;
And tell my ladye gay how sicke,
And like to die I bee.'
Downe then came his ladye faire,
All clad in purple and pall,
The rings that were on her fingers
Cast light throughout the hall.
'What is your will, my owne wed-lord?
What is your will with mee?'
'O see, my ladye deere, how sicke,
And like to die I bee.'
'And thou be sicke, my owne wed-lord,
497
Soe sore it grieveth me,
But my five maydens and myselfe
Will 'watch thy' bedde for thee,
'And at the waking of your first sleepe,
We will a hott drinke make;
And at the waking of your 'next' sleepe
Your sorrowes we will slake.'
He put a silk cote on his backe,
And mail of many a fold;
And hee putt a steele cap on his head,
Was gilt with good red gold;
He layd a bright browne sword by his side,
And another att his feete;
'And twentye good knights he placed at hand,
To watch him in his sleepe.'
And about the middle time of the night,
Came twentye-four traitours inn:
Sir Giles he was the foremost man,
The leader of that ginn.
Old Robin with his bright browne sword
Sir Gyles head soon did winn;
And scant of all those twenty-four
Went out one quick agenn.
None save only a litle foot-page,
Crept forth at a window of stone,
And he had two armes when he came in,
And he went back with one.
Upp then came that ladye gaye
With torches burning bright;
She thought to have brought Sir Gyles a drinke,
Butt she found her owne wedd-knight.
The first thinge that she stumbled on,
It was Sir Gyles his foote:
Sayes, 'Ever alacke, and woe is mee,
498
Here lyes my sweete hart-roote!'
The next thinge that she stumbled on,
It was Sir Gyles his heade:
Sayes, 'Ever alacke, and woe is mee,
Heere lyes my true love deade!'
He cutt the papers beside her brest,
And didd her body spille;
He cutt the eares beside her heade,
And bade her love her fille.
He called then up his litle foot page,
And made him there his heyre;
And sayd, 'Henceforth my worldlye goodes
And countrye I forsweare.'
He shope the crosse on his right shoulder,
Of the white 'clothe' and the redde,
And went him into the Holy Land,
Wheras Christ was quicke and dead.
~ Anonymous Olde English,#NFDB
530:Franciscae Meae Laudes (Praises Of My Francesca)
Novis te cantabo chordis,
O novelletum quod ludis
In solitudine cordis.
Esto sertis implicata,
Ô femina delicata
Per quam solvuntur peccata!
Sicut beneficum Lethe,
Hauriam oscula de te,
Quae imbuta es magnete.
Quum vitiorum tempegtas
Turbabat omnes semitas,
Apparuisti, Deitas,
Velut stella salutaris
In naufragiis amaris.....
Suspendam cor tuis aris!
Piscina plena virtutis,
Fons æternæ juventutis
Labris vocem redde mutis!
Quod erat spurcum, cremasti;
Quod rudius, exaequasti;
Quod debile, confirmasti.
In fame mea taberna
In nocte mea lucerna,
Recte me semper guberna.
Adde nunc vires viribus,
Dulce balneum suavibus
Unguentatum odoribus!
Meos circa lumbos mica,
O castitatis lorica,
Aqua tincta seraphica;
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Patera gemmis corusca,
Panis salsus, mollis esca,
Divinum vinum, Francisca!
In Praise of My Frances
I'll sing to you on a new note,
O young hind that gambols gaily
In the solitude of my heart.
Be adorned with wreaths of flowers,
O delightful woman
By whom our sins are washed away!
As from a benign Lethe,
I shall drink kisses from you,
Who were given a magnet's strength.
When a tempest of vices
Was sweeping down on every path,
You appeared, O divinity!
Like the star of salvation
Above a disastrous shipwreck...
I shall place my heart on your altar!
Reservoir full of virtue,
Fountain of eternal youth,
Restore the voice to my mute lips!
You have burned that which was filthy,
Made smooth that which was rough,
Strengthened that which was weak.
In my hunger you are the inn,
In the darkness my lamp,
Lead me always on virtue's path.
Add your strength now to my strength,
Sweet bath scented
With pleasant perfumes!
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Shine forth from my loins,
O cuirass of chastity,
That was dipped in seraphic water,
Cup glittering with precious stones,
Bread seasoned with salt, delectable dish,
Heavenly wine — My Frances.
— Translated by William Aggeler
Praises of My Francesca
(Verses to a learned and devout Milliner)
Upon new chords of you I sing.
And the new-born bud you bring
From solitude, the pure heart's Spring.
Your brows should be with garlands twined
Woman of delightful mind,
Who our trespasses unbind.
As the wondrous balm of Lethe,
Through thy kisses, I will breathe thee.
All are magnetised who see thee.
When my vices, wild and stormy,
From my wonted courses bore me
It was You appeared before me,
Star of Oceans! you that alter
Courses, when the pilots falter —
Take my heart upon your altar.
Cistern full of virtuous ruth,
Fountain of eternal youth,
Give to dumbness speech and truth!
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What was dirty, you cremated,
What uneven — you equated,
What was weak you re-created.
Inn, on the hungry roads I tramp,
And, in the dark, a guiding lamp
To steer the lost one back to camp.
To my strength add strength, O sweet
Bath, where scents and unguents meet!
Anoint me for some peerless feat!
Holy water most seraphic,
On the lusts in which I traffic
Flash your chastity ecstatic.
Bowl of gems where radiance dances.
Salt that the holy bread enhances,
And sacred wine — your name is Frances!
— Translated by Roy Campbell
Francescae Meae Laudes
I shall sing new chords, O hind,
As you gambol unconfined
Through my solitary mind.
Rest, adorned with wreaths of flowers,
Comely woman whose vast powers
Wash away these sins of ours
As from Lethe's stream I shall
Drink your kisses, one and all,
Magnet-like and magical.
When our vices stormily
Swept down every path with glee,
You approved, O Deity!
Like the bright star of salvation
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Amid shipwreck's desolation —
Take my heart in rapt oblation.
Source of every good and store
Of eternal youth, restore
Song to my mute lips once more.
What was foul you calcinated
What was rough you Ievigated,
What was weak you stimulated.
In my hunger, you the inn,
In my dark, the lamp; and in
Your pale hands, an end to sin.
Add your strength to mine, new-sent,
Sweet bath ever redolent
Of the suaver perfumes blent.
From my loins, gleam radiantly
O cuirass of chastity
Steeped in balm seraphically.
Cup with precious gems ashine,
Savory bread, celestial wine,
Blessed food, Francesca mine!
— Translated by Jacques LeClercq
~ Charles Baudelaire,#NFDB
531:A God's Labour
I have gathered my dreams in a silver air
Between the gold and the blue
And wrapped them softly and left them there,
My jewelled dreams of you.
I had hoped to build a rainbow bridge
Marrying the soil to the sky
And sow in this dancing planet midge
The moods of infinity.
But too bright were our heavens, too far away,
Too frail their ethereal stuff;
Too splendid and sudden our light could not stay;
The roots were not deep enough.
He who would bring the heavens here
Must descend himself into clay
And the burden of earthly nature bear
And tread the dolorous way.
Coercing my godhead I have come down
Here on the sordid earth,
Ignorant, labouring, human grown
Twixt the gates of death and birth.
I have been digging deep and long
Mid a horror of filth and mire
A bed for the golden river's song,
A home for the deathless fire.
I have laboured and suffered in Matter's night
To bring the fire to man;
But the hate of hell and human spite
Are my meed since the world began.
For man's mind is the dupe of his animal self;
Hoping its lusts to win,
He harbours within him a grisly Elf
Enamoured of sorrow and sin.
The grey Elf shudders from heaven's flame
And from all things glad and pure;
Only by pleasure and passion and pain
His drama can endure.
All around is darkness and strife;
For the lamps that men call suns
Are but halfway gleams on this stumbling life
Cast by the Undying Ones.
Man lights his little torches of hope
That lead to a failing edge;
A fragment of Truth is his widest scope,
An inn his pilgrimage.
The Truth of truths men fear and deny,
The Light of lights they refuse;
To ignorant gods they lift their cry
Or a demon altar choose.
All that was found must again be sought,
Each enemy slain revives,
Each battle for ever is fought and refought
Through vistas of fruitless lives.
My gaping wounds are a thousand and one
And the Titan kings assail,
But I dare not rest till my task is done
And wrought the eternal will.
How they mock and sneer, both devils and men!
"Thy hope is Chimera's head
Painting the sky with its fiery stain;
Thou shalt fall and thy work lie dead.
"Who art thou that babblest of heavenly ease
And joy and golden room
To us who are waifs on inconscient seas
And bound to life's iron doom?
"This earth is ours, a field of Night
For our petty flickering fires.
How shall it brook the sacred Light
Or suffer a god's desires?
"Come, let us slay him and end his course!
Then shall our hearts have release
From the burden and call of his glory and force
And the curb of his wide white peace."
But the god is there in my mortal breast
Who wrestles with error and fate
And tramples a road through mire and waste
For the nameless Immaculate.
A voice cried, "Go where none have gone!
Dig deeper, deeper yet
Till thou reach the grim foundation stone
And knock at the keyless gate."
I saw that a falsehood was planted deep
At the very root of things
Where the grey Sphinx guards God's riddle sleep
On the Dragon's outspread wings.
I left the surface gauds of mind
And life's unsatisfied seas
And plunged through the body's alleys blind
To the nether mysteries.
I have delved through the dumb Earth's dreadful heart
And heard her black mass' bell.
I have seen the source whence her agonies part
And the inner reason of hell.
Above me the dragon murmurs moan
And the goblin voices flit;
I have pierced the Void where Thought was born,
I have walked in the bottomless pit.
On a desperate stair my feet have trod
Armoured with boundless peace,
Bringing the fires of the splendour of God
Into the human abyss.
He who I am was with me still;
All veils are breaking now.
I have heard His voice and borne His will
On my vast untroubled brow.
The gulf twixt the depths and the heights is bridged
And the golden waters pour
Down the sapphire mountain rainbow-ridged
And glimmer from shore to shore.
Heaven's fire is lit in the breast of the earth
And the undying suns here burn;
Through a wonder cleft in the bounds of birth
The incarnate spirits yearn
Like flames to the kingdoms of Truth and Bliss:
Down a gold-red stairway wend
The radiant children of Paradise
Clarioning darkness' end.
A little more and the new life's doors
Shall be carved in silver light
With its aureate roof and mosaic floors
In a great world bare and bright.
I shall leave my dreams in their argent air,
For in a raiment of gold and blue
There shall move on the earth embodied and fair
The living truth of you.
~ Sri Aurobindo, Collected Poems, A God's Labour, 534,#NFDB
532:Robin Hood And The Butcher
Come, all you brave gallants, and listen awhile,
With hey down, down, an a down,
That are in the bowers within;
For of Robin Hood, that archer good,
A song I intend for to sing.
Upon a time it chanced so,
Bold Robin in forrest did 'spy
A jolly butcher, with a bonny fine mare,
With his flesh to the market did hye.
'Good morrow, good fellow,' said jolly Robin,
'What food hast [thou]? tell unto me;
Thy trade to me tell, and where thou dost dwell,
For I like well thy company.'
The butcher he answer'd jolly Robin,
'No matter where I dwell;
For a butcher I am, and to Nottingham
I am going, my flesh to sell.'
'What's [the] price of thy flesh?' said jolly Robin,
'Come, tell it soon unto me;
And the price of thy mare, be she never so dear,
For a butcher fain would I be.'
'The price of my flesh,' the butcher repli'd,
'I soon will tell unto thee;
With my bonny mare, and they are not too dear,
Four mark thou must give unto me.'
'Four mark I will give thee,' saith jolly Robin,
'Four mark it shall be thy fee;
The mony come count, and let me mount,
For a butcher I fain would be.'
Now Robin he is to Nottingham gone,
His butchers trade to begin;
With good intent to the sheriff he went,
138
And there he took up his inn.
When other butchers did open their meat,
Bold Robin he then begun;
But how for to sell he knew not well,
For a butcher he was but young.
When other butchers no meat could sell,
Robin got both gold and fee;
For he sold more meat for one peny
Then others could do for three.
But when he sold his meat so fast,
No butcher by him could thrive;
For he sold more meat for one peny
Than others could do for five.
Which made the butchers of Nottingham
To study as they did stand,
Saying, 'Surely he 'is' some prodigal,
That hath sold his fathers land.'
The butchers stepped to jolly Robin,
Acquainted with him for to be;
'Come, brother,' one said, 'we be all of one trade,
Come, will you go dine with me?'
'Accurst of his heart,' said jolly Robin,
'That a butcher doth deny;
I will go with you, my brethren true,
As fast as I can hie.'
But when to the sheriffs house they came,
To dinner they hied apace,
And Robin Hood he the man must be
Before them all to say grace.
'Pray God bless us all,' said jolly Robin,
'And our meat within this place;
A cup of sack so good will nourish our blood,
And so do I end my grace.'
139
'Come fill us more wine,' said jolly Robin,
'Let us be merry while we do stay;
For wine and good cheer, be it never so dear,
I vow I the reck'ning will pay.
'Come, 'brothers,' be merry,' said jolly Robin,
'Let us drink, and never give ore;
For the shot I will pay, ere I go my way,
If it cost me five pounds and more.'
'This is a mad blade,' the butchers then said;
Saies the sheriff, 'He is some prodigal,
That some land has sold for silver and gold,
And now he doth mean to spend all.
'Hast thou any horn beasts,' the sheriff repli'd,
'Good fellow, to sell unto me?'
'Yes, that I have, good master sheriff,
I have hundreds two or three;
'And a hundred aker of good free land,
If you please it to see:
And Ile make you as good assurance of it,
As ever my father made me.'
The sheriff he saddled his good palfrey,
And, with three hundred pound in gold,
Away he went with bold Robin Hood,
His horned beasts to behold.
Away then the sheriff and Robin did ride,
To the forrest of merry Sherwood;
Then the sheriff did say, 'God bless us this day
From a man they call Robin Hood!'
But when a little farther they came,
Bold Robin he chanced to spy
A hundred head of good red deer,
Come tripping the sheriff full nigh.
'How like you my horn'd beasts, good master sheriff?
They be fat and fair for to see;'
140
'I tell thee, good fellow, I would I were gone,
For I like not thy company.'
Then Robin set his horn to his mouth,
And blew but blasts three;
Then quickly anon there came Little John,
And all his company.
'What is your will, master?' then said Little John,
'Good master come tell unto me;'
'I have brought hither the sheriff of Nottingham
This day to dine with thee.'
'He is welcome to me,' then said Little John,
'I hope he will honestly pay;
I know he has gold, if it be but well told,
Will serve us to drink a whole day.'
Then Robin took his mantle from his back,
And laid it upon the ground:
And out of the sheriffs portmantle
He told three hundred pound.
Then Robin he brought him thorow the wood,
And set him on his dapple gray;
'O have me commanded to your wife at home;'
So Robin went laughing away.
~ Andrew Lang,#NFDB
533:author class:Sri Aurobindo
A God's Labour
I have gathered my dreams in a silver air
Between the gold and the blue
And wrapped them softly and left them there,
My jewelled dreams of you.
I had hoped to build a rainbow bridge
Marrying the soil to the sky
And sow in this dancing planet midge
The moods of infinity.
But too bright were our heavens, too far away,
Too frail their ethereal stuff;
Too splendid and sudden our light could not stay;
The roots were not deep enough.
He who would bring the heavens here
Must descend himself into clay
And the burden of earthly nature bear
And tread the dolorous way.
Coercing my godhead I have come down
Here on the sordid earth,
Ignorant, labouring, human grown
Twixt the gates of death and birth.
I have been digging deep and long
Mid a horror of filth and mire
A bed for the golden river's song,
A home for the deathless fire.
I have laboured and suffered in Matter's night
To bring the fire to man;
But the hate of hell and human spite
Are my meed since the world began.
For man's mind is the dupe of his animal self;
Hoping its lusts to win,
He harbours within him a grisly Elf
Enamoured of sorrow and sin.
The grey Elf shudders from heaven's flame
And from all things glad and pure;
Only by pleasure and passion and pain
His drama can endure.
All around is darkness and strife;
For the lamps that men call suns
Are but halfway gleams on this stumbling life
Cast by the Undying Ones.
Man lights his little torches of hope
That lead to a failing edge;
A fragment of Truth is his widest scope,
An inn his pilgrimage.
The Truth of truths men fear and deny,
The Light of lights they refuse;
To ignorant gods they lift their cry
Or a demon altar choose.
All that was found must again be sought,
Each enemy slain revives,
Each battle for ever is fought and refought
Through vistas of fruitless lives.
My gaping wounds are a thousand and one
And the Titan kings assail,
But I dare not rest till my task is done
And wrought the eternal will.
How they mock and sneer, both devils and men!
"Thy hope is Chimera's head
Painting the sky with its fiery stain;
Thou shalt fall and thy work lie dead.
"Who art thou that babblest of heavenly ease
And joy and golden room
To us who are waifs on inconscient seas
And bound to life's iron doom?
"This earth is ours, a field of Night
For our petty flickering fires.
How shall it brook the sacred Light
Or suffer a god's desires?
"Come, let us slay him and end his course!
Then shall our hearts have release
From the burden and call of his glory and force
And the curb of his wide white peace."
But the god is there in my mortal breast
Who wrestles with error and fate
And tramples a road through mire and waste
For the nameless Immaculate.
A voice cried, "Go where none have gone!
Dig deeper, deeper yet
Till thou reach the grim foundation stone
And knock at the keyless gate."
I saw that a falsehood was planted deep
At the very root of things
Where the grey Sphinx guards God's riddle sleep
On the Dragon's outspread wings.
I left the surface gauds of mind
And life's unsatisfied seas
And plunged through the body's alleys blind
To the nether mysteries.
I have delved through the dumb Earth's dreadful heart
And heard her black mass' bell.
I have seen the source whence her agonies part
And the inner reason of hell.
Above me the dragon murmurs moan
And the goblin voices flit;
I have pierced the Void where Thought was born,
I have walked in the bottomless pit.
On a desperate stair my feet have trod
Armoured with boundless peace,
Bringing the fires of the splendour of God
Into the human abyss.
He who I am was with me still;
All veils are breaking now.
I have heard His voice and borne His will
On my vast untroubled brow.
The gulf twixt the depths and the heights is bridged
And the golden waters pour
Down the sapphire mountain rainbow-ridged
And glimmer from shore to shore.
Heaven's fire is lit in the breast of the earth
And the undying suns here burn;
Through a wonder cleft in the bounds of birth
The incarnate spirits yearn
Like flames to the kingdoms of Truth and Bliss:
Down a gold-red stairway wend
The radiant children of Paradise
Clarioning darkness' end.
A little more and the new life's doors
Shall be carved in silver light
With its aureate roof and mosaic floors
In a great world bare and bright.
I shall leave my dreams in their argent air,
For in a raiment of gold and blue
There shall move on the earth embodied and fair
The living truth of you.
~ Sri Aurobindo, Collected Poems, A God's Labour, 534
~ Sri Aurobindo, class:poem
,#NFDB
534:L'Horloge (The Clock)
Horloge! dieu sinistre, effrayant, impassible,
Dont le doigt nous menace et nous dit: «Souviens-toi!
Les vibrantes Douleurs dans ton coeur plein d'effroi
Se planteront bientôt comme dans une cible;
Le Plaisir vaporeux fuira vers l'horizon
Ainsi qu'une sylphide au fond de la coulisse;
Chaque instant te dévore un morceau du délice
À chaque homme accordé pour toute sa saison.
Trois mille six cents fois par heure, la Seconde
Chuchote: Souviens-toi! — Rapide, avec sa voix
D'insecte, Maintenant dit: Je suis Autrefois,
Et j'ai pompé ta vie avec ma trompe immonde!
Remember! Souviens-toi! prodigue! Esto memor!
(Mon gosier de métal parle toutes les langues.)
Les minutes, mortel folâtre, sont des gangues
Qu'il ne faut pas lâcher sans en extraire l'or!
Souviens-toi que le Temps est un joueur avide
Qui gagne sans tricher, à tout coup! c'est la loi.
Le jour décroît; la nuit augmente; Souviens-toi!
Le gouffre a toujours soif; la clepsydre se vide.
Tantôt sonnera l'heure où le divin Hasard,
Où l'auguste Vertu, ton épouse encor vierge,
Où le Repentir même (oh! la dernière auberge!),
Où tout te dira Meurs, vieux lâche! il est trop tard!»
The Clock
Impassive clock! Terrifying, sinister god,
Whose finger threatens us and says: 'Remember!
The quivering Sorrows will soon be shot
Into your fearful heart, as into a target;
Nebulous pleasure will flee toward the horizon
Like an actress who disappears into the wings;
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Every instant devours a piece of the pleasure
Granted to every man for his entire season.
Three thousand six hundred times an hour, Second
Whispers: Remember! — Immediately
With his insect voice, Now says: I am the Past
And I have sucked out your life with my filthy trunk!
Remember! Souviens-toi, spendthrift! Esto memor!
(My metal throat can speak all languages.)
Minutes, blithesome mortal, are bits of ore
That you must not release without extracting the gold!
Remember, Time is a greedy player
Who wins without cheating, every round! It's the law.
The daylight wanes; the night deepens; remember!
The abyss thirsts always; the water-clock runs low.
Soon will sound the hour when divine Chance,
When august Virtue, your still virgin wife,
When even Repentance (the very last of inns!),
When all will say: Die, old coward! it is too late!'
— Translated by William Aggeler
The Clock
The Clock, calm evil god, that makes us shiver,
With threatening finger warns us each apart:
'Remember! Soon the vibrant woes will quiver,
Like arrows in a target, in your heart.
To the horizon Pleasure will take flight
As flits a vaporous sylphide to the wings.
Each instant gnaws a crumb of the delight
That for his season every mortal brings.
Three thousand times and more, each hour, the second
Whispers 'Remember!' Like an insect shrill
The present chirps, 'With Nevermore I'm reckoned,
I've pumped your lifeblood with my loathsome bill.'
367
Remember! Souviens-toi I Esto Memor!
My brazen windpipe speaks in every tongue.
Each moment, foolish mortal, is like ore
From which the precious metal must be wrung.
Remember. Time the gamester (it's the law)
Wins always, without cheating. Daylight wanes.
Night deepens. The abyss with gulfy maw
Thirsts on unsated, while the hour-glass drains.
Sooner or later, now, the time must be
When Hazard, Virtue (your still-virgin mate),
Repentance, (your last refuge), or all three —
Will tell you, 'Die, old Coward. It's too late!''
— Translated by Roy Campbell
The Clock
Terrible Clock! God without mercy; mighty Power!
Saying all day, 'Remember! Remember and beware:
There is no arrow of pain but in a tiny hour
Will make thy heart its target, and stick and vibrate there.
'Toward the horizon all too soon and out of sight
Vaporous Pleasure, like a sylphide, floats away;
Each instant swallows up one crumb of that delight
Accorded to each man for all his mortal day.'
The Second says, three thousand six hundred times an hour,
'Remember! Look, the wingèd insect Now doth sit
Upon thy vein, and shrilleth, 'I am Nevermore,
And I have sucked thy blood; I am flying away with it!'
'Remember! Souviens-toi! Esto memor! — no tongue
My metal larynx does not speak — O frivolous man,
These minutes, rich in gold, slide past; thou art not young;
Remember! and wash well the gravel in the pan!
'Remember! Time, the player that need not cheat to win,
368
Makes a strong adversary. Is thy game begun?
Thy game is lost! Day wanes; night waxes. Look within
The gulf, — it still is thirsty. The sands are all but run.
'Soon, soon, the hour will strike, when Hazard, he that showed
A god-like face, when Virtue — thy bride, but still intact —
When even Repentance (oh, last inn along the road!)
Will say to thee, 'Die, coward. It is too late to act.''
— Translated by Edna St. Vincent Millay
~ Charles Baudelaire,#NFDB
535:Amours De Voyage, Canto Iv
Eastward, or Northward, or West? I wander and ask as I wander;
Weary, yet eager and sure, Where shall I come to my love?
Whitherward hasten to seek her? Ye daughters of Italy, tell me,
Graceful and tender and dark, is she consorting with you?
Thou that out-climbest the torrent, that tendest thy goats to the summit,
Call to me, child of the Alp, has she been seen on the heights?
Italy, farewell I bid thee! for whither she leads me, I follow.
Farewell the vineyard! for I, where I but guess her, must go;
Weariness welcome, and labour, wherever it be, if at last it
Bring me in mountain or plain into the sight of my love.
I. Claude to Eustace,--from Florence.
Gone from Florence; indeed! and that is truly provoking;-Gone to Milan, it seems; then I go also to Milan.
Five days now departed; but they can travel but slowly;-I quicker far; and I know, as it happens, the home they will go to.-Why, what else should I do? Stay here and look at the pictures,
Statues and churches? Alack, I am sick of the statues and pictures!-No, to Bologna, Parma, Piacenza, Lodi, and Milan,
Off go we to-night,--and the Venus go to the Devil!
II. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.
Gone to Como, they said; and I have posted to Como.
There was a letter left; but the cameriere had lost it.
Could it have been for me? They came, however, to Como,
And from Como went by the boat,--perhaps to the Splügen,-Or to the Stelvio, say, and the Tyrol; also it might be
By Porlezza across to Lugano, and so to the Simplon
Possibly, or the St. Gothard,--or possibly, too, to Baveno,
Orta, Turin, and elsewhere. Indeed, I am greatly bewildered.
37
III. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.
I have been up the Splügen, and on the Stelvio also:
Neither of these can I find they have followed; in no one inn, and
This would be odd, have they written their names. I have been to Porlezza;
There they have not been seen, and therefore not at Lugano.
What shall I do? Go on through the Tyrol, Switzerland, Deutschland,
Seeking, an inverse Saul, a kingdom to find only asses?
There is a tide, at least, in the love affairs of mortals,
Which, when taken at flood, leads on to the happiest fortune,-Leads to the marriage-morn and the orange-flowers and the altar,
And the long lawful line of crowned joys to crowned joys succeeding.-Ah, it has ebbed with me! Ye gods, and when it was flowing,
Pitiful fool that I was, to stand fiddle-faddling in that way!
IV. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.
I have returned and found their names in the book at Como.
Certain it is I was right, and yet I am also in error.
Added in feminine hand, I read, By the boat to Bellaggio.-So to Bellaggio again, with the words of he writing to aid me.
Yet at Bellaggio I find no trace, no sort of remembrance.
So I am here, and wait, and know every hour will remove them.
V. Claude to Eustace,--from Bellaggio.
I have but one chance left,--and that is going to Florence.
But it is cruel to turn. The mountains seem to demand me,-Peak and valley from far to beckon and motion me onward.
Somewhere amid their folds she passes whom fain I would follow;
Somewhere amid those heights she haply calls me to seek her.
Ah, could I hear her call! could I catch the glimpse of her raiment!
Turn, however, I must, though it seem I turn to desert her;
For the sense of the thing is simply to hurry to Florence,
Where the certainty yet may be learnt, I suppose, from the Ropers.
38
VI. Mary Trevellyn, from Lucerne, to Miss Roper, at Florence.
Dear Miss Roper,--By this you are safely away, we are hoping,
Many a league from Rome; ere long we trust we shall see you.
How have you travelled? I wonder;--was Mr. Claude your companion?
As for ourselves, we went from Como straight to Lugano;
So by the Mount St. Gothard; we meant to go by Porlezza,
Taking the steamer, and stopping, as you had advised, at Bellaggio,
Two or three days or more; but this was suddenly altered,
After we left the hotel, on the very way to the steamer.
So we have seen, I fear, not one of the lakes in perfection.
Well, he is not come, and now, I suppose, he will not come.
What will you think, meantime? and yet I must really confess it;-What will you say? I wrote him a note. We left in a hurry,
Went from Milan to Como, three days before we expected.
But I thought, if he came all the way to Milan, he really
Ought not to be disappointed: and so I wrote three lines to
Say I had heard he was coming, desirous of joining our party;-If so, then I said, we had started for Como, and meant to
Cross the St. Gothard, and stay, we believed, at Lucerne, for the summer.
Was it wrong? and why, if it was, has it failed to bring him?
Did he not think it worth while to come to Milan? He knew (you
Told him) the house we should go to. Or may it, perhaps, have miscarried?
Any way, now, I repent, and am heartily vexed that I wrote it.
There is a home on the shore of the Alpine sea, that upswelling
High up the mountain-sides spreads in the hollow between;
Wilderness, mountain, and snow from the land of the olive conceal it;
Under Pilatus's hill low by the river it lies;
Italy, utter the word, and the olive and vine will allure not,-Wilderness, forest, and snow will not the passage impede;
Italy, unto thy cities receding, the clue to recover,
Hither, recovered the clue, shall not the traveller haste?
~ Arthur Hugh Clough,#NFDB
536:The Ballad Of Dick Turpin
The daylight moon looked quietly down
Through the gathering dusk on London town
A smock-frocked yokel hobbled along
By Newgate, humming a country song.
Chewing a straw, he stood to stare
At the proclamation posted there:
“Three hundred guineas on Turpins head,
Trap him alive or shoot him dead;
And a hundred more for his mate, Tom King.”
He crouched like a tiger about to spring.
Then he looked up, and he looked down;
And chuckling low, like a country clown,
Dick Turpin painfully hobbled away
In quest of his inn – “The Load of Hay”...
Alone in her stall, his mare, Black Bess,
Lifted her head in mute distress;
For five strange men had entered the yard
And looked at her long, and looked at her hard.
They went out, muttering under their breath;
And then – the dusk grew still as death.
But the velvet ears of the listening mare
Lifted and twitched. They were there – still there;
Hidden and waiting; for whom? And why?
The clock struck four, a set drew nigh.
It was King! Dick Turpins’ mate.
The black mare whinnied. Too late! Too late!
They rose like shadows out of the ground
And grappled him there, without a sound.
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“Throttle him – quietly – choke him dead!
Or we lose this hawk for a jay, they said.”
They wrestled and heaved, five men to one;
And a yokel entered the yard, alone;
A smock-frocked yokel, hobbling slow;
But a fight is physic as all men know.
His age dropped off, he stood upright.
He leapt like a tiger into the fight.
Hand to hand, they fought in the dark;
For none could fire at a twisting mark.
Where he that shot at a foe might send
His pistol ball through the skull of a friend.
But “Shoot Dick, Shoot” gasped out Tom King
“Shoot! Or damn it we both shall swing!
Shoot and chance it!” Dick leapt back.
He drew. He fired. At the pistols crack
The wrestlers whirled. They scattered apart
And the bullet drilled through Tom Kings heart...
Dick Turpin dropped his smoking gun.
They had trapped him five men to one.
A gun in the hand of the crouching five.
They could take Dick Turpin now alive;
Take him and bind him and tell their tale
As a pot house boast, when they drank their ale.
He whistled, soft as a bird might call
And a head rope snapped in his birds dark stall.
He whistled, soft as a nightingale
He heard the swish of her swinging tail.
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There was no way out that the five could see
To heaven or hell, but the Tyburn tree;
No door but death; and yet once more
He whistled, as though at a sweethearts door.
The five men laughed at him, trapped alive;
And – the door crashed open behind the five!
Out of the stable, a wave of thunder,
Swept Black Bess, and the five went under.
He leapt to the saddle, a hoof turned stone,
Flashed blue fire, and their prize was gone.....
**
He rode for one impossible thing; that in the
morning light
The towers of York might waken himfrom London and last night.
He rode to prove himself another,
and leave himself behind.
And the hunted self was like a cloud;
but the hunter like the wind.
Neck and neck they rode together;
that, in the day’s first gleam,
each might prove that the other self
was but a mocking dream.
And the little sleeping villages, and the
breathless country side
Woke to the drum of the ghostly hooves,
but missed that ghostly ride.
The did not see, they did not hear as the ghostly
hooves drew nigh,
The dark magnificent thief in the night
that rode so subtly by.
100
They woke, they rushed to the way-side door,
They saw what the midnight showed,A mare that came like a crested wave,
Along the Great North Road.
A flying spark in the formless dark,
a flash from the hoof-spurned stone,
And the lifted face of a man –
that took the starlight and was gone.
The heard the sound of a pounding chase
three hundred yards away
There were fourteen men in a stream of sweat
and a plaster of Midland clay.
The starlight struck their pistol-butts as they
passed in the clattering crowd
But the hunting wraith was away like the wind
at the heels of the hunted cloud.
He rode by the walls of Nottingham,
and over him as he went
Like ghosts across the Great North Road,
the boughs of Sherwood bent.
By Bawtry, all the chase but one has dropped
a league behind,
Yet, one rider haunted him, invisibly, as the wind.
And northward, like a blacker night, he saw the moors up-loom
And Don and Derwent sang to him, like memory in the gloom.
And northward, northward as he rode, and sweeter than a prayer
The voices of those hidden streams,
the Trent, the Ouse and the Aire;
Streams that could never slake his thirst.
He heard them as he flowed
But one dumb shadow haunted him along the
Great North Road.
Till now, at dawn, the towers of York rose on
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the reddening sky.
And Bess went down between his knees,
like a breaking wave to die.
He lay beside her in the ditch, he kissed her lovely head,
And a shadow passed him like the wind and left him with his dead.
He saw, but not that one as wakes, the city that he sought,
He had escaped from London town, but not from his own thought.
He strode up to the Mickle-gate, with none to say him nay.
And there he met his Other Self in the stranger light of day.
He strode up to the dreadful thing that in the gateway stood
And it stretched out a ghostly hand that the dawn had stained with blood.
It stood as in the gates of hell, with none to hear or see,
“Welcome,” it said, “Thou’st ridden well, and outstript all but me”.
~ Alfred Noyes,#NFDB
537:The Highwayman
PART ONE
THE wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
II
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
IV
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say—
118
'One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.'
VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonliglt, and galloped away to the West.
PART TWO
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching—
Marching—marching—
King George's men came matching, up to the old inn-door.
II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
119
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
'Now, keep good watch!' and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
IV
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like
years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain .
VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!
VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
120
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him—with her death.
VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard;
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
~ Alfred Noyes,#NFDB
538:Conroy's Gap
This was the way of it, don't you know -Ryan was "wanted" for stealing sheep,
And never a trooper, high or low,
Could find him -- catch a weasel asleep!
Till Trooper Scott, from the Stockman's Ford -A bushman, too, as I've heard them tell -Chanced to find him drunk as a lord
Round at the Shadow of Death Hotel.
D'you know the place? It's a wayside inn,
A low grog-shanty -- a bushman trap,
Hiding away in its shame and sin
Under the shelter of Conroy's Gap -Under the shade of that frowning range
The roughest crowd that ever drew breath -Thieves and rowdies, uncouth and strange,
Were mustered round at the "Shadow of Death".
The trooper knew that his man would slide
Like a dingo pup, if he saw the chance;
And with half a start on the mountain side
Ryan would lead him a merry dance.
Drunk as he was when the trooper came,
to him that did not matter a rap -Drunk or sober, he was the same,
The boldest rider in Conroy's Gap.
"I want you, Ryan," the trooper said,
"And listen to me, if you dare resist,
So help me heaven, I'll shoot you dead!"
He snapped the steel on his prisoner's wrist,
And Ryan, hearing the handcuffs click,
Recovered his wits as they turned to go,
For fright will sober a man as quick
As all the drugs that the doctors know.
There was a girl in that shanty bar
Went by the name of Kate Carew,
Quiet and shy as the bush girls are,
But ready-witted and plucky, too.
103
She loved this Ryan, or so they say,
And passing by, while her eyes were dim
With tears, she said in a careless way,
"The Swagman's round in the stable, Jim."
Spoken too low for the trooper's ear,
Why should she care if he heard or not?
Plenty of swagmen far and near -And yet to Ryan it meant a lot.
That was the name of the grandest horse
In all the district from east to west;
In every show ring, on every course,
They always counted The Swagman best.
He was a wonder, a raking bay -One of the grand old Snowdon strain -One of the sort that could race and stay
With his mighty limbs and his length of rein.
Born and bred on the mountain side,
He could race through scrub like a kangaroo;
The girl herself on his back might ride,
And The Swagman would carry her safely through.
He would travel gaily from daylight's flush
Till after the stars hung out their lamps;
There was never his like in the open bush,
And never his match on the cattle-camps.
For faster horses might well be found
On racing tracks, or a plain's extent,
But few, if any, on broken ground
Could see the way that The Swagman went.
When this girl's father, old Jim Carew,
Was droving out on the Castlereagh
With Conroy's cattle, a wire came through
To say that his wife couldn't live the day.
And he was a hundred miles from home,
As flies the crow, with never a track
Through plains as pathless as ocean's foam;
He mounted straight on The Swagman's back.
He left the camp by the sundown light,
104
And the settlers out on the Marthaguy
Awoke and heard, in the dead of night,
A single horseman hurrying by.
He crossed the Bogan at Dandaloo,
And many a mile of the silent plain
That lonely rider behind him threw
Before they settled to sleep again.
He rode all noght, and he steered his course
By the shining stars with a bushman's skill,
And every time that he pressed his horse
The Swagman answered him gamely still.
He neared his home as the east was bright.
The doctor met him outside the town
"Carew! How far did you come last night?"
"A hundred miles since the sun went down."
And his wife got round, and an oath he passed,
So long as he or one of his breed
Could raise a coin, though it took their last,
The Swagman never should want a feed.
And Kate Carew, when her father died,
She kept the horse and she kept him well;
The pride of the district far and wide,
He lived in style at the bush hotel.
Such wasThe Swagman; and Ryan knew
Nothing about could pace the crack;
Little he'd care for the man in blue
If once he got on The Swagman's back.
But how to do it? A word let fall
Gave him the hint as the girl passed by;
Nothing but "Swagman -- stable wall;
Go to the stable and mind your eye."
He caught her meaning, and quickly turned
To the trooper: "Reckon you'll gain a stripe
By arresting me, and it's easily earned;
Let's go to the stable and get my pipe,
The Swagman has it." So off they went,
And as soon as ever they turned their backs
The girl slipped down, on some errand bent
105
Behind the stable and seized an axe.
The trooper stood at the stable door
While Ryan went in quite cool and slow,
And then (the trick had been played before)
The girl outside gave the wall a blow.
Three slabs fell out of the stable wall -'Twas done 'fore ever the trooper knew -And Ryan, as soon as he saw them fall,
Mounted The Swagman and rushed him through.
The trooper heard the hoof-beats ring
In the stable yard, and he jammed the gate,
But The Swagman rose with a mighty spring
At the fence, and the trooper fired too late
As they raced away, and his shots flew wide,
And Ryan no longer need care a rap,
For never a horse that was lapped in hide
Could catch The Swagman in Conroy's Gap.
And that's the story. You want to know
If Ryan came back to his Kate Carew;
Of course he should have, as stories go,
But the worst of it is this story's true:
And in real life it's a certain rule,
Whatever poets and authors say
Of high-toned robbers and all their school,
These horsethief fellows aren't built that way.
Come back! Don't hope it -- the slinking hound,
He sloped across to the Queensland side,
And sold The Swagman for fifty pound,
And stole the money, and more beside.
And took to drink, and by some good chance
Was killed -- thrown out of a stolen trap.
And that was the end of this small romance,
The end of the story of Conroy's Gap.
~ Banjo Paterson,#NFDB
539:The Dance At Darmstadt
In the city of Darmstadt, the Sabbath morn
Shone over the broad Cathedral Square,
And to nobly, richly, and lowly born,
The belfry carilloned call to prayer.
Then banker, and burgher, and learn'd in law,
With clean-cut forehead and firm-set jaw,
Master, and prentice, and tradesman trim,
Pikemen stalwart of port and limb,
Pledged to die for their native town,
Scholars stately in cap and gown,
Splendid and simple, halt and hale,
Rosy tapster and student pale,
Stepped from their thresholds, and gravely trod
The streets that lead to the House of God.
And, hurrying after them, maid and dame,
Wives, and daughters, and sweethearts, came,
All in their Sabbath best arrayed,
Delicate ribbon and dainty braid,
Creaseless corset and kirtle clean,
Of sombre homespun or silken sheen,
Rustling by with looks demure,
As bright as posies, and just as pure.
And tight to their kirtles their children clung,
With ambling footstep and nimble tongue,
Prattled and questioned them all the way,
Forgetting quite 'twas the Sabbath Day,
Till they came to the great Cathedral Square,
Where the organ pealed through the House of Prayer.
``Now why do you waste the summer day?''
Cried a velveted stripling with locks of gold,
And eyes like forget-me-nots in May,
When the milch-cows stream from the wintry fold.
``Week after week you troop in there,
To mutter and mumble the self-same prayer,
Through the self-same psalmody drowse and nod;
And that's what you, sooth, call praising God!
Look! the sun is shining on roof and spire,
412
And the wings of the swallow never tire,
The stork hovers over her callow nest,
And Spring is folded to Summer's breast.
There's a flutter of love in the lime-tree leaves,
And the starlings flute on the Rathhaus eaves.
Come away, come away where the sycamore swings
Its tassels of gold, and the blackbird sings,
Where the river swirls past a tangled ledge
Of willow-weed, meadow-sweet, thyme, and sedge,
Where the veins of the vine are flushed with juice,
And the trout in the stream past the miller's sluice
Cast wavering shadows on stone and sand;
And, when we have rambled through all the land,
We will halt at the Inn with the Jocund Sign,
And freshen our throats with the Mosel wine.
But, ere ever we go, let us, hand in hand,
Be comrades sworn of a joyous band,
And, while they jabber and wail in there,
Have a dance in the sunny Cathedral Square.''
Then tabor and viol began to sound,
And ribald and losel to beat the ground,
Boys who mocked at the Sacred Name,
And wantons brazening out their shame.
With languishing eyes and streaming hair,
They footed it all about the Square,
Footed, and frolicked, and revelled round,
To the viol's twang and the tabor's sound;
Shouted, and clapped their hands for glee;
Was never such madcap company:
Forward, backward, forward once more,
Like ebb and flow on a tidal shore,
Trooped together more near and near,
Like a troop of colts at a sound they fear,
Then scampered away and scattered wide,
Again to draw to each other's side;
Hand within hand, and face to face,
Twirled and circled in lewd embrace,
Hurried, slackened, then swept along,
Trilling and trolling a shameful song,
Hurtful and hateful to godly ears.
Never, I ween, in all the years
413
Since the Autumn woods waxed sere and brown,
Was danced such a dance in Darmstadt town.
Now the sermon was over, the service done,
And the grave-faced worshippers, one by one,
Poured into the bright Cathedral Square,
And beheld the ungodly dancing there.
Then they cried, ``Now, shame on you! Stay! O stay!
Surely ye know 'tis the Sabbath Day,
The day of the merciful mighty Lord:
If ye flaunt His mercy, yet dread His sword!''
Yet never an instant the dancing stayed,
But ribald stripling, and wanton maid,
Gasped out, ``Don't you see we are nigh to drop
With panting and pain, but we cannot stop.
The demons have entered our limbs, and we
No longer have power to pause or flee.
They force us to hammer the hard hot ground,
And make us pirouette round and round.
Will never some Christian soul advance,
And break the spell of this demon dance!''
Then the sober and godly would fain have heard
Piteous cry and panting word.
But a something stronger than human will
Fettered their feet, and kept them still
Helplessly watching the ghastly crew;
So swiftly they whirled, and so fast they flew,
It made one giddy to see them there.
So, out of the broad Cathedral Square,
Banker and burgher, and learn'd in law,
With clean-cut forehead and firm-set jaw,
Master and prentice, and tradesman trim,
Pikemen stalwart of port and limb,
Sister, and sweetheart, and wife demure,
As fresh as posies, and just as pure,
With children clutching their mother's gown,
Homeward walked through the awestruck town.
But still, when the godly crowd had gone,
The derelict band went dancing on.
The sunlight glittered on roof and spire,
414
And the wings of the swallow did never tire,
The stork hovered over her callow nest,
And Spring was folded to Summer's breast.
Far away in the woodland the sycamore swung
Its tassels of gold, and the blackbird sung.
The river went swirling past tangled ledge
Of willow-weed, meadow-sweet, thyme, and sedge.
The veins of the vine were flushed with juice,
And the trout poised still by the miller's sluice.
But, though longer and longer the shadows grew,
Still gambolled and anticked the ribald crew,
Wavered and wantoned in broken line,
As though mad-drunk with the Mosel wine,
Reeled and rolled till the sun went down,
And the stars shone over the darkened town,
Golden stars in a dome of blue;
Careered and capered the whole night through,
Till their loose flesh flapped on their creaking bones,
And they staggered and dropped on the hard dry stones.
And when at last in a heap they lay,
Like refuse the scavenger carts away,
They throbbed up still, as at farmyard pyre
The flickering flames of an unfed fire;
Nor yet from their ghastly gambols ceased,
Till the sun ensanguined the pallid East,
And the starlings piped on the Rathhaus eaves.
Never, never since wintry woods waxed brown,
Was danced such a dance in Darmstadt town.
~ Alfred Austin,#NFDB
540:First Communions
Truly, they’re stupid, these village churches
Where fifteen ugly chicks soiling the pillars
Listen, trilling out their divine responses,
To a black freak whose boots stink of cellars:
But the sun wakes now, through the branches,
The irregular stained-glass’s ancient colours.
The stone always smells of its earthly mother.
You’ll see masses of those earthy rocks
In the rutting country that solemnly quivers,
And bears, on ochrous paths, near heavy crops,
Those burnt shrubs where the sloe turns bluer,
Those black mulberries the hedge-roses top.
Once a century, they make the barns respectable
With a wash of curdled milk and blue water:
If grotesque mysteries are viewed as notable,
Near to the straw-stuffed Saint or Madonna,
Flies, that know every inn and every stable,
Gorge on wax there, dotting the sunlit floor.
The child’s duty above all’s to home and family,
Simple cares, honest toil that stupefies;
They go, forgetting how their skin crawls freely
Where the Priest of Christ’s powerful finger lies.
The Priest has a house shaded with hornbeam
So he can loose these tanned brows to the light.
The first black suit, the finest pastries, there,
Beneath the little Drummer or Napoleon
Some plate where Josephs and Marthas stare,
Sticking their tongues out with excess emotion,
Joined, on the day of truth, by maps, a pair,
Are the sole sweet mementoes of Devotion.
The girls always go to church, content forever
To hear themselves called bitches by the sons,
Who put on airs, after Mass or Sung Vespers,
Those who are destined to grace the garrisons,
49
In cafes taunt the important families, snicker,
Dressed in new jackets, yelling frightful songs.
Meanwhile the Curé for the children’s choosing
Pictures; in his garden, and, when Vespers done,
The air fills with the distant sound of dancing,
He feels, despite all celestial inhibition,
His calves beat time, his toes with joy wriggling;
– Night steps, dark pirate, onto skies all golden.
II
The Priest has noted among the catechists,
Gathering from the Faubourgs and the Quarters,
This little unknown girl, her eyes pale mist,
Her sallow brow. Her parents humble porters:
‘On the great Day, seeing her among the Catechists,
God will snow down blessings on this daughter.’
III
On the eve of the great Day, the child feels ill.
Better than in the tall Church’s dismal murmuring,
First a shudder comes – bed’s not uninteresting – still,
The supernatural shudder may return: ‘I’m dying…’
And, like a theft of love from her stupid sisters,
She sees, exhausted and hands on heart, there,
Angels, Jesus, a Holy Virgin that glimmers;
And calmly her whole soul swallows her conqueror.
Adonai! … – In their Latin endings dressed,
Skies shot with green bathe Brows of crimson,
And, stained by pure blood from heavenly breasts,
Across swirling suns, fall great snowy linens!
– For her present and future virginities
She bites on the freshness of your Remission,
But more so than sweetmeats or water-lilies,
Your forgiveness is like ice, O Queen of Zion!
50
IV
Then the Virgin’s no more than the virgin of the book.
Mystical impulses are often thwarted…
The hideous print and the old woodcut come,
Poverty of images, bronze-sheathed by boredom.
Startled, her dream of chaste blueness,
By vaguely indecent curiosities,
Surprises itself among celestial tunics,
Linen with which Christ veils his nudities.
She yearns, she yearns, still, soul in distress,
Brow on the pillow racked by muffled sounds,
To prolong the supreme flashes of tenderness,
And dribbles – Darkness over house and grounds.
And the child can bear it no longer, she stirs,
Arches her back, opens the blue bed-hangings,
To draw the coolness of the room towards her,
Beneath the sheet, to breasts’ and belly’s burning.
Waking – at midnight – the window-panes were
White. Past the blue sleep of moonlit hangings,
The vision of Sunday candours captured her;
She’d dreamed of red. Her nose was bleeding,
And, feeling quite chaste and full of weakness,
Savouring love’s return to a God once known,
She thirsted for night when the heart may guess
At soft skies where it worships and bows down;
For night, impalpable Virgin-Mother, that bathes
All youthful emotion in its shadowy silences;
Thirsted for deep night where the heart, blood-stained,
Pours out without cries rebellion without witnesses.
51
And playing the Victim and the little bride,
Her star saw her, a candle between her fingers,
Descend to the courtyard where clothes dried,
White spectre raising the roofs’ black spectres.
VI
She passed her holy night in the latrine,
To the candle, from roof-holes, white air flowed,
And full of purplish blackness a wild vine,
Skirting the next-door yard hung down below.
The skylight made a heart of living brightness,
In the yard where the low sky, with its red-gold,
Plated the panes; cobbles, stinking with excess
Wet filth, sulphured the sleep-dark wall-shadows.
VII
Who’ll speak of that languor, those unclean pities,
And what hatred will fall on her, O you filthy
Lunatics, whose divine work still warps destinies,
When leprosy finally devours that sweet body?
VIII
And when, having swallowed all her hysterias,
She sees, in the melancholy born of happiness,
Her lover dreaming of the white million Marys
In the dawn of the night of love, her distress:
‘Do you know I killed you? Took your mouth,
Your heart, all that one has, all you possess;
And I, I am ill: Oh, I wish that I were drowned
With the Dead, drenched by nocturnal waters!
I was a child, and Christ has soiled my breath.
Filled me with loathing, through and through!
You kissed my hair thick as a fleece, and yes,
52
I allowed it….Oh, there, it’s all fine for you,
Men! Who don’t see that the most loving woman
Is, behind conscience full of ignoble terror,
The most prostituted and the most saddened,
That our every impulse towards You is error!
For my first Communion is long past.
I have no power ever to know your kisses:
And my heart and flesh, your flesh has clasped,
Seethe with the rotten kisses of Jesus!’
IX
Then, the desolate soul, and the soul that’s putrid,
Both will feel the stream of your maledictions.
– They’ll be at rest in your inviolate Hatred,
Freed, for death’s sake, from honest passions,
Christ! O Christ, the eternal thief of vigour,
God who, for two millennia, bowed to your pallor,
Nailed to the earth, in shame and mental horror,
Or overwhelmed, the brows of women of sorrow.
~ Arthur Rimbaud,#NFDB
541:Hark! the owlet flaps her wing,
In the pathless dell beneath,
Hark! night ravens loudly sing,
Tidings of despair and death.--
Horror covers all the sky,
Clouds of darkness blot the moon,
Prepare! for mortal thou must die,
Prepare to yield thy soul up soon--
Fierce the tempest raves around,
Fierce the volleyed lightnings fly,
Crashing thunder shakes the ground,
Fire and tumult fill the sky.
Hark! the tolling village bell,
Tells the hour of midnight come,
Now can blast the powers of Hell,
Fiend-like goblins now can roam--
See! his crest all stained with rain,
A warrior hastening speeds his way,
He starts, looks round him, starts again,
And sighs for the approach of day.
See! his frantic steed he reins,
See! he lifts his hands on high,
Implores a respite to his pains,
From the powers of the sky.--
He seeks an Inn, for faint from toil,
Fatigue had bent his lofty form,
To rest his wearied limbs awhile,
Fatigued with wandering and the storm.
...
...
Slow the door is opened wide--
With trackless tread a stranger came,
His form Majestic, slow his stride,
He sate, nor spake,--nor told his name--
Terror blanched the warrior's cheek,
Cold sweat from his forehead ran,
In vain his tongue essayed to speak,--
At last the stranger thus began:
'Mortal! thou that saw'st the sprite,
Tell me what I wish to know,
Or come with me before 'tis light,
Where cypress trees and mandrakes grow.
'Fierce the avenging Demon's ire,
Fiercer than the wintry blast,
Fiercer than the lightning's fire,
When the hour of twilight's past'--
The warrior raised his sunken eye.
It met the stranger's sullen scowl,
'Mortal! Mortal! thou must die,'
In burning letters chilled his soul.
WARRIOR:
Stranger! whoso'er you are,
I feel impelled my tale to tell--
Horrors stranger shalt thou hear,
Horrors drear as those of Hell.
O'er my Castle silence reigned,
Late the night and drear the hour,
When on the terrace I observed,
A fleeting shadowy mist to lower.--
Light the cloud as summer fog,
Which transient shuns the morning beam;
Fleeting as the cloud on bog,
That hangs or on the mountain stream.--
Horror seized my shuddering brain,
Horror dimmed my starting eye.
In vain I tried to speak,--In vain
My limbs essayed the spot to fly--
At last the thin and shadowy form,
With noiseless, trackless footsteps came,--
Its light robe floated on the storm,
Its head was bound with lambent flame.
In chilling voice drear as the breeze
Which sweeps along th' autumnal ground,
Which wanders through the leafless trees,
Or the mandrake's groan which floats around.
'Thou art mine and I am thine,
'Till the sinking of the world,
I am thine and thou art mine,
'Till in ruin death is hurled--
'Strong the power and dire the fate,
Which drags me from the depths of Hell,
Breaks the tomb's eternal gate,
Where fiendish shapes and dead men yell,
'Haply I might ne'er have shrank
From flames that rack the guilty dead,
Haply I might ne'er have sank
On pleasure's flowery, thorny bed--
--'But stay! no more I dare disclose,
Of the tale I wish to tell,
On Earth relentless were my woes,
But fiercer are my pangs in Hell--
'Now I claim thee as my love,
Lay aside all chilling fear,
My affection will I prove,
Where sheeted ghosts and spectres are!
'For thou art mine, and I am thine,
'Till the dreaded judgement day,
I am thine, and thou art mine--
Night is past--I must away.'
Still I gazed, and still the form
Pressed upon my aching sight,
Still I braved the howling storm,
When the ghost dissolved in night.--
Restless, sleepless fled the night,
Sleepless as a sick mans bed,
When he sighs for morning light,
When he turns his aching head,--
Slow and painful passed the day.
Melancholy seized my brain,
Lingering fled the hours away,
Lingering to a wretch in pain.--
At last came night, ah! horrid hour,
Ah! chilling time that wakes the dead,
When demons ride the clouds that lower,
--The phantom sat upon my bed.
In hollow voice, low as the sound
Which in some charnel makes its moan,
What floats along the burying ground,
The phantom claimed me as her own.
Her chilling finger on my head,
With coldest touch congealed my soul--
Cold as the finger of the dead,
Or damps which round a tombstone roll--
Months are passed in lingering round,
Every night the spectre comes,
With thrilling step it shakes the ground,
With thrilling step it round me roams--
Stranger! I have told to thee,
All the tale I have to tell--
Stranger! canst thou tell to me,
How to scape the powers of Hell?--
STRANGER:
Warrior! I can ease thy woes,
Wilt thou, wilt thou, come with me--
Warrior! I can all disclose,
Follow, follow, follow me.
Yet the tempest's duskiest wing,
Its mantle stretches o'er the sky,
Yet the midnight ravens sing,
'Mortal! Mortal! thou must die.'
At last they saw a river clear,
That crossed the heathy path they trod,
The Strangers look was wild and drear,
The firm Earth shook beneath his nod--
He raised a wand above his head,
He traced a circle on the plain,
In a wild verse he called the dead,
The dead with silent footsteps came.
A burning brilliance on his head,
Flaming filled the stormy air,
In a wild verse he called the dead,
The dead in motley crowd were there.--
'Ghasta! Ghasta! come along,
Bring thy fiendish crowd with thee,
Quickly raise th' avenging Song,
Ghasta! Ghasta! come to me.'
Horrid shapes in mantles gray,
Flit athwart the stormy night,
'Ghasta! Ghasta! come away,
Come away before 'tis light.'
See! the sheeted Ghost they bring,
Yelling dreadful oer the heath,
Hark! the deadly verse they sing,
Tidings of despair and death!
The yelling Ghost before him stands,
See! she rolls her eyes around,
Now she lifts her bony hands,
Now her footsteps shake the ground.
STRANGER:
Phantom of Theresa say,
Why to earth again you came,
Quickly speak, I must away!
Or you must bleach for aye in flame,--
PHANTOM:
Mighty one I know thee now,
Mightiest power of the sky,
Know thee by thy flaming brow,
Know thee by thy sparkling eye.
That fire is scorching! Oh! I came,
From the caverned depth of Hell,
My fleeting false Rodolph to claim,
Mighty one! I know thee well.--
STRANGER:
Ghasta! seize yon wandering sprite,
Drag her to the depth beneath,
Take her swift, before 'tis light,
Take her to the cells of death!
Thou that heardst the trackless dead,
In the mouldering tomb must lie,
Mortal! look upon my head,
Mortal! Mortal! thou must die.
Of glowing flame a cross was there,
Which threw a light around his form,
Whilst his lank and raven hair,
Floated wild upon the storm.--
The warrior upwards turned his eyes,
Gazed upon the cross of fire,
There sat horror and surprise,
There sat Gods eternal ire.--
A shivering through the Warrior flew,
Colder than the nightly blast,
Colder than the evening dew,
When the hour of twilights past.--
Thunder shakes th' expansive sky,
Shakes the bosom of the heath,
'Mortal! Mortal! thou must die'--
The warrior sank convulsed in death.
JANUARY, 1810.
The idea of the following tale was taken from a few unconnected German Stanzas.--The principal Character is evidently the Wandering Jew, and although not mentioned by name, the burning Cross on his forehead undoubtedly alludes to that superstition, so prevalent in the part of Germany called the Black Forest, where this scene is supposed to lie.
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, Ghasta Or, The Avenging Demon!!!
,#NFDB
542:Vesalius In Zante
Set wide the window. Let me drink the day.
I loved light ever, light in eye and brain—
No tapers mirrored in long palace floors,
Nor dedicated depths of silent aisles,
But just the common dusty wind-blown day
That roofs earth’s millions.
O, too long I walked
In that thrice-sifted air that princes breathe,
Nor felt the heaven-wide jostling of the winds
And all the ancient outlawry of earth!
Now let me breathe and see.
This pilgrimage
They call a penance—let them call it that!
I set my face to the East to shrive my soul
Of mortal sin? So be it. If my blade
Once questioned living flesh, if once I tore
The pages of the Book in opening it,
See what the torn page yielded ere the light
Had paled its buried characters—and judge!
The girl they brought me, pinioned hand and foot
In catalepsy—say I should have known
That trance had not yet darkened into death,
And held my scalpel. Well, suppose I knew?
Sum up the facts—her life against her death.
Her life? The scum upon the pools of pleasure
Breeds such by thousands. And her death? Perchance
The obolus to appease the ferrying Shade,
And waft her into immortality.
Think what she purchased with that one heart-flutter
That whispered its deep secret to my blade!
For, just because her bosom fluttered still,
It told me more than many rifled graves;
Because I spoke too soon, she answered me,
Her vain life ripened to this bud of death
As the whole plant is forced into one flower,
All her blank past a scroll on which God wrote
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His word of healing—so that the poor flesh,
Which spread death living, died to purchase life!
Ah, no! The sin I sinned was mine, not theirs.
Not that they sent me forth to wash away—
None of their tariffed frailties, but a deed
So far beyond their grasp of good or ill
That, set to weigh it in the Church’s balance,
Scarce would they know which scale to cast it in.
But I, I know. I sinned against my will,
Myself, my soul—the God within the breast:
Can any penance wash such sacrilege?
When I was young in Venice, years ago,
I walked the hospice with a Spanish monk,
A solitary cloistered in high thoughts,
The great Loyola, whom I reckoned then
A mere refurbisher of faded creeds,
Expert to edge anew the arms of faith,
As who should say, a Galenist, resolved
To hold the walls of dogma against fact,
Experience, insight, his own self, if need be!
Ah, how I pitied him, mine own eyes set
Straight in the level beams of Truth, who groped
In error’s old deserted catacombs
And lit his tapers upon empty graves!
Ay, but he held his own, the monk—more man
Than any laurelled cripple of the wars,
Charles’s spent shafts; for what he willed he willed,
As those do that forerun the wheels of fate,
Not take their dust—that force the virgin hours,
Hew life into the likeness of themselves
And wrest the stars from their concurrences.
So firm his mould; but mine the ductile soul
That wears the livery of circumstance
And hangs obsequious on its suzerain’s eye.
For who rules now? The twilight-flitting monk,
Or I, that took the morning like an Alp?
He held his own, I let mine slip from me,
The birthright that no sovereign can restore;
And so ironic Time beholds us now
Master and slave—he lord of half the earth,
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I ousted from my narrow heritage.
For there’s the sting! My kingdom knows me not.
Reach me that folio—my usurper’s title!
Fallopius reigning, vice—nay, not so:
Successor, not usurper. I am dead.
My throne stood empty; he was heir to it.
Ay, but who hewed his kingdom from the waste,
Cleared, inch by inch, the acres for his sowing,
Won back for man that ancient fief o’ the Church,
His body? Who flung Galen from his seat,
And founded the great dynasty of truth
In error’s central kingdom?
Ask men that,
And see their answer: just a wondering stare
To learn things were not always as they are—
The very fight forgotten with the fighter;
Already grows the moss upon my grave!
Ay, and so meet—hold fast to that, Vesalius.
They only, who re-conquer day by day
The inch of ground they camped on over-night,
Have right of foothold on this crowded earth.
I left mine own; he seized it; with it went
My name, my fame, my very self, it seems,
Till I am but the symbol of a man,
The sign-board creaking o’er an empty inn.
He names me—true! Oh, give the door its due
I entered by. Only, I pray you, note,
Had door been none, a shoulder-thrust of mine
Had breached the crazy wall”—he seems to say.
So meet—and yet a word of thanks, of praise,
Of recognition that the clue was found,
Seized, followed, clung to, by some hand now dust—
Had this obscured his quartering of my shield?
How the one weakness stirs again! I thought
I had done with that old thirst for gratitude
That lured me to the desert years ago.
I did my work—and was not that enough?
No; but because the idlers sneered and shrugged,
The envious whispered, the traducers lied,
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And friendship doubted where it should have cheered
I flung aside the unfinished task, sought praise
Outside my soul’s esteem, and learned too late
That victory, like God’s kingdom, is within.
(Nay, let the folio rest upon my knee.
I do not feel its weight.) Ingratitude?
The hurrying traveller does not ask the name
Of him who points him on his way; and this
Fallopius sits in the mid-heart of me,
Because he keeps his eye upon the goal,
Cuts a straight furrow to the end in view,
Cares not who oped the fountain by the way,
But drinks to draw fresh courage for his journey.
That was the lesson that Ignatius taught—
The one I might have learned from him, but would not—
That we are but stray atoms on the wind,
A dancing transiency of summer eves,
Till we become one with our purpose, merged
In that vast effort of the race which makes
Mortality immortal.
“He that loseth
His life shall find it”: so the Scripture runs.
But I so hugged the fleeting self in me,
So loved the lovely perishable hours,
So kissed myself to death upon their lips,
That on one pyre we perished in the end—
A grimmer bonfire than the Church e’er lit!
Yet all was well—or seemed so—till I heard
That younger voice, an echo of my own,
And, like a wanderer turning to his home,
Who finds another on the hearth, and learns,
Half-dazed, that other is his actual self
In name and claim, as the whole parish swears,
So strangely, suddenly, stood dispossessed
Of that same self I had sold all to keep,
A baffled ghost that none would see or hear!
“Vesalius? Who’s Vesalius? This Fallopius
It is who dragged the Galen-idol down,
Who rent the veil of flesh and forced a way
Into the secret fortalice of life”—
Yet it was I that bore the brunt of it!
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Well, better so! Better awake and live
My last brief moment as the man I was,
Than lapse from life’s long lethargy to death
Without one conscious interval. At least
I repossess my past, am once again
No courtier med’cining the whims of kings
In muffled palace-chambers, but the free
Friendless Vesalius, with his back to the wall
And all the world against him. O, for that
Best gift of all, Fallopius, take my thanks—
That, and much more. At first, when Padua wrote:
“Master, Fallopius dead, resume again
The chair even he could not completely fill,
And see what usury age shall take of youth
In honours forfeited”—why, just at first,
I was quite simply credulously glad
To think the old life stood ajar for me,
Like a fond woman’s unforgetting heart.
But now that death waylays me—now I know
This isle is the circumference of my days,
And I shall die here in a little while—
So also best, Fallopius!
For I see
The gods may give anew, but not restore;
And though I think that, in my chair again,
I might have argued my supplanters wrong
In this or that—this Cesalpinus, say,
With all his hot-foot blundering in the dark,
Fabricius, with his over-cautious clutch
On Galen (systole and diastole
Of Truth’s mysterious heart!)—yet, other ways,
It may be that this dying serves the cause.
For Truth stays not to build her monument
For this or that co-operating hand,
But props it with her servants’ failures—nay,
Cements its courses with their blood and brains,
A living substance that shall clinch her walls
Against the assaults of time. Already, see,
Her scaffold rises on my hidden toil,
I but the accepted premiss whence must spring
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The airy structure of her argument;
Nor could the bricks it rests on serve to build
The crowning finials. I abide her law:
A different substance for a different end—
Content to know I hold the building up;
Though men, agape at dome and pinnacles,
Guess not, the whole must crumble like a dream
But for that buried labour underneath.
Yet, Padua, I had still my word to say!
Let others say it!—Ah, but will they guess
Just the one word—? Nay, Truth is many-tongued.
What one man failed to speak, another finds
Another word for. May not all converge
In some vast utterance, of which you and I,
Fallopius, were but halting syllables?
So knowledge come, no matter how it comes!
No matter whence the light falls, so it fall!
Truth’s way, not mine—that I, whose service failed
In action, yet may make amends in praise.
Fabricius, Cesalpinus, say your word,
Not yours, or mine, but Truth’s, as you receive it!
You miss a point I saw? See others, then!
Misread my meaning? Yet expound your own!
Obscure one space I cleared? The sky is wide,
And you may yet uncover other stars.
For thus I read the meaning of this end:
There are two ways of spreading light: to be
The candle or the mirror that reflects it.
I let my wick burn out—there yet remains
To spread an answering surface to the flame
That others kindle.
Turn me in my bed.
The window darkens as the hours swing round;
But yonder, look the other casement glows!
Let me face westward as my sun goes down.
~ Edith Wharton,#NFDB
543:The Shadow
Paul Jannes was working very late,
For this watch must be done by eight
To-morrow or the Cardinal
Would certainly be vexed. Of all
His customers the old prelate
Was the most important, for his state
Descended to his watches and rings,
And he gave his mistresses many things
To make them forget his age and smile
When he paid visits, and they could while
The time away with a diamond locket
Exceedingly well. So they picked his pocket,
And he paid in jewels for his slobbering kisses.
This watch was made to buy him blisses
From an Austrian countess on her way
Home, and she meant to start next day.
Paul worked by the pointed, tulip-flame
Of a tallow candle, and became
So absorbed, that his old clock made him wince
Striking the hour a moment since.
Its echo, only half apprehended,
Lingered about the room. He ended
Screwing the little rubies in,
Setting the wheels to lock and spin,
Curling the infinitesimal springs,
Fixing the filigree hands. Chippings
Of precious stones lay strewn about.
The table before him was a rout
Of splashes and sparks of coloured light.
There was yellow gold in sheets, and quite
A heap of emeralds, and steel.
Here was a gem, there was a wheel.
And glasses lay like limpid lakes
Shining and still, and there were flakes
Of silver, and shavings of pearl,
And little wires all awhirl
With the light of the candle. He took the watch
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And wound its hands about to match
The time, then glanced up to take the hour
From the hanging clock.
Good, Merciful Power!
How came that shadow on the wall,
No woman was in the room! His tall
Chiffonier stood gaunt behind
His chair. His old cloak, rabbit-lined,
Hung from a peg. The door was closed.
Just for a moment he must have dozed.
He looked again, and saw it plain.
The silhouette made a blue-black stain
On the opposite wall, and it never wavered
Even when the candle quavered
Under his panting breath. What made
That beautiful, dreadful thing, that shade
Of something so lovely, so exquisite,
Cast from a substance which the sight
Had not been tutored to perceive?
Paul brushed his eyes across his sleeve.
Clear-cut, the Shadow on the wall
Gleamed black, and never moved at all.
Paul's watches were like amulets,
Wrought into patterns and rosettes;
The cases were all set with stones,
And wreathing lines, and shining zones.
He knew the beauty in a curve,
And the Shadow tortured every nerve
With its perfect rhythm of outline
Cutting the whitewashed wall. So fine
Was the neck he knew he could have spanned
It about with the fingers of one hand.
The chin rose to a mouth he guessed,
But could not see, the lips were pressed
Loosely together, the edges close,
And the proud and delicate line of the nose
Melted into a brow, and there
Broke into undulant waves of hair.
The lady was edged with the stamp of race.
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A singular vision in such a place.
He moved the candle to the tall
Chiffonier; the Shadow stayed on the wall.
He threw his cloak upon a chair,
And still the lady's face was there.
From every corner of the room
He saw, in the patch of light, the gloom
That was the lady. Her violet bloom
Was almost brighter than that which came
From his candle's tulip-flame.
He set the filigree hands; he laid
The watch in the case which he had made;
He put on his rabbit cloak, and snuffed
His candle out. The room seemed stuffed
With darkness. Softly he crossed the floor,
And let himself out through the door.
The sun was flashing from every pin
And wheel, when Paul let himself in.
The whitewashed walls were hot with light.
The room was the core of a chrysolite,
Burning and shimmering with fiery might.
The sun was so bright that no shadow could fall
From the furniture upon the wall.
Paul sighed as he looked at the empty space
Where a glare usurped the lady's place.
He settled himself to his work, but his mind
Wandered, and he would wake to find
His hand suspended, his eyes grown dim,
And nothing advanced beyond the rim
Of his dreaming. The Cardinal sent to pay
For his watch, which had purchased so fine a day.
But Paul could hardly touch the gold,
It seemed the price of his Shadow, sold.
With the first twilight he struck a match
And watched the little blue stars hatch
Into an egg of perfect flame.
He lit his candle, and almost in shame
At his eagerness, lifted his eyes.
398
The Shadow was there, and its precise
Outline etched the cold, white wall.
The young man swore, 'By God! You, Paul,
There's something the matter with your brain.
Go home now and sleep off the strain.'
The next day was a storm, the rain
Whispered and scratched at the window-pane.
A grey and shadowless morning filled
The little shop. The watches, chilled,
Were dead and sparkless as burnt-out coals.
The gems lay on the table like shoals
Of stranded shells, their colours faded,
Mere heaps of stone, dull and degraded.
Paul's head was heavy, his hands obeyed
No orders, for his fancy strayed.
His work became a simple round
Of watches repaired and watches wound.
The slanting ribbons of the rain
Broke themselves on the window-pane,
But Paul saw the silver lines in vain.
Only when the candle was lit
And on the wall just opposite
He watched again the coming of IT,
Could he trace a line for the joy of his soul
And over his hands regain control.
Paul lingered late in his shop that night
And the designs which his delight
Sketched on paper seemed to be
A tribute offered wistfully
To the beautiful shadow of her who came
And hovered over his candle flame.
In the morning he selected all
His perfect jacinths. One large opal
Hung like a milky, rainbow moon
In the centre, and blown in loose festoon
The red stones quivered on silver threads
To the outer edge, where a single, fine
Band of mother-of-pearl the line
399
Completed. On the other side,
The creamy porcelain of the face
Bore diamond hours, and no lace
Of cotton or silk could ever be
Tossed into being more airily
Than the filmy golden hands; the time
Seemed to tick away in rhyme.
When, at dusk, the Shadow grew
Upon the wall, Paul's work was through.
Holding the watch, he spoke to her:
'Lady, Beautiful Shadow, stir
Into one brief sign of being.
Turn your eyes this way, and seeing
This watch, made from those sweet curves
Where your hair from your forehead swerves,
Accept the gift which I have wrought
With your fairness in my thought.
Grant me this, and I shall be
Honoured overwhelmingly.'
The Shadow rested black and still,
And the wind sighed over the window-sill.
Paul put the despised watch away
And laid out before him his array
Of stones and metals, and when the morning
Struck the stones to their best adorning,
He chose the brightest, and this new watch
Was so light and thin it seemed to catch
The sunlight's nothingness, and its gleam.
Topazes ran in a foamy stream
Over the cover, the hands were studded
With garnets, and seemed red roses, budded.
The face was of crystal, and engraved
Upon it the figures flashed and waved
With zircons, and beryls, and amethysts.
It took a week to make, and his trysts
At night with the Shadow were his alone.
Paul swore not to speak till his task was done.
The night that the jewel was worthy to give.
Paul watched the long hours of daylight live
400
To the faintest streak; then lit his light,
And sharp against the wall's pure white
The outline of the Shadow started
Into form. His burning-hearted
Words so long imprisoned swelled
To tumbling speech. Like one compelled,
He told the lady all his love,
And holding out the watch above
His head, he knelt, imploring some
Littlest sign.
The Shadow was dumb.
Weeks passed, Paul worked in fevered haste,
And everything he made he placed
Before his lady. The Shadow kept
Its perfect passiveness. Paul wept.
He wooed her with the work of his hands,
He waited for those dear commands
She never gave. No word, no motion,
Eased the ache of his devotion.
His days passed in a strain of toil,
His nights burnt up in a seething coil.
Seasons shot by, uncognisant
He worked. The Shadow came to haunt
Even his days. Sometimes quite plain
He saw on the wall the blackberry stain
Of his lady's picture. No sun was bright
Enough to dazzle that from his sight.
There were moments when he groaned to see
His life spilled out so uselessly,
Begging for boons the Shade refused,
His finest workmanship abused,
The iridescent bubbles he blew
Into lovely existence, poor and few
In the shadowed eyes. Then he would curse
Himself and her! The Universe!
And more, the beauty he could not make,
And give her, for her comfort's sake!
He would beat his weary, empty hands
401
Upon the table, would hold up strands
Of silver and gold, and ask her why
She scorned the best which he could buy.
He would pray as to some high-niched saint,
That she would cure him of the taint
Of failure. He would clutch the wall
With his bleeding fingers, if she should fall
He could catch, and hold her, and make her live!
With sobs he would ask her to forgive
All he had done. And broken, spent,
He would call himself impertinent;
Presumptuous; a tradesman; a nothing; driven
To madness by the sight of Heaven.
At other times he would take the things
He had made, and winding them on strings,
Hang garlands before her, and burn perfumes,
Chanting strangely, while the fumes
Wreathed and blotted the shadow face,
As with a cloudy, nacreous lace.
There were days when he wooed as a lover, sighed
In tenderness, spoke to his bride,
Urged her to patience, said his skill
Should break the spell. A man's sworn will
Could compass life, even that, he knew.
By Christ's Blood! He would prove it true!
The edge of the Shadow never blurred.
The lips of the Shadow never stirred.
He would climb on chairs to reach her lips,
And pat her hair with his finger-tips.
But instead of young, warm flesh returning
His warmth, the wall was cold and burning
Like stinging ice, and his passion, chilled,
Lay in his heart like some dead thing killed
At the moment of birth. Then, deadly sick,
He would lie in a swoon for hours, while thick
Phantasmagoria crowded his brain,
And his body shrieked in the clutch of pain.
The crisis passed, he would wake and smile
With a vacant joy, half-imbecile
402
And quite confused, not being certain
Why he was suffering; a curtain
Fallen over the tortured mind beguiled
His sorrow. Like a little child
He would play with his watches and gems, with glee
Calling the Shadow to look and see
How the spots on the ceiling danced prettily
When he flashed his stones. 'Mother, the green
Has slid so cunningly in between
The blue and the yellow. Oh, please look down!'
Then, with a pitiful, puzzled frown,
He would get up slowly from his play
And walk round the room, feeling his way
From table to chair, from chair to door,
Stepping over the cracks in the floor,
Till reaching the table again, her face
Would bring recollection, and no solace
Could balm his hurt till unconsciousness
Stifled him and his great distress.
One morning he threw the street door wide
On coming in, and his vigorous stride
Made the tools on his table rattle and jump.
In his hands he carried a new-burst clump
Of laurel blossoms, whose smooth-barked stalks
Were pliant with sap. As a husband talks
To the wife he left an hour ago,
Paul spoke to the Shadow. 'Dear, you know
To-day the calendar calls it Spring,
And I woke this morning gathering
Asphodels, in my dreams, for you.
So I rushed out to see what flowers blew
Their pink-and-purple-scented souls
Across the town-wind's dusty scrolls,
And made the approach to the Market Square
A garden with smells and sunny air.
I feel so well and happy to-day,
I think I shall take a Holiday.
And to-night we will have a little treat.
I am going to bring you something to eat!'
He looked at the Shadow anxiously.
403
It was quite grave and silent. He
Shut the outer door and came
And leant against the window-frame.
'Dearest,' he said, 'we live apart
Although I bear you in my heart.
We look out each from a different world.
At any moment we may be hurled
Asunder. They follow their orbits, we
Obey their laws entirely.
Now you must come, or I go there,
Unless we are willing to live the flare
Of a lighted instant and have it gone.'
A bee in the laurels began to drone.
A loosened petal fluttered prone.
'Man grows by eating, if you eat
You will be filled with our life, sweet
Will be our planet in your mouth.
If not, I must parch in death's wide drouth
Until I gain to where you are,
And give you myself in whatever star
May happen. O You Beloved of Me!
Is it not ordered cleverly?'
The Shadow, bloomed like a plum, and clear,
Hung in the sunlight. It did not hear.
Paul slipped away as the dusk began
To dim the little shop. He ran
To the nearest inn, and chose with care
As much as his thin purse could bear.
As rapt-souled monks watch over the baking
Of the sacred wafer, and through the making
Of the holy wine whisper secret prayers
That God will bless this labour of theirs;
So Paul, in a sober ecstasy,
Purchased the best which he could buy.
Returning, he brushed his tools aside,
And laid across the table a wide
Napkin. He put a glass and plate
404
On either side, in duplicate.
Over the lady's, excellent
With loveliness, the laurels bent.
In the centre the white-flaked pastry stood,
And beside it the wine flask. Red as blood
Was the wine which should bring the lustihood
Of human life to his lady's veins.
When all was ready, all which pertains
To a simple meal was there, with eyes
Lit by the joy of his great emprise,
He reverently bade her come,
And forsake for him her distant home.
He put meat on her plate and filled her glass,
And waited what should come to pass.
The Shadow lay quietly on the wall.
From the street outside came a watchman's call
'A cloudy night. Rain beginning to fall.'
And still he waited. The clock's slow tick
Knocked on the silence. Paul turned sick.
He filled his own glass full of wine;
From his pocket he took a paper. The twine
Was knotted, and he searched a knife
From his jumbled tools. The cord of life
Snapped as he cut the little string.
He knew that he must do the thing
He feared. He shook powder into the wine,
And holding it up so the candle's shine
Sparked a ruby through its heart,
He drank it. 'Dear, never apart
Again! You have said it was mine to do.
It is done, and I am come to you!'
Paul Jannes let the empty wine-glass fall,
And held out his arms. The insentient wall
Stared down at him with its cold, white glare
Unstained! The Shadow was not there!
Paul clutched and tore at his tightening throat.
He felt the veins in his body bloat,
405
And the hot blood run like fire and stones
Along the sides of his cracking bones.
But he laughed as he staggered towards the door,
And he laughed aloud as he sank on the floor.
The Coroner took the body away,
And the watches were sold that Saturday.
The Auctioneer said one could seldom buy
Such watches, and the prices were high.
~ Amy Lowell,#NFDB
544:I
WHEN the pine tosses its cones
To the song of its waterfall tones,
Who speeds to the woodland walks?
To birds and trees who talks?
Csar of his leafy Rome,
There the poet is at home.
He goes to the river-side,
Not hook nor line hath he;
He stands in the meadows wide,
Nor gun nor scythe to see.
Sure some god his eye enchants:
What he knows nobody wants.
In the wood he travels glad,
Without better fortune had,
Melancholy without bad.
Knowledge this man prizes best
Seems fantastic to the rest:
Pondering shadows, colors, clouds,
Grass-buds and caterpillar-shrouds,
Boughs on which the wild bees settle,
Tints that spot the violet's petal,
Why Nature loves the number five,
And why the star-form she repeats:
Lover of all things alive,
Wonderer at all he meets,
Wonderer chiefly at himself,
Who can tell him what he is?
Or how meet in human elf
Coming and past eternities?
2
And such I knew, a forest seer,
A minstrel of the natural year,
Foreteller of the vernal ides,
Wise harbinger of spheres and tides,
A lover true, who knew by heart
Each joy the mountain dales impart;
It seemed that Nature could not raise
A plant in any secret place,
In quaking bog, on snowy hill,
Beneath the grass that shades the rill,
Under the snow, between the rocks,
In damp fields known to bird and fox.
But he would come in the very hour
It opened in its virgin bower,
As if a sunbeam showed the place,
And tell its long-descended race.
It seemed as if the breezes brought him,
It seemed as if the sparrows taught him;
As if by secret sight he knew
Where, in far fields, the orchis grew.
Many haps fall in the field
Seldom seen by wishful eyes,
But all her shows did Nature yield,
To please and win this pilgrim wise.
He saw the partridge drum in the woods;
He heard the woodcock's evening hymn;
He found the tawny thrushes' broods;
And the shy hawk did wait for him;
What others did at distance hear,
And guessed within the thicket's gloom,
Was shown to this philosopher,
And at his bidding seemed to come.
3
In unploughed Maine he sought the lumberers' gang
Where from a hundred lakes young rivers sprang;
He trod the unplanted forest floor, whereon
The all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone;
Where feeds the moose, and walks the surly bear,
And up the tall mast runs the woodpecker.
He saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds,
The slight Linna hang its twin-born heads,
And blessed the monument of the man of flowers,
Which breathes his sweet fame'through the northern bowers.
He heard, when in the grove, at intervals,
With sudden roar the aged pine-tree falls,
One crash, the death-hymn of the perfect tree,
Declares the close of its green century.
Low lies the plant to whose creation went
Sweet influence from every element;
Whose living towers the years conspired to build,
Whose giddy top the morning loved to gild.
Through these green tents, by eldest Nature dressed,
He roamed, content alike with man and beast.
Where darkness found him he lay glad at night;
There the red morning touched him with its light.
Three moons his great heart him a hermit made,
So long he roved at will the boundless shade.
The timid it concerns to ask their way,
And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stray,
To make no step until the event is known,
And ills to come as evils past bemoan.
Not so the wise; no coward watch he keeps
To spy what danger on his pathway creeps;
Go where he will, the wise man is at home,
His hearth the earth,his hall the azure dome;
Where his clear spirit leads him, there's his road
By God's own light illumined and foreshowed.
4
'T was one of the charmd days
When the genius of God doth flow;
The wind may alter twenty ways,
A tempest cannot blow;
It may blow north, it still is warm;
Or south, it still is clear;
Or east, it smells like a clover-farm;
Or west, no thunder fear.
The musing peasant, lowly great,
Beside the forest water sate;
The rope-like pine-roots crosswise grown
Composed the network of his throne;
The wide lake, edged with sand and grass,
Was burnished to a floor of glass,
Painted with shadows green and proud
Of the tree and of the cloud.
He was the heart of all the scene;
On him the sun looked more serene;
To hill and cloud his face was known,
It seemed the likeness of their own;
They knew by secret sympathy
The public child of earth and sky.
'You ask,' he said,'what guide
Me through trackless thickets led,
Through thick-stemmed woodlands rough and wide.
I found the water's bed.
The watercourses were my guide;
I travelled grateful by their side,
Or through their channel dry;
They led me through the thicket damp,
Through brake and fern, the beavers' camp,
Through beds of granite cut my road,
And their resistless friendship showed.
The falling waters led me,
The foodful waters fed me,
And brought me to the lowest land
Unerring to the ocean sand.
The moss upon the forest bark
Was pole-star when the night was dark;
The purple berries in the wood
Supplied me necessary food;
For Nature ever faithful is
To such as trust her faithfulness.
When the forest shall mislead me,
When the night and morning lie,
When sea and land refuse to feed me,
'T will be time enough to die;
Then will yet my mother yield
A pillow in her greenest field,
Nor the June flowers scorn to cover
The clay of their departed lover.'
II
As sunbeams stream through liberal space
And nothing jostle or displace,
So waved the pine-tree through my thought
And fanned the dreams it never brought.
'Whether is better, the gift or the donor?
Come to me,'
Quoth the pine-tree,
'I am the giver of honor.
My garden is the cloven rock,
And my manure the snow;
And drifting sand-heaps feed my stock,
In summer's scorching glow.
He is great who can live by me:
The rough and bearded forester
Is better than the lord;
God fills the scrip and canister,
Sin piles the loaded board.
The lord is the peasant that was,
The peasant the lord that shall be;
The lord is hay, the peasant grass,
One dry, and one the living tree.
Who liveth by the ragged pine
Foundeth a heroic line;
Who liveth in the palace hall
Waneth fast and spendeth all.
He goes to my savage haunts,
With his chariot and his care;
My twilight realm he disenchants,
And finds his prison there.
'What prizes the town and the tower?
Only what the pine-tree yields;
Sinew that subdued the fields;
The wild-eyed boy, who in the woods
Chants his hymn to hills and floods,
Whom the city's poisoning spleen
Made not pale, or fat, or lean;
Whom the rain and the wind purgeth,
Whom the dawn and the day-star urgeth,
In whose cheek the rose-leaf blusheth,
In whose feet the lion rusheth,
Iron arms, and iron mould,
That know not fear, fatigue, or cold.
I give my rafters to his boat,
My billets to his boiler's throat,
And I will swim the ancient sea
To float my child to victory,
And grant to dwellers with the pine
Dominion o'er the palm and vine.
Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend,
Unnerves his strength, invites his end.
Cut a bough from my parent stem,
And dip it in thy porcelain vase;
A little while each russet gem
Will swell and rise with wonted grace;
But when it seeks enlarged supplies,
The orphan of the forest dies.
Whoso walks in solitude
And inhabiteth the wood,
Choosing light, wave, rock and bird,
Before the money-loving herd,
Into that forester shall pass,
From these companions, power and grace.
Clean shall he be, without, within,
From the old adhering sin,
All ill dissolving in the light
Of his triumphant piercing sight:
Not vain, sour, nor frivolous;
Not mad, athirst, nor garrulous;
Grave, chaste, contented, though retired,
And of all other men desired.
On him the light of star and moon
Shall fall with purer radiance down;
All constellations of the sky
Shed their virtue through his eye.
Him Nature giveth for defence
His formidable innocence;
The mounting sap, the shells, the sea,
All spheres, all stones, his helpers be;
He shall meet the speeding year,
Without wailing, without fear;
He shall be happy in his love,
Like to like shall joyful prove;
He shall be happy whilst he wooes,
Muse-born, a daughter of the Muse.
But if with gold she bind her hair,
And deck her breast with diamond,
Take off thine eyes, thy heart forbear,
Though thou lie alone on the ground.
' Heed the old oracles,
Ponder my spells;
Song wakes in my pinnacles
When the wind swells.
Soundeth the prophetic wind,
The shadows shake on the rock behind,
And the countless leaves of the pine are strings
Tuned to the lay the wood-god sings.
Hearken! Hearken!
If thou wouldst know the mystic song
Chanted when the sphere was young.
Aloft, abroad, the pan swells;
O wise man! hear'st thou half it tells?
O wise man! hear'st thou the least part?
'T is the chronicle of art.
To the open ear it sings
Sweet the genesis of things,
Of tendency through endless ages,
Of star-dust, and star-pilgrimages,
Of rounded worlds, of space and time,
Of the old flood's subsiding slime,
Of chemic matter, force and form,
Of poles and powers, cold, wet, and warm:
The rushing metamorphosis
Dissolving all that fixture is,
Melts things that be to things that seem,
And solid nature to a dream.
O, listen to the undersong,
The ever old, the ever young;
And, far within those cadent pauses,
The chorus of the ancient Causes!
Delights the dreadful Destiny
To fling his voice into the tree,
And shock thy weak ear with a note
Breathed from the everlasting throat.
In music he repeats the pang
Whence the fair flock of Nature sprang.
O mortal! thy ears are stones;
These echoes are laden with tones
Which only the pure can hear;
Thou canst not catch what they recite
Of Fate and Will, of Want and Right,
Of man to come, of human life,
Of Death and Fortune, Growth and Strife.'
Once again the pine-tree sung:
' Speak not thy speech my boughs among:
Put off thy years, wash in the breeze;
My hours are peaceful centuries.
Talk no more with feeble tongue;
No more the fool of space and time,
Come weave with mine a nobler rhyme.
Only thy Americans
Can read thy line, can meet thy glance,
But the runes that I rehearse
Understands the universe;
The least breath my boughs which tossed
Brings again the Pentecost;
To every soul resounding clear
In a voice of solemn cheer,
"Am I not thine? Are not these thine?"
And they reply, "Forever mine!"
My branches speak Italian,
English, German, Basque, Castilian,
Mountain speech to Highlanders,
Ocean tongues to islanders,
To Fin and Lap and swart Malay,
To each his bosom-secret say.
'Come learn with me the fatal song
Which knits the world in music strong,
Come lift thine eyes to lofty rhymes,
Of things with things, of times with times,
Primal chimes of sun and shade,
Of sound and echo, man and maid,
The land reflected in the flood,
Body with shadow still pursued.
For Nature beats in perfect tune,
And rounds with rhyme her every rune,
Whether she work in land or sea,
Or hide underground her alchemy.
Thou canst not wave thy staff in air,
Or dip thy paddle in the lake,
But it carves the bow of beauty there,
And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake.
The wood is wiser far than thou;
The wood and wave each other know
Not unrelated, unaffied,
But to each thought and thing allied,
Is perfect Nature's every part,
Rooted in the mighty Heart.
But thou, poor child! unbound, unrhymed,
Whence camest thou, misplaced, mistimed,
Whence, O thou orphan and defrauded?
Is thy land peeled, thy realm marauded?
Who thee divorced, deceived and left?
Thee of thy faith who hath bereft,
And torn the ensigns from thy brow,
And sunk the immortal eye so low?
Thy cheek too white, thy form too slender,
Thy gait too slow, thy habits tender
For royal man;they thee confess
An exile from the wilderness,
The hills where health with health agrees,
And the wise soul expels disease.
Hark! in thy ear I will tell the sign
By which thy hurt thou may'st divine.
'When thou shalt climb the mountain cliff,
Or see the wide shore from thy skiff,
To thee the horizon shall express
But emptiness on emptiness;
There lives no man of Nature's worth
In the circle of the earth;
And to thine eye the vast skies fall,
Dire and satirical,
On clucking hens and prating fools,
On thieves, on drudges and on dolls.
And thou shalt say to the Most High,
"Godhead! all this astronomy,
And fate and practice and invention,
Strong art and beautiful pretension,
This radiant pomp of sun and star,
Throes that were, and worlds that are,
Behold! were in vain and in vain;
It cannot be,I will look again.
Surely now will the curtain rise,
And earth's fit tenant me surprise;
But the curtain doth not rise,
And Nature has miscarried wholly
Into failure, into folly."
'Alas! thine is the bankruptcy,
Blessed Nature so to see.
Come, lay thee in my soothing shade,
And heal the hurts which sin has made.
I see thee in the crowd alone;
I will be thy companion.
Quit thy friends as the dead in doom,
And build to them a final tomb;
Let the starred shade that nightly falls
Still celebrate their funerals,
And the bell of beetle and of bee
Knell their melodious memory.
Behind thee leave thy merchandise,
Thy churches and thy charities;
And leave thy peacock wit behind;
Enough for thee the primal mind
That flows in streams, that breathes in wind:
Leave all thy pedant lore apart;
God hid the whole world in thy heart.
Love shuns the sage, the child it crowns,
Gives all to them who all renounce.
The rain comes when the wind calls;
The river knows the way to the sea;
Without a pilot it runs and falls,
Blessing all lands with its charity;
The sea tosses and foams to find
Its way up to the cloud and wind;
The shadow sits close to the flying ball;
The date fails not on the palm-tree tall;
And thou,go burn thy wormy pages,
Shalt outsee seers, and outwit sages.
Oft didst thou thread the woods in vain
To find what bird had piped the strain:
Seek not, and the little eremite
Flies gayly forth and sings in sight.
'Hearken once more!
I will tell thee the mundane lore.
Older am I than thy numbers wot,
Change I may, but I pass not.
Hitherto all things fast abide,
And anchored in the tempest ride.
Trenchant time behoves to hurry
All to yean and all to bury:
All the forms are fugitive,
But the substances survive.
Ever fresh the broad creation,
A divine improvisation,
From the heart of God proceeds,
A single will, a million deeds.
Once slept the world an egg of stone,
And pulse, and sound, and light was none;
And God said, "Throb!" and there was motion
And the vast mass became vast ocean.
Onward and on, the eternal Pan,
Who layeth the world's incessant plan,
Halteth never in one shape,
But forever doth escape,
Like wave or flame, into new forms
Of gem, and air, of plants, and worms.
I, that to-day am a pine,
Yesterday was a bundle of grass.
He is free and libertine,
Pouring of his power the wine
To every age, to every race;.
Unto every race and age
He emptieth the beverage;
Unto each, and unto all,
Maker and original.
The world is the ring of his spells,
And the play of his miracles.
As he giveth to all to drink,
Thus or thus they are and think.
With one drop sheds form and feature;
With the next a special nature;
The third adds heat's indulgent spark;
The fourth gives light which eats the dark;
Into the fifth himself he flings,
And conscious Law is King of kings.
As the bee through the garden ranges,
From world to world the godhead changes;
As the sheep go feeding in the waste,
From form to form He maketh haste;
This vault which glows immense with light
Is the inn where he lodges for a night.
What reeks such Traveller if the bowers
Which bloom and fade like meadow flowers
A bunch of fragrant lilies be,
Or the stars of eternity?
Alike to him the better, the worse,
The glowing angel, the outcast corse.
Thou metest him by centuries,
And lo! he passes like the breeze;
Thou seek'st in globe and galaxy,
He hides in pure transparency;
Thou askest in fountains and in fires,
He is the essence that inquires.
He is the axis of the star;
He is the sparkle of the spar;
He is the heart of every creature;
He is the meaning of each feature;
And his mind is the sky.
Than all it holds more deep, more high.'
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, Woodnotes
,#NFDB
545:Tamerton Church-Tower, Or, First Love
I.
We left the Church at Tamerton
In gloomy western air;
To greet the day we gallop'd on,
A merry-minded pair.
The hazy East hot noon did bode;
Our horses sniff'd the dawn;
We made ten Cornish miles of road
Before the dew was gone.
We clomb the hill where Lanson's Keep
Fronts Dartmoor's distant ridge;
Thence trotted South; walk'd down the steep
That slants to Gresson Bridge;
And paused awhile, where Tamar waits,
In many a shining coil,
And teeming Devon separates
From Cornwall's sorry soil.
II.
Our English skies contain'd, that Spring,
A Caribbean sun;
The singing birds forgot to sing,
The rivulets to run.
For three noons past, the skies had frown'd,
Obscured with blighting shades
That only mock'd the thirsty ground
And unrejoicing glades.
To-day, before the noon was nigh,
Bright-skirted vapours grew,
And on the sky hung languidly;
The sky was languid too.
Our horses dropp'd their necks, and nosed
The dusty wayside grass,
Whilst we beneath still boughs reposed
And watch'd the water pass.
We spoke of plighted Bertha: Frank
Shot pebbles in the stream;
And I lay by him on the bank,
43
But dreamt no lover's dream.
She was a blythe and bashful maid,
Much blushing in her glee;
Yet gracing all she did and said
With sweet sufficiency.
‘Is Blanche as fair?’ ask'd I, who yearn'd
To feel my life complete;
To taste unselfish pleasures earn'd
By service strict and sweet.
‘Well, some say fairer: she'll surprise
Your heart with crimson lips;
Fat underlids, that hold bright eyes
In laughing half-eclipse;
Alluring locks, done up with taste
Behind her dainty ears;
And manners full of wayward haste,
Tho' facile as the deer's.’
III.
‘You paint a leaflet, here and there;
And not the blossom: tell
What mysteries of good and fair
These blazon'd letters spell.’
IV.
‘Her mouth and teeth, by Cupid's bow!
Are letters spelling 'kiss;'
And, witchingly withdrawn below
Twin worlds of baby-bliss,
Her waist, so soft and small, may mean,
'O, when will some one come
To make me catch my breath between
His finger and his thumb!'’
V.
My life, 'twas like a land of dreams,
Where nothing noble throve:
Dull seem'd it as to maiden seems
The verse that's not of love.
44
‘See where,’ sigh'd I, ‘the water dim
Repeats, with leaden hue,
The fervid sun, the cloud's hot rim,
The gap of dazzling blue!’
Quoth Frank, ‘I do, and hence foresee
And all too plainly scan
Some sentimental homily
On Duty, Death, or Man.’
‘'Tis this;’ said I, ‘our senses mar,
Ev'n so, sweet Nature's face,
Unless by love revived they are,
Or lit by heavenly grace.
Below the hazel talks the rill;
My heart speaks not again;
The solemn cloud, the stately hill,
I look on each in vain.
Sure he for whom no Power shall strike
This darkness into day—’
‘Is damn'd,’ said Frank, who morall'd like
The Fool in an old Play.
‘That's true!’ cried I, ‘yet, as the worm
That sickens ere it change—’
‘Or as the pup that nears the term
At which pups have the mange—
Pooh! Come, Man, let us on,’ he said,
‘For now the storm is nigh!’
And whilst we rode quaint sense we read
Within the changing sky.
Above us bent a prophet wild,
Pointing to hidden harm;
Beyond, a magic woman smiled,
And wove some wondrous charm;
Past that, a censer jetted smoke:
Black convolutions roll'd
Sunwards, and caught the light, and broke
In crowns of shining gold.
VI.
The gaps of blue shrank fast in span;
The long-forgotten breeze,
45
By lazy starts and fits, began
To stir the higher trees.
At noon, we came to Tavistock;
And sunshine still was there,
But gloomy Dartmoor seem'd to mock
Its weak and yellow glare.
The swallows, in the wrathful light,
Were pitching up and down;
A string of rooks made rapid flight,
Due southward, o'er the town,
Where, baiting at the Tiger-Inn,
We talk'd by windows wide,
Of Blanche and all my unseen kin,
Who did our coming bide.
VII.
The heavy sign-board swung and shriek'd,
In dark air whirl'd the vane,
Blinds flapp'd, dust rose, and, straining, creak'd
The shaken window-pane;
And, just o'erhead, a huge cloud flung,
For earnest of its stores,
A few calm drops, that struck among
The light-leaved sycamores.
Hot to be gone, Frank rose and eyed
Dark cloud and swinging branch;
But less long'd he to greet his Bride
Than I to look on Blanche.
Her name, pair'd still with praise at home,
Would make my pulses start;
The hills between us were become
A weight upon my heart.
‘Behold,’ I cried, ‘the storm comes not;
The northern heavens grow fair.’
‘Look South,’ said Frank, ‘'tis one wide blot
Of thunder-threatening air.’
The string of rooks had travell'd on,
Against the southern shroud,
And, like some snaky skeleton,
Lay twisted in the cloud.
46
‘No storm to-day!’ said I, ‘for, see,
Yon black thing travels south.’
We follow'd soon; our spirits free,
Our bodies slaked from drouth.
I rode in silence; Frank, with tongue
Made lax by too much port,
Soliloquising, said or sung
After this tipsy sort:
‘Yea, nerves they are the Devil's mesh,
And pups begin quite blind,
And health is ofttimes in the flesh,
And measles in the mind!
‘Foolish and fair was Joan without;
Foolish and foul within;
High as a hunted pig his snout,
She carried a foolish chin.
‘The Boy beheld, and brisk rose he
At this badly painted fly:
That boys less wise than fish will be
Makes many a man to sigh.’
VIII.
On, on we toil'd, amidst the blaze
From Dartmoor's ridges bare;
Beneath the hush'd and scorching haze,
And through the twinkling air;
Along the endless mountain-side,
That seem'd with us to move;
Past dreary mine-mouths, far and wide;
Huge dross-heap, wheel, and groove;
Dark towns by disembowell'd hills,
Where swarthy tribes abode,
Who, in hard rocks with harder wills,
Pursued the crooked lode;
Up heights, that seem'd against us match'd;
Until, from table-land,
Before the teasing midge was hatch'd,
We hail'd the southern strand.
Then pleasantly, on level ground
And through the lighter air,
47
We paced along and breathed around,
A merry-minded pair.
A western night of even cloud
Suck'd in the sultry disk;
Bright racks look'd on, a fiery crowd,
To seamen boding risk;
The late crow wing'd his silent way
Across the shadowy East;
The gnat danced out his little day,
His ceaseless singing ceased;
Along the dim horizon round
Fled faint electric fires;
Blue glow-worms lit the fresher ground
By moisture-harbouring briers;
Far northward twinkled lonely lights,
The peopled vales among;
In front, between the gaping heights,
The mystic ocean hung.
IX.
Our weary spirits flagg'd beneath
The still and loaded air;
We left behind the freër heath,
A moody-minded pair.
With senses slack and sick of mirth,
Tho' near the happy goal,
I murmur'd, fearing nought on earth
Could quite content the soul:
‘Suppose your love prove such a light
As yonder glow-worm's lamp,
That gleams, at distance, strong and bright,
Approach'd, burns weak and damp.
Perchance, by much of bliss aroused,
Your heart will pant for more;
And then the worm of want lies housed
Within the sweet fruit's core!
Far worse, if, led by fancy blind,
But undeceiv'd by use—’
‘I dream,’ yawn'd Frank, ‘and wake to find
My Goddess a green goose!’
48
‘Vain, vain,’ said I, ‘is worldly weal:
We faint, within the heart,
For good which all we see and feel
Foreshadows but in part.’
Frank answer'd, ‘What you faint for, win!
Faint not, but forward press.
Heav'n proffers all: 'twere grievous sin
To live content in less.
The Sun rolls by us every day;
And it and all things speak
To the sinking heart of man, and say,
'Tis wicked to be weak.
We would not hear the hated sound;
But, by the Lord, we must:
If not, the heavy world goes round,
And grinds us into dust.’
With each a moral in his mouth,
We rein'd our sweating nags,
Where quiet Ocean, on the South,
Kiss'd Edgecumb's ruddy crags.
II
I.
So subtly love within me wrought,
So excellent she seem'd,
Daily of Blanche was all my thought,
Nightly of Blanche I dream'd;
And this was all my wish, and all
The work now left for life,
To make this Wonder mine, to call
This laughing Blanche my Wife.
II.
I courted her till hope grew bold;
Then sought her in her place,
And all my passion freely told,
Before her blushing face.
I kiss'd her twice, I kiss'd her thrice,
Thro' tresses and thro' tears;
I kiss'd her lips, I kiss'd her eyes,
49
And calm'd her joys and fears.
So woo'd I Blanche, and so I sped,
And so, with small delay,
I and the patient Frank were wed
Upon the self-same day.
And friends all round kiss'd either Bride,
I Frank's, Frank mine; and he
Laugh'd as for once we thus defied
Love's sweet monopoly.
And then we drove by garth and grove;
And soon forgot the place
Where all the world had look'd shy Love
So rudely in the face.
III
I.
The noon was hot and close and still,
When, steadying Blanche's hand,
I led her down the southern hill,
And row'd with her from land.
Ere summer's prime that year the wasp
Lay gorged within the peach;
The tide, as though the sea did gasp,
Fell lax upon the beach.
Quietly dipp'd the dripping scull,
And all beside was calm;
But o'er the strange and weary lull
No angel waved his palm.
The sun was rayless, pale the sky,
The distance thick with light:
We glided past the fort and by
The war-ship's sleeping might.
Her paddle stirr'd: without a breeze,
A mimic tempest boil'd:
The sailors on the silent seas
With storm-tuned voices toil'd.
I could not toil; I seldom pray'd:
What was to do or ask?
Love's purple glory round me play'd,
Unfed by prayer or task.
All perfect my contentment was,
50
For Blanche was all my care;
And heaven seem'd only heaven because
My goddess would be there.
No wafted breeze the ships did strike,
No wish unwon moved me;
The peace within my soul was like
The peace upon the sea.
At times, when action sleeps, unstirr'd
By any motive gale,
A mystic wind, with warning heard,
Ruffles life's idle sail.
The fancy, then, a fear divines,
And, borne on gloomy wings,
Sees threats and formidable signs
In simply natural things.
It smote my heart, how, yesternight,
The moon rose in eclipse,
And how her maim'd and shapeless light
O'erhung the senseless ships.
The passion pass'd, as, lightning-lit,
Red cloud-scenes shew and close;
And soon came wonder at the fit,
And smiles and full repose.
Again I turn'd me, all devote,
To my sweet Idol's shrine;
Again I gazed where, on the boat,
Her shadow mix'd with mine.
II.
Cried Frank, who, with his Wife, was there,
‘We dream! sing each a song.’
And he sang first an old, brave air,
And pull'd the boat along:
‘Sir Pelles woo'd, in scorn's despite;
He cherish'd love's sweet smart;
Ettarde proved light; then, like a Knight,
He turn'd her from his heart.
‘O, the remorse with which we pay
For duties done too well!
But conscience gay does grief allay;
As all true knights can tell.’
51
III.
‘Alas, poor Knight!’ cried Blanche, ‘Nay, hear,’
Said Frank, ‘the saddest half!’
And drearily he troll'd, while clear
Rose Blanche's puzzled laugh.
‘Sir Lob was drunk; the stars were bright.
Within an empty ditch,
Sir Lob all night lay right and tight
As a Saint within his niche.
‘Now, well, quoth he, goes life with me;
I've liquor and to spare;
I hate the herd that vulgar be;
And, O, the stars are fair!
‘The mill-dam burst: Sir Lob lay sunk
In that celestial swound:
The mill-stream found the knight dead drunk,
And the Jury found him drown'd.’
IV.
‘The tunes are good; the words,’ said I,
‘Are hard to understand.’
And soon I prefaced with a sigh
This pagan love-song grand:
‘When Love's bright Ichor fills the veins,
Love's Amaranth lights the brow,
The Past grows dark, the Future wanes,
Before the golden Now.
‘Marc Antony the war-flags furl'd,
For Egypt's Queen said, 'Stay:
He reck'd not of the worthless world,
Well lost by that delay.
‘Quoth Antony, Here set I up
My everlasting rest:
Leave me to drain Joy's magic cup,
To dream on Egypt's breast.’
V.
Frank smiled, and said my note was wrong;
52
'Twas neither Man's nor Boy's;
And Blanche sang next, some modern song,
Of ‘Flowers’ and ‘Fairy Joys.’
As bright disparted skies that break
To let a cherub through,
So seem'd her mouth: my sight did ache,
Glitt'ring with fiery dew;
And, in the laugh of her brown eye,
My heart, contented so,
Lay like the honey-thirsty fly
Drows'd in the cactus' glow.
Nor heeded I what sang my Saint,
Such magic had the sound.
The myrtle in her breath made faint
The air that hearken'd round.
VI.
‘Now, Wife,’ said Frank, ‘to shame our lays,
Try you in turn your power;
And sing your little song in praise
Of Love's selectest flower.’
Her hand felt his: thus sang she then,
Submitted to his rule,
Tho' shyer than the water-hen
On Tamar's shadiest pool.
‘The Myrtle sates with scent the air
That flows by Grecian hills;
Its fervid leaflets glisten fair
By warm Italian rills.
The North too has its Lover's-Flower,
The glad Forget-me-not;
Too bold thro' sunshine, wind, and shower,
Too blue to be forgot.’
VII.
Pointing far East, Frank said, ‘Do you see
Yon porpoise-droves at play?’
We gazed, and saw, with failing glee,
Bright lines of spotted spray.
Once more the boded terror shook
53
My heart, and made me dumb.
‘To land! to land!’ cried Frank, ‘for, look,
The storm, at last, is come!’
Above us, heated fields of mist
Precipitated cloud;
For shore we pull'd; the swift keel hiss'd;
Above us grew the shroud.
The pale gull flapp'd the stagnant air;
The thunder-drop fell straight;
The first wind lifted Blanche's hair;
Looking to me she sate.
Across the boundless mirror crept,
In dark'ning blasts, the squall;
And round our terror lightly leapt
Mad wavelets, many and small.
The oars cast by, convuls'd outflew
Our perilous hope the sail.
None spoke; all watch'd the waves, that grew
Under the splashing hail.
With urgent hearts and useless hands,
We sate and saw them rise,
Coursing to shore in gloomy bands,
Below the appalling skies.
The wrathful thunder scared the deeps,
And where, upon our wake,
The sea got up in ghastly heaps,
White lines of lightning strake.
On, on, with fainting hope we fled,
Hard-hunted by the grave;
Slow seem'd it, though like wind we sped
Over the shouldering wave;
In front swift rose the crags, where still
A storm of sunshine pour'd;
At last, beneath the southern hill,
The pitiless breakers roar'd.
O, bolt foreseen before it burst!
O, chastening hard to bear!
O, cup of sweetness quite revers'd,
And turn'd to void despair!
Blanche in fear swooning, I let go
The helm; we struck the ground;
The sea fell in from stern to prow,
54
And Blanche, my Bride, was drown'd.
What guilt was hers? But God is great,
And all that may be known
To each of any other's fate
Is, that it helps his own.
IV
I.
In a swift vortex go the years,
Each swifter than the last,
And seasons four their set careers
Pursued, and somehow pass'd.
The spirit of Spring, this year, was quench'd
With clouds and wind and rain;
All night the gust-blown torrent drench'd
The gloomy window-pane;
Against the pane the flapping blind
Flapp'd ever, dismally;
And ever, above the rain and wind,
Sounded the dismal sea.
The billows, like some guilty crew
Devour'd by vain remorse,
Dash'd up the beach, sighing withdrew,
And mix'd, with murmurs hoarse.
The morning was a cheerless sight,
Amongst the turbid skies;
But sweet was the relief of light
Within my restless eyes;
For then I rose to prayer and toil,
Forgat the ocean's moan,
Or faced the dizzy crash and coil
That drown'd its mournfuller tone.
But never, when the tide drew back,
Trod I the weltering strand;
For horribly my single track
Pursued me in the sand.
II.
One morn I watch'd the rain subside;
And then fared singly forth,
55
Below the clouds, till eve to ride
From Edgecumb to the North.
Once, only once, I paused upon
The sea-transcending height,
And turn'd to gaze: far breakers shone,
Slow gleams of silent light.
Into my horse I struck the spur;
Sad was the soul in me;
Sore were my lids with tears for her
Who slept beneath the sea.
But soon I sooth'd my startled horse,
And check'd that sudden grief,
And look'd abroad on crag and gorse
And Dartmoor's cloudy reef.
Far forth the air was dark and clear,
The crags acute and large,
The clouds uneven, black, and near,
And ragged at the marge.
The spider, in his rainy mesh,
Shook not, but, as I rode,
The opposing air, sweet, sharp, and fresh,
Against my hot lids flow'd.
Peat-cutters pass'd me, carrying tools;
Hawks glimmer'd on the wing;
The ground was glad with grassy pools,
And brooklets galloping;
And sparrows chirp'd, with feathers spread,
And dipp'd and drank their fill,
Where, down its sandy channel, fled
The lessening road-side rill.
III.
I cross'd the furze-grown table-land,
And near'd the northern vales,
That lay perspicuously plann'd
In lesser hills and dales.
Then rearward, in a slow review,
Fell Dartmoor's jagged lines;
Around were dross-heaps, red and blue,
Old shafts of gutted mines,
Impetuous currents copper-stain'd,
56
Wheels stream-urged with a roar,
Sluice-guiding grooves, strong works that strain'd
With freight of upheaved ore.
And then, the train, with shock on shock,
Swift rush and birth-scream dire,
Grew from the bosom of the rock,
And pass'd in noise and fire.
With brazen throb, with vital stroke,
It went, far heard, far seen,
Setting a track of shining smoke
Against the pastoral green.
Then, bright drops, lodged in budding trees,
Were loos'd in sudden showers,
Touch'd by the novel western breeze,
Friend of the backward flowers.
Then rose the Church at Tavistock,
The rain still falling there;
But sunny Dartmoor seem'd to mock
The gloom with cheerful glare.
About the West the gilt vane reel'd
And pois'd; and, with sweet art,
The sudden, jangling changes peal'd
Until, around my heart,
Conceits of brighter times, of times
The brighter for past storms,
Clung thick as bees, when brazen chimes
Call down the hiveless swarms.
IV.
I rested at the Tiger Inn,
There half-way on my ride,
And mused with joy of friends and kin
Who did my coming bide.
The Vicar, in his sombre wear
That shone about the knees,
Before me stood, his aspect fair
With godly memories.
I heard again his kind ‘Good-bye:
Christ speed and keep thee still
From frantic passions, for they die
And leave a frantic will.’
57
My fond, old Tutor, learn'd and meek!
A soul, in strangest truth,
As wide as Asia and as weak;
Not like his daughter Ruth.
A Girl of fullest heart she was;
Her spirit's lovely flame
Nor dazzled nor surprised, because
It always burn'd the same;
And in the maiden path she trod
Fair was the wife foreshown,
A Mary in the house of God,
A Martha in her own.
Charms for the sight she had; but these
Were tranquil, grave, and chaste,
And all too beautiful to please
A rash, untutor'd taste.
V.
In love with home, I rose and eyed
The rainy North; but there
The distant hill-top, in its pride,
Adorn'd the brilliant air:
And, as I pass'd from Tavistock,
The scatter'd dwellings white,
The Church, the golden weather-cock,
Were whelm'd in happy light;
The children 'gan the sun to greet,
With song and senseless shout;
The lambs to skip, their dams to bleat;
In Tavy leapt the trout;
Across a fleeting eastern cloud,
The splendid rainbow sprang,
And larks, invisible and loud,
Within its zenith sang.
VI.
So lay the Earth that saw the skies
Grow clear and bright above,
As the repentant spirit lies
In God's forgiving love.
58
The lark forsook the waning day,
And all loud songs did cease;
The Robin, from a wither'd spray,
Sang like a soul at peace.
Far to the South, in sunset glow'd
The peaks of Dartmoor ridge,
And Tamar, full and tranquil, flow'd
Beneath the Gresson Bridge.
There, conscious of the numerous noise
Of rain-awaken'd rills,
And gathering deep and sober joys
From the heart-enlarging hills,
I sat, until the first white star
Appear'd, with dewy rays,
And the fair moon began to bar
With shadows all the ways.
O, well is thee, whate'er thou art,
And happy shalt thou be,
If thou hast known, within thy heart,
The peace that came to me.
O, well is thee, if aught shall win
Thy spirit to confess,
God proffers all, 'twere grievous sin
To live content in less!
VII.
I mounted, now, my patient nag;
And scaled the easy steep;
And soon beheld the quiet flag
On Lanson's solemn Keep.
And now, whenas the waking lights
Bespake the valley'd Town,
A child o'ertook me, on the heights,
In cap and russet gown.
It was an alms-taught scholar trim,
Who, on her happy way,
Sang to herself the morrow's hymn;
For this was Saturday.
‘Saint Stephen, stoned, nor grieved nor groan'd:
'Twas all for his good gain;
59
For Christ him blest, till he confess'd
A sweet content in pain.
‘Then Christ His cross is no way loss,
But even a present boon:
Of His dear blood fair shines a flood
On heaven's eternal noon.’
VIII.
My sight, once more, was dim for her
Who slept beneath the sea,
As on I sped, without the spur,
By homestead, heath, and lea.
Beside my path the moon kept pace,
In meek and brilliant power,
And lit, ere long, the eastern face
Of Tamerton Church-tower.
~ Coventry Patmore,#NFDB
546:The Old Manor House
AN old house, crumbling half away, all barnacled and lichen-grown,
Of saddest, mellowest, softest grey,—with a grand history of its own—
Grand with the work and strife and tears of more than half a thousand years.
Such delicate, tender, russet tones of colour on its gables slept,
With streaks of gold betwixt the stones, where wind-sown flowers and mosses
crept:
Wild grasses waved in sun and shade o'er terrace slab and balustrade.
Around the clustered chimneys clung the ivy's wreathed and braided threads,
And dappled lights and shadows flung across the sombre browns and reds;
Where'er the graver's hand had been, it spread its tendrils bright and green.
Far-stretching branches shadowed deep the blazoned windows and broad eaves,
And rocked the faithful rooks asleep, and strewed the terraces with leaves.
A broken dial marked the hours amid damp lawns and garden bowers.
An old house, silent, sad, forlorn, yet proud and stately to the last;
Of all its power and splendour shorn, but rich with memories of the past;
And pitying, from its own decay, the gilded piles of yesterday.
Pitying the new race that passed by, with slighting note of its grey walls,—
And entertaining tenderly the shades of dead knights in its halls,
Whose blood, that soaked these hallowed sods, came down from Scandinavian
gods.
I saw it first in summer-time. The warm air hummed and buzzed with bees,
Where now the pale green hop-vines climb about the sere trunks of the trees,
And waves of roses on the ground scented the tangled glades around.
Some long fern-plumes drooped there—below; the heaven above was still and
blue;
Just here—between the gloom and glow—a cedar and an aged yew
Parted their dusky arms, to let the glory fall on Margaret.
She leaned on that old balustrade, her white dress tinged with golden air,
Her small hands loosely clasped, and laid amongst the moss and maidenhair:
I watched her, hearing, as I stood, a turtle cooing in the wood—
236
Hearing a mavis far away, piping his dreamy interludes,
While gusts of soft wind, sweet with hay, swept through those garden
solitudes,—
And thinking she was lovelier e'en than my young ideal love had been.
Tall, with that subtle, sensitive grace, which made so plainly manifest
That she was born of noble race,—a cool, hushed presence, bringing rest,
Of one who felt and understood the dignity of womanhood.
Tall, with a slow, proud step and air; with skin half marble and half milk;
With twisted coils of raven hair, blue-tinged, and fine and soft as silk;
With haughty, clear-cut chin and cheek, and broad brows exquisitely Greek;
With still, calm mouth, whose dreamy smile possessed me like a haunting pain,
So rare, so sweet, so free from guile, with that slight accent of disdain;
With level, liquid tones that fell like chimings of a vesper bell;
With large, grave stag-eyes, soft, yet keen with slumbering passion, hazelbrown,
Long-lashed and dark, whose limpid sheen my thirsty spirit swallowed down;—
O poor, pale words, wherewith to paint my queen, my goddess, and my saint!
You see that oriel, ivy-grown, with the blurred sculpture underneath?
Her sweet head, like the Clytie's own, with a white stephanotis wreath
Inwoven with its coiling hair, first bent to me in greeting there.
I shall remember till I die that night when we were introduced!
The great Sir Hildebrand stood by—her cousin— scowling as he used
To scowl if e'en a poor dumb cur ventured to lift his eyes to her.
I cared not. Well I knew her grace was not for him. I watched them dance,
And knew it by her locked-up face, and her slow, haughty utterance.
I knew he chafed and raged to see how kind and sweet she was to me.
O dear old window!—nevermore the red and purple lights, that stray
Through your dim panes upon the floor on sunny summer-night, will lay
Soft rainbows on her glossy hair and the white dress she used to wear!
Those panes the ivy used to scratch—I hear it now when I'm alone!
A pair of martlets used to hatch their young ones in the sculptured stone;
Those warm slabs were the bloodhound's bed, with fine yew-needles carpeted.
237
The missel-thrushes used to search there for the berries as they fell;
On that high twig, at morn, would perch a shy and shivering locustelle,—
From yon low sweep of furzy brake, we used to watch it thrill and shake.
The banksia roses twined a wreath all round that ancient coat and crest,
And trailed the time-worn steps beneath, and almost touched the martin's nest;
The honey bees swam in and out, and little lizards flashed about.
And when we flung the casement wide, the wind would play about her brow,
As she sat, etching, by my side,—I see the bright locks lifted now!
And such a view would meet our eyes of crimson woods and azure skies!
'Twas there, when fell the twilight hush, I used to feed her wistful ears,
And make her cheek and forehead flush, and her dark eyes fill full of tears,
With tales of my wild, fighting life—our bitter, brave Crimean strife.
We had, too, little concerts in that dear recess,—I used to play
Accompaniments on my violin, and she would sing “Old Robin Gray,”
And simple, tender Scottish songs of loyal love and royal wrongs.
My violin is dead for me, the dust lies thick upon the case;
And she is dead,—yet I can see e'en now the rapt and listening face;
And all about the garden floats the echo of those crying notes!
'Tis a sweet garden, is it not? So wild and tangled, nothing prim;
No quaint-cut bed, no shaven plot, no stunted bushes, stiff and trim;
Its flowers and shrubs all overblown, its long paths moss and lichen-grown.
'Twas on that terrace that we read the “Idylls,” sauntering up and down
With gentle, musing, measured tread, while leaves kept falling, gold and brown,
And mists kept rising, silver-grey, one still and peaceful autumn-day.
In those long glades we roamed apart, and studied Spanish, and the tales
Of Chaucer,—there we talked of art, and listened to the nightingales;
E'en now, when summer daylight dies, I hear their bubbling melodies.
You see that bower, half-hidden, made by the low-branching willow-tree?
We used to lounge there in the shade, and laugh, and gossip, and drink tea:
I wreathed her head with ferns, one night, and little rose-buds sweet and white.
It grew my habit, by-and-by, to gather all the flowers she wore;
She used to take them silently, or I would leave them at her door,—
And wait about till she was drest, to see them nestling on her breast.
238
In that green nook she used to sit, and I would watch her as she worked.
Her face had such a spell in it, and such a subtle glamour lurked
In even the motion of her hand!—why, I could never understand.
'Twas there I tied the little strap that held her netting down, one day,
And kissed the soft palm in her lap, which she so gently drew away.
Ay me, we held our tongues for hours! and I plucked off and ate the flowers.
She would not look at me at first—I recollect it all so well!
Her delicate, downcast features, erst so pale, were tinted like a shell—
Then like the petals that enclose the inmost heart of a moss rose.
The others came and chatted round, but we could laugh and chat no more;
I propped my elbow on the ground, and watched her count her stitches o'er;
Their talk I did not comprehend,—she was too busy to attend.
The days passed on, and still we sat in our old place; but things were changed.
We were so silent after that!—so oddly formal—so estranged!
No more we met to worship art,—our little pathways branched apart.
All day I kept her face in view—scarce one low tone I failed to hear;
And, though she would not see, I knew she felt when I was far or near.
Yet brief and seldom was the chance that gave me word, or smile, or glance.
One night I came home in the gloom. The other guests were mostly gone.
A light was burning in her room, and from the lawn it shone upon
I plucked a flower for her to wear—a white rose, fringed with maidenhair.
I passed through that long corridor—those are its windows, to the west—
That I might leave it at her door,—and saw her cross her threshold, drest.
No lamps were lit,—the twilight shed a grey mist on her shiny head.
Her garments swept the oaken stairs; I stood below her, hushed and dumb;
She started, seeing me unawares, and stopped. “Come down,” I whispered;
“come!”
She waited, but I waited too;—and she had nothing else to do.
She came down, slowly, haughtily, with sweet pretence of carelessness.
I watched each step as she drew nigh, each brighter gleam on her white dress.
I did not speak, I did not stir, but all my heart went out to her.
She would have passed me, shy and still,—she would not suffer herself to mark
239
That I was grown so bold, until I took her dear hands in the dark.
And then—and then—Well! she was good and patient, and she understood.
My arms were strong, and rude, and rough—because my love was so intense;
She knew the reason well enough, and so she would not take offence;
Though 'twas by force I made her stay, she did not try to get away.
Ah, then we had some happy hours—some blessed days of peace and rest!
This garden, full of shady bowers and lonely pathways, from whose breast
A thousand blending perfumes rise, became a very Paradise.
'Twas fair as the first Eden, then; and Adam had no fairer mate!
Nor grieved he more than I grieved, when the angel drove him from the gate.
When God cursed him from His high throne, He did not cast him out alone!
'Twas on that broken step we sat, where the yew branch is fall'n and bent,
And read the Colonel's letter, that recalled me to my regiment.
'Twas there, on such a night as this, I stood to give my parting kiss.
'Twas there I hugged the small Greek head upon my bosom, damp with dew;
'Twas there she soothed my grief, and said, “But I shall still belong to you.”
O my sweet Eve, with your pure eyes!—you're mine now, in God's Paradise.
I sailed, you know, within a week, en route for Malta's heat and blaze;
And tender letters came, to speak of love, and comfort, and bright days.
I tried to think it was not hard—of what was coming afterward.
I used to dream, and dream, and dream, from night till morn, from morn till
night;
My future life just then did seem so full, so beautiful, so bright!
I could not see, I could not feel, the sorrow dogging at my heel.
At length it touched me. By-and-by the letters ceased. I looked in vain;
I roamed the streets dejectedly, and gnawed my long moustache in pain.
I wrote twice—thrice; no answer still. Surely, I thought, she must be ill.
Until one evening Eyre came in, to lounge and gossip, drink and smoke,
I gave him leisure to begin; and, when his pipe was lit, he spoke,
Through curling vapour, soft and blue—“Guy, I've a piece of news for you.
“One of the girls you met last year at that poor tumble-down old place—
The dark-haired one—she with the clear white skin and sweet Madonna face,—
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She's married now, I understand, to her rich cousin Hildebrand.”
I felt my limbs grow stark and stiff; I felt my heart grow cold as lead;
I heard Eyre's quiet, musing whiff—the noise swam round and round my head.
I veiled my eyes, lest he should see their passionate, mute misery.
“I only heard,” he said, “to-day. It's out in all the papers, though.
She did not care for him, they say. But the old house was falling low—
Her father's name and fame at stake. She would do anything for his sake.
“Some mortgages foreclosed—the price of years and centuries of debt;
The manor doomed for sacrifice—or else the Lady Margaret.
Doubtless for Hildebrand's red gold the rare Madonna face was sold.
“I fancy that's the history,” he ended, in a bitter tone.
“It's not a new one, by-the-bye.” And when he went, I sat alone,
And tried to ease me with a prayer, but ground my teeth in my despair.
Then I grew stupid, numb, and tired. A fever crept through all my veins,
And wearied out my heart, and fired my dazed, tumultuous, teeming brains.
I hung suspended by a breath, for weeks and months, 'twixt life and death.
Then I recovered, and had leave to go to England— where she dwelt;
In my home climate to retrieve my broken health and strength. I felt
Twice ten years older than before. I knew I should come back no more.
Soon as I touched my native land, my feet turned toward the manor house.
They told me that Sir Hildebrand was in the Highlands, shooting grouse;
That she was in her father's care. That night I found her, sitting there,
On that third step, just where the trees cast down their greenest, coolest shade;
Her weary hands about her knees, her head against the balustrade;
And such dumb woe in her sweet eyes, uplifted to the fading skies.
She did not see me till I burst through the rose-thickets round about.
She sprang up with a cry at first—and then her arms were half stretched out—
And then caught backward, for his sake. I felt as if my heart would break.
I knew the truth. I did not care. I did not think. I flung me down,
And kissed her hands, her wrists, her hair, the very fringes of her gown;
While she sat cowering in a heap, and moaned, and shook, but could not weep.
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It was soon over. O good God, forgive me!—I was sorely tried.
'Twas a dark pathway that I trod; I could not see Thee at my side.
It was soon over. “I shall die,” she whispered, “if you stay here, Guy!
“O Guy! Guy! you were kind to me in our old days,—be kinder now,—
Be kind, and go, and let me be!” And then I felt on my hot brow
The brush of her cold finger-tips—the last soft contact of her lips.
And I obeyed her will and went, and vowed to tempt her nevermore.
I tried hard, too, to be content, and think of that which lay before.
I knew my dream of love was past, yet strove to serve her to the last.
I left my comrades—I had lost all taste for glory and for mirth—
And, without hopes or aims, I cross'd the seas and wander'd o'er the earth.
Without a light, without a guide, I drifted with the wind and tide.
My heart was broken when 'twas struck that bitter blow, and joy ran out!
Only a few stray treasures stuck—a few gleams flickered round about.
My old art-love still lingered there,—I think that kept me from despair.
With strange companions did I dwell, one scorching summer, on the heights
Of Tangiers' Moorish citadel, and mused away the days and nights.
With loose white garments and long gun, I roamed the deserts in the sun.
I painted Atlas, capped with snow, and lifted, cool, and still, and fair,
Out of the burning heat and glow, into the solemn upper air;
And Tetuan's gleaming walls I drew on fields of Mediterranean blue.
I haunted Cairo's crowded ways, and sketched carved doors and gilded grates,
Mosque-domes and minarets ablaze, and sweet dark heads with shining plaits;
And now a grave old Arab sheikh, and then a slim, straight-featured Greek.
In a swift wing-sailed boat I slid across the stream where Libya looms,
And from King Cheop's pyramid saw Pharaoh-cities, Pharaoh-tombs;
And, stretching off for many a mile, the sacred waters of the Nile.
I saw the graves of mighty states,—I saw Thebes' temple, overturned—
The City of the Hundred Gates, where Moses and Greek sages learned,
Where hungry lions prowl at noon, and hyaenas snarl at the bright moon.
I roamed through Nubian desert flats, where vultures sailed o'er burning seas;
And forests where the yellow bats hung, cloaked and hooded, from the trees;
242
And marshy wastes, where crocodiles slept on the shores of sandy isles.
I followed, through long days and nights, where, with their little ones and flocks,
Had passed the wandering Israelites; I read the writing on the rocks;
And e'en these restless feet of mine tracked holy feet in Palestine.
Roaming through India's burning plains, I chased wild boars and antelopes;
Swam brawling nullahs in the rains, and haunted dew-wet mango-topes;
Shot bears and tigers in the gloom of the dense forests of Beerbhoom.
Through swathing-nets I watched at night the clear moon gild a palm-tree ledge;
And, through the flood of silver light, heard jackals at the compound-hedge;
While punkahs waved above my head, and faint airs hovered round my bed.
I mused by many a sacred tank, where lonely temples fell away,
Where the fat alligators drank, and scarlet lotus-flowers lay;
Smoked curling pipes 'neath roof and tree, the while dark nautch-girls danced to
me.
I trod the creeper-netted ground of deadly, beautiful, bright woods,
Where birds and monkeys chattered round, and serpents reared their crimson
hoods.
I dwelt 'neath breathless desert-glows, and Simla's Himalayan snows.
From the hot glades of garden reach, I wandered upward to Cabool—
From the bright Hooghly's flowering beach to the wild mountains, calm and cool.
I wept at Cawnpore's fatal well, and where our heroes fought and fell.
I roamed through Lucknow's battered gate—thick-thronged with memories so
intense!
And Delhi's ruins of wild state and old Mogul magnificence.
I pressed the rank, blood-nurtured grass that creeps along the Khyber Pass.
I sailed the Irrawaddy's stream, 'mid dense teak forests; saw the moon
Light up with broad and glittering gleam the golden Dagun of Rangoon—
The delicate, fretted temple-shells, whose roofs were rimmed with swaying bells.
In his gold palace, all alone, with square, hard face and eyes aslant,
I saw upon his royal throne the Lord of the White Elephant.
I mixed in wild, barbaric feasts with Buddha's yellow-robèd priests.
I crept with curious feet within imperial China's sacred bounds;
243
I saw the Palace of Pekin, and all its fairy garden-grounds;
The green rice-fields, the tremulous rills, the white azaleas on the hills;
The tea-groves climbing mountain backs; the girls' rich robes of blue and white;
The cattle 'neath the paddy-stacks; the gilt pagodas, tall and bright;—
And in a merchant-junk I ran across the waters to Japan.
I saw, where silk-fringed mats were spread, within his laquered, bare saloon,
With his curled roofs above his head, on muffled heels, the great Tycoon.
Familiar things they were to me—the pipes, and betelnuts, and tea.
I dug in Californian ground, at Sacramento's golden brim,
With hunger, murder, all around, and fever shaking every limb;
Saw, in lush forests and rude sheds, the Dyaks roast ing pirates' heads.
I shot white condors on the brows of snowy Andes; and I chased
Wild horses, and wild bulls and cows, o'er the wide Pampas' jungle-waste;
And saw, while wandering to and fro, the silver mines of Mexico.
In Caffre waggons I was drawn up lone Cape gorges, green and steep,
And camped by river-grove and lawn, where nightly tryst the wild things keep;
Where glaring eyes without the line of circling watch-fires used to shine.
I chased o'er sandy plains and shot the ostrich,—at the reedy brink
Of pools, the lion, on the slot of antelopes that came to drink;
Giraffes, that held their heads aloof'neath the mimosa's matted roof;
And brindled gnus, and cowardly, striped shard-wolves, and, 'mid water-plants
And flags, black hippopotami, and snakes, and shrieking elephants.
From courted sickness, hunger, strife, God spared my weary, reckless life.
In the bright South Seas did I toss through wild blue nights and fainting days,
With the snow-plumaged albatross. I saw Tahiti's peaks ablaze;
And still, palm-fringed lagoons asleep o'er coral grottoes, cool and deep.
I built an Australian hut of logs, and lived alone— with just a noose,
A trap, a gun, my horse and dogs; I hunted long-legged kangaroos;
And oft I spent the calm night-hours beneath the gum-trees' forest-bowers.
I threaded miles and miles and miles, where Lena's sad, slow waters flow,
'Mid silent rocks, and woods, and isles, and drear Siberian steppes of snow;
Where pines and larches, set alight, blaze in the dark and windless night.
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I shot a wild fowl on the shore of a still, lonely mountain lake,
And, o'er the sheer white torrents' roar, heard long-drawn, plaintive echoes
wake;
Caught squirrels in their leafy huts, munching the little cedar-nuts.
I trapped the small, soft sables, stripped the bloomy fur from off their backs,
And hunted grey wolves as they slipped and snuffed and snarled down reindeer
tracks;
I brought the brown, bald eagle down from the white sea-hill's rugged crown.
I saw the oil-lamp shining through the small and dim ice window-pane;
And the near sky, so deeply blue, spangled with sparks, like golden rain;
While dogs lay tethered, left and right, howling across the arctic night.
I saw when, in my flying sledge, I swept the frozen tundra-slopes,
The white bears on some craggy ledge, far-off, where ocean blindly gropes
In her dim caves—where bones lie furled, the tokens of a vanished world.
I saw across the dread blue sky, spanning blue ice and bluer mist
(That shows where open waters lie), the bright Aurora keep her tryst,—
That arch of tinted flame—so fair! lighting the crystals in the air.
Then, all at once—I know not why—I felt I could no longer roam;
A voice seemed calling to my heart—Return to England and thy home;
I found my thoughts were yearning yet, for one more glimpse of Margaret.
So on a sudden I returned. I reached the village in the night.
At one small inn a candle burned with feeble, pale, unsteady light:
The hostess curtseyed, grave and strange. She did not know me for the change.
My broad white brows were bronzed, and scarred with lines of trouble, thought,
and
care;
My young bright eyes were dim and hard—the sunshine was no longer there;
My brown moustache was hid away in a great beard of iron-grey.
“The Manor House is habited,” to my brief question she replied.
“To-night my lady lies there dead. She's long been ailing, and she died
At noon. A happy thing for her! Were you acquainted with her, sir?
“A sweeter lady never walked! So kind and good to all the poor!
She ne'er disdained us when she talked—ne'er turned a beggar from her door.
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Ah, sir, but we may look in vain; we ne'er shall see her likes again.
“I heard the squire's great bloodhound's bark; I woke, and shook, and held my
breath.
My man, he stirred too in the dark. Said he to me, ‘My lady's death
Is not far off. Another night she'll never see.’ And he was right.
“'Twas over in twelve hours or less. She lies there, on the golden bed,
In her old confirmation dress, with the small white cap on her head
Which bore the bishop's blessing hand,—she asked that of Sir Hildebrand.”
You see that window in the shade of those old beeches? 'Twas that room
Wherein my dear dead love was laid. I climbed the ivy in the gloom
And silence—just once more to see the face that had belonged to me.
I stood beside her. No one heard. On the great rajah's bed, alone
She lay. The night-breeze softly stirred the Cashmere curtains, and the moan
Of my wild kisses seemed to thrill the solitude. All else was still.
In the pale yellow taper light, I gazed upon her till the morn.
I see her now—so sweet and white! the fair, pure face so trouble-worn!
The thin hands folded on her breast, in peace at last, and perfect rest!
~ Ada Cambridge,#NFDB
547:Gotham - Book I
Far off (no matter whether east or west,
A real country, or one made in jest,
Nor yet by modern Mandevilles disgraced,
Nor by map-jobbers wretchedly misplaced)
There lies an island, neither great nor small,
Which, for distinction sake, I Gotham call.
The man who finds an unknown country out,
By giving it a name, acquires, no doubt,
A Gospel title, though the people there
The pious Christian thinks not worth his care
Bar this pretence, and into air is hurl'd
The claim of Europe to the Western world.
Cast by a tempest on the savage coast,
Some roving buccaneer set up a post;
A beam, in proper form transversely laid,
Of his Redeemer's cross the figure made-Of that Redeemer, with whose laws his life,
From first to last, had been one scene of strife;
His royal master's name thereon engraved,
Without more process the whole race enslaved,
Cut off that charter they from Nature drew,
And made them slaves to men they never knew.
Search ancient histories, consult records,
Under this title the most Christian lords
Hold (thanks to conscience) more than half the ball;
O'erthrow this title, they have none at all;
For never yet might any monarch dare,
Who lived to Truth, and breathed a Christian air,
Pretend that Christ, (who came, we all agree,
To bless his people, and to set them free)
To make a convert, ever one law gave
By which converters made him first a slave.
Spite of the glosses of a canting priest,
Who talks of charity, but means a feast;
Who recommends it (whilst he seems to feel
The holy glowings of a real zeal)
To all his hearers as a deed of worth,
To give them heaven whom they have robb'd of earth;
Never shall one, one truly honest man,
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Who, bless'd with Liberty, reveres her plan,
Allow one moment that a savage sire
Could from his wretched race, for childish hire,
By a wild grant, their all, their freedom pass,
And sell his country for a bit of glass.
Or grant this barbarous right, let Spain and France,
In slavery bred, as purchasers advance;
Let them, whilst Conscience is at distance hurl'd,
With some gay bauble buy a golden world:
An Englishman, in charter'd freedom born,
Shall spurn the slavish merchandise, shall scorn
To take from others, through base private views,
What he himself would rather die, than lose.
Happy the savage of those early times,
Ere Europe's sons were known, and Europe's crimes!
Gold, cursed gold! slept in the womb of earth,
Unfelt its mischiefs, as unknown its worth;
In full content he found the truest wealth,
In toil he found diversion, food, and health;
Stranger to ease and luxury of courts,
His sports were labours, and his labours sports;
His youth was hardy, and his old age green;
Life's morn was vigorous, and her eve serene;
No rules he held, but what were made for use,
No arts he learn'd, nor ills which arts produce;
False lights he follow'd, but believed them true;
He knew not much, but lived to what he knew.
Happy, thrice happy now the savage race,
Since Europe took their gold, and gave them grace!
Pastors she sends to help them in their need,
Some who can't write; with others who can't read;
And on sure grounds the gospel pile to rear,
Sends missionary felons every year;
Our vices, with more zeal than holy prayers,
She teaches them, and in return takes theirs.
Her rank oppressions give them cause to rise,
Her want of prudence, means and arms supplies,
Whilst her brave rage, not satisfied with life,
Rising in blood, adopts the scalping-knife.
Knowledge she gives, enough to make them know
How abject is their state, how deep their woe;
The worth of freedom strongly she explains,
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Whilst she bows down, and loads their necks with chains.
Faith, too, she plants, for her own ends impress'd,
To make them bear the worst, and hope the best;
And whilst she teaches, on vile Interest's plan,
As laws of God, the wild decrees of man,
Like Pharisees, of whom the Scriptures tell,
She makes them ten times more the sons of Hell.
But whither do these grave reflections tend?
Are they design'd for any, or no end?
Briefly but this--to prove, that by no act
Which Nature made, that by no equal pact
'Twixt man and man, which might, if Justice heard,
Stand good; that by no benefits conferr'd,
Or purchase made, Europe in chains can hold
The sons of India, and her mines of gold.
Chance led her there in an accursed hour;
She saw, and made the country hers by power;
Nor, drawn by virtue's love from love of fame,
Shall my rash folly controvert the claim,
Or wish in thought that title overthrown
Which coincides with and involves my own.
Europe discover'd India first; I found
My right to Gotham on the self-same ground;
I first discover'd it, nor shall that plea
To her be granted, and denied to me;
I plead possession, and, till one more bold
Shall drive me out, will that possession hold.
With Europe's rights my kindred rights I twine;
Hers be the Western world, be Gotham mine.
Rejoice, ye happy Gothamites! rejoice;
Lift up your voice on high, a mighty voice,
The voice of gladness; and on every tongue,
In strains of gratitude, be praises hung,
The praises of so great and good a king:
Shall Churchill reign, and shall not Gotham sing?
As on a day, a high and holy day,
Let every instrument of music play,
Ancient and modern; those which drew their birth
(Punctilios laid aside) from Pagan earth,
As well as those by Christian made and Jew;
Those known to many, and those known to few;
Those which in whim and frolic lightly float,
27
And those which swell the slow and solemn note;
Those which (whilst Reason stands in wonder by)
Make some complexions laugh, and others cry;
Those which, by some strange faculty of sound,
Can build walls up, and raze them to the ground;
Those which can tear up forests by the roots,
And make brutes dance like men, and men like brutes;
Those which, whilst Ridicule leads up the dance,
Make clowns of Monmouth ape the fops of France;
Those which, where Lady Dulness with Lord Mayors
Presides, disdaining light and trifling airs,
Hallow the feast with psalmody; and those
Which, planted in our churches to dispose
And lift the mind to Heaven, are disgraced
With what a foppish organist calls Taste:
All, from the fiddle (on which every fool,
The pert son of dull sire, discharged from school,
Serves an apprenticeship in college ease,
And rises through the gamut to degrees)
To those which (though less common, not less sweet)
From famed Saint Giles's, and more famed Vine Street,
(Where Heaven, the utmost wish of man to grant,
Gave me an old house, and an older aunt)
Thornton, whilst Humour pointed out the road
To her arch cub, hath hitch'd into an ode;-All instruments (attend, ye listening spheres!
Attend, ye sons of men! and hear with ears),
All instruments (nor shall they seek one hand
Impress'd from modern Music's coxcomb band),
All instruments, self-acted, at my name
Shall pour forth harmony, and loud proclaim,
Loud but yet sweet, to the according globe,
My praises; whilst gay Nature, in a robe,
A coxcomb doctor's robe, to the full sound
Keeps time, like Boyce, and the world dances round.
Rejoice, ye happy Gothamites! rejoice;
Lift up your voice on high, a mighty voice,
The voice of gladness; and on every tongue,
In strains of gratitude, be praises hung,
The praises of so great and good a king:
Shall Churchill reign, and shall not Gotham sing?
Infancy, straining backward from the breast,
28
Tetchy and wayward, what he loveth best
Refusing in his fits, whilst all the while
The mother eyes the wrangler with a smile,
And the fond father sits on t' other side,
Laughs at his moods, and views his spleen with pride,
Shall murmur forth my name, whilst at his hand
Nurse stands interpreter, through Gotham's land.
Childhood, who like an April morn appears,
Sunshine and rain, hopes clouded o'er with fears,
Pleased and displeased by starts, in passion warm,
In reason weak; who, wrought into a storm,
Like to the fretful billows of the deep,
Soon spends his rage, and cries himself asleep;
Who, with a feverish appetite oppress'd,
For trifles sighs, but hates them when possess'd;
His trembling lash suspended in the air,
Half-bent, and stroking back his long lank hair,
Shall to his mates look up with eager glee,
And let his top go down to prate of me.
Youth, who, fierce, fickle, insolent, and vain,
Impatient urges on to Manhood's reign,
Impatient urges on, yet with a cast
Of dear regard looks back on Childhood past,
In the mid-chase, when the hot blood runs high,
And the quick spirits mount into his eye;
When pleasure, which he deems his greatest wealth,
Beats in his heart, and paints his cheeks with health;
When the chafed steed tugs proudly at the rein,
And, ere he starts, hath run o'er half the plain;
When, wing'd with fear, the stag flies full in view,
And in full cry the eager hounds pursue,
Shall shout my praise to hills which shout again,
And e'en the huntsman stop to cry, Amen.
Manhood, of form erect, who would not bow
Though worlds should crack around him; on his brow
Wisdom serene, to passion giving law,
Bespeaking love, and yet commanding awe;
Dignity into grace by mildness wrought;
Courage attemper'd and refined by thought;
Virtue supreme enthroned; within his breast
The image of his Maker deep impress'd;
Lord of this earth, which trembles at his nod,
29
With reason bless'd, and only less than God;
Manhood, though weeping Beauty kneels for aid,
Though Honour calls, in Danger's form array'd,
Though clothed with sackloth, Justice in the gates,
By wicked elders chain'd, Redemption waits,
Manhood shall steal an hour, a little hour,
(Is't not a little one?) to hail my power.
Old Age, a second child, by Nature cursed
With more and greater evils than the first;
Weak, sickly, full of pains, in every breath
Railing at life, and yet afraid of death;
Putting things off, with sage and solemn air,
From day to day, without one day to spare;
Without enjoyment, covetous of pelf,
Tiresome to friends, and tiresome to himself;
His faculties impair'd, his temper sour'd,
His memory of recent things devour'd
E'en with the acting, on his shatter'd brain
Though the false registers of youth remain;
From morn to evening babbling forth vain praise
Of those rare men, who lived in those rare days,
When he, the hero of his tale, was young;
Dull repetitions faltering on his tongue;
Praising gray hairs, sure mark of Wisdom's sway,
E'en whilst he curses Time, which made him gray;
Scoffing at youth, e'en whilst he would afford
All but his gold to have his youth restored,
Shall for a moment, from himself set free,
Lean on his crutch, and pipe forth praise to me.
Rejoice, ye happy Gothamites! rejoice;
Lift up your voice on high, a mighty voice,
The voice of gladness; and on every tongue,
In strains of gratitude, be praises hung,
The praises of so great and good a king:
Shall Churchill reign, and shall not Gotham sing?
Things without life shall in this chorus join,
And, dumb to others' praise, be loud in mine.
The snowdrop, who, in habit white and plain,
Comes on, the herald of fair Flora's train;
The coxcomb crocus, flower of simple note,
Who by her side struts in a herald's coat;
The tulip, idly glaring to the view,
30
Who, though no clown, his birth from Holland drew;
Who, once full dress'd, fears from his place to stir,
The fop of flowers, the More of a parterre;
The woodbine, who her elm in marriage meets,
And brings her dowry in surrounding sweets;
The lily, silver mistress of the vale;
The rose of Sharon, which perfumes the gale;
The jessamine, with which the queen of flowers,
To charm her god, adorns his favourite bowers,
Which brides, by the plain hand of Neatness dress'd,
Unenvied rival, wear upon their breast,
Sweet as the incense of the morn, and chaste
As the pure zone which circles Dian's waist;
All flowers, of various names, and various forms,
Which the sun into strength and beauty warms,
From the dwarf daisy, which, like infants, clings,
And fears to leave the earth from whence it springs,
To the proud giant of the garden race,
Who, madly rushing to the sun's embrace,
O'ertops her fellows with aspiring aim,
Demands his wedded love, and bears his name;
All, one and all, shall in this chorus join,
And, dumb to others' praise, be loud in mine.
Rejoice, ye happy Gothamites! rejoice;
Lift up your voice on high, a mighty voice,
The voice of gladness; and on every tongue,
In strains of gratitude, be praises hung,
The praises of so great and good a king:
Shall Churchill reign, and shall not Gotham sing?
Forming a gloom, through which, to spleen-struck minds,
Religion, horror-stamp'd, a passage finds,
The ivy crawling o'er the hallow'd cell
Where some old hermit's wont his beads to tell
By day, by night; the myrtle ever green,
Beneath whose shade Love holds his rites unseen;
The willow, weeping o'er the fatal wave
Where many a lover finds a watery grave;
The cypress, sacred held, when lovers mourn
Their true love snatch'd away; the laurel worn
By poets in old time, but destined now,
In grief, to wither on a Whitehead's brow;
The fig, which, large as what in India grows,
31
Itself a grove, gave our first parents clothes;
The vine, which, like a blushing new-made bride,
Clustering, empurples all the mountain's side;
The yew, which, in the place of sculptured stone,
Marks out the resting-place of men unknown;
The hedge-row elm; the pine, of mountain race;
The fir, the Scotch fir, never out of place;
The cedar, whose top mates the highest cloud,
Whilst his old father Lebanon grows proud
Of such a child, and his vast body laid
Out many a mile, enjoys the filial shade;
The oak, when living, monarch of the wood;
The English oak, which, dead, commands the flood;
All, one and all, shall in this chorus join,
And, dumb to others' praise, be loud in mine.
Rejoice, ye happy Gothamites! rejoice;
Lift up your voice on high, a mighty voice,
The voice of gladness; and on every tongue,
In strains of gratitude, be praises hung,
The praises of so great and good a king:
Shall Churchill reign, and shall not Gotham sing?
The showers, which make the young hills, like young lambs,
Bound and rebound; the old hills, like old rams,
Unwieldy, jump for joy; the streams which glide,
Whilst Plenty marches smiling by their side,
And from their bosom rising Commerce springs;
The winds, which rise with healing on their wings,
Before whose cleansing breath Contagion flies;
The sun, who, travelling in eastern skies,
Fresh, full of strength, just risen from his bed,
Though in Jove's pastures they were born and bred,
With voice and whip can scarce make his steeds stir,
Step by step, up the perpendicular;
Who, at the hour of eve, panting for rest,
Rolls on amain, and gallops down the west
As fast as Jehu, oil'd for Ahab's sin,
Drove for a crown, or postboys for an inn;
The moon, who holds o'er night her silver reign,
Regent of tides, and mistress of the brain,
Who to her sons, those sons who own her power,
And do her homage at the midnight hour,
Gives madness as a blessing, but dispenses
32
Wisdom to fools, and damns them with their senses;
The stars, who, by I know not what strange right,
Preside o'er mortals in their own despite,
Who, without reason, govern those who most
(How truly, judge from thence!) of reason boast,
And, by some mighty magic yet unknown,
Our actions guide, yet cannot guide their own;
All, one and all, shall in this chorus join,
And, dumb to others' praise, be loud in mine.
Rejoice, ye happy Gothamites! rejoice;
Lift up your voice on high, a mighty voice,
The voice of gladness; and on every tongue,
In strains of gratitude, be praises hung,
The praises of so great and good a king:
Shall Churchill reign, and shall not Gotham sing?
The moment, minute, hour, day, week, month, year,
Morning and eve, as they in turn appear;
Moments and minutes, which, without a crime,
Can't be omitted in accounts of time,
Or, if omitted, (proof we might afford)
Worthy by parliaments to be restored;
The hours, which, dress'd by turns in black and white,
Ordain'd as handmaids, wait on Day and Night;
The day, those hours, I mean, when light presides,
And Business in a cart with Prudence rides;
The night, those hours, I mean, with darkness hung,
When Sense speaks free, and Folly holds her tongue;
The morn, when Nature, rousing from her strife
With death-like sleep, awakes to second life;
The eve, when, as unequal to the task,
She mercy from her foe descends to ask;
The week, in which six days are kindly given
To think of earth, and one to think of heaven;
The months, twelve sisters, all of different hue,
Though there appears in all a likeness too;
Not such a likeness as, through Hayman's works,
Dull mannerist! in Christians, Jews, and Turks,
Cloys with a sameness in each female face,
But a strange something, born of Art and Grace,
Which speaks them all, to vary and adorn,
At different times of the same parents born;
All, one and all, shall in this chorus join,
33
And, dumb to others' praise, be loud in mine.
Rejoice, ye happy Gothamites! rejoice;
Lift up your voice on high, a mighty voice,
The voice of gladness; and on every tongue,
In strains of gratitude, be praises hung,
The praises of so great and good a king:
Shall Churchill reign, and shall not Gotham sing?
Frore January, leader of the year,
Minced-pies in van, and calves' heads in the rear;
Dull February, in whose leaden reign
My mother bore a bard without a brain;
March, various, fierce, and wild, with wind-crack'd cheeks,
By wilder Welshmen led, and crown'd with leeks;
April, with fools, and May, with bastards bless'd;
June, with White Roses on her rebel breast;
July, to whom, the Dog-star in her train,
Saint James gives oysters, and Saint Swithin rain;
August, who, banish'd from her Smithfield stand,
To Chelsea flies, with Doggett in her hand;
September, when by custom (right divine)
Geese are ordain'd to bleed at Michael's shrine,
Whilst the priest, not so full of grace as wit,
Falls to, unbless'd, nor gives the saint a bit;
October, who the cause of Freedom join'd,
And gave a second George to bless mankind;
November, who, at once to grace our earth,
Saint Andrew boasts, and our Augusta's birth;
December, last of months, but best, who gave
A Christ to man, a Saviour to the slave,
Whilst, falsely grateful, man, at the full feast,
To do God honour makes himself a beast;
All, one and all, shall in this chorus join,
And, dumb to others' praise, be loud in mine.
Rejoice, ye happy Gothamites! rejoice;
Lift up your voice on high, a mighty voice,
The voice of gladness; and on every tongue,
In strains of gratitude, be praises hung,
The praises of so great and good a king:
Shall Churchill reign, and shall not Gotham sing?
The seasons as they roll; Spring, by her side
Lechery and Lent, lay-folly and church-pride,
By a rank monk to copulation led,
34
A tub of sainted salt-fish on her head;
Summer, in light transparent gauze array'd,
Like maids of honour at a masquerade,
In bawdry gauze, for which our daughters leave
The fig, more modest, first brought up by Eve,
Panting for breath, inflamed with lustful fires,
Yet wanting strength to perfect her desires,
Leaning on Sloth, who, fainting with the heat,
Stops at each step, and slumbers on his feet;
Autumn, when Nature, who with sorrow feels
Her dread foe Winter treading on her heels,
Makes up in value what she wants in length,
Exerts her powers, and puts forth all her strength,
Bids corn and fruits in full perfection rise,
Corn fairly tax'd, and fruits without excise;
Winter, benumb'd with cold, no longer known
By robes of fur, since furs became our own;
A hag, who, loathing all, by all is loathed,
With weekly, daily, hourly, libels clothed,
Vile Faction at her heels, who, mighty grown,
Would rule the ruler, and foreclose the throne,
Would turn all state affairs into a trade,
Make laws one day, the next to be unmade,
Beggar at home, a people fear'd abroad,
And, force defeated, make them slaves by fraud;
All, one and all, shall in this chorus join,
And, dumb to others' praise, be loud in mine.
Rejoice, ye happy Gothamites! rejoice;
Lift up your voice on high, a mighty voice,
The voice of gladness; and on every tongue,
In strains of gratitude, be praises hung,
The praises of so great and good a king:
Shall Churchill reign, and shall not Gotham sing?
The year, grand circle! in whose ample round
The seasons regular and fix'd are bound,
(Who, in his course repeated o'er and o'er,
Sees the same things which he had seen before;
The same stars keep their watch, and the same sun
Runs in the track where he from first hath run;
The same moon rules the night; tides ebb and flow;
Man is a puppet, and this world a show;
Their old dull follies, old dull fools pursue,
35
And vice in nothing, but in mode, is new;
He ---- a lord (now fair befall that pride,
He lived a villain, but a lord he died)
Dashwood is pious, Berkeley fix'd as Fate,
Sandwich (thank Heaven!) first minister of state;
And, though by fools despised, by saints unbless'd,
By friends neglected, and by foes oppress'd,
Scorning the servile arts of each court elf,
Founded on honour, Wilkes is still himself)
The year, encircled with the various train
Which waits, and fills the glories of his reign,
Shall, taking up this theme, in chorus join,
And, dumb to others' praise, be loud in mine.
Rejoice, ye happy Gothamites! rejoice;
Lift up your voice on high, a mighty voice,
The voice of gladness; and on every tongue,
In strains of gratitude, be praises hung,
The praises of so great and good a king:
Shall Churchill reign, and shall not Gotham sing?
Thus far in sport--nor let our critics hence,
Who sell out monthly trash, and call it sense,
Too lightly of our present labours deem,
Or judge at random of so high a theme:
High is our theme, and worthy are the men
To feel the sharpest stroke of Satire's pen;
But when kind Time a proper season brings,
In serious mood to treat of serious things,
Then shall they find, disdaining idle play,
That I can be as grave and dull as they.
Thus far in sport--nor let half patriots, those
Who shrink from every blast of Power which blows,
Who, with tame cowardice familiar grown,
Would hear my thoughts, but fear to speak their own;
Who (lest bold truths, to do sage Prudence spite,
Should burst the portals of their lips by night,
Tremble to trust themselves one hour in sleep)
Condemn our course, and hold our caution cheap;
When brave Occasion bids, for some great end,
When Honour calls the poet as a friend,
Then shall they find that, e'en on Danger's brink,
He dares to speak what they scarce dare to think.
36
~ Charles Churchill,#NFDB
548:Upon Appleton House, To My Lord Fairfax
Within this sober Frame expect
Work of no Forrain Architect;
That unto Caves the Quarries drew,
And Forrests did to Pastures hew;
Who of his great Design in pain
Did for a Model vault his Brain,
Whose Columnes should so high be rais'd
To arch the Brows that on them gaz'd.
Why should of all things Man unrul'd
Such unproportion'd dwellings build?
The Beasts are by their Denns exprest:
And Birds contrive an equal Nest;
The low roof'd Tortoises do dwell
In cases fit of Tortoise-shell:
No Creature loves an empty space;
Their Bodies measure out their Place.
But He, superfluously spread,
Demands more room alive then dead.
And in his hollow Palace goes
Where Winds as he themselves may lose.
What need of all this Marble Crust
T'impark the wanton Mose of Dust,
That thinks by Breadth the World t'unite
Though the first Builders fail'd in Height?
But all things are composed here
Like Nature, orderly and near:
In which we the Dimensions find
Of that more sober Age and Mind,
When larger sized Men did stoop
To enter at a narrow loop;
As practising, in doors so strait,
To strain themselves through Heavens Gate.
And surely when the after Age
Shall hither come in Pilgrimage,
These sacred Places to adore,
188
By Vere and Fairfax trod before,
Men will dispute how their Extent
Within such dwarfish Confines went:
And some will smile at this, as well
As Romulus his Bee-like Cell.
Humility alone designs
Those short but admirable Lines,
By which, ungirt and unconstrain'd,
Things greater are in less contain'd.
Let others vainly strive t'immure
The Circle in the Quadrature!
These holy Mathematics can
In ev'ry Figure equal Man.
Yet thus the laden House does sweat,
And scarce indures the Master great:
But where he comes the swelling Hall
Stirs, and the Square grows Spherical;
More by his Magnitude distrest,
Then he is by its straitness prest:
And too officiously it slights
That in it self which him delights.
So Honour better Lowness bears,
Then That unwonted Greatness wears
Height with a certain Grace does bend,
But low Things clownishly ascend.
And yet what needs there here Excuse,
Where ev'ry Thing does answer Use?
Where neatness nothing can condemn,
Nor Pride invent what to contemn?
A Stately Frontispice Of Poor
Adorns without the open Door:
Nor less the Rooms within commends
Daily new Furniture Of Friends.
The House was built upon the Place
Only as for a Mark Of Grace;
And for an Inn to entertain
Its Lord a while, but not remain.
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Him Bishops-Hill, or Denton may,
Or Bilbrough, better hold then they:
But Nature here hath been so free
As if she said leave this to me.
Art would more neatly have defac'd
What she had laid so sweetly wast;
In fragrant Gardens, shaddy Woods,
Deep Meadows, and transparent Floods.
While with slow Eyes we these survey,
And on each pleasant footstep stay,
We opportunly may relate
The progress of this Houses Fate.
A Nunnery first gave it birth.
For Virgin Buildings oft brought forth.
And all that Neighbour-Ruine shows
The Quarries whence this dwelling rose.
Near to this gloomy Cloysters Gates
There dwelt the blooming Virgin Thwates,
Fair beyond Measure, and an Heir
Which might Deformity make fair.
And oft She spent the Summer Suns
Discoursing with the Suttle Nuns.
Whence in these Words one to her weav'd,
(As 'twere by Chance) Thoughts long conceiv'd.
"Within this holy leisure we
"Live innocently as you see.
"these Walls restrain the World without,
"But hedge our Liberty about.
"These Bars inclose the wider Den
"Of those wild Creatures, called Men.
"The Cloyster outward shuts its Gates,
"And, from us, locks on them the Grates.
"Here we, in shining Armour white,
"Like Virgin Amazons do fight.
"And our chast Lamps we hourly trim,
"Lest the great Bridegroom find them dim.
"Our Orient Breaths perfumed are
"With insense of incessant Pray'r.
190
"And Holy-water of our Tears
"Most strangly our complexion clears.
"Not Tears of Grief; but such as those
"With which calm Pleasure overflows;
"Or Pity, when we look on you
"That live without this happy Vow.
"How should we grieve that must be seen
"Each one a Spouse, and each a Queen;
"And can in Heaven hence behold
"Our brighter Robes and Crowns of Gold?
"When we have prayed all our Beads,
"Some One the holy Legend reads;
"While all the rest with Needles paint
"The Face and Graces of the Saint.
"But what the Linnen can't receive
"They in their Lives do interweave
"This work the Saints best represents;
"That serves for Altar's Ornaments.
"But much it to our work would add
"If here your hand, your Face we had:
"By it we would our Lady touch;
"Yet thus She you resembles much.
"Some of your Features, as we sow'd,
"Through ev'ry Shrine should be bestow'd.
"And in one Beauty we would take
"Enough a thousand Saints to make.
"And (for I dare not quench the Fire
"That me does for your good inspire)
"'Twere Sacriledge a Mant t'admit
"To holy things, for Heaven fit.
"I see the Angels in a Crown
"On you the Lillies show'ring down:
"And round about you Glory breaks,
"That something more then humane speaks.
"All Beauty, when at such a height,
"Is so already consecrate.
"Fairfax I know; and long ere this
191
"Have mark'd the Youth, and what he is.
"But can he such a Rival seem
"For whom you Heav'n should disesteem?
"Ah, no! and 'twould more Honour prove
"He your Devoto were, then Love.
Here live beloved, and obey'd:
Each one your Sister, each your Maid.
"And, if our Rule seem strictly pend,
"The Rule it self to you shall bend.
"Our Abbess too, now far in Age,
"Doth your succession near presage.
"How soft the yoke on us would lye,
"Might such fair Hands as yours it tye!
"Your voice, the sweetest of the Quire,
"Shall draw Heav'n nearer, raise us higher.
"And your Example, if our Head,
"Will soon us to perfection lead.
"Those Virtues to us all so dear,
"Will straight grow Sanctity when here:
"And that, once sprung, increase so fast
"Till Miracles it work at last.
"Nor is our Order yet so nice,
"Delight to banish as a Vice.
"Here Pleasure Piety doth meet;
"One perfecting the other Sweet.
"So through the mortal fruit we boyl
"The Sugars uncorrupting Oyl:
"And that which perisht while we pull,
"Is thus preserved clear and full.
"For such indeed are all our Arts;
"Still handling Natures finest Parts.
"Flow'rs dress the Altars; for the Clothes,
"The Sea-born Amber we compose;
"Balms for the griv'd we draw; and pasts
"We mold, as Baits for curious tasts.
"What need is here of Man? unless
"These as sweet Sins we should confess.
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"Each Night among us to your side
"Appoint a fresh and Virgin Bride;
"Whom if Our Lord at midnight find,
"Yet Neither should be left behind.
"Where you may lye as chast in Bed,
"As Pearls together billeted.
"All Night embracing Arm in Arm,
"Like Chrystal pure with Cotton warm.
"But what is this to all the store
"Of Joys you see, and may make more!
"Try but a while, if you be wise:
"The Tryal neither Costs, nor Tyes.
Now Fairfax seek her promis'd faith:
Religion that dispensed hath;
Which She hence forward does begin;
The Nuns smooth Tongue has suckt her in.
Oft, though he knew it was in vain,
Yet would he valiantly complain.
"Is this that Sanctity so great,
"An Art by which you finly'r cheat
"Hypocrite Witches, hence Avant,
"Who though in prison yet inchant!
"Death only can such Theeves make fast,
"As rob though in the Dungeon cast.
"Were there but, when this House was made,
"One Stone that a just Hand had laid,
"It must have fall'n upon her Head
"Who first Thee from thy Faith misled.
"And yet, how well soever ment,
"With them 'twould soon grow fraudulent
"For like themselves they alter all,
"And vice infects the very Wall.
"But sure those Buildings last not long,
"Founded by Folly, kept by Wrong.
"I know what Fruit their Gardens yield,
"When they it think by Night conceal'd.
"Fly from their Vices. 'Tis thy state,
"Not Thee, that they would consecrate.
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"Fly from their Ruine. How I fear
"Though guiltless lest thou perish there.
What should he do? He would respect
Religion, but not Right neglect:
For first Religion taught him Right,
And dazled not but clear'd his sight.
Sometimes resolv'd his Sword he draws,
But reverenceth then the Laws:
"For Justice still that Courage led;
First from a Judge, then Souldier bred.
Small Honour would be in the Storm.
The Court him grants the lawful Form;
Which licens'd either Peace or Force,
To hinder the unjust Divorce.
Yet still the Nuns his Right debar'd,
Standing upon their holy Guard.
Ill-counsell'd Women, do you know
Whom you resist, or what you do?
Is not this he whose Offspring fierce
Shall fight through all the Universe;
And with successive Valour try
France, Poland, either Germany;
Till one, as long since prophecy'd,
His Horse through conquer'd Britain ride?
Yet, against Fate, his Spouse they kept;
And the great Race would intercept.
Some to the Breach against their Foes
Their Wooden Saints in vain oppose
Another bolder stands at push
With their old Holy-Water Brush.
While the disjointed Abbess threads
The gingling Chain-shot of her Beads.
But their lowd'st Cannon were their Lungs;
And sharpest Weapons were their Tongues.
But, waving these aside like Flyes,
Young Fairfax through the Wall does rise.
Then th' unfrequented Vault appear'd,
194
And superstitions vainly fear'd.
The Relicks False were set to view;
Only the Jewels there were true.
But truly bright and holy Thwaites
That weeping at the Altar waites.
But the glad Youth away her bears,
And to the Nuns bequeaths her Tears:
Who guiltily their Prize bemoan,
Like Gipsies that a Child hath stoln.
Thenceforth (as when th' Inchantment ends
The Castle vanishes or rends)
The wasting Cloister with the rest
Was in one instant dispossest.
At the demolishing, this Seat
To Fairfax fell as by Escheat.
And what both Nuns and Founders will'd
'Tis likely better thus fulfill'd,
For if the Virgin prov'd not theirs,
The Cloyster yet remained hers.
Though many a Nun there made her vow,
'Twas no Religious-House till now.
From that blest Bed the Heroe came,
Whom France and Poland yet does fame:
Who, when retired here to Peace,
His warlike Studies could not cease;
But laid these Gardens out in sport
In the just Figure of a Fort;
And with five Bastions it did fence,
As aiming one for ev'ry Sense.
When in the East the Morning Ray
Hangs out the Colours of the Day,
The Bee through these known Allies hums,
Beating the Dian with its Drumms.
Then Flow'rs their drowsie Eylids raise,
Their Silken Ensigns each displayes,
And dries its Pan yet dank with Dew,
And fills its Flask with Odours new.
195
These, as their Governour goes by,
In fragrant Vollyes they let fly;
And to salute their Governess
Again as great a charge they press:
None for the Virgin Nymph; for She
Seems with the Flow'rs a Flow'r to be.
And think so still! though not compare
With Breath so sweet, or Cheek so faire.
Well shot ye Fireman! Oh how sweet,
And round your equal Fires do meet;
Whose shrill report no Ear can tell,
But Ecchoes to the Eye and smell.
See how the Flow'rs, as at Parade,
Under their Colours stand displaid:
Each Regiment in order grows,
That of the Tulip Pinke and Rose.
But when the vigilant Patroul
Of Stars walks round about the Pole,
Their Leaves, that to the stalks are curl'd,
Seem to their Staves the Ensigns furl'd.
Then in some Flow'rs beloved Hut
Each Bee as Sentinel is shut;
And sleeps so too: but, if once stir'd,
She runs you through, or askes The Word.
Oh Thou, that dear and happy Isle
The Garden of the World ere while,
Thou Paradise of four Seas,
Which Heaven planted us to please,
But, to exclude the World, did guard
With watry if not flaming Sword;
What luckless Apple did we tast,
To make us Mortal, and The Wast.
Unhappy! shall we never more
That sweet Milltia restore,
When Gardens only had their Towrs,
And all the Garrisons were Flow'rs,
When Roses only Arms might bear,
And Men did rosie Garlands wear?
196
Tulips, in several Colours barr'd,
Were then the Switzers of our Guard.
The Gardiner had the Souldiers place,
And his more gentle Forts did trace.
The Nursery of all things green
Was then the only Magazeen.
The Winter Quarters were the Stoves,
Where he the tender Plants removes.
But War all this doth overgrow:
We Ord'nance Plant and Powder sow.
And yet their walks one on the Sod
Who, had it pleased him and God,
Might once have made our Gardens spring
Fresh as his own and flourishing.
But he preferr'd to the Cinque Ports
These five imaginary Forts:
And, in those half-dry Trenches, spann'd
Pow'r which the Ocean might command.
For he did, with his utmost Skill,
Ambition weed, but Conscience till.
Conscience, that Heaven-nursed Plant,
Which most our Earthly Gardens want.
A prickling leaf it bears, and such
As that which shrinks at ev'ry touch;
But Flow'rs eternal, and divine,
That in the Crowns of Saints do shine.
The sight does from these Bastions ply,
Th' invisible Artilery;
And at proud Cawood Castle seems
To point the Battery of its Beams.
As if it quarrell'd in the Seat
Th' Ambition of its Prelate great.
But ore the Meads below it plays,
Or innocently seems to gaze.
And now to the Abbyss I pass
Of that unfathomable Grass,
Where Men like Grashoppers appear,
197
But Grashoppers are Gyants there:
They, in there squeking Laugh, contemn
Us as we walk more low then them:
And, from the Precipices tall
Of the green spir's, to us do call.
To see Men through this Meadow Dive,
We wonder how they rise alive.
As, under Water, none does know
Whether he fall through it or go.
But, as the Marriners that sound,
And show upon their Lead the Ground,
They bring up Flow'rs so to be seen,
And prove they've at the Bottom been.
No Scene that turns with Engines strange
Does oftner then these Meadows change,
For when the Sun the Grass hath vext,
The tawny Mowers enter next;
Who seem like Israaliies to be,
Walking on foot through a green Sea.
To them the Grassy Deeps divide,
And crowd a Lane to either Side.
With whistling Sithe, and Elbow strong,
These Massacre the Grass along:
While one, unknowing, carves the Rail,
Whose yet unfeather'd Quils her fail.
The Edge all bloody from its Breast
He draws, and does his stroke detest;
Fearing the Flesh untimely mow'd
To him a Fate as black forebode.
But bloody Thestylis, that waites
To bring the mowing Camp their Cates,
Greedy as Kites has trust it up,
And forthwith means on it to sup:
When on another quick She lights,
And cryes, he call'd us Israelites;
But now, to make his saying true,
Rails rain for Quails, for Manna Dew.
198
Unhappy Birds! what does it boot
To build below the Grasses Root;
When Lowness is unsafe as Hight,
And Chance o'retakes what scapeth spight?
And now your Orphan Parents Call
Sounds your untimely Funeral.
Death-Trumpets creak in such a Note,
And 'tis the Sourdine in their Throat.
Or sooner hatch or higher build:
The Mower now commands the Field;
In whose new Traverse seemeth wrought
A Camp of Battail newly fought:
Where, as the Meads with Hay, the Plain
Lyes quilted ore with Bodies slain:
The Women that with forks it filing,
Do represent the Pillaging.
And now the careless Victors play,
Dancing the Triumphs of the Hay;
Where every Mowers wholesome Heat
Smells like an Alexanders Sweat.
Their Females fragrant as the Mead
Which they in Fairy Circles tread:
When at their Dances End they kiss,
Their new-made Hay not sweeter is.
When after this 'tis pil'd in Cocks,
Like a calm Sea it shews the Rocks:
We wondring in the River near
How Boats among them safely steer.
Or, like the Desert Memphis Sand,
Short Pyramids of Hay do stand.
And such the Roman Camps do rise
In Hills for Soldiers Obsequies.
This Scene again withdrawing brings
A new and empty Face of things;
A levell'd space, as smooth and plain,
As Clothes for Lilly strecht to stain.
The World when first created sure
Was such a Table rase and pure.
199
Or rather such is the Toril
Ere the Bulls enter at Madril.
For to this naked equal Flat,
Which Levellers take Pattern at,
The Villagers in common chase
Their Cattle, which it closer rase;
And what below the Sith increast
Is pincht yet nearer by the Breast.
Such, in the painted World, appear'd
Davenant with th'Universal Heard.
They seem within the polisht Grass
A landskip drawen in Looking-Glass.
And shrunk in the huge Pasture show
As spots, so shap'd, on Faces do.
Such Fleas, ere they approach the Eye,
In Multiplyiug Glasses lye.
They feed so wide, so slowly move,
As Constellatious do above.
Then, to conclude these pleasant Acts,
Denton sets ope its Cataracts;
And makes the Meadow truly be
(What it but seem'd before) a Sea.
For, jealous of its Lords long stay,
It try's t'invite him thus away.
The River in it self is drown'd,
And Isl's th' astonish Cattle round.
Let others tell the Paradox,
How Eels now bellow in the Ox;
How Horses at their Tails do kick,
Turn'd as they hang to Leeches quick;
How Boats can over Bridges sail;
And Fishes do the Stables scale.
How Salmons trespassing are found;
And Pikes are taken in the Pound.
But I, retiring from the Flood,
Take Sanctuary in the Wood;
And, while it lasts, my self imbark
200
In this yet green, yet growing Ark;
Where the first Carpenter might best
Fit Timber for his Keel have Prest.
And where all Creatures might have shares,
Although in Armies, not in Paires.
The double Wood of ancient Stocks
Link'd in so thick, an Union locks,
It like two Pedigrees appears,
On one hand Fairfax, th' other Veres:
Of whom though many fell in War,
Yet more to Heaven shooting are:
And, as they Natures Cradle deckt,
Will in green Age her Hearse expect.
When first the Eye this Forrest sees
It seems indeed as Wood not Trees:
As if their Neighbourhood so old
To one great Trunk them all did mold.
There the huge Bulk takes place, as ment
To thrust up a Fifth Element;
And stretches still so closely wedg'd
As if the Night within were hedg'd.
Dark all without it knits; within
It opens passable and thin;
And in as loose an order grows,
As the Corinthean Porticoes.
The Arching Boughs unite between
The Columnes of the Temple green;
And underneath the winged Quires
Echo about their tuned Fires.
The Nightingale does here make choice
To sing the Tryals of her Voice.
Low Shrubs she sits in, and adorns
With Musick high the squatted Thorns.
But highest Oakes stoop down to hear,
And listning Elders prick the Ear.
The Thorn, lest it should hurt her, draws
Within the Skin its shrunken claws.
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But I have for my Musick found
A Sadder, yet more pleasing Sound:
The Stock-doves whose fair necks are grac'd
With Nuptial Rings their Ensigns chast;
Yet always, for some Cause unknown,
Sad pair unto the Elms they moan.
O why should such a Couple mourn,
That in so equal Flames do burn!
Then as I carless on the Bed
Of gelid Straw-berryes do tread,
And through the Hazles thick espy
The hatching Thrastles shining Eye,
The Heron from the Ashes top,
The eldest of its young lets drop,
As if it Stork-like did pretend
That Tribute to its Lord to send.
But most the Hewel's wonders are,
Who here has the Holt-felsters care.
He walks still upright from the Root,
Meas'ring the Timber with his Foot;
And all the way, to keep it clean,
Doth from the Bark the Wood-moths glean.
He, with his Beak, examines well
Which fit to stand and which to fell.
The good he numbers up, and hacks;
As if he mark'd them with the Ax.
But where he, tinkling with his Beak,
Does find the hollow Oak to speak,
That for his building he designs,
And through the tainted Side he mines.
Who could have thought the tallest Oak
Should fall by such a feeble Strok'!
Nor would it, had the Tree not fed
A Traitor-worm, within it bred.
(As first our Flesh corrupt within
Tempts impotent and bashful Sin.
And yet that Worm triumphs not long,
But serves to feed the Hewels young.
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While the Oake seems to fall content,
Viewing the Treason's Punishment.
Thus I, easie Philosopher,
Among the Birds and Trees confer:
And little now to make me, wants
Or of the Fowles, or of the Plants.
Give me but Wings as they, and I
Streight floting on the Air shall fly:
Or turn me but, and you shall see
I was but an inverted Tree.
Already I begin to call
In their most-learned Original:
And where I Language want,my Signs
The Bird upon the Bough divines;
And more attentive there doth sit
Then if She were with Lime-twigs knit.
No Leaf does tremble in the Wind
Which I returning cannot find.
Out of these scatter'd Sibyls Leaves
Strange Prophecies my Phancy weaves:
And in one History consumes,
Like Mexique Paintings, all the Plumes.
What Rome, Greece, Palestine, ere said
I in this light Mosaick read.
Thrice happy he who, not mistook,
Hath read in Natures mystick Book.
And see how Chance's better Wit
Could with a Mask my studies hit!
The Oak-Leaves me embroyder all,
Between which Caterpillars crawl:
And Ivy, with familiar trails,
Me licks, and clasps, and curles, and hales.
Under this antick Cope I move
Like some great Prelate of the Grove,
Then, languishing with ease, I toss
On Pallets swoln of Velvet Moss;
While the Wind, cooling through the Boughs,
203
Flatters with Air my panting Brows.
Thanks for my Rest ye Mossy Banks,
And unto you cool Zephyr's Thanks,
Who, as my Hair, my Thoughts too shed,
And winnow from the Chaff my Head.
How safe, methinks, and strong, behind
These Trees have I incamp'd my Mind;
Where Beauty, aiming at the Heart,
Bends in some Tree its useless Dart;
And where the World no certain Shot
Can make, or me it toucheth not.
But I on it securely play,
And gaul its Horsemen all the Day.
Bind me ye Woodbines in your 'twines,
Curle me about ye gadding Vines,
And Oh so close your Circles lace,
That I may never leave this Place:
But, lest your Fetters prove too weak,
Ere I your Silken Bondage break,
Do you, O Brambles, chain me too,
And courteous Briars nail me though.
Here in the Morning tye my Chain,
Where the two Woods have made a Lane;
While, like a Guard on either side,
The Trees before their Lord divide;
This, like a long and equal Thread,
Betwixt two Labyrinths does lead.
But, where the Floods did lately drown,
There at the Ev'ning stake me down.
For now the Waves are fal'n and dry'd,
And now the Meadows fresher dy'd;
Whose Grass, with moister colour dasht,
Seems as green Silks but newly washt.
No Serpent new nor Crocodile
Remains behind our little Nile;
Unless it self you will mistake,
Among these Meads the only Snake.
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See in what wanton harmless folds
It ev'ry where the Meadow holds;
And its yet muddy back doth lick,
Till as a Chrystal Mirrour slick;
Where all things gaze themselves, and doubt
If they be in it or without.
And for his shade which therein shines,
Narcissus like, the Sun too pines.
Oh what a Pleasure 'tis to hedge
My Temples here with heavy sedge;
Abandoning my lazy Side,
Stretcht as a Bank unto the Tide;
Or to suspend my sliding Foot
On the Osiers undermined Root,
And in its Branches tough to hang,
While at my Lines the Fishes twang!
But now away my Hooks, my Quills,
And Angles, idle Utensils.
The Young Maria walks to night:
Hide trifling Youth thy Pleasures slight.
'Twere shame that such judicious Eyes
Should with such Toyes a Man surprize;
She that already is the Law
Of all her Sex, her Ages Aw.
See how loose Nature, in respect
To her, it self doth recollect;
And every thing so whisht and fine,
Starts forth with to its Bonne Mine.
The Sun himself, of Her aware,
Seems to descend with greater Care,
And lest She see him go to Bed,
In blushing Clouds conceales his Head.
So when the Shadows laid asleep
From underneath these Banks do creep,
And on the River as it flows
With Eben Shuts begin to close;
The modest Halcyon comes in sight,
Flying betwixt the Day and Night;
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And such an horror calm and dumb,
Admiring Nature does benum.
The viscous Air, wheres'ere She fly,
Follows and sucks her Azure dy;
The gellying Stream compacts below,
If it might fix her shadow so;
The Stupid Fishes hang, as plain
As Flies in Chrystal overt'ane,
And Men the silent Scene assist,
Charm'd with the saphir-winged Mist.
Maria such, and so doth hush
The World, and through the Ev'ning rush.
No new-born Comet such a Train
Draws through the Skie, nor Star new-slain.
For streight those giddy Rockets fail,
Which from the putrid Earth exhale,
But by her Flames, in Heaven try'd,
Nature is wholly Vitrifi'd.
'Tis She that to these Gardens gave
That wondrous Beauty which they have;
She streightness on the Woods bestows;
To Her the Meadow sweetness owes;
Nothing could make the River be
So Chrystal-pure but only She;
She yet more Pure, Sweet, Streight, and Fair,
Then Gardens, Woods, Meads, Rivers are.
Therefore what first She on them spent,
They gratefully again present.
The Meadow Carpets where to tread;
The Garden Flow'rs to Crown Her Head;
And for a Glass the limpid Brook,
Where She may all her Beautyes look;
But, since She would not have them seen,
The Wood about her draws a Skreen.
For She, to higher Beauties rais'd,
Disdains to be for lesser prais'd.
She counts her Beauty to converse
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In all the Languages as hers;
Not yet in those her self imployes
But for the Wisdome, not the Noyse;
Nor yet that Wisdome would affect,
But as 'tis Heavens Dialect.
Blest Nymph! that couldst so soon prevent
Those Trains by Youth against thee meant;
Tears (watry Shot that pierce the Mind;)
And Sighs (Loves Cannon charg'd with Wind;)
True Praise (That breaks through all defence;)
And feign'd complying Innocence;
But knowing where this Ambush lay,
She scap'd the safe, but roughest Way.
This 'tis to have been from the first
In a Domestick Heaven nurst,
Under the Discipline severe
Of Fairfax, and the starry Vere;
Where not one object can come nigh
But pure, and spotless as the Eye;
And Goodness doth it self intail
On Females, if there want a Male.
Go now fond Sex that on your Face
Do all your useless Study place,
Nor once at Vice your Brows dare knit
Lest the smooth Forehead wrinkled sit
Yet your own Face shall at you grin,
Thorough the Black-bag of your Skin;
When knowledge only could have fill'd
And Virtue all those Furows till'd.
Hence She with Graces more divine
Supplies beyond her Sex the Line;
And, like a sprig of Misleto,
On the Fairfacian Oak does grow;
Whence, for some universal good,
The Priest shall cut the sacred Bud;
While her glad Parents most rejoice,
And make their Destiny their Choice.
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Mean time ye Fields, Springs, Bushes, Flow'rs,
Where yet She leads her studious Hours,
(Till Fate her worthily translates,
And find a Fairfax for our Thwaites)
Employ the means you have by Her,
And in your kind your selves preferr;
That, as all Virgins She preceds,
So you all Woods, Streams, Gardens, Meads.
For you Thessalian Tempe's Seat
Shall now be scorn'd as obsolete;
Aranjeuz, as less, disdain'd;
The Bel-Retiro as constrain'd;
But name not the Idalian Grove,
For 'twas the Seat of wanton Love;
Much less the Dead's Elysian Fields,
Yet nor to them your Beauty yields.
'Tis not, what once it was, the World;
But a rude heap together hurl'd;
All negligently overthrown,
Gulfes, Deserts, Precipices, Stone.
Your lesser World contains the same.
But in more decent Order tame;
You Heaven's Center, Nature's Lap.
And Paradice's only Map.
But now the Salmon-Fishers moist
Their Leathern Boats begin to hoist;
And, like Antipodes in Shoes,
Have shod their Heads in their Canoos.
How Tortoise like, but not so slow,
These rational Amphibii go?
Let's in: for the dark Hemisphere
Does now like one of them appear.
~ Andrew Marvell,#NFDB
549:The Bush
I wonder if the spell, the mystery,
That like a haze about your silence clings,
Moulding your void until we seem to see
Tangible Presences of Deathless Things,
Patterned but little to our spirits' woof,
Yet from our love or hate not all aloof,
Can. be the matrix where are forming slowly
Troy tales of Old Australia, to refine
Eras to come of ordered melancholy
'Neath lily-pale Perfection's anodyne.
For Troy hath ever been, and Homer sang
Its younger story for a lodging's fee,
While o'er Scamander settlers' axes rang
Amid the Bush where Ilium was to be.
For Cretan Art, dim centuries before,
Minoan Dream-times some Briseis bore.
Sumerian Phoebus by a willowed water
Song-built a Troy for far Chaldea, where
The sons of God, beholding Leda's daughter,
Bartered eternal thrones for love of her.
Across each terraced aeon Time hath sowed
With green tautology of vanished years,
Gaping aghast or webbed with shining lode,
Achilles' anger's earthquake-rift appears.
The towers that Phoebus builds can never fall:
Desire that Helen lights can never pall:
Yea, wounded Love hath still but gods to fly to,
When lust of war inflames Diomedes:
Must some Australian Hector vainly die, too?
Captives in ships? (0 change that omen, Trees!)
Yea, Mother Bush, in your deep dreams abide
Cupids alert for man and maid unborn,
Apprentice Pucks amid your saplings hide,
And wistful gorges wait a Roland horn:
Wallet of Sigurd shall this swag replace,
And centaurs curvet where those brumbies race.
39
That drover's tale of love shall greaten duly
Through magic prisms of a myriad years,
Till bums Isolde to Tristram's fervour newly,
Or Launcelot to golden Guinevere's.
The miner cradling washdirt by the creek,
Or pulled through darkness dripping to the plat:
The navvy boring tunnels through the peak:
The farmer grubbing box-trees on the flat:
The hawker camping by the roadside spring:
The hodman on the giddy scaffolding:
Moths that around the fashion windows flutter:
The racecourse spider and the betting fly:
The children romping by the city gutter,
While baby crows to every passer-byFrom these rough blocks strewn o'er our ancient stream
Sculptors shall chisel brownie, fairy, faun,
Any myrmidons of some Homeric dream
From Melbourne mob and Sydney push be drawn.
The humdrum lives that now we tire of, then
Romance shall be, and 'we heroic men
Treading the vestibule of Golden Ages,
The Isthmus of the Land of Heart's Desire:
For lo! the Sybil's final volume's pages
Ope with our Advent, close when we expire.
Forgetful Change in one 'antiquity'
Boreal gleams shall drown, and southern glows;
Out of some singing woman's heart-break plea
Australia's dawn shall flush with Sappho's rose:
Strong Shirlow's hand shall trace Mantegna's line,
And Soma foam from Victor Daley's wine:
Scholars to be our prehistoric drama
From Esson's 'Woman Tamer' shall restore,
Or find in Gilbert's 'Lotus Stream and Lama'
An Austral Nile and Buddhas we adore.
The sunlit Satyrs follow Hugh McCrae,
Quinn spans the ocean with a Celtic ford,
And Williamson the Pan-pipe learns to play
From magpie-songs our schoolboy ears ignored:
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A sweeter woe no keen of Erin gave
Than Kendall sings o'er Araluen's grave:
Tasmanian Wordsworth to his chapel riding
The Burning Bush and Ardath mead shall pass,
Or, from the sea-coast of Bohemia gliding
On craft of dream, behold a shepherd lass.
Jessie Mackay on Southern Highlands sees
The elves deploy in kem and gallowglass:
Our Gilbert Murray writes 'Euripides':
Pirani merges in Pythagoras:
Marsyas plunges into Lethe, flayed,
From Rhadamanthine Stephens' steady blade:
While Benvenuto Morton, drunk with singing,
Sees salamanders in a bush-fire's bed,
And Spencer sails from Alcheringa bringing
Intaglios, totems and Books of the Dead.
On Southern fiords shall Brady's Long Snakes hiss,
Heavy with brides he wins to Viking troth:
O'Reilly's Sydney shall be Sybaris,
While Melbourne's Muses sup their Spartan broth:
Murdoch, Zenobia's counsellor, in time,
Redacts from Burke his book on The Sublime:
By Way was Homer into Greek translated:
And Shakespeare's self is Sophocles so plain
They know the kerb whereon the Furies waited
Outside the Mermaid Inn in Brogan's Lane.
Vane shall divide with Vern Eureka's fame;
Tillett and Mann are Tyler then and Cade:
Dowie's entwines with Cagliostro's name,
And in Tarpeia's, lo, those fair forms fade
Who drug the poor, for social bread and wine,
And lift the furtive latch to Catiline:
There, where the Longmore-featured Gracchi hurry,
And Greek-browed Higinbotham walks, anon,
The 'wealthy lower orders' leap the Murray
Before the stockwhip cracks of Jardine Don.
Cleons in 'Windsor dress at Syracuse
Their thin plebeians' promised meal delay;
41
And Archibald begets Australia's Muse
Upon an undine red of Chowder Bay:
Paterson's swan draws Amphitrite's car,
And Sidon learns from Young what purples are:
Rose Scott refutes dogmatic Cyril gaily,
Hypatia turns the anti-suffrage flank,
And Herod's daughter sools her 'morning daily'
On John the Baptist by the Yarra Bank.
Yon regal bustard, fading hence ere long,
Shall seem the guide we followed to the Grail;
This lyre-bird on his dancing-mound of song
Our mystagogue of some Bacchantic vale,
Where feathered Pan guffaws 'Evoe!' above,
And Maenad curlews shriek their midnight love:
That trailing flight of distant swans is bearing
Sarpedon's soul to its eternal joy:
This ibis, from the very Nile, despairing,
Memnon our own would warn from fatal Troy.
Primeval gnomes distilled the golden bribes
That have impregnated your musing waste with men;
But shall the spell of your pathetic tribes
Curl round, in time, our fairer limbs again?
Through that long tunnel of your gloom, I see
Gardens of a metropolis to be!
Out of the depths the mountain ash is soaring
To embryon gods of what unsounded space?
Out of the heights what influence is pouring
Thin desolation on your haunted face?
Many there are who see no higher lot
For all your writhing centuries of toil
Than that the avaricious plough should blot
Their wilding burgeon, and the red brand spoil
Your cyclopean garniture, to sow
The cheap parterres of Europe on your woe.
They weave all sorceries but yours, and borrow
The tinkling spells of alien winds and seas
To drown the chord of purifying sorrow,
Bom ere the world, that pulses through your trees.
42
For, save when we, in not o'er-subtle mood,
Hear magpies warbling soft November in,
Or, hand in hand with Love, a dreaming wood
Or bouldered crest of crisper April win,
Your harps, unblurred by glozing strings, intone
The dirges that behind Creation moan'Where, riding reinless billows, new lives dash on
The souring beach of yesterday's decay,
Where Love's chord leaps from mandrake shrieks of passion,
And groping gods mould man from quivering clay.
(Is Nature deaf and blind and dumb? A cruse
Unfilled of wine? Clay for an unbreathed soul?
Alien to man, till his desires transfuse
Their flames through wind and water, leaf and bole,
And each crude fane elaborately fit
With oracles that echo all his wit?
The living wilds of Greece saw death returning
When Pan that men had made fell from his throne:
Till through her sap our very blood is churning
The Bush her lonely alien woe shall moan!
Or is she reticent but to be kind?
Whispers she not beneath her mask of clods'Who asks he shall receive, who seeks shall find,
Who knocks shall open every door of God's?'
Dumb Faith's, blind Hope's eternal consort she,
Gravid with all that is on earth to be;
Corn, wine and oil in hungry granite hiding,
All Beauty under sober wings of clay,
All life beneath her dead heart long abiding,
Yea, all the gods her sons and she obey!)
What sin's wan expiation strewed your Vast
With mounded pillage of what conquering fire?
Slumbering throes of what prodigious Past
Exhale these lingering ghosts of its desire?
Sunshine that bleached corruption out, that glare?
Desolate blue of Purgatory, there?
Flagellant winds through guilty Eden scouring?
Sahara drowning Prester John's domain?
Satumian dam her progeny devouring?
Hath dawn-time Hun these footprints left? Hath Cain?
43
Even the human wave, that shall at length
To man's endurance key your strident surge,
Sings in your poignant tones and sombre strength,
And makes, as yet, its own your primal dirge:
A gun-shot startles dawn back from the sky,
And mourning tea-trees echo Gordon's sigh:
Nardoo with Burke's faint sweat is dank for ever:
Spectral a tribe round poisoned rations shrieks:
Till doomday Leichhardt walks die Never Never:
Pensive, of Boake, the circling stock-whip speaks.
The wraiths unseen of roadside crimes unnamed
About that old-time shanty's ruins roam:
This squatter's fenceless acres hide ashamed
The hearth and battered zinc of Naboth's home:
Deserted 'yam-holes' pit your harmonies
With sloughing pock-marks of the gold-disease:
The sludgy creek 'mid hungry rushes rambles,
Where teal once dived and lowan raised her mound:
That tree, with crows, o'erlooks the township shambles:
These paddocks, ordure-smeared, the city bound.
0 yield not all to factory and farm!
For we, who drew a milk no stranger knows
From her scant paps, yearn for the acrid charm
That gossamers the Bush Where No Tree Grows.
And we have ritual moments when we crave
For worship in some messmate-pillared nave,
Where contrite 'bears' for woodland sins are kneeling,
And, 'mid the censers of the mountain musk,
Acolyte bell-birds the Angelus are pealing,
And boobooks moan lone vespers in the dusk,
And you have Children of the Dreaming Star,
Who care but little for the crowded ways
Where meagre spirits' vapid prizes are,
Or for the paddocked ease of dreamless days
And hedges clipped of every sunny growth
That plights the soul to God in daily troth:
Their wayward love prefers your desolation,
Or (where the human trail hath seared its charm)
44
The briar-rose on some abandoned 'station',
To all the tilled obedience of the farm.
Vineyards that purblind thrift shall never glean
The weedy waste and thistly gully hold:
No mint shall melt to currency unclean
Yon river-rounded hillock's Cape-broom gold:
The onion-grass upon that dark green slope
Returns our gaze from eyes of heliotrope:
But more we seek your underflowered expanses
Of scrub monotonous, or, where, O Bush,
The craters of your fiery noon's romances,
Like great firm bosoms, through the bare plains push.
As many. Mother, are your moods and forms
As all the sons who love you. Here, you mow
Careering grounds for every brood of storms
The wild sea-mares to desert stallions throw;
Anon, up through a sea of sand you glance
With green ephemeral exuberance,
And then quick seeds dive deep to years of slumber
From hot-hoofed drought's precipitate return:
There, league on league, the snow's cold fingers number
The shrinking nerves of supple-jack and fern.
To other eyes and ears you are a great
Pillared cathedral tremulously green,
An odorous and hospitable gate
To genial mystery, the happy screen
Of truants or of lovers rambling there
'Neath sun-shot boughs o'er miles of maidenhair.
Wee rubies dot the leaflets of the cherries,
The wooing wagtails hop from log to bough,
The bronzewing comes from Queensland for the berries,
The bell-bird by the creek is calling now.
And you can ride, an Eastern queen, they say,
By living creatures sumptuously borne,
With all barbaric equipages gay,
Beneath the torrid blue of Capricorn.
That native lotus is the very womb
That was the Hindoo goddess' earthly tomb.
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The gang-gang screams o'er cactus wildernesses,
Palm trees are there, and swampy widths of rice,
Unguents and odours ooze from green recesses,
The jungles blaze with birds of Paradise.
But I, in city exile, hear you sing
Of saplinged hill and box-tree dotted plain,
Or silver-grass that prays the North Wind's wing
Convey its sigh to the loitering rain:
And Spring is half distraught with wintry gusts,
Summer the daily spoil of tropic lusts
The sun and she too fiercely shared together
Lingering thro' voluptuous Hindoo woods,
But o'er my windless, soft autumnal weather
The peace that passes understanding broods.
When, now, they say 'The Bush!', I see the top
Delicate amber leanings of the gum
Flutter, or flocks of screaming green leeks drop
Silent, where in the shining morning hum
The gleaning bees for honey-scented hours
'Mid labyrinthine leaves and white gum flowers.
Cantering midnight hoofs are nearing, nearing,
The straining bullocks flick the harpy flies,
The 'hatter' weeds his melancholy clearing,
The distant cow-bell tinkles o'er the rise.
You are the brooding comrade of our way,
Whispering rumour of a new Unknown,
Moulding us white ideals to obey,
Steeping whate'er we learn in lore your own,
And freshening with unpolluted light
The squalid city's day and pallid night,
Till we become ourselves distinct, Australian,
(Your native lightning charging blood and nerve),
Stripped to the soul of borrowed garments, alien
To that approaching Shape of God you serve.
Brooding, brooding, your whispers murmur plain
That searching for the clue to mystery
In grottos of decrepitude is vain,
That never shall the eye of prophet see
46
In crooked Trade's tumultuous streets the plan
Of templed cities adequate to man.
Brooding, brooding, you make us Brahmins waiting
(While uninspired pass on the hurtling years),
Faithful to dreams your spirit is creating,
Till Great Australia, born of you, appears.
For Great Australia is not yet: She waits
(Where o'er the Bush prophetic auras play)
The passing of these temporary States,
Flaunting their tawdry flags of far decay.
Her aureole above the alien mists
Beacons our filial eyes to mountain trysts:
'Mid homely trees with all ideals fruited,
She shelters us till Trade's Simoom goes by,
And slakes our thirst from cisterns unpolluted .
For ages cold in brooding deeps of sky.
We love our brothers, and to heal their woe
Pluck simples from the known old gardens still:
We love our kindred over seas, and grow
Their symbols tenderly o'er plain and hill;
We feel their blood rebounding in our hearts,
And speak as they would speak our daily parts:
But under all we know, we know that only
A virgin womb unsoiled by ancient fear
Can Saviours bear. So, we, your Brahmins, lonely,
Deaf to the barren tumult, wait your Year.
The Great Year's quivering dawn pencils the Night
To be the morning of our children's prime,
And weave from rays of yet ungathered Light
A richer noon than e'er apparelled Time.
If it must be, as Tuscan wisdom knew,
Babylon's seer, and wistful Egypt too,
That mellow afternoon shall pensive guide us
Down somnolent Decay's ravine to rest,
Then you, reborn, 0 Mother Bush, shall hide us
All the long night at your dream-laden breast.
Australian eyes that heed your lessons know
Another world than older pilgrims may:
47
Prometheus chained in Kosciusko's snow
Sees later gods than Zeus in turn decay:
Boundless plateaux expand the spirit's sight,
Resilient gales uphold her steeper flight:
And your close beating heart, 0 savage Mother,
Throbs secret words of joy and starker pain
Than reach the ears all old deceptions smother
In Lebanon, or e'en in Westermain.
We marvel not, who hear your undersong,
And catch a glimpse in rare exalted hours
Of something like a Being gleam along
Festooned arcades of flossie creeper flowers,
Or, toward the mirk, seem privileged to share
The silent rapture of the trees at prayerWe marvel not that seers in other ages,
With eyes unstrained by peering logic, saw
The desolation glow with Koran pages,
Or Sinai stones with Tables of the Law.
Homers are waiting in the gum trees now,
Far driven from the tarnished Cyclades:
More Druids to your green enchantment bow
Than 'neath unfaithful Mona's vanished trees:
A wind hath spirited from ageing France
To our fresh hills the carpet of Romance:
Heroes and maids of old with young blood tingling
In ampler gardens grow their roses new:
And races long apart their manas mingling
Prepare the cradle of an Advent due.
And those who dig the mounded eld for runes
To read Religion's tangled cipher, here,
Where all Illusion haunts the fainting noons
Of days hysteric with the tireless leer
Of ravenous enamoured suns, shall find
How May a flings her mantle o'er the mind,
Till sober sand to shining water changes,
Dodona whispers from the she-oak groves,
Afreets upon the tempest cross the ranges,
And Fafnir through the bunyip marshes roves.
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Once, when Uranian Love appeared to glow
Through that abysmal Night that bounds our reignLove that a man may scarcely feel and know i
Quite the same world as other men againWith earthward-streaming frontier wraiths distraught,
Your oracles, 0 Mother Bush, I sought:
But found, dismayed, that eerie light revealing
Those wraiths already in your depths on sleuth,
Termagant Scorns along your hillsides stealing,
Remorse unbaring slow her barbed tooth.
My own thoughts first from far dispersion flew
Back to their sad creator, with the crops
Of woes in flower and all the harvests due
Till tiring Time the fearful seeding stops:
In pigmy forms of friends and foes, anon
In my own image, they came, stung, were gone:
And then I heard the voice of Him Who Questions,
Knowing the faltered answer ere it came,
Chilling the soul by hovering suggestions
Of wan damnation at a wince of blame.
And all your leaves in symbols were arranged,
Despairs long dead would leap from bough to bough,
A gum-tree buttress to a goblin changed
Grinning the warmth of some old broken vow:
Furtive desires for scarce-remembered maids
Glanced in a fearful bo-peep from your shades:
Till you became a purgatory cleansing
With rosy flakes in form of manikins,
To fiercer shame within my soul condensing,
The dim pollution of forgotten sins.
And She, the human symbol of that Love,
Would, as my cleansed eyes forgot their fear,
Comrade beside me. Comforter above,
With sunny smile ubiquitous appear:
Run on before me to the nooks we knew,
Walk hand in hand as glad young lovers do,
Gravely reprove me toying with temptation,
Show me the eyes and ears in roots and clods,
Bend with me o'er some blossom's revelation,
49
Or read from clouds the judgments of the gods.
My old ideals She would tune until
The grating note of self no longer rang:
She drove the birds of gloom and evil will
Out of the cote wherein my poems sang.
Time at Her wand annulled his calendar,
And Space his fallacy of Near and Far,
For through my Bush along with me She glided,
And crowded days of Beauty made more fair,
Though lagging weeks and ocean widths divided
Her mortal casing from Her Presence there.
Her wetted finger oped my shuttered eyes
To boyhood's scership of the Real again:
Upon the Bush descended from the skies
The rapt-up Eden of primordial men:
August Dominions through the vistas strode:
On white-maned clouds the smiling cherubs rode:
Maltreated Faith restored my jangled hearing
Till little seraphs sang from chip and clod:
And prayers were radiant children that, unfearing,
Floated as kisses to the lips of God.
It matters not that for some purpose wise
Myopic Reason censored long ago
The revelations of that Paradise,
When, back of all I feel or will or know,
Its silent angels beacon through the Dark
And point to harbours new my drifted ark.
Nor need we dread the fogs that round us thicken
Questing the Bush for Grails decreed for man,
When Powers our fathers saw unseen still quicken
Eyes that were ours before the world began.
'Twas then I saw the Vision of the Ways,
And 'mid their gloom and glory seemed to live,
Threaded the coverts of the Dark Road's maze,
Toiled up, with tears, the Track Retributive,
And, on the Path of Grace, beheld aglow
The love-lit Nave of all that wheeled below.
And She who flowered, my Mystic Rose, in Heaven,
50
And lit the Purging Mount, my Guiding Star,
Trudged o'er the marl, my mate, through Hell's wan levin,
Nor shrank, like lonely Dante's love, afar.
High towered a cloud over one leafy wild,
And to a bridged volcano grew. Above,
A great Greek group of father, mother, child,
Illumed a narrow round with radiant love.
Below, a smoke-pool thick with faces swirled,
The mutinous omen. of an Under-world,
Defeated, plundered, blackened, but preparing,
E'en though that calm, white dominance fell down,
To overflow the rim, and, sunward faring,
Shape myriad perfect groups from slave and clown.
Or thus I read the symbol, though 'twas sent
To hound compunction on my wincing pride,
That dreamed of raceless brotherhood, content
Though all old Charm dissolved and Glory died.
For often signs will yield their deeper signs,
Virginal Bush, in your untrodden shrines,
Than where the craven ages' human clamour
Distorts the boldest oracle with fear,
Or where dissolving wizards dew with glamour
Arden, Broceliande, or Windermere.
Once while my mother by a spreading tree
Our church's sober rubric bade me con,
My vagrant eyes among the boughs would see
Forbidden wings and •wizard aprons on
Father's 'wee people' from their Irish glades
Brighten and darken with your lights and shades.
And I would only read again those stern leaves
For whispered bribe that, when their tale I told,
We would go and look for fairies in the fern-leaves
And red-capped leprechauns with crocks of gold.
Anon, my boyhood saw how Sunbursts flamed
Or filmy hinds lured on a pale Oisin,
Where lithe indignant saplings crowding claimed
The digger's ravage for their plundered queen:
And heard within yon lichened 'mullock-heap'
51
Lord Edward's waiting horsemen moan in sleep:
Or flew the fragrant path of swans consoling
Lir's exiled daughter wandering with me,
And traced below the Wattle River rolling
Exuberant and golden toward the sea.
Here, would the •wavering wings of heat uplift
Some promontory till the tree-crowned pile
Above a phantom sea would swooning drift,
St. Brendan's vision of the Winged Isle:
Anon, the isle divides again, again,
Till archipelagos poise o'er the main.
There, lazy fingers of a breeze have scattered
The distant blur of factory chimney smoke
hi poignant groups of all the young lives shattered
To feed the ravin of a piston-stroke!
Or when I read the tale of what you were
Beyond these hungry eyes' home-keeping view,
I peopled petrel rocks with Sirens fair,
In Maid Mirage the Fairy Morgan knew,
Steered Quetzalcoatl's skiff to coral coasts,
On Chambers' Pillar throned the Olympian hosts,
Heard in white sulphur-crested parrots' screeches
Remorseful Peris vent their hopeless rage,
Atlantis' borders traced on sunken beaches,
m Alcheringa found the Golden Age.
Sibyl and Siren, with alternate breaths
You read our foetal nation's boon and bane,
And lure to trysts of orgiastic Deaths
Adventurous love that listens to your strain:
Pelsarts and Vanderdeckens of the world
Circle your charms or at your feet are hurled:
And, Southern witch, whose glamour drew De Quiros
O'er half the earth for one unyielded kiss,
Were yours the arms that healed the scalded Eros
When Psyche's curious lamp darkened their bliss?
Ye, who would challenge when we claim to see
The bush alive with Northern wealth of wings,
Forget that at a common mother's knee
52
We learned, with you, the lore of Silent Things.
There is no New that is not older far
Than swirling cradle of the first-born star:
Our youngest hearts prolong the far pulsation
And churn the brine of the primordial sea:
The foetus writes the précis of Creation:
Australia is the whole world's legatee.
Imagination built her throne in us
Before your present bodies saw the sky:
Your myths were counters of our abacus,
And in your brain developed long our eye:
We from the misty folk have also sprung
Who saw the gnomes and heard the Ever Young:
Do Southern skies the fancy disinherit
Of moly flower and Deva-laden breeze?
Do nerves attuned by old defect and merit
Their timbre lose by crossing tropic seas?
All mysteries ye claim as yours alone
Have wafted secrets over oceans here:
Our living soil Antiquity hath sown
With just the corn and tares ye love and fear:
Romance and song enthral us just as you,
Nor change of zenith changes spirit too:
Our necks as yours are sore with feudal halters:
To the Pole ye know our compasses are set;
And shivering years that huddled round your altars
Beneath our stars auspicious tremble yet.
Who fenced the nymphs in European vales?
Or Pan tabooed from all but Oxford dreams?
Warned Shakespeare off from foreign Plutarch's tales?
Or tethered Virgil to Italian themes?
And when the body sailed from your control
Think ye we left behind in bond the soul?
Whate'er was yours is ours in equal measure,
The Temple was not built for you alone,
Altho' 'tis ours to grace the common treasure
With Lares and Penates of our own!
Ye stole yourselves from gardens fragrant long
53
The sprouting seed-pods of your choicest blooms,
And wove the splendid garments of your song
From Viking foam on grave Hebraic looms:
'Twas Roman nerve and rich Hellenic lymph
Changed your pale pixie to a nubile nymph:
Yea, breathed at dawn around Atlantis' islands,
Wind-home o'er some Hesperidean road,
The morning clouds on dim Accadian highlands
Spring-fed the Nile that over Hellas flowed!
As large-eyed Greek amid Sicilian dews
Saw Dis, as ne'er before, pursue the Maid,
Or, safe 'neath screening billows, Arethuse
Alpheus' rugged sleuth unsoiled evade:
We shall complete the tale ye left half-told,
Under the ocean lead your fountains old,
To slake our sceptic thirst with haunted water,
And tame our torrents with a wedding kiss,
Shall loose, mayhap, the spell on Ceres' daughter,
And show, unclouded, God in very Dis.
(Yet, there are moods and mornings when I hear,
Above the music of the Bush's breath,
The rush of alien breezes far and near
Drowning her oracles to very death:
Exotic battle-cries the silence mar,
Seductive perfumes drive the gum-scent far;
And organ-tones august a moment show me
Miltonic billows and Homeric gales
Until I feel the older worlds below me,
And all her wonder trembles, thins and fails.)
Yea, you are all that we may be, and yet
In us is all you are to be for aye!
The Giver of the gifts that we shall get?
An empty womb that waits the wedding day?
Thus drifting sense by age-long habit buoyed
Plays round the thought that knows all nature void!
And so, my song alternate would believe her
Idiot Bush and Daughter of the Sun,
A worthless gift apart from the receiver,
An empty womb, but in a Deathless One.
54
To shapes we would of Freedom, Truth and Joy
Shall we your willing plasm mould for man:
Afresh rebuild the world, and thus destroy
What only Ragnarok in Europe can:
There is no Light but in your dark blendes sleeps,
Drops from your stars or through your ether leaps:
Yea, you are Nature, Chaos since Creation,
Waiting what human Word to chord in song?
Matrix inert of what auspicious nation?
For what far bees your nectar hiving long?
Exhausted manas of the conquering North
Shall rise refreshed to vivid life again
At your approach, and in your lap pour forth
Grateful the gleanings of his mighty reign:
As, when a tropic heat-king southward crawls,
Blistering the ranges, till he hears the calls
Of some cold high-browed bride, her streaming tresses,
Sprinkled with rose-buds, make his wild eyes thrill
To such desire for her superb caresses
He yields his fiery treasures to her will.
'Where is Australia, singer, do you know?
These sordid farms and joyless factories,
Mephitic mines and lanes of pallid woe?
Those ugly towns and cities such as these
With incense sick to all unworthy power,
And all old sin in full malignant flower?
No! to her bourn her children still are faring:
She is a Temple that we are to build:
For her the ages have been long preparing:
She is a prophecy to be fulfilled!
All that we love in olden lands and lore
Was signal of her coming long ago!
Bacon foresaw her, Campanella, More
And Plato's eyes were with her star aglow!
Who toiled for Truth, whate'er their countries were,
Who fought for Liberty, they yearned for her!
No corsair's gathering ground, or tryst for schemers,
55
No chapman Carthage to a huckster Tyre,
She is the Eldorado of old dreamers,
The Sleeping Beauty of the world's desire!
She is the scroll on which we are to write
Mythologies our own and epics new:
She is the port of our propitious flight
From Ur idolatrous and Pharaoh's crew.
She is our own, unstained, if worthy we,
By dream, or god, or star we would not see:
Her crystal beams all but the eagle dazzle;
Her wind-wide ways none but the strong-winged sail:
She is Eutopia, she is Hy-Brasil,
The watchers on the tower of morning hail I
Yet she shall be as we, the Potter, mould:
Altar or tomb, as we aspire, despair:
What wine we bring shall she, the chalice, hold:
What word we write shall she, the script, declare:
Bandage our eyes, she shall be Memphis, Spain:
Barter our souls, she shall be Tyre again:
And if we pour on her the red oblation
All o'er the world shall Asshur's buzzards throng:
Love-lit, her Chaos shall become Creation:
And dewed with dream, her silence flower in song.
~ Bernard O'Dowd,#NFDB
550:Scene. Colmar in Alsatia: an Inn. 1528.
Paracelsus, Festus.
Paracelsus
[to Johannes Oporinus, his Secretary].
Sic itur ad astra! Dear Von Visenburg
Is scandalized, and poor Torinus paralysed,
And every honest soul that Basil holds
Aghast; and yet we live, as one may say,
Just as though Liechtenfels had never set
So true a value on his sorry carcass,
And learned Ptter had not frowned us dumb.
We live; and shall as surely start to morrow
For Nuremberg, as we drink speedy scathe
To Basil in this mantling wine, suffused
A delicate blush, no fainter tinge is born
I' the shut heart of a bud. Pledge me, good John
"Basil; a hot plague ravage it, and Ptter
"Oppose the plague!" Even so? Do you too share
Their panic, the reptiles? Ha, ha; faint through these,
Desist for these! They manage matters so
At Basil, 't is like: but others may find means
To bring the stoutest braggart of the tribe
Once more to crouch in silencemeans to breed
A stupid wonder in each fool again,
Now big with admiration at the skill
Which stript a vain pretender of his plumes:
And, that done,means to brand each slavish brow
So deeply, surely, ineffaceably,
That henceforth flattery shall not pucker it
Out of the furrow; there that stamp shall stay
To show the next they fawn on, what they are,
This Basil with its magnates,fill my cup,
Whom I curse soul and limb. And now despatch,
Despatch, my trusty John; and what remains
To do, whate'er arrangements for our trip
Are yet to be completed, see you hasten
This night; we'll weather the storm at least: to-morrow
For Nuremberg! Now leave us; this grave clerk
Has divers weighty matters for my ear:
[Oporinus goes out.
And spare my lungs. At last, my gallant Festus,
I am rid of this arch-knave that dogs my heels
As a gaunt crow a gasping sheep; at last
May give a loose to my delight. How kind,
How very kind, my first best only friend!
Why, this looks like fidelity. Embrace me!
Not a hair silvered yet? Right! you shall live
Till I am worth your love; you shall be pround,
And Ibut let time show! Did you not wonder?
I sent to you because our compact weighed
Upon my conscience(you recall the night
At Basil, which the gods confound!)because
Once more I aspire. I call you to my side:
You come. You thought my message strange?
Festus.
So strange
That I must hope, indeed, your messenger
Has mingled his own fancies with the words
Purporting to be yours.
Paracelsus.
He said no more,
'T is probable, than the precious folk I leave
Said fiftyfold more roughly. Well-a-day,
'T is true! poor Paracelsus is exposed
At last; a most egregious quack he proves:
And those he overreached must spit their hate
On one who, utterly beneath contempt,
Could yet deceive their topping wits. You heard
Bare truth; and at my bidding you come here
To speed me on my enterprise, as once
Your lavish wishes sped me, my own friend!
Festus.
What is your purpose, Aureole?
Paracelsus.
Oh, for purpose,
There is no lack of precedents in a case
Like mine; at least, if not precisely mine,
The case of men cast off by those they sought
To benefit.
Festus.
They really cast you off?
I only heard a vague tale of some priest,
Cured by your skill, who wrangled at your claim,
Knowing his life's worth best; and how the judge
The matter was referred to, saw no cause
To interfere, nor you to hide your full
Contempt of him; nor he, again, to smother
His wrath thereat, which raised so fierce a flame
That Basil soon was made no place for you.
Paracelsus.
The affair of Liechtenfels? the shallowest fable,
The last and silliest outragemere pretence!
I knew it, I foretold it from the first,
How soon the stupid wonder you mistook
For genuine loyaltya cheering promise
Of better things to comewould pall and pass;
And every word comes true. Saul is among
The prophets! Just so long as I was pleased
To play off the mere antics of my art,
Fantastic gambols leading to no end,
I got huge praise: but one can ne'er keep down
Our foolish nature's weakness. There they flocked,
Poor devils, jostling, swearing and perspiring,
Till the walls rang again; and all for me!
I had a kindness for them, which was right;
But then I stopped not till I tacked to that
A trust in them and a respecta sort
Of sympathy for them; I must needs begin
To teach them, not amaze them, "to impart
"The spirit which should instigate the search
"Of truth," just what you bade me! I spoke out.
Forthwith a mighty squadron, in disgust,
Filed off"the sifted chaff of the sack," I said,
Redoubling my endeavours to secure
The rest. When lo! one man had tarried so long
Only to ascertain if I supported
This tenet of his, or that; another loved
To hear impartially before he judged,
And having heard, now judged; this bland disciple
Passed for my dupe, but all along, it seems,
Spied error where his neighbours marvelled most;
That fiery doctor who had hailed me friend,
Did it because my by-paths, once proved wrong
And beaconed properly, would commend again
The good old ways our sires jogged safely o'er,
Though not their squeamish sons; the other worthy
Discovered divers verses of St. John,
Which, read successively, refreshed the soul,
But, muttered backwards, cured the gout, the stone,
The colic and what not. Quid multa? The end
Was a clear class-room, and a quiet leer
From grave folk, and a sour reproachful glance
From those in chief who, cap in hand, installed
The new professor scarce a year before;
And a vast flourish about patient merit
Obscured awhile by flashy tricks, but sure
Sooner or later to emerge in splendour
Of which the example was some luckless wight
Whom my arrival had discomfited,
But now, it seems, the general voice recalled
To fill my chair and so efface the stain
Basil had long incurred. I sought no better,
Only a quiet dismissal from my post,
And from my heart I wished them better suited
And better served. Good night to Basil, then!
But fast as I proposed to rid the tribe
Of my obnoxious back, I could not spare them
The pleasure of a parting kick.
Festus.
You smile:
Despise them as they merit!
Paracelsus.
If I smile,
'T is with as very contempt as ever turned
Flesh into stone. This courteous recompense,
This grateful . . . Festus, were your nature fit
To be defiled, your eyes the eyes to ache
At gangrene-blotches, eating poison-blains,
The ulcerous barky scurf of leprosy
Which findsa man, and leavesa hideous thing
That cannot but be mended by hell fire,
I would lay bare to you the human heart
Which God cursed long ago, and devils make since
Their pet nest and their never-tiring home.
Oh, sages have discovered we are born
For various endsto love, to know: has ever
One stumbled, in his search, on any signs
Of a nature in us formed to hate? To hate?
If that be our true object which evokes
Our powers in fullest strength, be sure 't is hate!
Yet men have doubted if the best and bravest
Of spirits can nourish him with hate alone.
I had not the monopoly of fools,
It seems, at Basil.
Festus.
But your plans, your plans!
I have yet to learn your purpose, Aureole!
Paracelsus.
Whether to sink beneath such ponderous shame,
To shrink up like a crushed snail, undergo
In silence and desist from further toil,
and so subside into a monument
Of one their censure blasted? or to bow
Cheerfully as submissively, to lower
My old pretensions even as Basil dictates,
To drop into the rank her wits assign me
And live as they prescribe, and make that use
Of my poor knowledge which their rules allow,
Proud to be patted now and then, and careful
To practise the true posture for receiving
The amplest benefit from their hoofs' appliance
When they shall condescend to tutor me?
Then, one may feel resentment like a flame
Within, and deck false systems in truth's garb,
And tangle and entwine mankind with error,
And give them darkness for a dower and falsehood
For a possession, ages: or one may mope
Into a shade through thinking, or else drowse
Into a dreamless sleep and so die off.
But I,now Festus shall divine!but I
Am merely setting out once more, embracing
My earliest aims again! What thinks he now?
Festus.
Your aims? the aims?to Know? and where is found
The early trust . . .
Paracelsus.
Nay, not so fast; I say,
The aimsnot the old means. You know they made me
A laughing-stock; I was a fool; you know
The when and the how: hardly those means again!
Not but they had their beauty; who should know
Their passing beauty, if not I? Still, dreams
They were, so let them vanish, yet in beauty
If that may be. Stay: thus they pass in song!
[He sings.
Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes
Of labdanum, and aloe-balls,
Smeared with dull nard an Indian wipes
From out her hair: such balsam falls
Down sea-side mountain pedestals,
From tree-tops where tired winds are fain,
Spent with the vast and howling main,
To treasure half their island-gain.
And strew faint sweetness from some old
Egyptian's fine worm-eaten shroud
Which breaks to dust when once unrolled;
Or shredded perfume, like a cloud
From closet long to quiet vowed,
With mothed and dropping arras hung,
Mouldering her lute and books among,
As when a queen, long dead, was young.
Mine, every word! And on such pile shall die
My lovely fancies, with fair perished things,
Themselves fair and forgotten; yes, forgotten,
Or why abjure them? So, I made this rhyme
That fitting dignity might be preserved;
No little proud was I; though the list of drugs
Smacks of my old vocation, and the verse
Halts like the best of Luther's psalms.
Festus.
But, Aureole,
Talk not thus wildly and madly. I am here
Did you know all! I have travelled far, indeed,
To learn your wishes. Be yourself again!
For in this mood I recognize you less
Than in the horrible despondency
I witnessed last. You may account this, joy;
But rather let me gaze on that despair
Than hear these incoherent words and see
This flushed cheek and intensely-sparkling eye.
Paracelsus.
Why, man, I was light-hearted in my prime
I am light-hearted now; what would you have?
Aprile was a poet, I make songs
'T is the very augury of success I want!
Why should I not be joyous now as then?
Festus.
Joyous! and how? and what remains for joy?
You have declared the ends (which I am sick
Of naming) are impracticable.
Paracelsus.
Ay,
Pursued as I pursued themthe arch-fool!
Listen: my plan will please you not, 't is like,
But you are little versed in the world's ways.
This is my plan(first drinking its good luck)
I will accept all helps; all I despised
So rashly at the outset, equally
With early impulses, late years have quenched:
I have tried each way singly: now for both!
All helps! no one sort shall exclude the rest.
I seek to know and to enjoy at once,
Not one without the other as before.
Suppose my labour should seem God's own cause
Once more, as first I dreamed,it shall not baulk me
Of the meanest earthliest sensualest delight
That may be snatched; for every joy is gain,
And gain is gain, however small. My soul
Can die then, nor be taunted"what was gained?"
Nor, on the other hand, should pleasure follow
As though I had not spurned her hitherto,
Shall she o'ercloud my spirit's rapt communion
With the tumultuous past, the teeming future,
Glorious with visions of a full success.
Festus.
Success!
Paracelsus.
And wherefore not? Why not prefer
Results obtained in my best state of being,
To those derived alone from seasons dark
As the thoughts they bred? When I was best, my youth
Unwasted, seemed success not surest too?
It is the nature of darkness to obscure.
I am a wanderer: I remember well
One journey, how I feared the track was missed,
So long the city I desired to reach
Lay hid; when suddenly its spires afar
Flashed through the circling clouds; you may conceive
My transport. Soon the vapours closed again,
But I had seen the city, and one such glance
No darkness could obscure: nor shall the present
A few dull hours, a passing shame or two,
Destroy the vivid memories of the past.
I will fight the battle out; a little spent
Perhaps, but still an able combatant.
You look at my grey hair and furrowed brow?
But I can turn even weakness to account:
Of many tricks I know, 't is not the least
To push the ruins of my frame, whereon
The fire of vigour trembles scarce alive,
Into a heap, and send the flame aloft.
What should I do with age? So, sickness lends
An aid; it being, I fear, the source of all
We boast of: mind is nothing but disease,
And natural health is ignorance.
Festus.
I see
But one good symptom in this notable scheme.
I feared your sudden journey had in view
To wreak immediate vengeance on your foes
'T is not so: I am glad.
Paracelsus.
And if I please
To spit on them, to trample them, what then?
'T is sorry warfare truly, but the fools
Provoke it. I would spare their self-conceit
But if they must provoke me, cannot suffer
Forbearance on my part, if I may keep
No quality in the shade, must needs put forth
Power to match power, my strength against their strength,
And teach them their own game with their own arms
Why, be it so and let them take their chance!
I am above them like a god, there's no
Hiding the fact: what idle scruples, then,
Were those that ever bade me soften it,
Communicate it gently to the world,
Instead of proving my supremacy,
Taking my natural station o'er their head,
Then owning all the glory was a man's!
And in my elevation man's would be.
But live and learn, though life's short, learning, hard!
And therefore, though the wreck of my past self,
I fear, dear Ptter, that your lecture-room
Must wait awhile for its best ornament,
The penitent empiric, who set up
For somebody, but soon was taught his place;
Now, but too happy to be let confess
His error, snuff the candles, and illustrate
(Fiat experientia corpore vili)
Your medicine's soundness in his person. Wait,
Good Ptter!
Festus.
He who sneers thus, is a god!
Paracelsus.
Ay, ay, laugh at me! I am very glad
You are not gulled by all this swaggering; you
Can see the root of the matter!how I strive
To put a good face on the overthrow
I have experienced, and to bury and hide
My degradation in its length and breadth;
How the mean motives I would make you think
Just mingle as is due with nobler aims,
The appetites I modestly allow
May influence me as being mortal still
Do goad me, drive me on, and fast supplant
My youth's desires. You are no stupid dupe:
You find me out! Yes, I had sent for you
To palm these childish lies upon you, Festus!
Laughyou shall laugh at me!
Festus.
The past, then, Aureole,
Proves nothing? Is our interchange of love
Yet to begin? Have I to swear I mean
No flattery in this speech or that? For you,
Whate'er you say, there is no degradation;
These low thoughts are no inmates of your mind,
Or wherefore this disorder? You are vexed
As much by the intrusion of base views,
Familiar to your adversaries, as they
Were troubled should your qualities alight
Amid their murky souls; not otherwise,
A stray wolf which the winter forces down
From our bleak hills, suffices to affright
A village in the valeswhile foresters
Sleep calm, though all night long the famished troop
Snuff round and scratch against their crazy huts.
These evil thoughts are monsters, and will flee.
Paracelsus.
May you be happy, Festus, my own friend!
Festus.
Nay, further; the delights you fain would think
The superseders of your nobler aims,
Though ordinary and harmless stimulants,
Will ne'er content you. . . .
Paracelsus.
Hush! I once despised them,
But that soon passes. We are high at first
In our demand, nor will abate a jot
Of toil's strict value; but time passes o'er,
And humbler spirits accept what we refuse:
In short, when some such comfort is doled out
As these delights, we cannot long retain
Bitter contempt which urges us at first
To hurl it back, but hug it to our breast
And thankfully retire. This life of mine
Must be lived out and a grave thoroughly earned:
I am just fit for that and nought beside.
I told you once, I cannot now enjoy,
Unless I deem my knowledge gains through joy;
Nor can I know, but straight warm tears reveal
My need of linking also joy to knowledge:
So, on I drive, enjoying all I can,
And knowing all I can. I speak, of course,
Confusedly; this will better explainfeel here!
Quick beating, is it not?a fire of the heart
To work off some way, this as well as any.
So, Festus sees me fairly launched; his calm
Compassionate look might have disturbed me once,
But now, far from rejecting, I invite
What bids me press the closer, lay myself
Open before him, and be soothed with pity;
I hope, if he command hope, and believe
As he directs mesatiating myself
With his enduring love. And Festus quits me
To give place to some credulous disciple
Who holds that God is wise, but Paracelsus
Has his peculiar merits: I suck in
That homage, chuckle o'er that admiration,
And then dismiss the fool; for night is come.
And I betake myself to study again,
Till patient searchings after hidden lore
Half wring some bright truth from its prison; my frame
Trembles, my forehead's veins swell out, my hair
Tingles for triumph. Slow and sure the morn
Shall break on my pent room and dwindling lamp
And furnace dead, and scattered earths and ores;
When, with a failing heart and throbbing brow,
I must review my captured truth, sum up
Its value, trace what ends to what begins,
Its present power with its eventual bearings,
Latent affinities, the views it opens,
And its full length in perfecting my scheme.
I view it sternly circumscribed, cast down
From the high place my fond hopes yielded it,
Proved worthlesswhich, in getting, yet had cost
Another wrench to this fast-falling frame.
Then, quick, the cup to quaff, that chases sorrow!
I lapse back into youth, and take again
My fluttering pulse for evidence that God
Means good to me, will make my cause his own.
See! I have cast off this remorseless care
Which clogged a spirit born to soar so free,
And my dim chamber has become a tent,
Festus is sitting by me, and his Michal . . .
Why do you start? I say, she listening here,
(For yonderWrzburg through the orchard-bough!)
Motions as though such ardent words should find
No echo in a maiden's quiet soul,
But her pure bosom heaves, her eyes fill fast
With tears, her sweet lips tremble all the while!
Ha, ha!
Festus.
It seems, then, you expect to reap
No unreal joy from this your present course,
But rather . . .
Paracelsus.
Death! To die! I owe that much
To what, at least, I was. I should be sad
To live contented after such a fall,
To thrive and fatten after such reverse!
The whole plan is a makeshift, but will last
My time.
Festus.
And you have never mused and said,
"I had a noble purpose, and the strength
"To compass it; but I have stopped half-way,
"And wrongly given the first-fruits of my toil
"To objects little worthy of the gift.
"Why linger round them still? why clench my fault?
"Why seek for consolation in defeat,
"In vain endeavours to derive a beauty
"From ugliness? why seek to make the most
"Of what no power can change, nor strive instead
"With mighty effort to redeem the past
"And, gathering up the treasures thus cast down,
"To hold a steadfast course till I arrive
"At their fit destination and my own?"
You have never pondered thus?
Paracelsus.
Have I, you ask?
Often at midnight, when most fancies come,
Would some such airy project visit me:
But ever at the end . . . or will you hear
The same thing in a tale, a parable?
You and I, wandering over the world wide,
Chance to set foot upon a desert coast.
Just as we cry, "No human voice before
"Broke the inveterate silence of these rocks!"
Their querulous echo startles us; we turn:
What ravaged structure still looks o'er the sea?
Some characters remain, too! While we read,
The sharp salt wind, impatient for the last
Of even this record, wistfully comes and goes,
Or sings what we recover, mocking it.
This is the record; and my voice, the wind's.
[He sings.
Over the sea our galleys went,
With cleaving prows in order brave
To a speeding wind and a bounding wave,
A gallant armament:
Each bark built out of a forest-tree
Left leafy and rough as first it grew,
And nailed all over the gaping sides,
Within and without, with black bull-hides,
Seethed in fat and suppled in flame,
To bear the playful billows' game:
So, each good ship was rude to see,
Rude and bare to the outward view,
But each upbore a stately tent
Where cedar pales in scented row
Kept out the flakes of the dancing brine,
And an awning drooped the mast below,
In fold on fold of the purple fine,
That neither noontide nor starshine
Nor moonlight cold which maketh mad,
Might pierce the regal tenement.
When the sun dawned, oh, gay and glad
We set the sail and plied the oar;
But when the night-wind blew like breath,
For joy of one day's voyage more,
We sang together on the wide sea,
Like men at peace on a peaceful shore;
Each sail was loosed to the wind so free,
Each helm made sure by the twilight star,
And in a sleep as calm as death,
We, the voyagers from afar,
Lay stretched along, each weary crew
In a circle round its wondrous tent
Whence gleamed soft light and curled rich scent,
And with light and perfume, music too:
So the stars wheeled round, and the darkness past,
And at morn we started beside the mast,
And still each ship was sailing fast.
Now, one morn, land appeareda speck
Dim trembling betwixt sea and sky:
"Avoid it," cried our pilot, "check
"The shout, restrain the eager eye!"
But the heaving sea was black behind
For many a night and many a day,
And land, though but a rock, drew nigh;
So, we broke the cedar pales away,
Let the purple awning flap in the wind,
And a statute bright was on every deck!
We shouted, every man of us,
And steered right into the harbour thus,
With pomp and pan glorious.
A hundred shapes of lucid stone!
All day we built its shrine for each,
A shrine of rock for every one,
Nor paused till in the westering sun
We sat together on the beach
To sing because our task was done.
When lo! what shouts and merry songs!
What laughter all the distance stirs!
A loaded raft with happy throngs
Of gentle islanders!
"Our isles are just at hand," they cried,
"Like cloudlets faint in even sleeping
"Our temple-gates are opened wide,
"Our olive-groves thick shade are keeping
"For these majestic forms"they cried.
Oh, then we awoke with sudden start
From our deep dream, and knew, too late,
How bare the rock, how desolate,
Which had received our precious freight:
Yet we called out"Depart!
"Our gifts, once given, must here abide.
"Our work is done; we have no heart
"To mar our work,"we cried.
Festus.
In truth?
Paracelsus.
Nay, wait: all this in tracings faint
On rugged stones strewn here and there, but piled
In order once: then followsmark what follows!
"The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung
"To their first fault, and withered in their pride."
Festus.
Come back then, Aureole; as you fear God, come!
This is foul sin; come back! Renounce the past,
Forswear the future; look for joy no more,
But wait death's summons amid holy sights,
And trust me for the eventpeace, if not joy.
Return with me to Einsiedeln, dear Aureole!
Paracelsus.
No way, no way! it would not turn to good.
A spotless child sleeps on the flowering moss
'T is well for him; but when a sinful man,
Envying such slumber, may desire to put
His guilt away, shall he return at once
To rest by lying there? Our sires knew well
(Spite of the grave discoveries of their sons)
The fitting course for such: dark cells, dim lamps,
A stone floor one may writhe on like a worm:
No mossy pillow blue with violets!
Festus.
I see no symptom of these absolute
And tyrannous passions. You are calmer now.
This verse-making can purge you well enough
Without the terrible penance you describe.
You love me still: the lusts you fear will never
Outrage your friend. To Einsiedeln, once more!
Say but the word!
Paracelsus.
No, no; those lusts forbid:
They crouch, I know, cowering with half-shut eye
Beside you; 't is their nature. Thrust yourself
Between them and their prey; let some fool style me
Or king or quack, it matters notthen try
Your wisdom, urge them to forego their treat!
No, no; learn better and look deeper, Festus!
If you knew how a devil sneers within me
While you are talking now of this, now that,
As though we differed scarcely save in trifles!
Festus.
Do we so differ? True, change must proceed,
Whether for good or ill; keep from me, which!
Do not confide all secrets: I was born
To hope, and you . . .
Paracelsus.
To trust: you know the fruits!
Festus.
Listen: I do believe, what you call trust
Was self-delusion at the best: for, see!
So long as God would kindly pioneer
A path for you, and screen you from the world,
Procure you full exemption from man's lot,
Man's common hopes and fears, on the mere pretext
Of your engagement in his serviceyield you
A limitless licence, make you God, in fact,
And turn your slaveyou were content to say
Most courtly praises! What is it, at last,
But selfishness without example? None
Could trace God's will so plain as you, while yours
Remained implied in it; but now you fail,
And we, who prate about that will, are fools!
In short, God's service is established here
As he determines fit, and not your way,
And this you cannot brook. Such discontent
Is weak. Renounce all creatureship at once!
Affirm an absolute right to have and use
Your energies; as though the rivers should say
"We rush to the ocean; what have we to do
"With feeding streamlets, lingering in the vales,
"Sleeping in lazy pools?" Set up that plea,
That will be bold at least!
Paracelsus.
'T is like enough.
The serviceable spirits are those, no doubt,
The East produces: lo, the master bids,
They wake, raise terraces and garden-grounds
In one night's space; and, this done, straight begin
Another century's sleep, to the great praise
Of him that framed them wise and beautiful,
Till a lamp's rubbing, or some chance akin,
Wake them again. I am of different mould.
I would have soothed my lord, and slaved for him
And done him service past my narrow bond,
And thus I get rewarded for my pains!
Beside, 't is vain to talk of forwarding
God's glory otherwise; this is alone
The sphere of its increase, as far as men
Increase it; why, then, look beyond this sphere?
We are his glory; and if we be glorious,
Is not the thing achieved?
Festus.
Shall one like me
Judge hearts like yours? Though years have changed you much,
And you have left your first love, and retain
Its empty shade to veil your crooked ways,
Yet I still hold that you have honoured God.
And who shall call your course without reward?
For, wherefore this repining at defeat
Had triumph ne'er inured you to high hopes?
I urge you to forsake the life you curse,
And what success attends me?simply talk
Of passion, weakness and remorse; in short,
Anything but the naked truthyou choose
This so-despised career, and cheaply hold
My happiness, or rather other men's.
Once more, return!
Paracelsus.
And quickly. John the thief
Has pilfered half my secrets by this time:
And we depart by daybreak. I am weary,
I know not how; not even the wine-cup soothes
My brain to-night . . .
Do you not thoroughly despise me, Festus?
No flattery! One like you needs not be told
We live and breathe deceiving and deceived.
Do you not scorn me from your heart of hearts,
Me and my cant, each petty subterfuge,
My rhymes and all this frothy shower of words,
My glozing self-deceit, my outward crust
Of lies which wrap, as tetter, morphew, furfair
Wrapt the sound flesh?so, see you flatter not!
Even God flatters: but my friend, at least,
Is true. I would depart, secure henceforth
Against all further insult, hate and wrong
From puny foes; my one friend's scorn shall brand me:
No fear of sinking deeper!
Festus.
No, dear Aureole!
No, no; I came to counsel faithfully.
There are old rules, made long ere we were born,
By which I judge you. I, so fallible,
So infinitely low beside your mighty
Majestic spirit!even I can see
You own some higher law than ours which call
Sin, what is no sinweakness, what is strength.
But I have only these, such as they are,
To guide me; and I blame you where they bid,
Only so long as blaming promises
To win peace for your soul: the more, that sorrow
Has fallen on me of late, and they have helped me
So that I faint not under my distress.
But wherefore should I scruple to avow
In spite of all, as brother judging brother,
Your fate is most inexplicable to me?
And should you perish without recompense
And satisfaction yettoo hastily
I have relied on love: you may have sinned,
But you have loved. As a mere human matter
As I would have God deal with fragile men
In the endI say that you will triumph yet!
Paracelsus.
Have you felt sorrow, Festus?'t is because
You love me. Sorrow, and sweet Michal yours!
Well thought on: never let her know this last
Dull winding-up of all: these miscreants dared
Insult meme she loved:so, grieve her not!
Festus.
Your ill success can little grieve her now.
Paracelsus.
Michal is dead! pray Christ we do not craze!
Festus.
Aureole, dear Aureole, look not on me thus!
Fool, fool! this is the heart grown sorrow-proof
I cannot bear those eyes.
Paracelsus.
Nay, really dead?
Festus.
'T is scarce a month.
Paracelsus.
Stone dead!then you have laid her
Among the flowers ere this. Now, do you know,
I can reveal a secret which shall comfort
Even you. I have no julep, as men think,
To cheat the grave; but a far better secret.
Know, then, you did not ill to trust your love
To the cold earth: I have thought much of it:
For I believe we do not wholly die.
Festus.
Aureole!
Paracelsus.
Nay, do not laugh; there is a reason
For what I say: I think the soul can never
Taste death. I am, just now, as you may see,
Very unfit to put so strange a thought
In an intelligible dress of words;
But take it as my trust, she is not dead.
Festus.
But not on this account alone? you surely,
Aureole, you have believed this all along?
Paracelsus.
And Michal sleeps among the roots and dews,
While I am moved at Basil, and full of schemes
For Nuremberg, and hoping and despairing,
As though it mattered how the farce plays out,
So it be quickly played. Away, away!
Have your will, rabble! while we fight the prize,
Troop you in safety to the snug back-seats
And leave a clear arena for the brave
About to perish for your sport!Behold!
~ Robert Browning, Paracelsus - Part IV - Paracelsus Aspires
,#NFDB
551:A TRAGEDY IN TWO ACTS
Translated from the Original Doric
'Choose Reform or Civil War,
When through thy streets, instead of hare with dogs,
A Consort-Queen shall hunt a King with hogs,
Riding on the IONIAN MINOTAUR.'
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Tyrant Swellfoot, King of Thebes.
Iona Taurina, his Queen.
Mammon, Arch-Priest of Famine.
Purganax Wizard, Minister of Swellfoot.
Dakry Wizard, Minister of Swellfoot.
Laoctonos Wizard, Minister of Swellfoot.
The Gadfly.
The Leech.
The Rat.
Moses, the Sow-gelder.
Solomon, the Porkman.
Zephaniah, Pig-butcher.
The Minotaur.
Chorus of the Swinish Multitude.
Guards, Attendants, Priests, etc., etc.
SCENE.--THEBES
ACT I.
Scene I.-- A magnificent Temple, built of thigh-bones and death's-heads, and tiled with scalps. Over the Altar the statue of Famine, veiled; a number of Boars, Sows, and Sucking-Pigs, crowned with thistle, shamrock, and oak, sitting on the steps, and clinging round the Altar of the Temple.
Enter Swellfoot, in his Royal robes, without perceiving the Pigs.
Swellfoot.
Thou supreme Goddess! by whose power divine
These graceful limbs are clothed in proud array [He contemplates himself with satisfaction.
Of gold and purple, and this kingly paunch
Swells like a sail before a favouring breeze,
And these most sacred nether promontories
Lie satisfied with layers of fat; and these
Boeotian cheeks, like Egypt's pyramid,
(Nor with less toil were their foundations laid)[1],
Sustain the cone of my untroubled brain,
That point, the emblem of a pointless nothing!
Thou to whom Kings and laurelled Emperors,
Radical-butchers, Paper-money-millers,
Bishops and Deacons, and the entire army
Of those fat martyrs to the persecution
Of stifling turtle-soup, and brandy-devils,
Offer their secret vows! Thou plenteous Ceres
Of their Eleusis, hail!
The Swine.
Eigh! eigh! eigh! eigh!
Swellfoot.
Ha! what are ye,
Who, crowned with leaves devoted to the Furies,
Cling round this sacred shrine?
Swine.
Aigh! aigh! aigh!
Swellfoot.
What! ye that are
The very beasts that, offered at her altar
With blood and groans, salt-cake, and fat, and inwards,
Ever propitiate her reluctant will
When taxes are withheld?
Swine.
Ugh! ugh! ugh!
Swellfoot.
What! ye who grub
With filthy snouts my red potatoes up
In Allan's rushy bog? Who eat the oats
Up, from my cavalry in the Hebrides?
Who swill the hog-wash soup my cooks digest
From bones, and rags, and scraps of shoe-leather,
Which should be given to cleaner Pigs than you?
The Swine.Semichorus I.
The same, alas! the same;
Though only now the name
Of Pig remains to me.
Semichorus II.
If 'twere your kingly will
Us wretched Swine to kill,
What should we yield to thee?
Swellfoot.
Why, skin and bones, and some few hairs for mortar.
Chorus of Swine.
I have heard your Laureate sing,
That pity was a royal thing;
Under your mighty ancestors, we Pigs
Were bless'd as nightingales on myrtle sprigs,
Or grasshoppers that live on noonday dew,
And sung, old annals tell, as sweetly too;
But now our sties are fallen in, we catch
The murrain and the mange, the scab and itch;
Sometimes your royal dogs tear down our thatch,
And then we seek the shelter of a ditch;
Hog-wash or grains, or ruta-baga, none
Has yet been ours since your reign begun.
First Sow.
My Pigs, 'tis in vain to tug.
Second Sow.
I could almost eat my litter.
First Pig.
I suck, but no milk will come from the dug.
Second Pig.
Our skin and our bones would be bitter.
The Boars.
We fight for this rag of greasy rug,
Though a trough of wash would be fitter.
Semichorus.
Happier Swine were they than we,
Drowned in the Gadarean sea
I wish that pity would drive out the devils,
Which in your royal bosom hold their revels,
And sink us in the waves of thy compassion!
Alas! the Pigs are an unhappy nation!
Now if your Majesty would have our bristles
To bind your mortar with, or fill our colons
With rich blood, or make brawn out of our gristles,
In policyask else your royal Solons
You ought to give us hog-wash and clean straw,
And sties well thatched; besides it is the law!
Swellfoot.
This is sedition, and rank blasphemy!
Ho! there, my guards!
Enter a Guard.
Guard.
Your sacred Majesty.
Swellfoot.
Call in the Jews, Solomon the court porkman,
Moses the sow-gelder, and Zephaniah
The hog-butcher.
Guard.
They are in waiting, Sire.
Enter Solomon, Moses, and Zephaniah.
Swellfoot.
Out with your knife, old Moses, and spay those Sows [The Pigs run about in consternation.
That load the earth with Pigs; cut close and deep.
Moral restraint I see has no effect,
Nor prostitution, nor our own example,
Starvation, typhus-fever, war, nor prison
This was the art which the arch-priest of Famine
Hinted at in his charge to the Theban clergy
Cut close and deep, good Moses.
Moses.
Let your Majesty
Keep the Boars quiet, else
Swellfoot.
Zephaniah, cut
That fat Hog's throat, the brute seems overfed;
Seditious hunks! to whine for want of grains.
Zephaniah.
Your sacred Majesty, he has the dropsy;
We shall find pints of hydatids in's liver,
He has not half an inch of wholesome fat
Upon his carious ribs
Swellfoot.
'Tis all the same,
He'll serve instead of riot money, when
Our murmuring troops bivouac in Thebes' streets;
And January winds, after a day
Of butchering, will make them relish carrion.
Now, Solomon, I'll sell you in a lump
The whole kit of them.
Solomon.
Why, your Majesty,
I could not give
Swellfoot.
Kill them out of the way,
That shall be price enough, and let me hear
Their everlasting grunts and whines no more!
[Exeunt, driving in the Swine.
Enter Mammon, the Arch-Priest; and Purganax, Chief of the Council of Wizards.
Purganax.
The future looks as black as death, a cloud,
Dark as the frown of Hell, hangs over it
The troops grow mutinousthe revenue fails
There's something rotten in usfor the level
Of the State slopes, its very bases topple,
The boldest turn their backs upon themselves!
Mammon.
Why what's the matter, my dear fellow, now?
Do the troops mutiny?decimate some regiments;
Does money fail?come to my mintcoin paper,
Till gold be at a discount, and ashamed
To show his bilious face, go purge himself,
In emulation of her vestal whiteness.
Purganax.
Oh, would that this were all! The oracle!!
Mammon.
Why it was I who spoke that oracle,
And whether I was dead drunk or inspired,
I cannot well remember; nor, in truth,
The oracle itself!
Purganax.
The words went thus:
'Boeotia, choose reform or civil war!
When through the streets, instead of hare with dogs,
A Consort Queen shall hunt a King with Hogs,
Riding on the Ionian Minotaur.'
Mammon.
Now if the oracle had ne'er foretold
This sad alternative, it must arrive,
Or not, and so it must now that it has;
And whether I was urged by grace divine
Or Lesbian liquor to declare these words,
Which must, as all words must, be false or true,
It matters not: for the same Power made all,
Oracle, wine, and me and youor none
'Tis the same thing. If you knew as much
Of oracles as I do
Purganax.
You arch-priests
Believe in nothing; if you were to dream
Of a particular number in the Lottery,
You would not buy the ticket?
Mammon.
Yet our tickets
Are seldom blanks. But what steps have you taken?
For prophecies, when once they get abroad,
Like liars who tell the truth to serve their ends,
Or hypocrites who, from assuming virtue,
Do the same actions that the virtuous do,
Contrive their own fulfilment. This Iona
Wellyou know what the chaste Pasiphae did,
Wife to that most religious King of Crete,
And still how popular the tale is here;
And these dull Swine of Thebes boast their descent
From the free Minotaur. You know they still
Call themselves Bulls, though thus degenerate,
And everything relating to a Bull
Is popular and respectable in Thebes.
Their arms are seven Bulls in a field gules;
They think their strength consists in eating beef,
Now there were danger in the precedent
If Queen Iona
Purganax.
I have taken good care
That shall not be. I struck the crust o' the earth
With this enchanted rod, and Hell lay bare!
And from a cavern full of ugly shapes
I chose a Leech, a Gadfly, and a Rat.
The Gadfly was the same which Juno sent
To agitate Io[2], and which Ezekiel[3] mentions
That the Lord whistled for out of the mountains
Of utmost Aethiopia, to torment
Mesopotamian Babylon. The beast
Has a loud trumpet like the scarabee,
His crookd tail is barbed with many stings,
Each able to make a thousand wounds, and each
Immedicable; from his convex eyes
He sees fair things in many hideous shapes,
And trumpets all his falsehood to the world.
Like other beetles he is fed on dung
He has eleven feet with which he crawls,
Trailing a blistering slime, and this foul beast
Has tracked Iona from the Theban limits,
From isle to isle, from city unto city,
Urging her flight from the far Chersonese
To fabulous Solyma, and the Aetnean Isle,
Ortygia, Melite, and Calypso's Rock,
And the swart tribes of Garamant and Fez,
Aeolia and Elysium, and thy shores,
Parthenope, which now, alas! are free!
And through the fortunate Saturnian land,
Into the darkness of the West.
Mammon.
But if
This Gadfly should drive Iona hither?
Purganax.
Gods! what an if! but there is my gray Rat:
So thin with want, he can crawl in and out
Of any narrow chink and filthy hole,
And he shall creep into her dressing-room,
And
Mammon.
My dear friend, where are your wits? as if
She does not always toast a piece of cheese
And bait the trap? and rats, when lean enough
To crawl through such chinks
Purganax.
But my Leecha leech
Fit to suck blood, with lubricous round rings,
Capaciously expatiative, which make
His little body like a red balloon,
As full of blood as that of hydrogen,
Sucked from men's hearts; insatiably he sucks
And clings and pullsa horse-leech, whose deep maw
The plethoric King Swellfoot could not fill,
And who, till full, will cling for ever.
Mammon.
This
For Queen Iona would suffice, and less;
But 'tis the Swinish multitude I fear,
And in that fear I have
Purganax.
Done what?
Mammon.
Disinherited
My eldest son Chrysaor, because he
Attended public meetings, and would always
Stand prating there of commerce, public faith,
Economy, and unadulterate coin,
And other topics, ultra-radical;
And have entailed my estate, called the Fool's Paradise,
And funds in fairy-money, bonds, and bills,
Upon my accomplished daughter Banknotina,
And married her to the gallows[4].
Purganax.
A good match!
Mammon.
A high connexion, Purganax. The bridegroom
Is of a very ancient family,
Of Hounslow Heath, Tyburn, and the New Drop,
And has great influence in both Houses;oh!
He makes the fondest husband; nay, too fond,
New-married people should not kiss in public;
But the poor souls love one another so!
And then my little grandchildren, the gibbets,
Promising children as you ever saw,
The young playing at hanging, the elder learning
How to hold radicals. They are well taught too,
For every gibbet says its catechism
And reads a select chapter in the Bible
Before it goes to play.
[A most tremendous humming is heard.
Purganax.
Ha! what do I hear?
Enter the Gadfly.
Mammon.
Your Gadfly, as it seems, is tired of gadding.
Gadfly.
Hum! hum! hum!
From the lakes of the Alps, and the cold gray scalps
Of the mountains, I come!
Hum! hum! hum!
From Morocco and Fez, and the high palaces
Of golden Byzantium;
From the temples divine of old Palestine,
From Athens and Rome,
With a ha! and a hum!
I come! I come!
All inn-doors and windows
Were open to me:
I saw all that sin does,
Which lamps hardly see
That burn in the night by the curtained bed,
The impudent lamps! for they blushed not red,
Dinging and singing,
From slumber I rung her,
Loud as the clank of an ironmonger;
Hum! hum! hum!
Far, far, far!
With the trump of my lips, and the sting at my hips,
I drove herafar!
Far, far, far!
From city to city, abandoned of pity,
A ship without needle or star;
Homeless she passed, like a cloud on the blast,
Seeking peace, finding war;
She is here in her car,
From afar, and afar;
Hum! hum!
I have stung her and wrung her,
The venom is working;
And if you had hung her
With canting and quirking,
She could not be deader than she will be soon;
I have driven her close to you, under the moon,
Night and day, hum! hum! ha!
I have hummed her and drummed her
From place to place, till at last I have dumbed her,
Hum! hum! hum!
Enter the Leech and the Rat.
Leech.
I will suck
Blood or muck!
The disease of the state is a plethory,
Who so fit to reduce it as I?
Rat.
I'll slily seize and
Let blood from her weasand,
Creeping through crevice, and chink, and cranny,
With my snaky tail, and my sides so scranny.
Purganax.
Aroint ye! thou unprofitable worm! [To the Leech.
And thou, dull beetle, get thee back to hell! [To the Gadfly.
To sting the ghosts of Babylonian kings,
And the ox-headed Io
Swine
(within).
Ugh, ugh, ugh!
Hail! Iona the divine,
We will be no longer Swine,
But Bulls with horns and dewlaps.
Rat.
For,
You know, my lord, the Minotaur
Purganax
(fiercely).
Be silent! get to hell! or I will call
The cat out of the kitchen. Well, Lord Mammon,
This is a pretty business.
[Exit the Rat.
Mammon.
I will go
And spell some scheme to make it ugly then.
[Exit.
Enter Swellfoot.
Swellfoot.
She is returned! Taurina is in Thebes,
When Swellfoot wishes that she were in hell!
Oh, Hymen, clothed in yellow jealousy,
And waving o'er the couch of wedded kings
The torch of Discord with its fiery hair;
This is thy work, thou patron saint of queens!
Swellfoot is wived! though parted by the sea,
The very name of wife had conjugal rights;
Her cursd image ate, drank, slept with me,
And in the arms of Adiposa oft
Her memory has received a husband's
[A loud tumult, and cries of 'Iona for ever!No Swellfoot!'!
Hark!
How the Swine cry Iona Taurina;
I suffer the real presence; Purganax,
Off with her head!
Purganax.
But I must first impanel
A jury of the Pigs.
Swellfoot.
Pack them then.
Purganax.
Or fattening some few in two separate sties,
And giving them clean straw, tying some bits
Of ribbon round their legsgiving their Sows
Some tawdry lace, and bits of lustre glass,
And their young Boars white and red rags, and tails
Of cows, and jay feathers, and sticking cauliflowers
Between the ears of the old ones; and when
They are persuaded, that by the inherent virtue
Of these things, they are all imperial Pigs,
Good Lord! they'd rip each other's bellies up,
Not to say, help us in destroying her.
Swellfoot.
This plan might be tried too;where's General
Laoctonos?
Enter Laoctonos and Dakry.
It is my royal pleasure
That you, Lord General, bring the head and body,
If separate it would please me better, hither
Of Queen Iona.
Laoctonos.
That pleasure I well knew,
And made a charge with those battalions bold,
Called, from their dress and grin, the royal apes,
Upon the Swine, who in a hollow square
Enclosed her, and received the first attack
Like so many rhinoceroses, and then
Retreating in good order, with bare tusks
And wrinkled snouts presented to the foe,
Bore her in triumph to the public sty.
What is still worse, some Sows upon the ground
Have given the ape-guards apples, nuts, and gin,
And they all whisk their tails aloft, and cry,
'Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot!'
Purganax.
Hark!
The Swine
(without).
Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot!
Dakry.
I
Went to the garret of the swineherd's tower,
Which overlooks the sty, and made a long
Harangue (all words) to the assembled Swine,
Of delicacy, mercy, judgement, law,
Morals, and precedents, and purity,
Adultery, destitution, and divorce,
Piety, faith, and state necessity,
And how I loved the Queen!and then I wept
With the pathos of my own eloquence,
And every tear turned to a mill-stone, which
Brained many a gaping Pig, and there was made
A slough of blood and brains upon the place,
Greased with the pounded bacon; round and round
The mill-stones rolled, ploughing the pavement up,
And hurling Sucking-Pigs into the air,
With dust and stones.
Enter Mammon.
Mammon.
I wonder that gray wizards
Like you should be so beardless in their schemes;
It had been but a point of policy
To keep Iona and the Swine apart.
Divide and rule! but ye have made a junction
Between two parties who will govern you
But for my art.Behold this BAG! it is
The poison BAG of that Green Spider huge,
On which our spies skulked in ovation through
The streets of Thebes, when they were paved with dead:
A bane so much the deadlier fills it now
As calumny is worse than death,for here
The Gadfly's venom, fifty times distilled,
Is mingled with the vomit of the Leech,
In due proportion, and black ratsbane, which
That very Rat, who, like the Pontic tyrant,
Nurtures himself on poison, dare not touch;
All is sealed up with the broad seal of Fraud,
Who is the Devil's Lord High Chancellor,
And over it the Primate of all Hell
Murmured this pious baptism:'Be thou called
The GREEN BAG; and this power and grace be thine:
That thy contents, on whomsoever poured,
Turn innocence to guilt, and gentlest looks
To savage, foul, and fierce deformity.
Let all baptized by thy infernal dew
Be called adulterer, drunkard, liar, wretch!
No name left out which orthodoxy loves,
Court Journal or legitimate Review!
Be they called tyrant, beast, fool, glutton, lover
Of other wives and husbands than their own
The heaviest sin on this side of the Alps!
Wither they to a ghastly caricature
Of what was human!let not man or beast
Behold their face with unaverted eyes!
Or hear their names with ears that tingle not
With blood of indignation, rage, and shame!'
This is a perilous liquor;good my Lords. [Swellfoot approaches to touch the GREEN BAG.
Beware! for God's sake, beware!if you should break
The seal, and touch the fatal liquor
Purganax.
There,
Give it to me. I have been used to handle
All sorts of poisons. His dread Majesty
Only desires to see the colour of it.
Mammon.
Now, with a little common sense, my Lords,
Only undoing all that has been done
(Yet so as it may seem we but confirm it),
Our victory is assured. We must entice
Her Majesty from the sty, and make the Pigs
Believe that the contents of the GREEN BAG
Are the true test of guilt or innocence.
And that, if she be guilty, 'twill transform her
To manifest deformity like guilt.
If innocent, she will become transfigured
Into an angel, such as they say she is;
And they will see her flying through the air,
So bright that she will dim the noonday sun;
Showering down blessings in the shape of comfits.
This, trust a priest, is just the sort of thing
Swine will believe. I'll wager you will see them
Climbing upon the thatch of their low sties,
With pieces of smoked glass, to watch her sail
Among the clouds, and some will hold the flaps
Of one another's ears between their teeth,
To catch the coming hail of comfits in.
You, Purganax, who have the gift o' the gab,
Make them a solemn speech to this effect:
I go to put in readiness the feast
Kept to the honour of our goddess Famine,
Where, for more glory, let the ceremony
Take place of the uglification of the Queen.
Dakry
(to Swellfoot).
I, as the keeper of your sacred conscience,
Humbly remind your Majesty that the care
Of your high office, as Man-milliner
To red Bellona, should not be deferred.
Purganax.
All part, in happier plight to meet again.
[Exeunt.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
ACT II
Scene I.
The Public Sty. The Boars in full Assembly.
Enter Purganax.
Purganax.
Grant me your patience, Gentlemen and Boars,
Ye, by whose patience under public burthens
The glorious constitution of these sties
Subsists, and shall subsist. The Lean-Pig rates
Grow with the growing populace of Swine,
The taxes, that true source of Piggishness
(How can I find a more appropriate term
To include religion, morals, peace, and plenty,
And all that fit Boeotia as a nation
To teach the other nations how to live?),
Increase with Piggishness itself; and still
Does the revenue, that great spring of all
The patronage, and pensions, and by-payments,
Which free-born Pigs regard with jealous eyes,
Diminish, till at length, by glorious steps,
All the land's produce will be merged in taxes,
And the revenue will amount tonothing!
The failure of a foreign market for
Sausages, bristles, and blood-puddings,
And such home manufactures, is but partial;
And, that the population of the Pigs,
Instead of hog-wash, has been fed on straw
And water, is a fact which isyou know
That isit is a state-necessity
Temporary, of course. Those impious Pigs,
Who, by frequent squeaks, have dared impugn
The settled Swellfoot system, or to make
Irreverent mockery of the genuflexions
Inculcated by the arch-priest, have been whipped
Into a loyal and an orthodox whine.
Things being in this happy state, the Queen
Iona
[A loud cry from the Pigs.
She is innocent! most innocent!
Purganax.
That is the very thing that I was saying,
Gentlemen Swine; the Queen Iona being
Most innocent, no doubt, returns to Thebes,
And the lean Sows and Boars collect about her,
Wishing to make her think that we believe
(I mean those more substantial Pigs, who swill
Rich hog-wash, while the others mouth damp straw)
That she is guilty; thus, the Lean-Pig faction
Seeks to obtain that hog-wash, which has been
Your immemorial right, and which I will
Maintain you in to the last drop of
A Boar
(interrupting him).
What
Does any one accuse her of?
Purganax.
Why, no one
Makes any positive accusation;but
There were hints dropped, and so the privy wizards
Conceived that it became them to advise
His Majesty to investigate their truth;
Not for his own sake; he could be content
To let his wife play any pranks she pleased,
If, by that sufferance, he could please the Pigs;
But then he fears the morals of the Swine,
The Sows especially, and what effect
It might produce upon the purity and
Religion of the rising generation
Of Sucking-Pigs, if it could be suspected
That Queen Iona
[A pause.
First Boar.
Well, go on; we long
To hear what she can possibly have done.
Purganax.
Why, it is hinted, that a certain Bull
Thus much is known:the milk-white Bulls that feed
Beside Clitumnus and the crystal lakes
Of the Cisalpine mountains, in fresh dews
Of lotus-grass and blossoming asphodel
Sleeking their silken hair, and with sweet breath
Loading the morning winds until they faint
With living fragrance, are so beautiful!
Well, I say nothing;but Europa rode
On such a one from Asia into Crete,
And the enamoured sea grew calm beneath
His gliding beauty. And Pasiphae,
Iona's grandmother,but she is innocent!
And that both you and I, and all assert.
First Boar.
Most innocent!
Purganax.
Behold this BAG; a bag
Second Boar.
Oh! no GREEN BAGS!! Jealousy's eyes are green,
Scorpions are green, and water-snakes, and efts,
And verdigris, and
Purganax.
Honourable Swine,
In Piggish souls can prepossessions reign?
Allow me to remind you, grass is green
All flesh is grass;no bacon but is flesh
Ye are but bacon. This divining BAG
(Which is not green, but only bacon colour)
Is filled with liquor, which if sprinkled o'er
A woman guilty ofwe all know what
Makes her so hideous, till she finds one blind
She never can commit the like again.
If innocent, she will turn into an angel,
And rain down blessings in the shape of comfits
As she flies up to heaven. Now, my proposal
Is to convert her sacred Majesty
Into an angel (as I am sure we shall do),
By pouring on her head this mystic water.[Showing the Bag.
I know that she is innocent; I wish
Only to prove her so to all the world.
First Boar.
Excellent, just, and noble Purganax.
Second Boar.
How glorious it will be to see her Majesty
Flying above our heads, her petticoats
Streaming likelikelike
Third Boar.
Anything.
Purganax.
Oh no!
But like a standard of an admiral's ship,
Or like the banner of a conquering host,
Or like a cloud dyed in the dying day,
Unravelled on the blast from a white mountain;
Or like a meteor, or a war-steed's mane,
Or waterfall from a dizzy precipice
Scattered upon the wind.
First Boar.
Or a cow's tail.
Second Boar.
Or anything, as the learned Boar observed.
Purganax.
Gentlemen Boars, I move a resolution,
That her most sacred Majesty should be
Invited to attend the feast of Famine,
And to receive upon her chaste white body
Dews of Apotheosis from this BAG.
[A great confusion is heard of the Pigs out of Doors, which communicates itself to those within. During the first Strophe, the doors of the Sty are staved in, and a number of exceedingly leanPigs and Sows and Boars rush in.
Semichorus I.
No! Yes!
Semichorus II.
Yes! No!
Semichorus I.
A law!
Semichorus II.
A flaw!
Semichorus I.
Porkers, we shall lose our wash,
Or must share it with the Lean-Pigs!
First Boar.
Order! order! be not rash!
Was there ever such a scene, Pigs!
An old Sow
(rushing in).
I never saw so fine a dash
Since I first began to wean Pigs.
Second Boar
(solemnly).
The Queen will be an angel time enough.
I vote, in form of an amendment, that
Purganax rub a little of that stuff
Upon his face.
Purganax
(his heart is seen to beat through his waistcoat).
Gods! What would ye be at?
Semichorus I.
Purganax has plainly shown a
Cloven foot and jackdaw feather.
Semichorus II.
I vote Swellfoot and Iona
Try the magic test together;
Whenever royal spouses bicker,
Both should try the magic liquor.
An old Boar
(aside).
A miserable state is that of Pigs,
For if their drivers would tear caps and wigs,
The Swine must bite each other's ear therefore.
An old Sow
(aside).
A wretched lot Jove has assigned to Swine,
Squabbling makes Pig-herds hungry, and they dine
On bacon, and whip Sucking-Pigs the more.
Chorus.
Hog-wash has been ta'en away:
If the Bull-Queen is divested,
We shall be in every way
Hunted, stripped, exposed, molested;
Let us do whate'er we may,
That she shall not be arrested.
Queen, we entrench you with walls of brawn,
And palisades of tusks, sharp as a bayonet:
Place your most sacred person here. We pawn
Our lives that none a finger dare to lay on it.
Those who wrong you, wrong us;
Those who hate you, hate us;
Those who sting you, sting us;
Those who bait you, bait us;
The oracle is now about to be
Fulfilled by circumvolving destiny;
Which says: 'Thebes, choose reform or civil war,
When through your streets, instead of hare with dogs,
A Consort Queen shall hunt a King with Hogs,
Riding upon the IONIAN MINOTAUR.'
Enter Iona Taurina.
Iona Taurina
(coming forward).
Gentlemen Swine, and gentle Lady-Pigs,
The tender heart of every Boar acquits
Their Queen, of any act incongruous
With native Piggishness, and she, reposing
With confidence upon the grunting nation,
Has thrown herself, her cause, her life, her all,
Her innocence, into their Hoggish arms;
Nor has the expectation been deceived
Of finding shelter there. Yet know, great Boars,
(For such whoever lives among you finds you,
And so do I), the innocent are proud!
I have accepted your protection only
In compliment of your kind love and care,
Not for necessity. The innocent
Are safest there where trials and dangers wait;
Innocent Queens o'er white-hot ploughshares tread
Unsinged, and ladies, Erin's laureate sings it[5],
Decked with rare gems, and beauty rarer still,
Walked from Killarney to the Giant's Causeway,
Through rebels, smugglers, troops of yeomanry,
White-boys and Orange-boys, and constables,
Tithe-proctors, and excise people, uninjured!
Thus I!
Lord Purganax, I do commit myself
Into your custody, and am prepared
To stand the test, whatever it may be!
Purganax.
This magnanimity in your sacred Majesty
Must please the Pigs. You cannot fail of being
A heavenly angel. Smoke your bits of glass,
Ye loyal Swine, or her transfiguration
Will blind your wondering eyes.
An old Boar
(aside).
Take care, my Lord,
They do not smoke you first.
Purganax.
At the approaching feast
Of Famine, let the expiation be.
Swine.
Content! content!
Iona Taurina
(aside).
I, most content of all,
Know that my foes even thus prepare their fall!
[Exeunt omnes.
Scene II.
The interior of the Temple of Famine. The statue of the Goddess, a skeleton clothed in parti-coloured rags, seated upon a heap of skulls and loaves intermingled. A number of exceedingly fat Priests in black garments arrayed on each side, with marrow-bones and cleavers in their hands. [Solomon, the Court Porkman.] A flourish of trumpets.
Enter Mammon as arch-priest, Swellfoot, Dakry, Purganax, Laoctonos, followed by Iona Taurina guarded. On the other side enter the Swine.
Chorus of Priests, accompanied by the Court Porkman on marrow-bones and cleavers.
Goddess bare, and gaunt, and pale,
Empress of the world, all hail!
What though Cretans old called thee
City-crested Cybele?
We call thee Famine!
Goddess of fasts and feasts, starving and cramming!
Through thee, for emperors, kings, and priests and lords,
Who rule by viziers, sceptres, bank-notes, words,
The earth pours forth its plenteous fruits,
Corn, wool, linen, flesh, and roots
Those who consume these fruits through thee grow fat,
Those who produce these fruits through thee grow lean,
Whatever change takes place, oh, stick to that!
And let things be as they have ever been;
At least while we remain thy priests,
And proclaim thy fasts and feasts.
Through thee the sacred Swellfoot dynasty
Is based upon a rock amid that sea
Whose waves are Swineso let it ever be!
[Swellfoot, etc., seat themselves at a table magnificently covered at the upper end of the Temple. Attendants pass over the stage with hog-wash in pails. A number of Pigs, exceedingly lean, follow them licking up the wash.
Mammon.
I fear your sacred Majesty has lost
The appetite which you were used to have.
Allow me now to recommend this dish
A simple kickshaw by your Persian cook,
Such as is served at the great King's second table.
The price and pains which its ingredients cost
Might have maintained some dozen families
A winter or twonot moreso plain a dish
Could scarcely disagree.
Swellfoot.
After the trial,
And these fastidious Pigs are gone, perhaps
I may recover my lost appetite,
I feel the gout flying about my stomach
Give me a glass of Maraschino punch.
Purganax
(filling his glass, and standing up).
The glorious Constitution of the Pigs!
All.
A toast! a toast! stand up, and three times three!
Dakry.
No heel-tapsdarken daylights!
Laoctonos.
Claret, somehow,
Puts me in mind of blood, and blood of claret!
Swellfoot.
Laoctonos is fishing for a compliment,
But 'tis his due. Yes, you have drunk more wine,
And shed more blood, than any man in Thebes. [To Purganax.
For God's sake stop the grunting of those Pigs!
Purganax.
We dare not, Sire, 'tis Famine's privilege.
Chorus of Swine.
Hail to thee, hail to thee, Famine!
Thy throne is on blood, and thy robe is of rags;
Thou devil which livest on damning;
Saint of new churches, and cant, and GREEN BAGS,
Till in pity and terror thou risest,
Confounding the schemes of the wisest;
When thou liftest thy skeleton form,
When the loaves and the skulls roll about,
We will greet theethe voice of a storm
Would be lost in our terrible shout!
Then hail to thee, hail to thee, Famine!
Hail to thee, Empress of Earth!
When thou risest, dividing possessions;
When thou risest, uprooting oppressions,
In the pride of thy ghastly mirth;
Over palaces, temples, and graves,
We will rush as thy minister-slaves,
Trampling behind in thy train,
Till all be made level again!
Mammon.
I hear a crackling of the giant bones
Of the dread image, and in the black pits
Which once were eyes, I see two livid flames.
These prodigies are oracular, and show
The presence of the unseen Deity.
Mighty events are hastening to their doom!
Swellfoot.
I only hear the lean and mutinous Swine
Grunting about the temple.
Dakry.
In a crisis
Of such exceeding delicacy, I think
We ought to put her Majesty, the Queen,
Upon her trial without delay.
Mammon.
THE BAG
Is here.
Purganax.
I have rehearsed the entire scene
With an ox-bladder and some ditchwater,
On Lady P-; it cannot fail. (Taking up the Bag.)
Your Majesty [To Swellfoot.
In such a filthy business had better
Stand on one side, lest it should sprinkle you.
A spot or two on me would do no harm,
Nay, it might hide the blood, which the sad Genius
Of the Green Isle has fixed, as by a spell,
Upon my browwhich would stain all its seas,
But which those seas could never wash away!
Iona Taurina.
My Lord, I am readynay, I am impatient
To undergo the test.
[A graceful figure in a semi-transparent veil passes unnoticed through the Temple; the word LIBERTY is seen through the veil, as if it were written in fire upon its forehead. Its words are almost drowned in the furious grunting of the Pigs, and the business of the trial. She kneels on the steps of the Altar, and speaks in tones at first faint and low, but which ever become louder and louder.
Mighty Empress! Death's white wife!
Ghastly mother-in-law of Life!
By the God who made thee such,
By the magic of thy touch,
By the starving and the cramming
Of fasts and feasts! by thy dread self, O Famine!
I charge thee! when thou wake the multitude,
Thou lead them not upon the paths of blood.
The earth did never mean her foison
For those who crown life's cup with poison
Of fanatic rage and meaningless revenge
But for those radiant spirits, who are still
The standard-bearers in the van of Change.
Be they th'appointed stewards, to fill
The lap of Pain, and Toil, and Age!
Remit, O Queen! thy accustomed rage!
Be what thou art not! In voice faint and low
Freedom calls Famine,her eternal foe,
To brief alliance, hollow truce.Rise now!
[Whilst the Veiled Figure has been chanting this strophe, Mammon, Dakry, Laoctonos, and Swellfoot, have surrounded Iona Taurina, who, with her hands folded on her breast, and her eyes lifted to Heaven, stands, as with saint-like resignation, to wait the issue of the business, in perfect confidence of her innocence.
[Purganax, after unsealing the Green Bag, is gravely about to pour the liquor upon her head, when suddenly the whole expression of her figure and countenance changes; she snatches it from his hand with a loud laugh of triumph, and empties it over Swellfoot and his whole Court, who are instantly changed into a number of filthy and ugly animals, and rush out of the Temple. The image of Famine then arises with a tremendous sound, the Pigs begin scrambling for the loaves, and are tripped up by the skulls; all those who eat the loaves are turned into Bulls, and arrange themselves quietly behind the altar. The image of Famine sinks through a chasm in the earth, and a Minotaur rises.
Minotaur.
I am the Ionian Minotaur, the mightiest
Of all Europa's taurine progeny
I am the old traditional Man-Bull;
And from my ancestors having been Ionian,
I am called Ion, which, by interpretation,
Is John; in plain Theban, that is to say,
My name's John Bull; I am a famous hunter,
And can leap any gate in all Boeotia,
Even the palings of the royal park,
Or double ditch about the new enclosures;
And if your Majesty will deign to mount me,
At least till you have hunted down your game,
I will not throw you.
Iona Taurina.
(During this speech she has been putting on boots and spurs, and a hunting-cap, buckishly cocked on one side, and tucking up her hair, she leaps nimbly on his back.)
Hoa! hoa! tallyho! tallyho! ho! ho!
Come, let us hunt these ugly badgers down,
These stinking foxes, these devouring otters,
These hares, these wolves, these anything but men.
Hey, for a whipper-in! my loyal Pigs,
Now let your noses be as keen as beagles',
Your steps as swift as greyhounds', and your cries
More dulcet and symphonious than the bells
Of village-towers, on sunshine holiday;
Wake all the dewy woods with jangling music.
Give them no law (are they not beasts of blood?)
But such as they gave you. Tallyho! ho!
Through forest, furze, and bog, and den, and desert,
Pursue the ugly beasts! tallyho! ho!
Full Chorus of Iona and the Swine.
Tallyho! tallyho!
Through rain, hail, and snow,
Through brake, gorse, and briar,
Through fen, flood, and mire,
We go! we go!
Tallyho! tallyho!
Through pond, ditch, and slough,
Wind them, and find them,
Like the Devil behind them,
Tallyho! tallyho!
[Exeunt, in full cry; Iona driving on the Swine, with the empty Green Bag.
THE END
'Begun at the Baths of San Giuliano, near Pisa, August 24, 1819; published anonymously by J. Johnston, Cheapside (imprint C. F. Seyfang,) 1820. On a threat of prosecution the publisher surrendered the whole impression, seven copies -- the total number sold -- excepted. Oedipus does not appear in the first edition of the Poetical Works, 1839, but it was included by Mrs. Shelley in the second edition of that year.' ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, Oedipus Tyrannus or Swellfoot The Tyrant
,#NFDB
552:DRAMATIS PERSONAE
King Charles I.
Queen Henrietta.
Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury.
Wentworth, Earl of Strafford.
Lord Cottington.
Lord Weston.
Lord Coventry.
Williams, Bishop of Lincoln.
Secretary Lyttelton.
Juxon.
St. John.
Archy, the Court Fool.
Hampden.
Pym.
Cromwell.
Cromwell's Daughter.
Sir Harry Vane the younger.
Leighton.
Bastwick.
Prynne.
Gentlemen of the Inns of Court, Citizens, Pursuivants, Marshalsmen, Law Students, Judges, Clerk.
Scene I.
---The Masque of the Inns of Court.
A Pursuivant.
Place, for the Marshal of the Masque!
First Citizen.
What thinkest thou of this quaint masque which turns,
Like morning from the shadow of the night,
The night to day, and London to a place
Of peace and joy?
Second Citizen.
And Hell to Heaven.
Eight years are gone,
And they seem hours, since in this populous street
I trod on grass made green by summer's rain,
For the red plague kept state within that palace
Where now that vanity reigns. In nine years more
The roots will be refreshed with civil blood;
And thank the mercy of insulted Heaven
That sin and wrongs wound, as an orphan's cry,
The patience of the great Avenger's ear.
A Youth.
Yet, father, 'tis a happy sight to see,
Beautiful, innocent, and unforbidden
By God or man;'tis like the bright procession
Of skiey visions in a solemn dream
From which men wake as from a Paradise,
And draw new strength to tread the thorns of life.
If God be good, wherefore should this be evil?
And if this be not evil, dost thou not draw
Unseasonable poison from the flowers
Which bloom so rarely in this barren world?
Oh, kill these bitter thoughts which make the present
Dark as the future!. . .
When Avarice and Tyranny, vigilant Fear,
And open-eyed Conspiracy lie sleeping
As on Hell's threshold; and all gentle thoughts
Waken to worship Him who giveth joys
With His own gift.
Second Citizen.
How young art thou in this old age of time!
How green in this gray world? Canst thou discern
The signs of seasons, yet perceive no hint
Of change in that stage-scene in which thou art
Not a spectator but an actor? or
Art thou a puppet moved by [enginery]?
The day that dawns in fire will die in storms,
Even though the noon be calm. My travel's done,
Before the whirlwind wakes I shall have found
My inn of lasting rest; but thou must still
Be journeying on in this inclement air.
Wrap thy old cloak about thy back;
Nor leave the broad and plain and beaten road,
Although no flowers smile on the trodden dust,
For the violet paths of pleasure. This Charles the First
Rose like the equinoctial sun, . . .
By vapours, through whose threatening ominous veil
Darting his altered influence he has gained
This height of noonfrom which he must decline
Amid the darkness of conflicting storms,
To dank extinction and to latest night . . .
There goes
The apostate Strafford; he whose titles
whispered aphorisms
From Machiavel and Bacon: and, if Judas
Had been as brazen and as bold as he
First Citizen.
That
Is the Archbishop.
Second Citizen.
Rather say the Pope:
London will be soon his Rome: he walks
As if he trod upon the heads of men:
He looks elate, drunken with blood and gold;
Beside him moves the Babylonian woman
Invisibly, and with her as with his shadow,
Mitred adulterer! he is joined in sin,
Which turns Heaven's milk of mercy to revenge.
Third Citizen
(lifting up his eyes).
Good Lord! rain it down upon him! . . .
Amid her ladies walks the papist queen,
As if her nice feet scorned our English earth.
The Canaanitish Jezebel! I would be
A dog if I might tear her with my teeth!
There's old Sir Henry Vane, the Earl of Pembroke,
Lord Essex, and Lord Keeper Coventry,
And others who make base their English breed
By vile participation of their honours
With papists, atheists, tyrants, and apostates.
When lawyers masque 'tis time for honest men
To strip the vizor from their purposes.
A seasonable time for masquers this!
When Englishmen and Protestants should sit
. . . dust on their dishonoured heads,
To avert the wrath of Him whose scourge is felt
For the great sins which have drawn down from Heaven
. . . and foreign overthrow.
The remnant of the martyred saints in Rochefort
Have been abandoned by their faithless allies
To that idolatrous and adulterous torturer
Lewis of France,the Palatinate is lost Enter Leighton (who has been branded in the face) and Bastwick.
Canst thou be -- art thou? --
Leighton.
I was Leighton: what
I am thou seest. And yet turn thine eyes,
And with thy memory look on thy friend's mind,
Which is unchanged, and where is written deep
The sentence of my judge.
Third Citizen.
Are these the marks with which
Laud thinks to improve the image of his Maker
Stamped on the face of man? Curses upon him,
The impious tyrant!
Second Citizen.
It is said besides
That lewd and papist drunkards may profane
The Sabbath with their...
And has permitted that most heathenish custom
Of dancing round a pole dressed up with wreaths
On May-day.
A man who thus twice crucifies his God
May well...his brother.In my mind, friend,
The root of all this ill is prelacy.
I would cut up the root.
Third Citizen.
And by what means?
Second Citizen.
Smiting each Bishop under the fifth rib.
Third Citizen.
You seem to know the vulnerable place
Of these same crocodiles.
Second Citizen.
I learnt it in
Egyptian bondage, sir. Your worm of Nile
Betrays not with its flattering tears like they;
For, when they cannot kill, they whine and weep.
Nor is it half so greedy of men's bodies
As they of soul and all; nor does it wallow
In slime as they in simony and lies
And close lusts of the flesh.
A Marshalsman.
Give place, give place!
You torch-bearers, advance to the great gate,
And then attend the Marshal of the Masque
Into the Royal presence.
A Law Student.
What thinkest thou
Of this quaint show of ours, my agd friend?
Even now we see the redness of the torches
Inflame the night to the eastward, and the clarions
[Gasp?] to us on the wind's wave. It comes!
And their sounds, floating hither round the pageant,
Rouse up the astonished air.
First Citizen.
I will not think but that our country's wounds
May yet be healed. The king is just and gracious,
Though wicked counsels now pervert his will:
These once cast off
Second Citizen.
As adders cast their skins
And keep their venom, so kings often change;
Councils and counsellors hang on one another,
Hiding the loathsome
Like the base patchwork of a leper's rags.
The Youth.
Oh, still those dissonant thoughts!List how the music
Grows on the enchanted air! And see, the torches
Restlessly flashing, and the crowd divided
Like waves before an admiral's prow!
A Marshalsman.
Give place
To the Marshal of the Masque!
A Pursuivant.
Room for the King!
The Youth.
How glorious! See those thronging chariots
Rolling, like painted clouds before the wind,
Behind their solemn steeds: how some are shaped
Like curved sea-shells dyed by the azure depths
Of Indian seas; some like the new-born moon;
And some like cars in which the Romans climbed
(Canopied by Victory's eagle-wings outspread)
The CapitolianSee how gloriously
The mettled horses in the torchlight stir
Their gallant riders, while they check their pride,
Like shapes of some diviner element
Than English air, and beings nobler than
The envious and admiring multitude.
Second Citizen.
Ay, there they are
Nobles, and sons of nobles, patentees,
Monopolists, and stewards of this poor farm,
On whose lean sheep sit the prophetic crows,
Here is the pomp that strips the houseless orphan,
Here is the pride that breaks the desolate heart.
These are the lilies glorious as Solomon,
Who toil not, neither do they spin,unless
It be the webs they catch poor rogues withal.
Here is the surfeit which to them who earn
The ****rd wages of the earth, scarce leaves
The tithe that will support them till they crawl
Back to her cold hard bosom. Here is health
Followed by grim disease, glory by shame,
Waste by lame famine, wealth by squalid want,
And England's sin by England's punishment.
And, as the effect pursues the cause foregone,
Lo, giving substance to my words, behold
At once the sign and the thing signified
A troop of cripples, beggars, and lean outcasts,
Horsed upon stumbling jades, carted with dung,
Dragged for a day from cellars and low cabins
And rotten hiding-holes, to point the moral
Of this presentment, and bring up the rear
Of painted pomp with misery!
The Youth.
'Tis but
The anti-masque, and serves as discords do
In sweetest music. Who would love May flowers
If they succeeded not to Winter's flaw;
Or day unchanged by night; or joy itself
Without the touch of sorrow?
Second Citizen.
I and thou
A Marshalsman.
Place, give place!
Scene II.
A Chamber in Whitehall. Enter the King, Queen, Laud, Lord Strafford, Lord Cottington, and other Lords;Archy ; also St. John, with some Gentlemen of the Inns of Court.
King.
Thanks, gentlemen. I heartily accept
This token of your service: your gay masque
Was performed gallantly. And it shows well
When subjects twine such flowers of [observance?]
With the sharp thorns that deck the English crown.
A gentle heart enjoys what it confers,
Even as it suffers that which it inflicts,
Though Justice guides the stroke.
Accept my hearty thanks.
Queen.
And gentlemen,
Call your poor Queen your debtor. Your quaint pageant
Rose on me like the figures of past years,
Treading their still path back to infancy,
More beautiful and mild as they draw nearer
The quiet cradle. I could have almost wept
To think I was in Paris, where these shows
Are well devisedsuch as I was ere yet
My young heart shared a portion of the burthen,
The careful weight, of this great monarchy.
There, gentlemen, between the sovereign's pleasure
And that which it regards, no clamour lifts
Its proud interposition.
In Paris ribald censurers dare not move
Their poisonous tongues against these sinless sports;
And his smile
Warms those who bask in it, as ours would do
If...Take my heart's thanks: add them, gentlemen,
To those good words which, were he King of France,
My royal lord would turn to golden deeds.
St. John.
Madam, the love of Englishmen can make
The lightest favour of their lawful king
Outweigh a despot's.We humbly take our leaves,
Enriched by smiles which France can never buy.
[Exeunt St. John and the Gentlemen of the Inns of Court.
King.
My Lord Archbishop,
Mark you what spirit sits in St. John's eyes?
Methinks it is too saucy for this presence.
Archy.
Yes, pray your Grace look: for, like an unsophisticated [eye] sees everything upside down, you who are wise will discern the shadow of an idiot in lawn sleeves and a rochet setting springes to catch woodcocks in haymaking time. Poor Archy, whose owl-eyes are tempered to the error of his age, and because he is a fool, and by special ordinance of God forbidden ever to see himself as he is, sees now in that deep eye a blindfold devil sitting on the ball, and weighing words out between king and subjects. One scale is full of promises, and the other full of protestations: and then another devil creeps behind the first out of the dark windings [of a] pregnant lawyer's brain, and takes the bandage from the other's eyes, and throws a sword into the left-hand scale, for all the world like my Lord Essex's there.
Strafford.
A rod in pickle for the Fool's back!
Archy.
Ay, and some are now smiling whose tears will make the brine; for the Fool sees--
Strafford.
Insolent! You shall have your coat turned and be whipped out of the palace for this.
Archy.
When all the fools are whipped, and all the Protestant writers, while the knaves are whipping the fools ever since a thief was set to catch a thief. If all turncoats were whipped out of palaces, poor Archy would be disgraced in good company. Let the knaves whip the fools, and all the fools laugh at it. [Let the] wise and godly slit each other's noses and ears (having no need of any sense of discernment in their craft); and the knaves, to marshal them, join in a procession to Bedlam, to entreat the madmen to omit their sublime Platonic contemplations, and manage the state of England. Let all the honest men who lie [pinched?] up at the prisons or the pillories, in custody of the pursuivants of the High-Commission Court, marshal them.
Enter Secretary Lyttelton, with papers.
King
(looking over the papers).
These stiff Scots
His Grace of Canterbury must take order
To force under the Church's yoke.You, Wentworth,
Shall be myself in Ireland, and shall add
Your wisdom, gentleness, and energy,
To what in me were wanting.My Lord Weston,
Look that those merchants draw not without loss
Their bullion from the Tower; and, on the payment
Of shipmoney, take fullest compensation
For violation of our royal forests,
Whose limits, from neglect, have been o'ergrown
With cottages and cornfields. The uttermost
Farthing exact from those who claim exemption
From knighthood: that which once was a reward
Shall thus be made a punishment, that subjects
May know how majesty can wear at will
The rugged mood.My Lord of Coventry,
Lay my command upon the Courts below
That bail be not accepted for the prisoners
Under the warrant of the Star Chamber.
The people shall not find the stubbornness
Of Parliament a cheap or easy method
Of dealing with their rightful sovereign:
And doubt not this, my Lord of Coventry,
We will find time and place for fit rebuke.
My Lord of Canterbury.
Archy.
The fool is here.
Laud.
I crave permission of your Majesty
To order that this insolent fellow be
Chastised: he mocks the sacred character,
Scoffs at the state, and--
King.
What, my Archy?
He mocks and mimics all he sees and hears,
Yet with a quaint and graceful licencePrithee
For this once do not as Prynne would, were he
Primate of England. With your Grace's leave,
He lives in his own world; and, like a parrot
Hung in his gilded prison from the window
Of a queen's bower over the public way,
Blasphemes with a bird's mind:his words, like arrows
Which know no aim beyond the archer's wit,
Strike sometimes what eludes philosophy.
(To Archy.)
Go, sirrah, and repent of your offence
Ten minutes in the rain; be it your penance
To bring news how the world goes there.
[Exit Archy.
Poor Archy!
He weaves about himself a world of mirth
Out of the wreck of ours.
Laud.
I take with patience, as my Master did,
All scoffs permitted from above.
King.
My lord,
Pray overlook these papers. Archy's words
Had wings, but these have talons.
Queen.
And the lion
That wears them must be tamed. My dearest lord,
I see the new-born courage in your eye
Armed to strike dead the Spirit of the Time,
Which spurs to rage the many-headed beast.
Do thou persist: for, faint but in resolve,
And it were better thou hadst still remained
The slave of thine own slaves, who tear like curs
The fugitive, and flee from the pursuer;
And Opportunity, that empty wolf,
Flies at his throat who falls. Subdue thy actions
Even to the disposition of thy purpose,
And be that tempered as the Ebro's steel;
And banish weak-eyed Mercy to the weak,
Whence she will greet thee with a gift of peace,
And not betray thee with a traitor's kiss,
As when she keeps the company of rebels,
Who think that she is Fear. This do, lest we
Should fall as from a glorious pinnacle
In a bright dream, and wake as from a dream
Out of our worshipped state.
King.
Belovd friend,
God is my witness that this weight of power,
Which He sets me my earthly task to wield.
Under His law, is my delight and pride
Only because thou lovest that and me.
For a king bears the office of a God
To all the under world; and to his God
Alone he must deliver up his trust,
Unshorn of its permitted attributes.
[It seems] now as the baser elements
Had mutinied against the golden sun
That kindles them to harmony and quells
Their self-destroying rapine. The wild million
Strike at the eye that guides them; like as humours
Of the distempered body that conspire
Against the spirit of life throned in the heart,
And thus become the prey of one another,
And last of death
Strafford.
That which would be ambition in a subject
Is duty in a sovereign; for on him,
As on a keystone, hangs the arch of life,
Whose safety is its strength. Degree and form,
And all that makes the age of reasoning man
More memorable than a beast's, depend on this--
That Right should fence itself inviolably
With Power; in which respect the state of England
From usurpation by the insolent commons
Cries for reform.
Get treason, and spare treasure. Fee with coin
The loudest murmurers; feed with jealousies
Opposing factions,-- be thyself of none;
And borrow gold of many, for those who lend
Will serve thee till thou payest them; and thus
Keep the fierce spirit of the hour at bay,
Till time, and its coming generations
Of nights and days unborn, bring some one chance,...
Or war or pestilence or Nature's self,--
By some distemperature or terrible sign,
Be as an arbiter betwixt themselves.
...Nor let your Majesty
Doubt here the peril of the unseen event.
How did your brother Kings, coheritors
In your high interest in the subject earth,
Rise past such troubles to that height of power
Where now they sit, and awfully serene
Smile on the trembling world? Such popular storms
Philip the Second of Spain, this Lewis of France,
And late the German head of many bodies,
And every petty lord of Italy,
Quelled or by arts or arms. Is England poorer
Or feebler? or art thou who wield'st her power
Tamer than they? or shall this island be--
[Girdled] by its inviolable waters
To the world present and the world to come
Sole pattern of extinguished monarchy?
Not if thou dost as I would have thee do.
King.
Your words shall be my deeds:
You speak the image of my thought. My friend
(If Kings can have a friend, I call thee so),
Beyond the large commission which [belongs]
Under the great seal of the realm, take this:
And, for some obvious reasons, let there be
No seal on it, except my kingly word
And honour as I am a gentleman.
Be -- as thou art within my heart and mind--
Another self, here and in Ireland:
Do what thou judgest well, take amplest licence,
And stick not even at questionable means.
Hear me, Wentworth. My word is as a wall
Between thee and this world thine enemy
That hates thee, for thou lovest me.
Strafford.
I own
No friend but thee, no enemies but thine:
Thy lightest thought is my eternal law.
How weak, how short, is life to pay
King.
Peace, peace.
Thou ow'st me nothing yet.
(To Laud.)
My lord, what say
Those papers?
Laud.
Your Majesty has ever interposed,
In lenity towards your native soil,
Between the heavy vengeance of the Church
And Scotland. Mark the consequence of warming
This brood of northern vipers in your bosom.
The rabble, instructed no doubt
By Loudon, Lindsay, Hume, and false Argyll
(For the waves never menace heaven until
Scourged by the wind's invisible tyranny),
Have in the very temple of the Lord
Done outrage to His chosen ministers.
They scorn the liturgy of the Holy Church,
Refuse to obey her canons, and deny
The apostolic power with which the Spirit
Has filled its elect vessels, even from him
Who held the keys with power to loose and bind,
To him who now pleads in this royal presence.
Let ample powers and new instructions be
Sent to the High Commissioners in Scotland.
To death, imprisonment, and confiscation,
Add torture, add the ruin of the kindred
Of the offender, add the brand of infamy,
Add mutilation: and if this suffice not,
Unleash the sword and fire, that in their thirst
They may lick up that scum of schismatics.
I laugh at those weak rebels who, desiring
What we possess, still prate of Christian peace,
As if those dreadful arbitrating messengers
Which play the part of God 'twixt right and wrong,
Should be let loose against the innocent sleep
Of templed cities and the smiling fields,
For some poor argument of policy
Which touches our own profit or our pride
(Where it indeed were Christian charity
To turn the cheek even to the smiter's hand):
And, when our great Redeemer, when our God,
When He who gave, accepted, and retained
Himself in propitiation of our sins,
Is scorned in His immediate ministry,
With hazard of the inestimable loss
Of all the truth and discipline which is
Salvation to the extremest generation
Of men innumerable, they talk of peace!
Such peace as Canaan found, let Scotland now:
For, by that Christ who came to bring a sword,
Not peace, upon the earth, and gave command
To His disciples at the Passover
That each should sell his robe and buy a sword,
Once strip that minister of naked wrath,
And it shall never sleep in peace again
Till Scotland bend or break.
King.
My Lord Archbishop,
Do what thou wilt and what thou canst in this.
Thy earthly even as thy heavenly King
Gives thee large power in his unquiet realm.
But we want money, and my mind misgives me
That for so great an enterprise, as yet,
We are unfurnished.
Strafford.
Yet it may not long
Rest on our wills.
Cottington.
The expenses
Of gathering shipmoney, and of distraining
For every petty rate (for we encounter
A desperate opposition inch by inch
In every warehouse and on every farm),
Have swallowed up the gross sum of the imposts;
So that, though felt as a most grievous scourge
Upon the land, they stand us in small stead
As touches the receipt.
Strafford.
'Tis a conclusion
Most arithmetical: and thence you infer
Perhaps the assembling of a parliament.
Now, if a man should call his dearest enemies
To sit in licensed judgement on his life,
His Majesty might wisely take that course. [Aside to Cottington.
It is enough to expect from these lean imposts
That they perform the office of a scourge,
Without more profit. (Aloud.)
Fines and confiscations,
And a forced loan from the refractory city,
Will fill our coffers: and the golden love
Of loyal gentlemen and noble friends
For the worshipped father of our common country,
With contributions from the catholics,
Will make Rebellion pale in our excess.
Be these the expedients until time and wisdom
Shall frame a settled state of government.
Laud.
And weak expedients they! Have we not drained
All, till the...which seemed
A mine exhaustless?
Strafford.
And the love which is,
If loyal hearts could turn their blood to gold.
Laud.
Both now grow barren: and I speak it not
As loving parliaments, which, as they have been
In the right hand of bold bad mighty kings
The scourges of the bleeding Church, I hate.
Methinks they scarcely can deserve our fear.
Strafford.
Oh! my dear liege, take back the wealth thou gavest:
With that, take all I held, but as in trust
For thee, of mine inheritance: leave me but
This unprovided body for thy service,
And a mind dedicated to no care
Except thy safety:-- but assemble not
A parliament. Hundreds will bring, like me,
Their fortunes, as they would their blood, before--
King.
No! thou who judgest them art but one. Alas!
We should be too much out of love with Heaven,
Did this vile world show many such as thee,
Thou perfect, just, and honourable man!
Never shall it be said that Charles of England
Stripped those he loved for fear of those he scorns;
Nor will he so much misbecome his throne
As to impoverish those who most adorn
And best defend it. That you urge, dear Strafford,
Inclines me rather--
Queen.
To a parliament?
Is this thy firmness? and thou wilt preside
Over a knot of . . . censurers,
To the unswearing of thy best resolves,
And choose the worst, when the worst comes too soon?
Plight not the worst before the worst must come.
Oh, wilt thou smile whilst our ribald foes,
Dressed in their own usurped authority,
Sharpen their tongues on Henrietta's fame?
It is enough! Thou lovest me no more!
[Weeps.
King.
Oh, Henrietta!
[They talk apart.
Cottington
(to Laud).
Money we have none:
And all the expedients of my Lord of Strafford
Will scarcely meet the arrears.
Laud.
Without delay
An army must be sent into the north;
Followed by a Commission of the Church,
With amplest power to quench in fire and blood,
And tears and terror, and the pity of hell,
The intenser wrath of Heresy. God will give
Victory; and victory over Scotland give
The lion England tamed into our hands.
That will lend power, and power bring gold.
Cottington.
Meanwhile
We must begin first where your Grace leaves off.
Gold must give power, or
Laud.
I am not averse
From the assembling of a parliament.
Strong actions and smooth words might teach them soon
The lesson to obey. And are they not
A bubble fashioned by the monarch's mouth,
The birth of one light breath? If they serve no purpose,
A word dissolves them.
Strafford.
The engine of parliaments
Might be deferred until I can bring over
The Irish regiments: they will serve to assure
The issue of the war against the Scots.
And, this game won -- which if lost, all is lost--
Gather these chosen leaders of the rebels,
And call them, if you will, a parliament.
King.
Oh, be our feet still tardy to shed blood,
Guilty though it may be! I would still spare
The stubborn country of my birth, and ward
From countenances which I loved in youth
The wrathful Church's lacerating hand.
(To Laud.)
Have you o'erlooked the other articles?
[Re-enter Archy.
Laud.
Hazlerig, Hampden, Pym, young Harry Vane,
Cromwell, and other rebels of less note,
Intend to sail with the next favouring wind
For the Plantations.
Archy.
Where they think to found
A commonwealth like Gonzalo's in the play,
Gynaecocoenic and pantisocratic.
King.
What's that, sirrah?
Archy.
New devil's politics.
Hell is the pattern of all commonwealths:
Lucifer was the first republican.
Will you hear Merlin's prophecy, how three [posts?]
'In one brainless skull, when the whitethorn is full,
Shall sail round the world, and come back again:
Shall sail round the world in a brainless skull,
And come back again when the moon is at full:'
When, in spite of the Church,
They will hear homilies of whatever length
Or form they please.
[Cottington?]
So please your Majesty to sign this order
For their detention.
Archy.
If your Majesty were tormented night and day by fever, gout, rheumatism, and stone, and asthma, etc., and you found these diseases had secretly entered into a conspiracy to abandon you, should you think it necessary to lay an embargo on the port by which they meant to dispeople your unquiet kingdom of man?
King.
If fear were made for kings, the Fool mocks wisely; But in this case --(writing.)
Here, my lord, take the warrant, And see it duly executed forthwith.--
That imp of malice and mockery shall be punished.
[Exeunt all but King, Queen, and Archy.
Archy.
Ay, I am the physician of whom Plato prophesied, who was to be accused by the confectioner before a jury of children, who found him guilty without waiting for the summing-up, and hanged him without benefit of clergy. Thus Baby Charles, and the Twelfth-night Queen of Hearts, and the overgrown schoolboy Cottington, and that little urchin Laud who would reduce a verdict of 'guilty, death,' by famine, if it were impregnable by compositionall impannelled against poor Archy for presenting them bitter physic the last day of the holidays.
Queen.
Is the rain over, sirrah?
King.
When it rains
And the sun shines, 'twill rain again to-morrow:
And therefore never smile till you've done crying.
Archy.
But 'tis all over now: like the April anger of woman, the gentle sky has wept itself serene.
Queen.
What news abroad? how looks the world this morning?
Archy.
Gloriously as a grave covered with virgin flowers. There's a rainbow in the sky. Let your Majesty look at it, for
'A rainbow in the morning
Is the shepherd's warning;'
and the flocks of which you are the pastor are scattered among the mountain-tops, where every drop of water is a flake of snow, and the breath of May pierces like a January blast.
King.
The sheep have mistaken the wolf for their shepherd, my poor boy; and the shepherd, the wolves for their watchdogs.
Queen.
But the rainbow was a good sign, Archy: it says that the waters of the deluge are gone, and can return no more.
Archy.
Ay, the salt-water one: but that of tears and blood must yet come down, and that of fire follow, if there be any truth in lies.-- The rainbow hung over the city with all its shops,...and churches, from north to south, like a bridge of congregated lightning pieced by the masonry of heaven like a balance in which the angel that distributes the coming hour was weighing that heavy one whose poise is now felt in the lightest hearts, before it bows the proudest heads under the meanest feet.
Queen.
Who taught you this trash, sirrah?
Archy.
A torn leaf out of an old book trampled in the dirt.--
But for the rainbow.
It moved as the sun moved, and...until the top of the
Tower...of a cloud through its left-hand tip, and
Lambeth Palace look as dark as a rock before the other.
Methought I saw a crown figured upon one tip, and a mitre on the other.
So, as I had heard treasures were found where the rainbow quenches its points upon the earth, I set off, and at the Tower --
But I shall not tell your Majesty what I found close to the closet-window on which the rainbow had glimmered.
King.
Speak: I will make my Fool my conscience.
Archy.
Then conscience is a fool.I saw there a cat caught in a rat-trap. I heard the rats squeak behind the wainscots: it seemed to me that the very mice were consulting on the manner of her death.
Queen.
Archy is shrewd and bitter.
Archy.
Like the season, So blow the winds.But at the other end of the rainbow, where the gray rain was tempered along the grass and leaves by a tender interfusion of violet and gold in the meadows beyond Lambeth, what think you that I found instead of a mitre?
King.
Vane's wits perhaps.
Archy.
Something as vain. I saw a gross vapour hovering in a stinking ditch over the carcass of a dead ****, some rotten rags, and broken dishesthe wrecks of what once administered to the stuffing-out and the ornament of a worm of worms. His Grace of Canterbury expects to enter the New Jerusalem some Palm Sunday in triumph on the ghost of this ****.
Queen.
Enough, enough! Go desire Lady Jane
She place my lute, together with the music
Mari received last week from Italy,
In my boudoir, and
[Exit Archy.
King.
I'll go in.
Queen.
My beloved lord,
Have you not noted that the Fool of late
Has lost his careless mirth, and that his words
Sound like the echoes of our saddest fears?
What can it mean? I should be loth to think
Some factious slave had tutored him.
King.
Oh, no!
He is but Occasion's pupil. Partly 'tis
That our minds piece the vacant intervals
Of his wild words with their own fashioning,
As in the imagery of summer clouds,
Or coals of the winter fire, idlers find
The perfect shadows of their teeming thoughts:
And partly, that the terrors of the time
Are sown by wandering Rumour in all spirits;
And in the lightest and the least, may best
Be seen the current of the coming wind.
Queen.
Your brain is overwrought with these deep thoughts.
Come, I will sing to you; let us go try
These airs from Italy; and, as we pass
The gallery, we'll decide where that Correggio
Shall hangthe Virgin Mother
With her child, born the King of heaven and earth,
Whose reign is men's salvation. And you shall see
A cradled miniature of yourself asleep,
Stamped on the heart by never-erring love;
Liker than any Vandyke ever made,
A pattern to the unborn age of thee,
Over whose sweet beauty I have wept for joy
A thousand times, and now should weep for sorrow,
Did I not think that after we were dead
Our fortunes would spring high in him, and that
The cares we waste upon our heavy crown
Would make it light and glorious as a wreath
Of Heaven's beams for his dear innocent brow.
King.
Dear Henrietta!
Scene III.
The Star Chamber. Laud, Juxon, Strafford, and others, as Judges. Prynne as a Prisoner, and thenBastwick.
Laud.
Bring forth the prisoner Bastwick: let the clerk
Recite his sentence.
Clerk.
'That he pay five thousand
Pounds to the king, lose both his ears, be branded
With red-hot iron on the cheek and forehead,
And be imprisoned within Lancaster Castle
During the pleasure of the Court.'
Laud.
Prisoner,
If you have aught to say wherefore this sentence
Should not be put into effect, now speak.
Juxon.
If you have aught to plead in mitigation,
Speak.
Bastwick.
Thus, my lords. If, like the prelates, I
Were an invader of the royal power,
A public scorner of the word of God,
Profane, idolatrous, popish, superstitious,
Impious in heart and in tyrannic act,
Void of wit, honesty, and temperance;
If Satan were my lord, as theirs,our God
Pattern of all I should avoid to do;
Were I an enemy of my God and King
And of good men, as ye are;I should merit
Your fearful state and gilt prosperity,
Which, when ye wake from the last sleep, shall turn
To cowls and robes of everlasting fire.
But, as I am, I bid ye grudge me not
The only earthly favour ye can yield,
Or I think worth acceptance at your hands,
Scorn, mutilation, and imprisonment.
. . . even as my Master did,
Until Heaven's kingdom shall descend on earth,
Or earth be like a shadow in the light
Of Heaven absorbedsome few tumultuous years
Will pass, and leave no wreck of what opposes
His will whose will is power.
Laud.
Officer, take the prisoner from the bar,
And be his tongue slit for his insolence.
Bastwick.
While this hand holds a pen
Laud.
Be his hands--
Juxon.
Stop!
Forbear, my lord! The tongue, which now can speak
No terror, would interpret, being dumb,
Heaven's thunder to our harm;...
And hands, which now write only their own shame,
With bleeding stumps might sign our blood away.
Laud.
Much more such 'mercy' among men would be,
Did all the ministers of Heaven's revenge
Flinch thus from earthly retribution. I
Could suffer what I would inflict.
[Exit Bastwick guarded.
Bring up
The Lord Bishop of Lincoln.
(To Strafford.)
Know you not
That, in distraining for ten thousand pounds
Upon his books and furniture at Lincoln,
Were found these scandalous and seditious letters
Sent from one Osbaldistone, who is fled?
I speak it not as touching this poor person;
But of the office which should make it holy,
Were it as vile as it was ever spotless.
Mark too, my lord, that this expression strikes
His Majesty, if I misinterpret not.
Enter Bishop Williams guarded.
Strafford.
'Twere politic and just that Williams taste
The bitter fruit of his connection with
The schismatics. But you, my Lord Archbishop,
Who owed your first promotion to his favour,
Who grew beneath his smile
Laud.
Would therefore beg
The office of his judge from this High Court,
That it shall seem, even as it is, that I,
In my assumption of this sacred robe,
Have put aside all worldly preference,
All sense of all distinction of all persons,
All thoughts but of the service of the Church.
Bishop of Lincoln!
Williams.
Peace, proud hierarch!
I know my sentence, and I own it just.
Thou wilt repay me less than I deserve,
In stretching to the utmost. . .
Scene IV.
--Hampden, Pym, Cromwell, his Daughter, and young Sir Harry Vane.
Hampden.
England, farewell! thou, who hast been my cradle,
Shalt never be my dungeon or my grave!
I held what I inherited in thee
As pawn for that inheritance of freedom
Which thou hast sold for thy despoiler's smile:
How can I call thee England, or my country?
Does the wind hold?
Vane.
The vanes sit steady
Upon the Abbey towers. The silver lightnings
Of the evening star, spite of the city's smoke,
Tell that the north wind reigns in the upper air.
Mark too that flock of fleecy-wingd clouds
Sailing athwart St. Margaret's.
Hampden.
Hail, fleet herald
Of tempest! that rude pilot who shall guide
Hearts free as his, to realms as pure as thee,
Beyond the shot of tyranny,
Beyond the webs of that swoln spider . . .
Beyond the curses, calumnies, and [lies?]
Of atheist priests! . . . And thou
Fair star, whose beam lies on the wide Atlantic,
Athwart its zones of tempest and of calm,
Bright as the path to a belovd home,
Oh, light us to the isles of the evening land!
Like floating Edens cradled in the glimmer
Of sunset, through the distant mist of years
Touched by departing hope, they gleam! lone regions,
Where Power's poor dupes and victims yet have never
Propitiated the savage fear of kings
With purest blood of noblest hearts; whose dew
Is yet unstained with tears of those who wake
To weep each day the wrongs on which it dawns;
Whose sacred silent air owns yet no echo
Of formal blasphemies; nor impious rites
Wrest man's free worship, from the God who loves,
To the poor worm who envies us His love!
Receive, thou young....of Paradise,
These exiles from the old and sinful world!....
This glorious clime, this firmament, whose lights
Dart mitigated influence through their veil
Of pale blue atmosphere; whose tears keep green
The pavement of this moist all-feeding earth;
This vaporous horizon, whose dim round
Is bastioned by the circumfluous sea,
Repelling invasion from the sacred towers,
Presses upon me like a dungeon's grate,
A low dark roof, a damp and narrow wall.
The boundless universe
Becomes a cell too narrow for the soul
That owns no master; while the loathliest ward
Of this wide prison, England, is a nest
Of cradling peace built on the mountain tops,
To which the eagle spirits of the free,
Which range through heaven and earth, and scorn the storm
Of time, and gaze upon the light of truth,
Return to brood on thoughts that cannot die
And cannot be repelled.
Like eaglets floating in the heaven of time,
They soar above their quarry, and shall stoop
Through palaces and temples thunderproof.
SCENE V
Archy.
I'll go live under the ivy that overgrows the terrace, and count the tears shed on its old [roots?] as the [wind?] plays the song of
'A widow bird sate mourning
Upon a wintry bough.'
[Sings]
Heigho! the lark and the owl!
One flies the morning, and one lulls the night:--
Only the nightingale, poor fond soul,
Sings like the fool through darkness and light.
'A widow bird sate mourning for her love
Upon a wintry bough;
The frozen wind crept on above,
The freezing stream below.
'There was no leaf upon the forest bare,
No flower upon the ground,
And little motion in the air
Except the mill-wheel's sound.'
Charles the First was designed in 1818, begun towards the close of 1819, resumed in January, and finally laid aside by June, 1822. It was published in part in the Posthumous Poems, 1824, and printed, in its present form (with the addition of some 530 lines), by Mr. William Michael Rossetti, 1870.
1.
Archy, the court fool of Charles I, is
both an unacknowledged prophet and, as King Charles claims, a weaver of "a world of mirth out of the wreck of ours."
~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, Charles The First
,#NFDB
553:The Rosciad
Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.
Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
259
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,
Palmer! oh! Palmer tops the jaunty part.
Seated in pit, the dwarf with aching eyes,
Looks up, and vows that Barry's out of size;
Whilst to six feet the vigorous stripling grown,
Declares that Garrick is another Coan.
When place of judgment is by whim supplied,
And our opinions have their rise in pride;
When, in discoursing on each mimic elf,
We praise and censure with an eye to self;
All must meet friends, and Ackman bids as fair,
In such a court, as Garrick, for the chair.
At length agreed, all squabbles to decide,
By some one judge the cause was to be tried;
But this their squabbles did afresh renew,
Who should be judge in such a trial:--who?
For Johnson some; but Johnson, it was fear'd,
Would be too grave; and Sterne too gay appear'd;
Others for Franklin voted; but 'twas known,
He sicken'd at all triumphs but his own:
For Colman many, but the peevish tongue
Of prudent Age found out that he was young:
For Murphy some few pilfering wits declared,
Whilst Folly clapp'd her hands, and Wisdom stared.
To mischief train'd, e'en from his mother's womb,
Grown old in fraud, though yet in manhood's bloom,
Adopting arts by which gay villains rise,
And reach the heights which honest men despise;
Mute at the bar, and in the senate loud,
Dull 'mongst the dullest, proudest of the proud;
A pert, prim, prater of the northern race,
Guilt in his heart, and famine in his face,
260
Stood forth,--and thrice he waved his lily hand,
And thrice he twirled his tye, thrice stroked his band:-At Friendship's call (thus oft, with traitorous aim,
Men void of faith usurp Faith's sacred name)
At Friendship's call I come, by Murphy sent,
Who thus by me develops his intent:
But lest, transfused, the spirit should be lost,
That spirit which, in storms of rhetoric toss'd,
Bounces about, and flies like bottled beer,
In his own words his own intentions hear.
Thanks to my friends; but to vile fortunes born,
No robes of fur these shoulders must adorn.
Vain your applause, no aid from thence I draw;
Vain all my wit, for what is wit in law?
Twice, (cursed remembrance!) twice I strove to gain
Admittance 'mongst the law-instructed train,
Who, in the Temple and Gray's Inn, prepare
For clients' wretched feet the legal snare;
Dead to those arts which polish and refine,
Deaf to all worth, because that worth was mine,
Twice did those blockheads startle at my name,
And foul rejection gave me up to shame.
To laws and lawyers then I bade adieu,
And plans of far more liberal note pursue.
Who will may be a judge--my kindling breast
Burns for that chair which Roscius once possess'd.
Here give your votes, your interest here exert,
And let success for once attend desert.
With sleek appearance, and with ambling pace,
And, type of vacant head, with vacant face,
The Proteus Hill put in his modest plea,-Let Favour speak for others, Worth for me.-For who, like him, his various powers could call
Into so many shapes, and shine in all?
Who could so nobly grace the motley list,
Actor, Inspector, Doctor, Botanist?
Knows any one so well--sure no one knows-At once to play, prescribe, compound, compose?
Who can--but Woodward came,--Hill slipp'd away,
Melting, like ghosts, before the rising day.
With that low cunning, which in fools supplies,
And amply too, the place of being wise,
261
Which Nature, kind, indulgent parent, gave
To qualify the blockhead for a knave;
With that smooth falsehood, whose appearance charms,
And Reason of each wholesome doubt disarms,
Which to the lowest depths of guile descends,
By vilest means pursues the vilest ends;
Wears Friendship's mask for purposes of spite,
Pawns in the day, and butchers in the night;
With that malignant envy which turns pale,
And sickens, even if a friend prevail,
Which merit and success pursues with hate,
And damns the worth it cannot imitate;
With the cold caution of a coward's spleen,
Which fears not guilt, but always seeks a screen,
Which keeps this maxim ever in her view-What's basely done, should be done safely too;
With that dull, rooted, callous impudence,
Which, dead to shame and every nicer sense,
Ne'er blush'd, unless, in spreading Vice's snares,
She blunder'd on some virtue unawares;
With all these blessings, which we seldom find
Lavish'd by Nature on one happy mind,
A motley figure, of the Fribble tribe,
Which heart can scarce conceive, or pen describe,
Came simpering on--to ascertain whose sex
Twelve sage impannell'd matrons would perplex.
Nor male, nor female; neither, and yet both;
Of neuter gender, though of Irish growth;
A six-foot suckling, mincing in Its gait;
Affected, peevish, prim, and delicate;
Fearful It seem'd, though of athletic make,
Lest brutal breezes should too roughly shake
Its tender form, and savage motion spread,
O'er Its pale cheeks, the horrid manly red.
Much did It talk, in Its own pretty phrase,
Of genius and of taste, of players and of plays;
Much too of writings, which Itself had wrote,
Of special merit, though of little note;
For Fate, in a strange humour, had decreed
That what It wrote, none but Itself should read;
Much, too, It chatter'd of dramatic laws,
Misjudging critics, and misplaced applause;
262
Then, with a self-complacent, jutting air,
It smiled, It smirk'd, It wriggled to the chair;
And, with an awkward briskness not Its own,
Looking around, and perking on the throne,
Triumphant seem'd; when that strange savage dame,
Known but to few, or only known by name,
Plain Common-Sense appear'd, by Nature there
Appointed, with plain Truth, to guard the chair,
The pageant saw, and, blasted with her frown,
To Its first state of nothing melted down.
Nor shall the Muse, (for even there the pride
Of this vain nothing shall be mortified)
Nor shall the Muse (should Fate ordain her rhymes,
Fond, pleasing thought! to live in after-times)
With such a trifler's name her pages blot;
Known be the character, the thing forgot:
Let It, to disappoint each future aim,
Live without sex, and die without a name!
Cold-blooded critics, by enervate sires
Scarce hammer'd out, when Nature's feeble fires
Glimmer'd their last; whose sluggish blood, half froze,
Creeps labouring through the veins; whose heart ne'er glows
With fancy-kindled heat;--a servile race,
Who, in mere want of fault, all merit place;
Who blind obedience pay to ancient schools,
Bigots to Greece, and slaves to musty rules;
With solemn consequence declared that none
Could judge that cause but Sophocles alone.
Dupes to their fancied excellence, the crowd,
Obsequious to the sacred dictate, bow'd.
When, from amidst the throng, a youth stood forth,
Unknown his person, not unknown his worth;
His look bespoke applause; alone he stood,
Alone he stemm'd the mighty critic flood.
He talk'd of ancients, as the man became
Who prized our own, but envied not their fame;
With noble reverence spoke of Greece and Rome,
And scorn'd to tear the laurel from the tomb.
But, more than just to other countries grown,
Must we turn base apostates to our own?
Where do these words of Greece and Rome excel,
That England may not please the ear as well?
263
What mighty magic's in the place or air,
That all perfection needs must centre there?
In states, let strangers blindly be preferr'd;
In state of letters, merit should be heard.
Genius is of no country; her pure ray
Spreads all abroad, as general as the day;
Foe to restraint, from place to place she flies,
And may hereafter e'en in Holland rise.
May not, (to give a pleasing fancy scope,
And cheer a patriot heart with patriot hope)
May not some great extensive genius raise
The name of Britain 'bove Athenian praise;
And, whilst brave thirst of fame his bosom warms,
Make England great in letters as in arms?
There may--there hath,--and Shakspeare's Muse aspires
Beyond the reach of Greece; with native fires
Mounting aloft, he wings his daring flight,
Whilst Sophocles below stands trembling at his height.
Why should we then abroad for judges roam,
When abler judges we may find at home?
Happy in tragic and in comic powers,
Have we not Shakspeare?--Is not Jonson ours?
For them, your natural judges, Britons, vote;
They'll judge like Britons, who like Britons wrote.
He said, and conquer'd--Sense resumed her sway,
And disappointed pedants stalk'd away.
Shakspeare and Jonson, with deserved applause,
Joint-judges were ordain'd to try the cause.
Meantime the stranger every voice employ'd,
To ask or tell his name. Who is it? Lloyd.
Thus, when the aged friends of Job stood mute,
And, tamely prudent, gave up the dispute,
Elihu, with the decent warmth of youth,
Boldly stood forth the advocate of Truth;
Confuted Falsehood, and disabled Pride,
Whilst baffled Age stood snarling at his side.
The day of trial's fix'd, nor any fear
Lest day of trial should be put off here.
Causes but seldom for delay can call
In courts where forms are few, fees none at all.
The morning came, nor find I that the Sun,
As he on other great events hath done,
264
Put on a brighter robe than what he wore
To go his journey in, the day before.
Full in the centre of a spacious plain,
On plan entirely new, where nothing vain,
Nothing magnificent appear'd, but Art
With decent modesty perform'd her part,
Rose a tribunal: from no other court
It borrow'd ornament, or sought support:
No juries here were pack'd to kill or clear,
No bribes were taken, nor oaths broken here;
No gownsmen, partial to a client's cause,
To their own purpose turn'd the pliant laws;
Each judge was true and steady to his trust,
As Mansfield wise, and as old Foster just.
In the first seat, in robe of various dyes,
A noble wildness flashing from his eyes,
Sat Shakspeare: in one hand a wand he bore,
For mighty wonders famed in days of yore;
The other held a globe, which to his will
Obedient turn'd, and own'd the master's skill:
Things of the noblest kind his genius drew,
And look'd through Nature at a single view:
A loose he gave to his unbounded soul,
And taught new lands to rise, new seas to roll;
Call'd into being scenes unknown before,
And passing Nature's bounds, was something more.
Next Jonson sat, in ancient learning train'd,
His rigid judgment Fancy's flights restrain'd;
Correctly pruned each wild luxuriant thought,
Mark'd out her course, nor spared a glorious fault.
The book of man he read with nicest art,
And ransack'd all the secrets of the heart;
Exerted penetration's utmost force,
And traced each passion to its proper source;
Then, strongly mark'd, in liveliest colours drew,
And brought each foible forth to public view:
The coxcomb felt a lash in every word,
And fools, hung out, their brother fools deterr'd.
His comic humour kept the world in awe,
And Laughter frighten'd Folly more than Law.
But, hark! the trumpet sounds, the crowd gives way,
And the procession comes in just array.
265
Now should I, in some sweet poetic line,
Offer up incense at Apollo's shrine,
Invoke the Muse to quit her calm abode,
And waken Memory with a sleeping Ode.
For how shall mortal man, in mortal verse,
Their titles, merits, or their names rehearse?
But give, kind Dulness! memory and rhyme,
We 'll put off Genius till another time.
First, Order came,--with solemn step, and slow,
In measured time his feet were taught to go.
Behind, from time to time, he cast his eye,
Lest this should quit his place, that step awry.
Appearances to save his only care;
So things seem right, no matter what they are.
In him his parents saw themselves renew'd,
Begotten by Sir Critic on Saint Prude.
Then came drum, trumpet, hautboy, fiddle, flute;
Next snuffer, sweeper, shifter, soldier, mute:
Legions of angels all in white advance;
Furies, all fire, come forward in a dance;
Pantomime figures then are brought to view,
Fools, hand in hand with fools, go two by two.
Next came the treasurer of either house;
One with full purse, t'other with not a sous.
Behind, a group of figures awe create,
Set off with all the impertinence of state;
By lace and feather consecrate to fame,
Expletive kings, and queens without a name.
Here Havard, all serene, in the same strains,
Loves, hates, and rages, triumphs and complains;
His easy vacant face proclaim'd a heart
Which could not feel emotions, nor impart.
With him came mighty Davies: on my life,
That Davies hath a very pretty wife!
Statesman all over, in plots famous grown,
He mouths a sentence, as curs mouth a bone.
Next Holland came: with truly tragic stalk,
He creeps, he flies,--a hero should not walk.
As if with Heaven he warr'd, his eager eyes
Planted their batteries against the skies;
Attitude, action, air, pause, start, sigh, groan,
He borrow'd, and made use of as his own.
266
By fortune thrown on any other stage,
He might, perhaps, have pleased an easy age;
But now appears a copy, and no more,
Of something better we have seen before.
The actor who would build a solid fame,
Must Imitation's servile arts disclaim;
Act from himself, on his own bottom stand;
I hate e'en Garrick thus at second-hand.
Behind came King.--Bred up in modest lore,
Bashful and young, he sought Hibernia's shore;
Hibernia, famed, 'bove every other grace,
For matchless intrepidity of face.
From her his features caught the generous flame,
And bid defiance to all sense of shame.
Tutor'd by her all rivals to surpass,
'Mongst Drury's sons he comes, and shines in Brass.
Lo, Yates! Without the least finesse of art
He gets applause--I wish he'd get his part.
When hot Impatience is in full career,
How vilely 'Hark ye! hark ye!' grates the ear;
When active fancy from the brain is sent,
And stands on tip-toe for some wish'd event,
I hate those careless blunders, which recall
Suspended sense, and prove it fiction all.
In characters of low and vulgar mould,
Where Nature's coarsest features we behold;
Where, destitute of every decent grace,
Unmanner'd jests are blurted in your face,
There Yates with justice strict attention draws,
Acts truly from himself, and gains applause.
But when, to please himself or charm his wife,
He aims at something in politer life,
When, blindly thwarting Nature's stubborn plan,
He treads the stage by way of gentleman,
The clown, who no one touch of breeding knows,
Looks like Tom Errand dress'd in Clincher's clothes.
Fond of his dress, fond of his person grown,
Laugh'd at by all, and to himself unknown,
Prom side to side he struts, he smiles, he prates,
And seems to wonder what's become of Yates.
Woodward, endow'd with various tricks of face,
Great master in the science of grimace,
267
From Ireland ventures, favourite of the town,
Lured by the pleasing prospect of renown;
A speaking harlequin, made up of whim,
He twists, he twines, he tortures every limb;
Plays to the eye with a mere monkey's art,
And leaves to sense the conquest of the heart.
We laugh indeed, but, on reflection's birth,
We wonder at ourselves, and curse our mirth.
His walk of parts he fatally misplaced,
And inclination fondly took for taste;
Hence hath the town so often seen display'd
Beau in burlesque, high life in masquerade.
But when bold wits,--not such as patch up plays,
Cold and correct, in these insipid days,-Some comic character, strong featured, urge
To probability's extremest verge;
Where modest Judgment her decree suspends,
And, for a time, nor censures, nor commends;
Where critics can't determine on the spot
Whether it is in nature found or not,
There Woodward safely shall his powers exert,
Nor fail of favour where he shows desert;
Hence he in Bobadil such praises bore,
Such worthy praises, Kitely scarce had more.
By turns transform'd into all kind of shapes,
Constant to none, Foote laughs, cries, struts, and scrapes:
Now in the centre, now in van or rear,
The Proteus shifts, bawd, parson, auctioneer.
His strokes of humour, and his bursts of sport,
Are all contain'd in this one word--distort.
Doth a man stutter, look a-squint, or halt?
Mimics draw humour out of Nature's fault,
With personal defects their mirth adorn,
And bang misfortunes out to public scorn.
E'en I, whom Nature cast in hideous mould,
Whom, having made, she trembled to behold,
Beneath the load of mimicry may groan,
And find that Nature's errors are my own.
Shadows behind of Foote and Woodward came;
Wilkinson this, Obrien was that name.
Strange to relate, but wonderfully true,
That even shadows have their shadows too!
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With not a single comic power endued,
The first a mere, mere mimic's mimic stood;
The last, by Nature form'd to please, who shows,
In Johnson's Stephen, which way genius grows,
Self quite put off, affects with too much art
To put on Woodward in each mangled part;
Adopts his shrug, his wink, his stare; nay, more,
His voice, and croaks; for Woodward croak'd before.
When a dull copier simple grace neglects,
And rests his imitation in defects,
We readily forgive; but such vile arts
Are double guilt in men of real parts.
By Nature form'd in her perversest mood,
With no one requisite of art endued,
Next Jackson came--Observe that settled glare,
Which better speaks a puppet than a player;
List to that voice--did ever Discord hear
Sounds so well fitted to her untuned ear?
When to enforce some very tender part,
The right hand slips by instinct on the heart,
His soul, of every other thought bereft,
Is anxious only where to place the left;
He sobs and pants to soothe his weeping spouse;
To soothe his weeping mother, turns and bows:
Awkward, embarrass'd, stiff, without the skill
Of moving gracefully, or standing still,
One leg, as if suspicious of his brother,
Desirous seems to run away from t'other.
Some errors, handed down from age to age,
Plead custom's force, and still possess the stage.
That's vile: should we a parent's faults adore,
And err, because our fathers err'd before?
If, inattentive to the author's mind,
Some actors made the jest they could not find;
If by low tricks they marr'd fair Nature's mien,
And blurr'd the graces of the simple scene,
Shall we, if reason rightly is employ'd,
Not see their faults, or seeing, not avoid?
When Falstaff stands detected in a lie,
Why, without meaning, rolls Love's glassy eye?
Why? There's no cause--at least no cause we know-It was the fashion twenty years ago.
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Fashion!--a word which knaves and fools may use,
Their knavery and folly to excuse.
To copy beauties, forfeits all pretence
To fame--to copy faults, is want of sense.
Yet (though in some particulars he fails,
Some few particulars, where mode prevails)
If in these hallow'd times, when, sober, sad,
All gentlemen are melancholy mad;
When 'tis not deem'd so great a crime by half
To violate a vestal as to laugh,
Rude mirth may hope, presumptuous, to engage
An act of toleration for the stage;
And courtiers will, like reasonable creatures,
Suspend vain fashion, and unscrew their features;
Old Falstaff, play'd by Love, shall please once more,
And humour set the audience in a roar.
Actors I've seen, and of no vulgar name,
Who, being from one part possess'd of fame,
Whether they are to laugh, cry, whine, or bawl,
Still introduce that favourite part in all.
Here, Love, be cautious--ne'er be thou betray'd
To call in that wag Falstaff's dangerous aid;
Like Goths of old, howe'er he seems a friend,
He'll seize that throne you wish him to defend.
In a peculiar mould by Humour cast,
For Falstaff framed--himself the first and last-He stands aloof from all--maintains his state,
And scorns, like Scotsmen, to assimilate.
Vain all disguise--too plain we see the trick,
Though the knight wears the weeds of Dominic;
And Boniface disgraced, betrays the smack,
In _anno Domini_, of Falstaff sack.
Arms cross'd, brows bent, eyes fix'd, feet marching slow,
A band of malcontents with spleen o'erflow;
Wrapt in Conceit's impenetrable fog,
Which Pride, like Phoebus, draws from every bog,
They curse the managers, and curse the town
Whose partial favour keeps such merit down.
But if some man, more hardy than the rest,
Should dare attack these gnatlings in their nest,
At once they rise with impotence of rage,
Whet their small stings, and buzz about the stage:
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'Tis breach of privilege! Shall any dare
To arm satiric truth against a player?
Prescriptive rights we plead, time out of mind;
Actors, unlash'd themselves, may lash mankind.
What! shall Opinion then, of nature free,
And liberal as the vagrant air, agree
To rust in chains like these, imposed by things,
Which, less than nothing, ape the pride of kings?
No--though half-poets with half-players join
To curse the freedom of each honest line;
Though rage and malice dim their faded cheek,
What the Muse freely thinks, she'll freely speak;
With just disdain of every paltry sneer,
Stranger alike to flattery and fear,
In purpose fix'd, and to herself a rule,
Public contempt shall wait the public fool.
Austin would always glisten in French silks;
Ackman would Norris be, and Packer, Wilkes:
For who, like Ackman, can with humour please;
Who can, like Packer, charm with sprightly ease?
Higher than all the rest, see Bransby strut:
A mighty Gulliver in Lilliput!
Ludicrous Nature! which at once could show
A man so very high, so very low!
If I forget thee, Blakes, or if I say
Aught hurtful, may I never see thee play.
Let critics, with a supercilious air,
Decry thy various merit, and declare
Frenchman is still at top; but scorn that rage
Which, in attacking thee, attacks the age.
French follies, universally embraced,
At once provoke our mirth, and form our taste.
Long, from a nation ever hardly used,
At random censured, wantonly abused,
Have Britons drawn their sport; with partial view
Form'd general notions from the rascal few;
Condemn'd a people, as for vices known,
Which from their country banish'd, seek our own.
At length, howe'er, the slavish chain is broke,
And Sense, awaken'd, scorns her ancient yoke:
Taught by thee, Moody, we now learn to raise
Mirth from their foibles; from their virtues, praise.
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Next came the legion which our summer Bayes,
From alleys, here and there, contrived to raise,
Flush'd with vast hopes, and certain to succeed,
With wits who cannot write, and scarce can read.
Veterans no more support the rotten cause,
No more from Elliot's worth they reap applause;
Each on himself determines to rely;
Be Yates disbanded, and let Elliot fly.
Never did players so well an author fit,
To Nature dead, and foes declared to wit.
So loud each tongue, so empty was each head,
So much they talk'd, so very little said,
So wondrous dull, and yet so wondrous vain,
At once so willing, and unfit to reign,
That Reason swore, nor would the oath recall,
Their mighty master's soul inform'd them all.
As one with various disappointments sad,
Whom dulness only kept from being mad,
Apart from all the rest great Murphy came-Common to fools and wits, the rage of fame.
What though the sons of Nonsense hail him Sire,
Auditor, Author, Manager, and Squire,
His restless soul's ambition stops not there;
To make his triumphs perfect, dub him Player.
In person tall, a figure form'd to please,
If symmetry could charm deprived of ease;
When motionless he stands, we all approve;
What pity 'tis the thing was made to move.
His voice, in one dull, deep, unvaried sound,
Seems to break forth from caverns under ground;
From hollow chest the low sepulchral note
Unwilling heaves, and struggles in his throat.
Could authors butcher'd give an actor grace,
All must to him resign the foremost place.
When he attempts, in some one favourite part,
To ape the feelings of a manly heart,
His honest features the disguise defy,
And his face loudly gives his tongue the lie.
Still in extremes, he knows no happy mean,
Or raving mad, or stupidly serene.
In cold-wrought scenes, the lifeless actor flags;
In passion, tears the passion into rags.
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Can none remember? Yes--I know all must-When in the Moor he ground his teeth to dust,
When o'er the stage he Folly's standard bore,
Whilst Common-Sense stood trembling at the door.
How few are found with real talents blest!
Fewer with Nature's gifts contented rest.
Man from his sphere eccentric starts astray:
All hunt for fame, but most mistake the way.
Bred at St Omer's to the shuffling trade,
The hopeful youth a Jesuit might have made;
With various readings stored his empty skull,
Learn'd without sense, and venerably dull;
Or, at some banker's desk, like many more,
Content to tell that two and two make four;
His name had stood in City annals fair,
And prudent Dulness mark'd him for a mayor.
What, then, could tempt thee, in a critic age,
Such blooming hopes to forfeit on a stage?
Could it be worth thy wondrous waste of pains
To publish to the world thy lack of brains?
Or might not Reason e'en to thee have shown,
Thy greatest praise had been to live unknown?
Yet let not vanity like thine despair:
Fortune makes Folly her peculiar care.
A vacant throne, high-placed in Smithfield, view.
To sacred Dulness and her first-born due,
Thither with haste in happy hour repair,
Thy birthright claim, nor fear a rival there.
Shuter himself shall own thy juster claim,
And venal Ledgers puff their Murphy's name;
Whilst Vaughan, or Dapper, call him which you will,
Shall blow the trumpet, and give out the bill.
There rule, secure from critics and from sense,
Nor once shall Genius rise to give offence;
Eternal peace shall bless the happy shore,
And little factions break thy rest no more.
From Covent Garden crowds promiscuous go,
Whom the Muse knows not, nor desires to know;
Veterans they seem'd, but knew of arms no more
Than if, till that time, arms they never bore:
Like Westminster militia train'd to fight,
They scarcely knew the left hand from the right.
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Ashamed among such troops to show the head,
Their chiefs were scatter'd, and their heroes fled.
Sparks at his glass sat comfortably down
To separate frown from smile, and smile from frown.
Smith, the genteel, the airy, and the smart,
Smith was just gone to school to say his part.
Ross (a misfortune which we often meet)
Was fast asleep at dear Statira's feet;
Statira, with her hero to agree,
Stood on her feet as fast asleep as he.
Macklin, who largely deals in half-form'd sounds,
Who wantonly transgresses Nature's bounds,
Whose acting's hard, affected, and constrain'd,
Whose features, as each other they disdain'd,
At variance set, inflexible and coarse,
Ne'er know the workings of united force,
Ne'er kindly soften to each other's aid,
Nor show the mingled powers of light and shade;
No longer for a thankless stage concern'd,
To worthier thoughts his mighty genius turn'd,
Harangued, gave lectures, made each simple elf
Almost as good a speaker as himself;
Whilst the whole town, mad with mistaken zeal,
An awkward rage for elocution feel;
Dull cits and grave divines his praise proclaim,
And join with Sheridan's their Macklin's name.
Shuter, who never cared a single pin
Whether he left out nonsense, or put in,
Who aim'd at wit, though, levell'd in the dark,
The random arrow seldom hit the mark,
At Islington, all by the placid stream
Where city swains in lap of Dulness dream,
Where quiet as her strains their strains do flow,
That all the patron by the bards may know,
Secret as night, with Rolt's experienced aid,
The plan of future operations laid,
Projected schemes the summer months to cheer,
And spin out happy folly through the year.
But think not, though these dastard chiefs are fled,
That Covent Garden troops shall want a head:
Harlequin comes their chief! See from afar
The hero seated in fantastic car!
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Wedded to Novelty, his only arms
Are wooden swords, wands, talismans, and charms;
On one side Folly sits, by some call'd Fun,
And on the other his arch-patron, Lun;
Behind, for liberty athirst in vain,
Sense, helpless captive, drags the galling chain:
Six rude misshapen beasts the chariot draw,
Whom Reason loathes, and Nature never saw,
Monsters with tails of ice, and heads of fire;
'Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimeras dire.'
Each was bestrode by full as monstrous wight,
Giant, dwarf, genius, elf, hermaphrodite.
The Town, as usual, met him in full cry;
The Town, as usual, knew no reason why:
But Fashion so directs, and Moderns raise
On Fashion's mouldering base their transient praise.
Next, to the field a band of females draw
Their force, for Britain owns no Salique law:
Just to their worth, we female rights admit,
Nor bar their claim to empire or to wit.
First giggling, plotting chambermaids arrive,
Hoydens and romps, led on by General Clive.
In spite of outward blemishes, she shone,
For humour famed, and humour all her own:
Easy, as if at home, the stage she trod,
Nor sought the critic's praise, nor fear'd his rod:
Original in spirit and in ease,
She pleased by hiding all attempts to please:
No comic actress ever yet could raise,
On Humour's base, more merit or more praise.
With all the native vigour of sixteen,
Among the merry troop conspicuous seen,
See lively Pope advance, in jig, and trip
Corinna, Cherry, Honeycomb, and Snip:
Not without art, but yet to nature true,
She charms the town with humour just, yet new:
Cheer'd by her promise, we the less deplore
The fatal time when Olive shall be no more.
Lo! Vincent comes! With simple grace array'd,
She laughs at paltry arts, and scorns parade:
Nature through her is by reflection shown,
Whilst Gay once more knows Polly for his own.
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Talk not to me of diffidence and fear-I see it all, but must forgive it here;
Defects like these, which modest terrors cause,
From Impudence itself extort applause.
Candour and Reason still take Virtue's part;
We love e'en foibles in so good a heart.
Let Tommy Arne,--with usual pomp of style,
Whose chief, whose only merit's to compile;
Who, meanly pilfering here and there a bit,
Deals music out as Murphy deals out wit,-Publish proposals, laws for taste prescribe,
And chaunt the praise of an Italian tribe;
Let him reverse kind Nature's first decrees,
And teach e'en Brent a method not to please;
But never shall a truly British age
Bear a vile race of eunuchs on the stage;
The boasted work's call'd national in vain,
If one Italian voice pollutes the strain.
Where tyrants rule, and slaves with joy obey,
Let slavish minstrels pour the enervate lay;
To Britons far more noble pleasures spring,
In native notes whilst Beard and Vincent sing.
Might figure give a title unto fame,
What rival should with Yates dispute her claim?
But justice may not partial trophies raise,
Nor sink the actress' in the woman's praise.
Still hand in hand her words and actions go,
And the heart feels more than the features show;
For, through the regions of that beauteous face
We no variety of passions trace;
Dead to the soft emotions of the heart,
No kindred softness can those eyes impart:
The brow, still fix'd in sorrow's sullen frame,
Void of distinction, marks all parts the same.
What's a fine person, or a beauteous face,
Unless deportment gives them decent grace?
Bless'd with all other requisites to please,
Some want the striking elegance of ease;
The curious eye their awkward movement tires;
They seem like puppets led about by wires.
Others, like statues, in one posture still,
Give great ideas of the workman's skill;
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Wond'ring, his art we praise the more we view,
And only grieve he gave not motion too.
Weak of themselves are what we beauties call,
It is the manner which gives strength to all;
This teaches every beauty to unite,
And brings them forward in the noblest light;
Happy in this, behold, amidst the throng,
With transient gleam of grace, Hart sweeps along.
If all the wonders of external grace,
A person finely turn'd, a mould of face,
Where--union rare--expression's lively force
With beauty's softest magic holds discourse,
Attract the eye; if feelings, void of art,
Rouse the quick passions, and inflame the heart;
If music, sweetly breathing from the tongue,
Captives the ear, Bride must not pass unsung.
When fear, which rank ill-nature terms conceit,
By time and custom conquer'd, shall retreat;
When judgment, tutor'd by experience sage,
Shall shoot abroad, and gather strength from age;
When Heaven, in mercy, shall the stage release
From the dull slumbers of a still-life piece;
When some stale flower, disgraceful to the walk,
Which long hath hung, though wither'd, on the stalk,
Shall kindly drop, then Bride shall make her way,
And merit find a passage to the day;
Brought into action, she at once shall raise
Her own renown, and justify our praise.
Form'd for the tragic scene, to grace the stage
With rival excellence of love and rage;
Mistress of each soft art, with matchless skill
To turn and wind the passions as she will;
To melt the heart with sympathetic woe,
Awake the sigh, and teach the tear to flow;
To put on frenzy's wild, distracted glare,
And freeze the soul with horror and despair;
With just desert enroll'd in endless fame,
Conscious of worth superior, Cibber came.
When poor Alicia's madd'ning brains are rack'd,
And strongly imaged griefs her mind distract,
Struck with her grief, I catch the madness too,
My brain turns round, the headless trunk I view!
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The roof cracks, shakes, and falls--new horrors rise,
And Reason buried in the ruin lies!
Nobly disdainful of each slavish art,
She makes her first attack upon the heart;
Pleased with the summons, it receives her laws,
And all is silence, sympathy, applause.
But when, by fond ambition drawn aside,
Giddy with praise, and puff'd with female pride,
She quits the tragic scene, and, in pretence
To comic merit, breaks down nature's fence,
I scarcely can believe my ears or eyes,
Or find out Cibber through the dark disguise.
Pritchard, by Nature for the stage design'd,
In person graceful, and in sense refined;
Her art as much as Nature's friend became,
Her voice as free from blemish as her fame,
Who knows so well in majesty to please,
Attemper'd with the graceful charms of ease?
When, Congreve's favoured pantomime to grace,
She comes a captive queen, of Moorish race;
When love, hate, jealousy, despair, and rage
With wildest tumults in her breast engage,
Still equal to herself is Zara seen;
Her passions are the passions of a queen.
When she to murder whets the timorous Thane,
I feel ambition rush through every vein;
Persuasion hangs upon her daring tongue,
My heart grows flint, and every nerve's new strung.
In comedy--Nay, there, cries Critic, hold;
Pritchard's for comedy too fat and old:
Who can, with patience, bear the gray coquette,
Or force a laugh with over-grown Julett?
Her speech, look, action, humour, all are just,
But then, her age and figure give disgust.
Are foibles, then, and graces of the mind,
In real life, to size or age confined?
Do spirits flow, and is good-breeding placed
In any set circumference of waist?
As we grow old, doth affectation cease,
Or gives not age new vigour to caprice?
If in originals these things appear,
Why should we bar them in the copy here?
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The nice punctilio-mongers of this age,
The grand minute reformers of the stage,
Slaves to propriety of every kind,
Some standard measure for each part should find,
Which, when the best of actors shall exceed,
Let it devolve to one of smaller breed.
All actors, too, upon the back should bear
Certificate of birth; time, when; place, where;
For how can critics rightly fix their worth,
Unless they know the minute of their birth?
An audience, too, deceived, may find, too late,
That they have clapp'd an actor out of date.
Figure, I own, at first may give offence,
And harshly strike the eye's too curious sense;
But when perfections of the mind break forth,
Humour's chaste sallies, judgment's solid worth;
When the pure genuine flame by Nature taught,
Springs into sense and every action's thought;
Before such merit all objections fly-Pritchard's genteel, and Garrick's six feet high.
Oft have I, Pritchard, seen thy wondrous skill,
Confess'd thee great, but find thee greater still;
That worth, which shone in scatter'd rays before,
Collected now, breaks forth with double power.
The 'Jealous Wife!' on that thy trophies raise,
Inferior only to the author's praise.
From Dublin, famed in legends of romance
For mighty magic of enchanted lance,
With which her heroes arm'd, victorious prove,
And, like a flood, rush o'er the land of Love,
Mossop and Barry came--names ne'er design'd
By Fate in the same sentence to be join'd.
Raised by the breath of popular acclaim,
They mounted to the pinnacle of fame;
There the weak brain, made giddy with the height,
Spurr'd on the rival chiefs to mortal fight.
Thus sportive boys, around some basin's brim,
Behold the pipe-drawn bladders circling swim;
But if, from lungs more potent, there arise
Two bubbles of a more than common size,
Eager for honour, they for fight prepare,
Bubble meets bubble, and both sink to air.
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Mossop attach'd to military plan,
Still kept his eye fix'd on his right-hand man;
Whilst the mouth measures words with seeming skill,
The right hand labours, and the left lies still;
For he, resolved on Scripture grounds to go,
What the right doth, the left-hand shall not know,
With studied impropriety of speech,
He soars beyond the hackney critic's reach;
To epithets allots emphatic state,
Whilst principals, ungraced, like lackeys wait;
In ways first trodden by himself excels,
And stands alone in indeclinables;
Conjunction, preposition, adverb join
To stamp new vigour on the nervous line;
In monosyllables his thunders roll,
He, she, it, and we, ye, they, fright the soul.
In person taller than the common size,
Behold where Barry draws admiring eyes!
When labouring passions, in his bosom pent,
Convulsive rage, and struggling heave for vent;
Spectators, with imagined terrors warm,
Anxious expect the bursting of the storm:
But, all unfit in such a pile to dwell,
His voice comes forth, like Echo from her cell,
To swell the tempest needful aid denies,
And all adown the stage in feeble murmurs dies.
What man, like Barry, with such pains, can err
In elocution, action, character?
What man could give, if Barry was not here,
Such well applauded tenderness to Lear?
Who else can speak so very, very fine,
That sense may kindly end with every line?
Some dozen lines before the ghost is there,
Behold him for the solemn scene prepare:
See how he frames his eyes, poises each limb,
Puts the whole body into proper trim:-From whence we learn, with no great stretch of art,
Five lines hence comes a ghost, and, ha! a start.
When he appears most perfect, still we find
Something which jars upon and hurts the mind:
Whatever lights upon a part are thrown,
We see too plainly they are not his own:
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No flame from Nature ever yet he caught,
Nor knew a feeling which he was not taught:
He raised his trophies on the base of art,
And conn'd his passions, as he conn'd his part.
Quin, from afar, lured by the scent of fame,
A stage leviathan, put in his claim,
Pupil of Betterton and Booth. Alone,
Sullen he walk'd, and deem'd the chair his own:
For how should moderns, mushrooms of the day,
Who ne'er those masters knew, know how to play?
Gray-bearded veterans, who, with partial tongue,
Extol the times when they themselves were young,
Who, having lost all relish for the stage,
See not their own defects, but lash the age,
Received, with joyful murmurs of applause,
Their darling chief, and lined his favourite cause.
Far be it from the candid Muse to tread
Insulting o'er the ashes of the dead:
But, just to living merit, she maintains,
And dares the test, whilst Garrick's genius reigns,
Ancients in vain endeavour to excel,
Happily praised, if they could act as well.
But, though prescription's force we disallow,
Nor to antiquity submissive bow;
Though we deny imaginary grace,
Founded on accidents of time and place,
Yet real worth of every growth shall bear
Due praise; nor must we, Quin, forget thee there.
His words bore sterling weight; nervous and strong,
In manly tides of sense they roll'd along:
Happy in art, he chiefly had pretence
To keep up numbers, yet not forfeit sense;
No actor ever greater heights could reach
In all the labour'd artifice of speech.
Speech! is that all? And shall an actor found
An universal fame on partial ground?
Parrots themselves speak properly by rote,
And, in six months, my dog shall howl by note.
I laugh at those who, when the stage they tread,
Neglect the heart, to compliment the head;
With strict propriety their cares confined
To weigh out words, while passion halts behind:
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To syllable-dissectors they appeal,
Allow them accent, cadence,--fools may feel;
But, spite of all the criticising elves,
Those who would make us feel, must feel themselves.
His eyes, in gloomy socket taught to roll,
Proclaim'd the sullen 'habit of his soul:'
Heavy and phlegmatic he trod the stage,
Too proud for tenderness, too dull for rage.
When Hector's lovely widow shines in tears,
Or Rowe's gay rake dependent virtue jeers,
With the same cast of features he is seen
To chide the libertine, and court the queen.
From the tame scene, which without passion flows,
With just desert his reputation rose;
Nor less he pleased, when, on some surly plan,
He was, at once, the actor and the man.
In Brute he shone unequall'd: all agree
Garrick's not half so great a Brute as he.
When Cato's labour'd scenes are brought to view,
With equal praise the actor labour'd too;
For still you'll find, trace passions to their root,
Small difference 'twixt the Stoic and the Brute.
In fancied scenes, as in life's real plan,
He could not, for a moment, sink the man.
In whate'er cast his character was laid,
Self still, like oil, upon the surface play'd.
Nature, in spite of all his skill, crept in:
Horatio, Dorax, Falstaff,--still 'twas Quin.
Next follows Sheridan. A doubtful name,
As yet unsettled in the rank of fame:
This, fondly lavish in his praises grown,
Gives him all merit; that allows him none;
Between them both, we'll steer the middle course,
Nor, loving praise, rob Judgment of her force.
Just his conceptions, natural and great,
His feelings strong, his words enforced with weight.
Was speech-famed Quin himself to hear him speak,
Envy would drive the colour from his cheek;
But step-dame Nature, niggard of her grace,
Denied the social powers of voice and face.
Fix'd in one frame of features, glare of eye,
Passions, like chaos, in confusion lie;
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In vain the wonders of his skill are tried
To form distinctions Nature hath denied.
His voice no touch of harmony admits,
Irregularly deep, and shrill by fits.
The two extremes appear like man and wife,
Coupled together for the sake of strife.
His action's always strong, but sometimes such,
That candour must declare he acts too much.
Why must impatience fall three paces back?
Why paces three return to the attack?
Why is the right leg, too, forbid to stir,
Unless in motion semicircular?
Why must the hero with the Nailor vie,
And hurl the close-clench'd fist at nose or eye?
In Royal John, with Philip angry grown,
I thought he would have knock'd poor Davies down.
Inhuman tyrant! was it not a shame
To fright a king so harmless and so tame?
But, spite of all defects, his glories rise,
And art, by judgment form'd, with nature vies.
Behold him sound the depth of Hubert's soul,
Whilst in his own contending passions roll;
View the whole scene, with critic judgment scan,
And then deny him merit, if you can.
Where he falls short, 'tis Nature's fault alone;
Where he succeeds, the merit's all his own.
Last Garrick came. Behind him throng a train
Of snarling critics, ignorant as vain.
One finds out--He's of stature somewhat low-Your hero always should be tall, you know;
True natural greatness all consists in height.
Produce your voucher, Critic.--Serjeant Kite.
Another can't forgive the paltry arts
By which he makes his way to shallow hearts;
Mere pieces of finesse, traps for applause-'Avaunt! unnatural start, affected pause!'
For me, by Nature form'd to judge with phlegm,
I can't acquit by wholesale, nor condemn.
The best things carried to excess are wrong;
The start may be too frequent, pause too long:
But, only used in proper time and place,
Severest judgment must allow them grace.
283
If bunglers, form'd on Imitation's plan,
Just in the way that monkeys mimic man,
Their copied scene with mangled arts disgrace,
And pause and start with the same vacant face,
We join the critic laugh; those tricks we scorn
Which spoil the scenes they mean them to adorn.
But when, from Nature's pure and genuine source,
These strokes of acting flow with generous force,
When in the features all the soul's portray'd,
And passions, such as Garrick's, are display'd,
To me they seem from quickest feelings caught-Each start is nature, and each pause is thought.
When reason yields to passion's wild alarms,
And the whole state of man is up in arms,
What but a critic could condemn the player
For pausing here, when cool sense pauses there?
Whilst, working from the heart, the fire I trace,
And mark it strongly flaming to the face;
Whilst in each sound I hear the very man,
I can't catch words, and pity those who can.
Let wits, like spiders, from the tortured brain
Fine-draw the critic-web with curious pain;
The gods,--a kindness I with thanks must pay,-Have form'd me of a coarser kind of clay;
Not stung with envy, nor with spleen diseased,
A poor dull creature, still with Nature pleased:
Hence to thy praises, Garrick, I agree,
And, pleased with Nature, must be pleased with thee.
Now might I tell how silence reign'd throughout,
And deep attention hush'd the rabble rout;
How every claimant, tortured with desire,
Was pale as ashes, or as red as fire;
But loose to fame, the Muse more simply acts,
Rejects all flourish, and relates mere facts.
The judges, as the several parties came,
With temper heard, with judgment weigh'd each claim;
And, in their sentence happily agreed,
In name of both, great Shakspeare thus decreed:-If manly sense, if Nature link'd with Art;
If thorough knowledge of the human heart;
If powers of acting vast and unconfined;
If fewest faults with greatest beauties join'd;
284
If strong expression, and strange powers which lie
Within the magic circle of the eye;
If feelings which few hearts like his can know,
And which no face so well as his can show,
Deserve the preference--Garrick! take the chair;
Nor quit it--till thou place an equal there.
~ Charles Churchill,#NFDB
554:The Victories Of Love. Book I
From Frederick Graham
Mother, I smile at your alarms!
I own, indeed, my Cousin's charms,
But, like all nursery maladies,
Love is not badly taken twice.
Have you forgotten Charlotte Hayes,
My playmate in the pleasant days
At Knatchley, and her sister, Anne,
The twins, so made on the same plan,
That one wore blue, the other white,
To mark them to their father's sight;
And how, at Knatchley harvesting,
You bade me kiss her in the ring,
Like Anne and all the others? You,
That never of my sickness knew,
Will laugh, yet had I the disease,
And gravely, if the signs are these:
As, ere the Spring has any power,
The almond branch all turns to flower,
Though not a leaf is out, so she
The bloom of life provoked in me;
And, hard till then and selfish, I
Was thenceforth nought but sanctity
And service: life was mere delight
In being wholly good and right,
As she was; just, without a slur;
Honouring myself no less than her;
Obeying, in the loneliest place,
Ev'n to the slightest gesture, grace
Assured that one so fair, so true,
He only served that was so too.
For me, hence weak towards the weak,
No more the unnested blackbird's shriek
Startled the light-leaved wood; on high
Wander'd the gadding butterfly,
Unscared by my flung cap; the bee,
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Rifling the hollyhock in glee,
Was no more trapp'd with his own flower,
And for his honey slain. Her power,
From great things even to the grass
Through which the unfenced footways pass,
Was law, and that which keeps the law,
Cherubic gaiety and awe;
Day was her doing, and the lark
Had reason for his song; the dark
In anagram innumerous spelt
Her name with stars that throbb'd and felt;
'Twas the sad summit of delight
To wake and weep for her at night;
She turn'd to triumph or to shame
The strife of every childish game;
The heart would come into my throat
At rosebuds; howsoe'er remote,
In opposition or consent,
Each thing, or person, or event,
Or seeming neutral howsoe'er,
All, in the live, electric air,
Awoke, took aspect, and confess'd
In her a centre of unrest,
Yea, stocks and stones within me bred
Anxieties of joy and dread.
O, bright apocalyptic sky
O'erarching childhood! Far and nigh
Mystery and obscuration none,
Yet nowhere any moon or sun!
What reason for these sighs? What hope,
Daunting with its audacious scope
The disconcerted heart, affects
These ceremonies and respects?
Why stratagems in everything?
Why, why not kiss her in the ring?
'Tis nothing strange that warriors bold,
Whose fierce, forecasting eyes behold
The city they desire to sack,
Humbly begin their proud attack
By delving ditches two miles off,
Aware how the fair place would scoff
243
At hasty wooing; but, O child,
Why thus approach thy playmate mild?
One morning, when it flush'd my thought
That, what in me such wonder wrought
Was call'd, in men and women, love,
And, sick with vanity thereof,
I, saying loud, ‘I love her,’ told
My secret to myself, behold
A crisis in my mystery!
For, suddenly, I seem'd to be
Whirl'd round, and bound with showers of threads
As when the furious spider sheds
Captivity upon the fly
To still his buzzing till he die;
Only, with me, the bonds that flew,
Enfolding, thrill'd me through and through
With bliss beyond aught heaven can have
And pride to dream myself her slave.
A long, green slip of wilder'd land,
With Knatchley Wood on either hand,
Sunder'd our home from hers. This day
Glad was I as I went her way.
I stretch'd my arms to the sky, and sprang
O'er the elastic sod, and sang
‘I love her, love her!’ to an air
Which with the words came then and there;
And even now, when I would know
All was not always dull and low,
I mind me awhile of the sweet strain
Love taught me in that lonely lane.
Such glories fade, with no more mark
Than when the sunset dies to dark.
They pass, the rapture and the grace
Ineffable, their only trace
A heart which, having felt no less
Than pure and perfect happiness,
Is duly dainty of delight;
A patient, poignant appetite
For pleasures that exceed so much
244
The poor things which the world calls such,
That, when these lure it, then you may
The lion with a wisp of hay.
That Charlotte, whom we scarcely knew
From Anne but by her ribbons blue,
Was loved, Anne less than look'd at, shows
That liking still by favour goes!
This Love is a Divinity,
And holds his high election free
Of human merit; or let's say,
A child by ladies call'd to play,
But careless of their becks and wiles,
Till, seeing one who sits and smiles
Like any else, yet only charms,
He cries to come into her arms.
Then, for my Cousins, fear me not!
None ever loved because he ought.
Fatal were else this graceful house,
So full of light from ladies' brows.
There's Mary; Heaven in her appears
Like sunshine through the shower's bright tears;
Mildred's of Earth, yet happier far
Than most men's thoughts of Heaven are;
But, for Honoria, Heaven and Earth
Seal'd amity in her sweet birth.
The noble Girl! With whom she talks
She knights first with her smile; she walks,
Stands, dances, to such sweet effect,
Alone she seems to move erect.
The brightest and the chastest brow
Rules o'er a cheek which seems to show
That love, as a mere vague suspense
Of apprehensive innocence,
Perturbs her heart; love without aim
Or object, like the sunlit flame
That in the Vestals' Temple glow'd,
Without the image of a god.
And this simplicity most pure
She sets off with no less allure
Of culture, subtly skill'd to raise
The power, the pride, and mutual praise
245
Of human personality
Above the common sort so high,
It makes such homely souls as mine
Marvel how brightly life may shine.
How you would love her! Even in dress
She makes the common mode express
New knowledge of what's fit so well
'Tis virtue gaily visible!
Nay, but her silken sash to me
Were more than all morality,
Had not the old, sweet, feverous ill
Left me the master of my will!
So, Mother, feel at rest, and please
To send my books on board. With these,
When I go hence, all idle hours
Shall help my pleasures and my powers.
I've time, you know, to fill my post,
And yet make up for schooling lost
Through young sea-service. They all speak
German with ease; and this, with Greek,
(Which Dr. Churchill thought I knew,)
And history, which I fail'd in too,
Will stop a gap I somewhat dread,
After the happy life I've led
With these my friends; and sweet 'twill be
To abridge the space from them to me.
II
From Mrs. Graham
My Child, Honoria Churchill sways
A double power through Charlotte Hayes.
In minds to first-love's memory pledged
The second Cupid's born full-fledged.
I saw, and trembled for the day
When you should see her beauty, gay
And pure as apple-blooms, that show
Outside a blush and inside snow,
Her high and touching elegance
Of order'd life as free as chance.
246
Ah, haste from her bewitching side,
No friend for you, far less a bride!
But, warning from a hope so wild,
I wrong you. Yet this know, my Child:
He that but once too nearly hears
The music of forefended spheres,
Is thenceforth lonely, and for all
His days like one who treads the Wall
Of China, and, on this hand, sees
Cities and their civilities,
And, on the other, lions. Well,
(Your rash reply I thus foretell,)
Good is the knowledge of what's fair,
Though bought with temporal despair!
Yes, good for one, but not for two.
Will it content a wife that you
Should pine for love, in love's embrace,
Through having known a happier grace;
And break with inward sighs your rest,
Because, though good, she's not the best?
You would, you think, be just and kind,
And keep your counsel! You will find
You cannot such a secret keep;
'Twill out, like murder, in your sleep;
A touch will tell it, though, for pride,
She may her bitter knowledge hide;
And, while she accepts love's make-believe,
You'll twice despise what you'd deceive.
I send the books. Dear Child, adieu!
Tell me of all you are and do.
I know, thank God, whate'er it be,
'Twill need no veil 'twixt you and me.
III
From Frederick
The multitude of voices blythe
Of early day, the hissing scythe
Across the dew drawn and withdrawn,
The noisy peacock on the lawn,
247
These, and the sun's eye-gladding gleam,
This morning, chased the sweetest dream
That e'er shed penitential grace
On life's forgetful commonplace;
Yet 'twas no sweeter than the spell
To which I woke to say farewell.
Noon finds me many a mile removed
From her who must not be beloved;
And us the waste sea soon shall part,
Heaving for aye, without a heart!
Mother, what need to warn me so?
I love Miss Churchill? Ah, no, no.
I view, enchanted, from afar,
And love her as I love a star,
For, not to speak of colder fear,
Which keeps my fancy calm, I hear,
Under her life's gay progress hurl'd,
The wheels of the preponderant world,
Set sharp with swords that fool to slay
Who blunders from a poor byway,
To covet beauty with a crown
Of earthly blessing added on;
And she's so much, it seems to me,
Beyond all women womanly,
I dread to think how he should fare
Who came so near as to despair.
IV
From Frederick
Yonder the sombre vessel rides
Where my obscure condition hides.
Waves scud to shore against the wind
That flings the sprinkling surf behind;
In port the bickering pennons show
Which way the ships would gladly go;
Through Edgecumb Park the rooted trees
Are tossing, reckless, in the breeze;
On top of Edgecumb's firm-set tower,
As foils, not foibles, of its power,
248
The light vanes do themselves adjust
To every veering of the gust:
By me alone may nought be given
To guidance of the airs of heaven?
In battle or peace, in calm or storm,
Should I my daily task perform,
Better a thousand times for love,
Who should my secret soul reprove?
Beholding one like her, a man
Longs to lay down his life! How can
Aught to itself seem thus enough,
When I have so much need thereof?
Blest in her place, blissful is she;
And I, departing, seem to be
Like the strange waif that comes to run
A few days flaming near the sun,
And carries back, through boundless night,
Its lessening memory of light.
Oh, my dear Mother, I confess
To a deep grief of homelessness,
Unfelt, save once, before. 'Tis years
Since such a shower of girlish tears
Disgraced me? But this wretched Inn,
At Plymouth, is so full of din,
Talkings and trampings to and fro.
And then my ship, to which I go
To-night, is no more home. I dread,
As strange, the life I long have led;
And as, when first I went to school,
And found the horror of a rule
Which only ask'd to be obey'd,
I lay and wept, of dawn afraid,
And thought, with bursting heart, of one
Who, from her little, wayward son,
Required obedience, but above
Obedience still regarded love,
So change I that enchanting place,
The abode of innocence and grace
And gaiety without reproof,
For the black gun-deck's louring roof,
249
Blind and inevitable law
Which makes light duties burdens, awe
Which is not reverence, laughters gain'd
At cost of purities profaned,
And whatsoever most may stir
Remorseful passion towards her,
Whom to behold is to depart
From all defect of life and heart.
But, Mother, I shall go on shore,
And see my Cousin yet once more!
'Twere wild to hope for her, you say.
l've torn and cast those words away.
Surely there's hope! For life 'tis well
Love without hope's impossible;
So, if I love, it is that hope
Is not outside the outer scope
Of fancy. You speak truth: this hour
I must resist, or lose the power.
What! and, when some short months are o'er,
Be not much other than before?
Drop from the bright and virtuous sphere
In which I'm held but while she's dear?
For daily life's dull, senseless mood,
Slay the fine nerves of gratitude
And sweet allegiance, which I owe
Whether the debt be weal or woe?
Nay, Mother, I, forewarn'd, prefer
To want for all in wanting her.
For all? Love's best is not bereft
Ever from him to whom is left
The trust that God will not deceive
His creature, fashion'd to believe
The prophecies of pure desire.
Not loss, not death, my love shall tire.
A mystery does my heart foretell;
Nor do I press the oracle
For explanations. Leave me alone,
And let in me love's will be done.
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V
From Frederick
Fashion'd by Heaven and by art
So is she, that she makes the heart
Ache and o'erflow with tears, that grace
So lovely fair should have for place,
(Deeming itself at home the while,)
The unworthy earth! To see her smile
Amid this waste of pain and sin,
As only knowing the heaven within,
Is sweet, and does for pity stir
Passion to be her minister:
Wherefore last night I lay awake,
And said, ‘Ah, Lord, for Thy love's sake,
Give not this darling child of Thine
To care less reverent than mine!’
And, as true faith was in my word,
I trust, I trust that I was heard.
The waves, this morning, sped to land,
And shouted hoarse to touch the strand,
Where Spring, that goes not out to sea,
Lay laughing in her lovely glee;
And, so, my life was sunlit spray
And tumult, as, once more to-day,
For long farewell did I draw near
My Cousin, desperately dear.
Faint, fierce, the truth that hope was none
Gleam'd like the lightning in the sun;
Yet hope I had, and joy thereof.
The father of love is hope, (though love
Lives orphan'd on, when hope is dead,)
And, out of my immediate dread
And crisis of the coming hour,
Did hope itself draw sudden power.
So the still brooding storm, in Spring,
Makes all the birds begin to sing.
Mother, your foresight did not err:
I've lost the world, and not won her.
And yet, ah, laugh not, when you think
251
What cup of life I sought to drink!
The bold, said I, have climb'd to bliss
Absurd, impossible, as this,
With nought to help them but so great
A heart it fascinates their fate.
If ever Heaven heard man's desire,
Mine, being made of altar-fire,
Must come to pass, and it will be
That she will wait, when she shall see,
This evening, how I go to get,
By means unknown, I know not yet
Quite what, but ground whereon to stand,
And plead more plainly for her hand!
And so I raved, and cast in hope
A superstitious horoscope!
And still, though something in her face
Portended ‘No!’ with such a grace
It burthen'd me with thankfulness,
Nothing was credible but ‘Yes.’
Therefore, through time's close pressure bold,
I praised myself, and boastful told
My deeds at Acre; strain'd the chance
I had of honour and advance
In war to come; and would not see
Sad silence meant, ‘What's this to me.’
When half my precious hour was gone,
She rose to greet a Mr. Vaughan;
And, as the image of the moon
Breaks up, within some still lagoon
That feels the soft wind suddenly,
Or tide fresh flowing from the sea,
And turns to giddy flames that go
Over the water to and fro,
Thus, when he took her hand to-night,
Her lovely gravity of light
Was scatter'd into many smiles
And flattering weakness. Hope beguiles
No more my heart, dear Mother. He,
By jealous looks, o'erhonour'd me.
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With nought to do, and fondly fain
To hear her singing once again,
I stay'd, and turn'd her music o'er;
Then came she with me to the door.
‘Dearest Honoria,’ I said,
(By my despair familiar made,)
‘Heaven bless you!’ Oh, to have back then stepp'd
And fallen upon her neck, and wept,
And said, ‘My friend, I owe you all
‘I am, and have, and hope for. Call
‘For some poor service; let me prove
‘To you, or him here whom you love,
‘My duty. Any solemn task,
‘For life's whole course, is all I ask!’
Then she must surely have wept too,
And said, ‘My friend, what can you do!’
And I should have replied, ‘I'll pray
‘For you and him three times a-day,
‘And, all day, morning, noon, and night,
‘My life shall be so high and right
‘That never Saint yet scaled the stairs
‘Of heaven with more availing prayers!’
But this (and, as good God shall bless
Somehow my end, I'll do no less,)
I had no right to speak. Oh, shame,
So rich a love, so poor a claim!
My Mother, now my only friend,
Farewell. The school-books which you send
I shall not want, and so return.
Give them away, or sell, or burn.
I'll write from Malta. Would I might
But be your little Child to-night,
And feel your arms about me fold,
Against this loneliness and cold!
VI
From Mrs. Graham
The folly of young girls! They doff
Their pride to smooth success, and scoff
253
At far more noble fire and might
That woo them from the dust of fight!
But, Frederick, now the storm is past,
Your sky should not remain o'ercast.
A sea-life's dull, and, oh, beware
Of nourishing, for zest, despair.
My Child, remember, you have twice
Heartily loved; then why not thrice,
Or ten times? But a wise man shuns
To cry ‘All's over,’ more than once.
I'll not say that a young man's soul
Is scarcely measure of the whole
Earthly and heavenly universe,
To which he inveterately prefers
The one beloved woman. Best
Speak to the senses' interest,
Which brooks no mystery nor delay:
Frankly reflect, my Son, and say,
Was there no secret hour, of those
Pass'd at her side in Sarum Close,
When, to your spirit's sick alarm,
It seem'd that all her marvellous charm
Was marvellously fled? Her grace
Of voice, adornment, movement, face
Was what already heart and eye
Had ponder'd to satiety;
And so the good of life was o'er,
Until some laugh not heard before,
Some novel fashion in her hair,
Or style of putting back her chair,
Restored the heavens. Gather thence
The loss-consoling inference.
Yet blame not beauty, which beguiles,
With lovely motions and sweet smiles,
Which while they please us pass away,
The spirit to lofty thoughts that stay
And lift the whole of after-life,
Unless you take the vision to wife,
Which then seems lost, or serves to slake
Desire, as when a lovely lake
254
Far off scarce fills the exulting eye
Of one athirst, who comes thereby,
And inappreciably sips
The deep, with disappointed lips.
To fail is sorrow, yet confess
That love pays dearly for success!
No blame to beauty! Let's complain
Of the heart, which can so ill sustain
Delight. Our griefs declare our fall,
But how much more our joys! They pall
With plucking, and celestial mirth
Can find no footing on the earth,
More than the bird of paradise,
Which only lives the while it flies.
Think, also, how 'twould suit your pride
To have this woman for a bride.
Whate'er her faults, she's one of those
To whom the world's last polish owes
A novel grace, which all who aspire
To courtliest custom must acquire.
The world's the sphere she's made to charm,
Which you have shunn'd as if 'twere harm.
Oh, law perverse, that loneliness
Breeds love, society success!
Though young, 'twere now o'er late in life
To train yourself for such a wife;
So she would suit herself to you,
As women, when they marry, do.
For, since 'tis for our dignity
Our lords should sit like lords on high,
We willingly deteriorate
To a step below our rulers' state;
And 'tis the commonest of things
To see an angel, gay with wings,
Lean weakly on a mortal's arm!
Honoria would put off the charm
Of lofty grace that caught your love,
For fear you should not seem above
Herself in fashion and degree,
As in true merit. Thus, you see,
'Twere little kindness, wisdom none,
255
To light your cot with such a sun.
VII
From Frederick
Write not, my Mother, her dear name
With the least word or hint of blame.
Who else shall discommend her choice,
I giving it my hearty voice?
Wed me? Ah, never near her come
The knowledge of the narrow home!
Far fly from her dear face, that shows
The sunshine lovelier than the rose,
The sordid gravity they wear
Who poverty's base burthen bear!
(And all are poor who come to miss
Their custom, though a crown be this.)
My hope was, that the wheels of fate,
For my exceeding need, might wait,
And she, unseen amidst all eyes,
Move sightless, till I sought the prize,
With honour, in an equal field.
But then came Vaughan, to whom I yield
With grace as much as any man,
In such cause, to another can.
Had she been mine, it seems to me
That I had that integrity
And only joy in her delight—
But each is his own favourite
In love! The thought to bring me rest
Is that of us she takes the best.
'Twas but to see him to be sure
That choice for her remain'd no more!
His brow, so gaily clear of craft;
His wit, the timely truth that laugh'd
To find itself so well express'd;
His words, abundant yet the best;
His spirit, of such handsome show
You mark'd not that his looks were so;
His bearing, prospects, birth, all these
256
Might well, with small suit, greatly please;
How greatly, when she saw arise
The reflex sweetness of her eyes
In his, and every breath defer
Humbly its bated life to her;
Whilst power and kindness of command,
Which women can no more withstand
Than we their grace, were still unquell'd,
And force and flattery both compell'd
Her softness! Say I'm worthy. I
Grew, in her presence, cold and shy.
It awed me, as an angel's might
In raiment of reproachful light.
Her gay looks told my sombre mood
That what's not happy is not good;
And, just because 'twas life to please,
Death to repel her, truth and ease
Deserted me; I strove to talk,
And stammer'd foolishness; my walk
Was like a drunkard's; if she took
My arm, it stiffen'd, ached, and shook:
A likely wooer! Blame her not;
Nor ever say, dear Mother, aught
Against that perfectness which is
My strength, as once it was my bliss.
And do not chafe at social rules.
Leave that to charlatans and fools.
Clay graffs and clods conceive the rose,
So base still fathers best. Life owes
Itself to bread; enough thereof
And easy days condition love;
And, kindly train'd, love's roses thrive,
No more pale, scentless petals five,
Which moisten the considerate eye
To see what haste they make to die,
But heavens of colour and perfume,
Which, month by month, renew the bloom
Of art-born graces, when the year
In all the natural grove is sere.
Blame nought then! Bright let be the air
257
About my lonely cloud of care.
VIII
From Frederick
Religion, duty, books, work, friends,—
'Tis good advice, but there it ends.
I'm sick for what these have not got.
Send no more books: they help me not;
I do my work: the void's there still
Which carefullest duty cannot fill.
What though the inaugural hour of right
Comes ever with a keen delight?
Little relieves the labour's heat;
Disgust oft crowns it when complete;
And life, in fact, is not less dull
For being very dutiful.
‘The stately homes of England,’ lo,
‘How beautiful they stand!’ They owe
How much to nameless things like me
Their beauty of security!
But who can long a low toil mend
By looking to a lofty end?
And let me, since 'tis truth, confess
The void's not fill'd by godliness.
God is a tower without a stair,
And His perfection, love's despair.
'Tis He shall judge me when I die;
He suckles with the hissing fly
The spider; gazes calmly down,
Whilst rapine grips the helpless town.
His vast love holds all this and more.
In consternation I adore.
Nor can I ease this aching gulf
With friends, the pictures of myself.
Then marvel not that I recur
From each and all of these to her.
For more of heaven than her have I
No sensitive capacity.
Had I but her, ah, what the gain
258
Of owning aught but that domain!
Nay, heaven's extent, however much,
Cannot be more than many such;
And, she being mine, should God to me
Say ‘Lo! my Child, I give to thee
All heaven besides,’ what could I then,
But, as a child, to Him complain
That whereas my dear Father gave
A little space for me to have
In His great garden, now, o'erblest,
I've that, indeed, but all the rest,
Which, somehow, makes it seem I've got
All but my only cared-for plot.
Enough was that for my weak hand
To tend, my heart to understand.
Oh, the sick fact, 'twixt her and me
There's naught, and half a world of sea.
IX
From Frederick
In two, in less than two hours more
I set my foot on English shore,
Two years untrod, and, strange to tell,
Nigh miss'd through last night's storm! There fell
A man from the shrouds, that roar'd to quench
Even the billows' blast and drench.
Besides me none was near to mark
His loud cry in the louder dark,
Dark, save when lightning show'd the deeps
Standing about in stony heaps.
No time for choice! A rope; a flash
That flamed as he rose; a dizzy splash;
A strange, inopportune delight
Of mounting with the billowy might,
And falling, with a thrill again
Of pleasure shot from feet to brain;
And both paced deck, ere any knew
Our peril. Round us press'd the crew,
With wonder in the eyes of most.
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As if the man who had loved and lost
Honoria dared no more than that!
My days have else been stale and flat.
This life's at best, if justly scann'd,
A tedious walk by the other's strand,
With, here and there cast up, a piece
Of coral or of ambergris,
Which, boasted of abroad, we ignore
The burden of the barren shore.
I seldom write, for 'twould be still
Of how the nerves refuse to thrill;
How, throughout doubly-darken'd days,
I cannot recollect her face;
How to my heart her name to tell
Is beating on a broken bell;
And, to fill up the abhorrent gulf,
Scarce loving her, I hate myself.
Yet, latterly, with strange delight,
Rich tides have risen in the night,
And sweet dreams chased the fancies dense
Of waking life's dull somnolence.
I see her as I knew her, grace
Already glory in her face;
I move about, I cannot rest,
For the proud brain and joyful breast
I have of her. Or else I float,
The pilot of an idle boat,
Alone, alone with sky and sea,
And her, the third simplicity.
Or Mildred, to some question, cries,
(Her merry meaning in her eyes,)
‘The Ball, oh, Frederick will go;
‘Honoria will be there!’ and, lo,
As moisture sweet my seeing blurs
To hear my name so link'd with hers,
A mirror joins, by guilty chance,
Either's averted, watchful glance!
Or with me, in the Ball-Room's blaze,
Her brilliant mildness thrids the maze;
Our thoughts are lovely, and each word
260
Is music in the music heard,
And all things seem but parts to be
Of one persistent harmony.
By which I'm made divinely bold;
The secret, which she knows, is told;
And, laughing with a lofty bliss
Of innocent accord, we kiss;
About her neck my pleasure weeps;
Against my lip the silk vein leaps;
Then says an Angel, ‘Day or night,
‘If yours you seek, not her delight,
‘Although by some strange witchery
‘It seems you kiss her, 'tis not she;
‘But, whilst you languish at the side
‘Of a fair-foul phantasmal bride,
‘Surely a dragon and strong tower
‘Guard the true lady in her bower.’
And I say, ‘Dear my Lord, Amen!’
And the true lady kiss again.
Or else some wasteful malady
Devours her shape and dims her eye;
No charms are left, where all were rife,
Except her voice, which is her life,
Wherewith she, for her foolish fear,
Says trembling, ‘Do you love me, Dear?’
And I reply, ‘Sweetest, I vow
‘I never loved but half till now.’
She turns her face to the wall at this,
And says, ‘Go, Love, 'tis too much bliss.’
And then a sudden pulse is sent
About the sounding firmament
In smitings as of silver bars;
The bright disorder of the stars
Is solved by music; far and near,
Through infinite distinctions clear,
Their twofold voices' deeper tone
Utters the Name which all things own,
And each ecstatic treble dwells
On one whereof none other tells;
And we, sublimed to song and fire,
Take order in the wheeling quire,
Till from the throbbing sphere I start,
261
Waked by the heaving of my heart.
Such dreams as these come night by night,
Disturbing day with their delight.
Portend they nothing? Who can tell!
God yet may do some miracle.
'Tis nigh two years, and she's not wed,
Or you would know! He may be dead,
Or mad, and loving some one else,
And she, much moved that nothing quells
My constancy, or, simply wroth
With such a wretch, accept my troth
To spite him; or her beauty's gone,
(And that's my dream!) and this man Vaughan
Takes her release: or tongues malign,
Confusing every ear but mine,
Have smirch'd her: ah, 'twould move her, sure,
To find I loved her all the more!
Nay, now I think, haply amiss
I read her words and looks, and his,
That night! Did not his jealousy
Show—Good my God, and can it be
That I, a modest fool, all blest,
Nothing of such a heaven guess'd?
Oh, chance too frail, yet frantic sweet,
To-morrow sees me at her feet!
Yonder, at last, the glad sea roars
Along the sacred English shores!
There lies the lovely land I know,
Where men and women lordliest grow;
There peep the roofs where more than kings
Postpone state cares to country things,
And many a gay queen simply tends
The babes on whom the world depends;
There curls the wanton cottage smoke
Of him that drives but bears no yoke;
There laughs the realm where low and high
Are lieges to society.
And life has all too wide a scope,
Too free a prospect for its hope,
For any private good or ill,
262
Except dishonour, quite to fill!
—Mother, since this was penn'd, I've read
That ‘Mr. Vaughan, on Tuesday, wed
‘The beautiful Miss Churchill.’ So
That's over; and to-morrow I go
To take up my new post on board
The ‘Wolf,’ my peace at last restored;
My lonely faith, like heart-of-oak,
Shock-season'd. Grief is now the cloak
I clasp about me to prevent
The deadly chill of a content
With any near or distant good,
Except the exact beatitude
Which love has shown to my desire.
Talk not of ‘other joys and higher,’
I hate and disavow all bliss
As none for me which is not this.
Think not I blasphemously cope
With God's decrees, and cast off hope.
How, when, and where can mine succeed?
I'll trust He knows who made my need.
Baseness of men! Pursuit being o'er,
Doubtless her Husband feels no more
The heaven of heavens of such a Bride,
But, lounging, lets her please his pride
With fondness, guerdons her caress
With little names, and turns a tress
Round idle fingers. If 'tis so,
Why then I'm happier of the two!
Better, for lofty loss, high pain,
Than low content with lofty gain.
Poor, foolish Dove, to trust from me
Her happiness and dignity!
From Frederick
I thought the worst had brought me balm:
'Twas but the tempest's central calm.
Vague sinkings of the heart aver
263
That dreadful wrong is come to her,
And o'er this dream I brood and dote,
And learn its agonies by rote.
As if I loved it, early and late
I make familiar with my fate,
And feed, with fascinated will,
On very dregs of finish'd ill.
I think, she's near him now, alone,
With wardship and protection none;
Alone, perhaps, in the hindering stress
Of airs that clasp him with her dress,
They wander whispering by the wave;
And haply now, in some sea-cave,
Where the ribb'd sand is rarely trod,
They laugh, they kiss. Oh, God! oh, God!
There comes a smile acutely sweet
Out of the picturing dark; I meet
The ancient frankness of her gaze,
That soft and heart-surprising blaze
Of great goodwill and innocence,
And perfect joy proceeding thence!
Ah! made for earth's delight, yet such
The mid-sea air's too gross to touch.
At thought of which, the soul in me
Is as the bird that bites a bee,
And darts abroad on frantic wing,
Tasting the honey and the sting;
And, moaning where all round me sleep
Amidst the moaning of the deep,
I start at midnight from my bed—
And have no right to strike him dead.
What world is this that I am in,
Where chance turns sanctity to sin!
'Tis crime henceforward to desire
The only good; the sacred fire
That sunn'd the universe is hell!
I hear a Voice which argues well:
‘The Heaven hard has scorn'd your cry;
‘Fall down and worship me, and I
‘Will give you peace; go and profane
‘This pangful love, so pure, so vain,
264
‘And thereby win forgetfulness
‘And pardon of the spirit's excess,
‘Which soar'd too nigh that jealous Heaven
‘Ever, save thus, to be forgiven.
‘No Gospel has come down that cures
‘With better gain a loss like yours.
‘Be pious! Give the beggar pelf,
‘And love your neighbour as yourself!
‘You, who yet love, though all is o'er,
‘And she'll ne'er be your neighbour more,
‘With soul which can in pity smile
‘That aught with such a measure vile
‘As self should be at all named 'love!'
‘Your sanctity the priests reprove;
‘Your case of grief they wholly miss;
‘The Man of Sorrows names not this.
‘The years, they say, graff love divine
‘On the lopp'd stock of love like thine;
‘The wild tree dies not, but converts.
‘So be it; but the lopping hurts,
‘The graff takes tardily! Men stanch
‘Meantime with earth the bleeding branch,
‘There's nothing heals one woman's loss,
‘And lighten's life's eternal cross
‘With intermission of sound rest,
‘Like lying in another's breast.
‘The cure is, to your thinking, low!
‘Is not life all, henceforward, so?’
Ill Voice, at least thou calm'st my mood.
I'll sleep! But, as I thus conclude,
The intrusions of her grace dispel
The comfortable glooms of hell.
A wonder! Ere these lines were dried,
Vaughan and my Love, his three-days' Bride,
Became my guests. I look'd, and, lo,
In beauty soft as is the snow
And powerful as the avalanche,
She lit the deck. The Heav'n-sent chance!
She smiled, surprised. They came to see
The ship, not thinking to meet me.
265
At infinite distance she's my day:
What then to him? Howbeit they say
'Tis not so sunny in the sun
But men might live cool lives thereon!
All's well; for I have seen arise
That reflex sweetness of her eyes
In his, and watch'd his breath defer
Humbly its bated life to her,
His wife. My Love, she's safe in his
Devotion! What ask'd I but this?
They bade adieu; I saw them go
Across the sea; and now I know
The ultimate hope I rested on,
The hope beyond the grave, is gone,
The hope that, in the heavens high,
At last it should appear that I
Loved most, and so, by claim divine,
Should have her, in the heavens, for mine,
According to such nuptial sort
As may subsist in the holy court,
Where, if there are all kinds of joys
To exhaust the multitude of choice
In many mansions, then there are
Loves personal and particular,
Conspicuous in the glorious sky
Of universal charity,
As Phosphor in the sunrise. Now
I've seen them, I believe their vow
Immortal; and the dreadful thought,
That he less honour'd than he ought
Her sanctity, is laid to rest,
And, blessing them, I too am blest.
My goodwill, as a springing air,
Unclouds a beauty in despair;
I stand beneath the sky's pure cope
Unburthen'd even by a hope;
And peace unspeakable, a joy
Which hope would deaden and destroy,
Like sunshine fills the airy gulf
266
Left by the vanishing of self.
That I have known her; that she moves
Somewhere all-graceful; that she loves,
And is belov'd, and that she's so
Most happy, and to heaven will go,
Where I may meet with her, (yet this
I count but accidental bliss,)
And that the full, celestial weal
Of all shall sensitively feel
The partnership and work of each,
And thus my love and labour reach
Her region, there the more to bless
Her last, consummate happiness,
Is guerdon up to the degree
Of that alone true loyalty
Which, sacrificing, is not nice
About the terms of sacrifice,
But offers all, with smiles that say,
'Tis little, but it is for aye!
XI
From Mrs. Graham
You wanted her, my Son, for wife,
With the fierce need of life in life.
That nobler passion of an hour
Was rather prophecy than power;
And nature, from such stress unbent,
Recurs to deep discouragement.
Trust not such peace yet; easy breath,
In hot diseases, argues death;
And tastelessness within the mouth
Worse fever shows than heat or drouth.
Wherefore take, Frederick, timely fear
Against a different danger near:
Wed not one woman, oh, my Child,
Because another has not smiled!
Oft, with a disappointed man,
The first who cares to win him can;
For, after love's heroic strain,
Which tired the heart and brought no gain,
267
He feels consoled, relieved, and eased
To meet with her who can be pleased
To proffer kindness, and compute
His acquiescence for pursuit;
Who troubles not his lonely mood;
And asks for love mere gratitude.
Ah, desperate folly! Yet, we know,
Who wed through love wed mostly so.
At least, my Son, when wed you do,
See that the woman equals you,
Nor rush, from having loved too high,
Into a worse humility.
A poor estate's a foolish plea
For marrying to a base degree.
A woman grown cannot be train'd,
Or, if she could, no love were gain'd;
For, never was a man's heart caught
By graces he himself had taught.
And fancy not 'tis in the might
Of man to do without delight;
For, should you in her nothing find
To exhilarate the higher mind,
Your soul would deaden useless wings
With wickedness of lawful things,
And vampire pleasure swift destroy
Even the memory of joy.
So let no man, in desperate mood,
Wed a dull girl because she's good.
All virtues in his wife soon dim,
Except the power of pleasing him,
Which may small virtue be, or none!
I know my just and tender Son,
To whom the dangerous grace is given
That scorns a good which is not heaven;
My Child, who used to sit and sigh
Under the bright, ideal sky,
And pass, to spare the farmer's wheat,
The poppy and the meadow-sweet!
He would not let his wife's heart ache
For what was mainly his mistake;
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But, having err'd so, all his force
Would fix upon the hard, right course.
She's graceless, say, yet good and true,
And therefore inly fair, and, through
The veils which inward beauty fold,
Faith can her loveliness behold.
Ah, that's soon tired; faith falls away
Without the ceremonial stay
Of outward loveliness and awe.
The weightier matters of the law
She pays: mere mint and cumin not;
And, in the road that she was taught,
She treads, and takes for granted still
Nature's immedicable ill;
So never wears within her eyes
A false report of paradise,
Nor ever modulates her mirth
With vain compassion of the earth,
Which made a certain happier face
Affecting, and a gayer grace
With pathos delicately edged!
Yet, though she be not privileged
To unlock for you your heart's delight,
(Her keys being gold, but not the right,)
On lower levels she may do!
Her joy is more in loving you
Than being loved, and she commands
All tenderness she understands.
It is but when you proffer more
The yoke weighs heavy and chafes sore.
It's weary work enforcing love
On one who has enough thereof,
And honour on the lowlihead
Of ignorance! Besides, you dread,
In Leah's arms, to meet the eyes
Of Rachel, somewhere in the skies,
And both return, alike relieved,
To life less loftily conceived.
Alas, alas!
Then wait the mood
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In which a woman may be woo'd
Whose thoughts and habits are too high
For honour to be flattery,
And who would surely not allow
The suit that you could proffer now.
Her equal yoke would sit with ease;
It might, with wearing, even please,
(Not with a better word to move
The loyal wrath of present love);
She would not mope when you were gay,
For want of knowing aught to say;
Nor vex you with unhandsome waste
Of thoughts ill-timed and words ill-placed;
Nor reckon small things duties small,
And your fine sense fantastical;
Nor would she bring you up a brood
Of strangers bound to you by blood,
Boys of a meaner moral race,
Girls with their mother's evil grace,
But not her chance to sometimes find
Her critic past his judgment kind;
Nor, unaccustom'd to respect,
Which men, where 'tis not claim'd, neglect,
Confirm you selfish and morose,
And slowly, by contagion, gross;
But, glad and able to receive
The honour you would long to give,
Would hasten on to justify
Expectancy, however high,
Whilst you would happily incur
Compulsion to keep up with her.
XII
From Frederick
Your letter, Mother, bears the date
Of six months back, and comes too late.
My Love, past all conceiving lost,
A change seem'd good, at any cost,
From lonely, stupid, silent grief,
Vain, objectless, beyond relief,
270
And, like a sea-fog, settled dense
On fancy, feeling, thought, and sense.
I grew so idle, so despised
Myself, my powers, by Her unprized,
Honouring my post, but nothing more,
And lying, when I lived on shore,
So late of mornings: weak tears stream'd
For such slight cause,—if only gleam'd,
Remotely, beautifully bright,
On clouded eves at sea, the light
Of English headlands in the sun,—
That soon I deem'd 'twere better done
To lay this poor, complaining wraith
Of unreciprocated faith:
And so, with heart still bleeding quick,
But strengthen'd by the comfort sick
Of knowing that She could not care,
I turn'd away from my despair,
And told our chaplain's daughter, Jane,—
A dear, good girl, who saw my pain,
And look'd as if she pitied me,—
How glad and thankful I should be
If some kind woman, not above
Myself in rank, would give her love
To one that knew not how to woo.
Whereat she, without more ado,
Blush'd, spoke of love return'd, and closed
With what she thought I had proposed.
And, trust me, Mother, I and Jane,
We suit each other well. My gain
Is very great in this good Wife,
To whom I'm bound, for natural life,
By hearty faith, yet crossing not
My faith towards—I know not what!
As to the ether is the air,
Is her good to Honoria's fair;
One place is full of both, yet each
Lies quite beyond the other's reach
And recognition.
If you say,
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Am I contented? Yea and nay!
For what's base but content to grow
With less good than the best we know?
But think me not from life withdrawn,
By passion for a hope that's gone,
So far as to forget how much
A woman is, as merely such,
To man's affection. What is best,
In each, belongs to all the rest;
And though, in marriage, quite to kiss
And half to love the custom is,
'Tis such dishonour, ruin bare,
The soul's interior despair,
And life between two troubles toss'd,
To me, who think not with the most;
Whatever 'twould have been, before
My Cousin's time, 'tis now so sore
A treason to the abiding throne
Of that sweet love which I have known,
I cannot live so, and I bend
My mind perforce to comprehend
That He who gives command to love
Does not require a thing above
The strength He gives. The highest degree
Of the hardest grace, humility;
The step t'ward heaven the latest trod,
And that which makes us most like God,
And us much more than God behoves,
Is, to be humble in our loves.
Henceforth for ever therefore I
Renounce all partiality
Of passion. Subject to control
Of that perspective of the soul
Which God Himself pronounces good,
Confirming claims of neighbourhood,
And giving man, for earthly life,
The closest neighbour in a wife,
I'll serve all. Jane be much more dear
Than all as she is much more near!
I'll love her! Yea, and love's joy comes
Ever from self-love's martyrdoms!
272
Yet, not to lie for God, 'tis true
That 'twas another joy I knew
When freighted was my heart with fire
Of fond, irrational desire
For fascinating, female charms,
And hopeless heaven in Her mild arms.
Nor wrong I any, if I profess
That care for heaven with me were less
But that I'm utterly imbued
With faith of all Earth's hope renew'd
In realms where no short-coming pains
Expectance, and dear love disdains
Time's treason, and the gathering dross,
And lasts for ever in the gloss
Of newness.
All the bright past seems,
Now, but a splendour in my dreams,
Which shows, albeit the dreamer wakes,
The standard of right life. Life aches
To be therewith conform'd; but, oh,
The world's so stolid, dark, and low!
That and the mortal element
Forbid the beautiful intent,
And, like the unborn butterfly,
It feels the wings, and wants the sky.
But perilous is the lofty mood
Which cannot yoke with lowly good.
Right life, for me, is life that wends
By lowly ways to lofty ends.
I well perceive, at length, that haste
T'ward heaven itself is only waste;
And thus I dread the impatient spur
Of aught that speaks too plain of Her.
There's little here that story tells;
But music talks of nothing else.
Therefore, when music breathes, I say,
(And urge my task,) Away, away!
Thou art the voice of one I knew,
But what thou say'st is not yet true;
Thou art the voice of her I loved,
273
And I would not be vainly moved.
So that which did from death set free
All things, now dons death's mockery,
And takes its place with things that are
But little noted. Do not mar
For me your peace! My health is high.
The proud possession of mine eye
Departed, I am much like one
Who had by haughty custom grown
To think gilt rooms, and spacious grounds,
Horses, and carriages, and hounds,
Fine linen, and an eider bed
As much his need as daily bread,
And honour of men as much or more.
Till, strange misfortune smiting sore,
His pride all goes to pay his debts,
A lodging anywhere he gets,
And takes his family thereto
Weeping, and other relics few,
Allow'd, by them that seize his pelf,
As precious only to himself.
Yet the sun shines; the country green
Has many riches, poorly seen
From blazon'd coaches; grace at meat
Goes well with thrift in what they eat;
And there's amends for much bereft
In better thanks for much that's left!
Jane is not fair, yet pleases well
The eye in which no others dwell;
And features somewhat plainly set,
And homely manners leave her yet
The crowning boon and most express
Of Heaven's inventive tenderness,
A woman. But I do her wrong,
Letting the world's eyes guide my tongue!
She has a handsomeness that pays
No homage to the hourly gaze,
And dwells not on the arch'd brow's height
And lids which softly lodge the light,
Nor in the pure field of the cheek
274
Flow'rs, though the soul be still to seek;
But shows as fits that solemn place
Whereof the window is the face:
Blankness and leaden outlines mark
What time the Church within is dark;
Yet view it on a Festal night,
Or some occasion else for light,
And each ungainly line is seen
A special character to mean
Of Saint or Prophet, and the whole
Blank window is a living scroll.
For hours, the clock upon the shelf,
Has all the talking to itself;
But to and fro her needle runs
Twice, while the clock is ticking once;
And, when a wife is well in reach,
Not silence separates, but speech;
And I, contented, read, or smoke,
And idly think, or idly stroke
The winking cat, or watch the fire,
In social peace that does not tire;
Until, at easeful end of day,
She moves, and puts her work away,
And, saying ‘How cold 'tis,’ or ‘How warm,’
Or something else as little harm,
Comes, used to finding, kindly press'd,
A woman's welcome to my breast,
With all the great advantage clear
Of none else having been so near.
But sometimes, (how shall I deny!)
There falls, with her thus fondly by,
Dejection, and a chilling shade.
Remember'd pleasures, as they fade,
Salute me, and colossal grow,
Like foot-prints in the thawing snow.
I feel oppress'd beyond my force
With foolish envy and remorse.
I love this woman, but I might
Have loved some else with more delight;
And strange it seems of God that He
275
Should make a vain capacity.
Such times of ignorant relapse,
'Tis well she does not talk, perhaps.
The dream, the discontent, the doubt,
To some injustice flaming out,
Were't else, might leave us both to moan
A kind tradition overthrown,
And dawning promise once more dead
In the pernicious lowlihead
Of not aspiring to be fair.
And what am I, that I should dare
Dispute with God, who moulds one clay
To honour and shame, and wills to pay
With equal wages them that delve
About His vines one hour or twelve!
XIII
From Lady Clitheroe To Mary Churchill
I've dreadful news, my Sister dear!
Frederick has married, as we hear,
Oh, such a girl! This fact we get
From Mr. Barton, whom we met
At Abury once. He used to know,
At Race and Hunt, Lord Clitheroe,
And writes that he ‘has seen Fred Graham,
‘Commander of the 'Wolf,'—the same
‘The Mess call'd Joseph,—with his Wife
‘Under his arm.’ He ‘lays his life,
‘The fellow married her for love,
‘For there was nothing else to move.
‘H. is her Shibboleth. 'Tis said
‘Her Mother was a Kitchen-Maid.’
Poor Fred! What will Honoria say?
She thought so highly of him. Pray
Tell it her gently. I've no right,
I know you hold, to trust my sight;
But Frederick's state could not be hid!
And Felix, coming when he did,
276
Was lucky; for Honoria, too,
Was half in love. How warm she grew
On ‘worldliness,’ when once I said
I fancied that, in ladies, Fred
Had tastes much better than his means!
His hand was worthy of a Queen's,
Said she, and actually shed tears
The night he left us for two years,
And sobb'd, when ask'd the cause to tell,
That ‘Frederick look'd so miserable.’
He did look very dull, no doubt,
But such things girls don't cry about.
What weathercocks men always prove!
You're quite right not to fall in love.
I never did, and, truth to tell,
I don't think it respectable.
The man can't understand it, too.
He likes to be in love with you,
But scarce knows how, if you love him,
Poor fellow. When 'tis woman's whim
To serve her husband night and day,
The kind soul lets her have her way!
So, if you wed, as soon you should,
Be selfish for your husband's good.
Happy the men who relegate
Their pleasures, vanities, and state
To us. Their nature seems to be
To enjoy themselves by deputy,
For, seeking their own benefit,
Dear, what a mess they make of it!
A man will work his bones away,
If but his wife will only play;
He does not mind how much he's teased,
So that his plague looks always pleased;
And never thanks her, while he lives,
For anything, but what he gives!
'Tis hard to manage men, we hear!
Believe me, nothing's easier, Dear.
The most important step by far
Is finding what their colours are.
The next is, not to let them know
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The reason why they love us so.
The indolent droop of a blue shawl,
Or gray silk's fluctuating fall,
Covers the multitude of sins
In me. Your husband, Love, might wince
At azure, and be wild at slate,
And yet do well with chocolate.
Of course you'd let him fancy he
Adored you for your piety.
XIV
From Jane To Her Mother
Dear Mother, as you write, I see
How glad and thankful I should be
For such a husband. Yet to tell
The truth, I am so miserable!
How could he—I remember, though,
He never said he loved me! No,
He is so right that all seems wrong
I've done and thought my whole life long!
I'm grown so dull and dead with fear
That Yes and No, when he is near,
Is all I have to say. He's quite
Unlike what most would call polite,
And yet, when first I saw him come
To tea in Aunt's fine drawing-room,
He made me feel so common! Oh,
How dreadful if he thinks me so!
It's no use trying to behave
To him. His eye, so kind and grave,
Sees through and through me! Could not you,
Without his knowing that I knew,
Ask him to scold me now and then?
Mother, it's such a weary strain
The way he has of treating me
As if 'twas something fine to be
A woman; and appearing not
To notice any faults I've got!
I know he knows I'm plain, and small,
Stupid, and ignorant, and all
278
Awkward and mean; and, by degrees,
I see a beauty which he sees,
When often he looks strange awhile,
Then recollects me with a smile.
I wish he had that fancied Wife,
With me for Maid, now! all my life
To dress her out for him, and make
Her looks the lovelier for his sake;
To have her rate me till I cried;
Then see her seated by his side,
And driven off proudly to the Ball;
Then to stay up for her, whilst all
The servants were asleep; and hear
At dawn the carriage rolling near,
And let them in; and hear her laugh,
And boast, he said that none was half
So beautiful, and that the Queen,
Who danced with him the first, had seen
And noticed her, and ask'd who was
That lady in the golden gauze?
And then to go to bed, and lie
In a sort of heavenly jealousy,
Until 'twas broad day, and I guess'd
She slept, nor knew how she was bless'd.
Pray burn this letter. I would not
Complain, but for the fear I've got
Of going wild, as we hear tell
Of people shut up in a cell,
With no one there to talk to. He
Must never know he is loved by me
The most; he'd think himself to blame;
And I should almost die for shame.
If being good would serve instead
Of being graceful, ah, then, Fred—
But I, myself, I never could
See what's in women's being good;
For all their goodness is to do
Just what their nature tells them to.
Now, when a man would do what's right,
279
He has to try with all his might.
Though true and kind in deed and word,
Fred's not a vessel of the Lord.
But I have hopes of him; for, oh,
How can we ever surely know
But that the very darkest place
May be the scene of saving grace!
XV
From Frederick
‘How did I feel?’ The little wight
Fill'd me, unfatherly, with fright!
So grim it gazed, and, out of the sky,
There came, minute, remote, the cry,
Piercing, of original pain.
I put the wonder back to Jane,
And her delight seem'd dash'd, that I,
Of strangers still by nature shy,
Was not familiar quite so soon
With her small friend of many a moon.
But, when the new-made Mother smiled,
She seem'd herself a little child,
Dwelling at large beyond the law
By which, till then, I judged and saw;
And that fond glow which she felt stir
For it, suffused my heart for her;
To whom, from the weak babe, and thence
To me, an influent innocence,
Happy, reparative of life,
Came, and she was indeed my wife,
As there, lovely with love she lay,
Brightly contented all the day
To hug her sleepy little boy,
In the reciprocated joy
Of touch, the childish sense of love,
Ever inquisitive to prove
Its strange possession, and to know
If the eye's report be really so.
280
XVI
From Jane To Mrs. Graham
Dear Mother,—such if you'll allow,
In love, not law, I'll call you now,—
I hope you're well. I write to say
Frederick has got, besides his pay,
A good appointment in the Docks;
Also to thank you for the frocks
And shoes for Baby. I, (D.V.,)
Shall soon be strong. Fred goes to sea
No more. I am so glad; because,
Though kinder husband never was,
He seems still kinder to become
The more he stays with me at home.
When we are parted, I see plain
He's dull till he gets used again
To marriage. Do not tell him, though;
I would not have him know I know,
For all the world.
I try to mind
All your advice; but sometimes find
I do not well see how. I thought
To take it about dress; so bought
A gay new bonnet, gown, and shawl;
But Frederick was not pleased at all;
For, though he smiled, and said, ‘How smart!’
I feel, you know, what's in his heart.
But I shall learn! I fancied long
That care in dress was very wrong,
Till Frederick, in his startling way,
When I began to blame, one day,
The Admiral's Wife, because we hear
She spends two hours, or something near,
In dressing, took her part, and said
How all things deck themselves that wed;
How birds and plants grow fine to please
Each other in their marriages;
And how (which certainly is true—
It never struck me—did it you?)
281
Dress was, at first, Heaven's ordinance,
And has much Scripture countenance.
For Eliezer, we are told,
Adorn'd with jewels and with gold
Rebecca. In the Psalms, again,
How the King's Daughter dress'd! And, then,
The Good Wife in the Proverbs, she
Made herself clothes of tapestry,
Purple and silk: and there's much more
I had not thought about before!
But Fred's so clever! Do you know,
Since Baby came, he loves me so!
I'm really useful, now, to Fred;
And none could do so well instead.
It's nice to fancy, if I died,
He'd miss me from the Darling's side!
Also, there's something now, you see,
On which we talk, and quite agree;
On which, without pride too, I can
Hope I'm as wise as any man.
I should be happy now, if quite
Sure that in one thing Fred was right.
But, though I trust his prayers are said,
Because he goes so late to bed,
I doubt his Calling. Glad to find
A text adapted to his mind,—
That where St. Paul, in Man and Wife,
Allows a little worldly life,—
He smiled, and said that he knew all
Such things as that without St. Paul!
And once he said, when I with pain
Had got him just to read Romaine,
‘Men's creeds should not their hopes condemn.
‘Who wait for heaven to come to them
‘Are little like to go to heaven,
‘If logic's not the devil's leaven!’
I cried at such a wicked joke,
And he, surprised, went out to smoke.
But to judge him is not for me,
Who myself sin so dreadfully
As half to doubt if I should care
282
To go to heaven, and he not there.
He must be right; and I dare say
I shall soon understand his way.
To other things, once strange, I've grown
Accustom'd, nay, to like. I own
'Twas long before I got well used
To sit, while Frederick read or mused
For hours, and scarcely spoke. When he
For all that, held the door to me,
Pick'd up my handkerchief, and rose
To set my chair, with other shows
Of honour, such as men, 'tis true,
To sweethearts and fine ladies do,
It almost seem'd an unkind jest;
But now I like these ways the best.
They somehow make me gentle and good;
And I don't mind his quiet mood.
If Frederick does seem dull awhile,
There's Baby. You should see him smile!
I'm pretty and nice to him, sweet Pet,
And he will learn no better yet:
Indeed, now little Johnny makes
A busier time of it, and takes
Our thoughts off one another more,
I'm happy as need be, I'm sure!
XVII
From Felix To Honoria
Let me, Beloved, while gratitude
Is garrulous with coming good,
Or ere the tongue of happiness
Be silenced by your soft caress,
Relate how, musing here of you,
The clouds, the intermediate blue,
The air that rings with larks, the grave
And distant rumour of the wave,
The solitary sailing skiff,
The gusty corn-field on the cliff,
The corn-flower by the crumbling ledge,
Or, far-down at the shingle's edge,
283
The sighing sea's recurrent crest
Breaking, resign'd to its unrest,
All whisper, to my home-sick thought,
Of charms in you till now uncaught,
Or only caught as dreams, to die
Ere they were own'd by memory.
High and ingenious Decree
Of joy-devising Deity!
You whose ambition only is
The assurance that you make my bliss,
(Hence my first debt of love to show,
That you, past showing, indeed do so!)
Trust me, the world, the firmament,
With diverse-natured worlds besprent,
Were rear'd in no mere undivine
Boast of omnipotent design,
The lion differing from the snake
But for the trick of difference sake,
And comets darting to and fro
Because in circles planets go;
But rather that sole love might be
Refresh'd throughout eternity
In one sweet faith, for ever strange,
Mirror'd by circumstantial change.
For, more and more, do I perceive
That everything is relative
To you, and that there's not a star,
Nor nothing in't, so strange or far,
But, if 'twere scanned, 'twould chiefly mean
Somewhat, till then, in you unseen,
Something to make the bondage strait
Of you and me more intimate,
Some unguess'd opportunity
Of nuptials in a new degree.
But, oh, with what a novel force
Your best-conn'd beauties, by remorse
Of absence, touch; and, in my heart,
How bleeds afresh the youthful smart
Of passion fond, despairing still
To utter infinite good-will
284
By worthy service! Yet I know
That love is all that love can owe,
And this to offer is no less
Of worth, in kind speech or caress,
Than if my life-blood I should give.
For good is God's prerogative,
And Love's deed is but to prepare
The flatter'd, dear Belov'd to dare
Acceptance of His gifts. When first
On me your happy beauty burst,
Honoria, verily it seem'd
That naught beyond you could be dream'd
Of beauty and of heaven's delight.
Zeal of an unknown infinite
Yet bade me ever wish you more
Beatified than e'er before.
Angelical were your replies
To my prophetic flatteries;
And sweet was the compulsion strong
That drew me in the course along
Of heaven's increasing bright allure,
With provocations fresh of your
Victorious capacity.
Whither may love, so fledged, not fly?
Did not mere Earth hold fast the string
Of this celestial soaring thing,
So measure and make sensitive,
And still, to the nerves, nice notice give
Of each minutest increment
Of such interminable ascent,
The heart would lose all count, and beat
Unconscious of a height so sweet,
And the spirit-pursuing senses strain
Their steps on the starry track in vain!
But, reading now the note just come,
With news of you, the babes, and home,
I think, and say, ‘To-morrow eve
‘With kisses me will she receive;’
And, thinking, for extreme delight
Of love's extremes, I laugh outright.
285
XVIII
From Frederick
Eight wedding-days gone by, and none
Yet kept, to keep them all in one,
Jane and myself, with John and Grace
On donkeys, visited the place
I first drew breath in, Knatchley Wood.
Bearing the basket, stuff'd with food,
Milk, loaves, hard eggs, and marmalade,
I halted where the wandering glade
Divides the thicket. There I knew,
It seem'd, the very drops of dew
Below the unalter'd eglantine.
Nothing had changed since I was nine!
In the green desert, down to eat
We sat, our rustic grace at meat
Good appetite, through that long climb
Hungry two hours before the time.
And there Jane took her stitching out,
And John for birds'-nests pry'd about,
And Grace and Baby, in between
The warm blades of the breathing green,
Dodged grasshoppers; and I no less,
In conscientious idleness,
Enjoy'd myself, under the noon
Stretch'd, and the sounds and sights of June
Receiving, with a drowsy charm,
Through muffled ear and folded arm.
And then, as if I sweetly dream'd,
I half-remember'd how it seem'd
When I, too, was a little child
About the wild wood roving wild.
Pure breezes from the far-off height
Melted the blindness from my sight,
Until, with rapture, grief, and awe,
I saw again as then I saw.
As then I saw, I saw again
The harvest-waggon in the lane,
286
With high-hung tokens of its pride
Left in the elms on either side;
The daisies coming out at dawn
In constellations on the lawn;
The glory of the daffodil;
The three black windmills on the hill,
Whose magic arms, flung wildly by,
Sent magic shadows o'er the rye.
Within the leafy coppice, lo,
More wealth than miser's dreams could show,
The blackbird's warm and woolly brood,
Five golden beaks agape for food;
The Gipsies, all the summer seen
Native as poppies to the Green;
The winter, with its frosts and thaws
And opulence of hips and haws;
The lovely marvel of the snow;
The Tamar, with its altering show
Of gay ships sailing up and down,
Among the fields and by the Town;
And, dearer far than anything,
Came back the songs you used to sing.
(Ah, might you sing such songs again,
And I, your Child, but hear as then,
With conscious profit of the gulf
Flown over from my present self!)
And, as to men's retreating eyes,
Beyond high mountains higher rise,
Still farther back there shone to me
The dazzling dusk of infancy.
Thither I look'd, as, sick of night,
The Alpine shepherd looks to the height,
And does not see the day, 'tis true,
But sees the rosy tops that do.
Meantime Jane stitch'd, and fann'd the flies
From my repose, with hush'd replies
To Grace, and smiles when Baby fell.
Her countenance love visible
Appear'd, love audible her voice.
Why in the past alone rejoice,
Whilst here was wealth before me cast
287
Which, I could feel, if 'twere but past
Were then most precious? Question vain,
When ask'd again and yet again,
Year after year; yet now, for no
Cause, but that heaven's bright winds will blow
Not at our pray'r but as they list,
It brought that distant, golden mist
To grace the hour, firing the deep
Of spirit and the drowsy keep
Of joy, till, spreading uncontain'd,
The holy power of seeing gain'd
The outward eye, this owning even
That where there's love and truth there's heaven.
Debtor to few, forgotten hours
Am I, that truths for me are powers.
Ah, happy hours, 'tis something yet
Not to forget that I forget!
And now a cloud, bright, huge and calm,
Rose, doubtful if for bale or balm;
O'ertoppling towers and bulwarks bright
Appear'd, at beck of viewless might,
Along a rifted mountain range.
Untraceable and swift in change,
Those glittering peaks, disrupted, spread
To solemn bulks, seen overhead;
The sunshine quench'd, from one dark form
Fumed the appalling light of storm.
Straight to the zenith, black with bale,
The Gipsies' smoke rose deadly pale;
And one wide night of hopeless hue
Hid from the heart the recent blue.
And soon, with thunder crackling loud,
A flash reveal'd the formless cloud:
Lone sailing rack, far wavering rim,
And billowy tracks of stormland dim.
We stood, safe group'd beneath a shed.
Grace hid behind Jane's gown for dread,
Who told her, fondling with her hair,
‘The naughty noise! but God took care
288
‘Of all good girls.’ John seem'd to me
Too much for Jane's theology,
Who bade him watch the tempest. Now
A blast made all the woodland bow;
Against the whirl of leaves and dust
Kine dropp'd their heads; the tortured gust
Jagg'd and convuls'd the ascending smoke
To mockery of the lightning's stroke.
The blood prick'd, and a blinding flash
And close coinstantaneous crash
Humbled the soul, and the rain all round
Resilient dimm'd the whistling ground,
Nor flagg'd in force from first to last,
Till, sudden as it came, 'twas past,
Leaving a trouble in the copse
Of brawling birds and tinkling drops.
Change beyond hope! Far thunder faint
Mutter'd its vast and vain complaint,
And gaps and fractures, fringed with light,
Show'd the sweet skies, with squadrons bright
Of cloudlets, glittering calm and fair
Through gulfs of calm and glittering air.
With this adventure, we return'd.
The roads the feet no longer burn'd.
A wholesome smell of rainy earth
Refresh'd our spirits, tired of mirth.
The donkey-boy drew friendly near
My Wife, and, touch'd by the kind cheer
Her countenance show'd, or sooth'd perchance
By the soft evening's sad advance,
As we were, stroked the flanks and head
Of the ass, and, somewhat thick-voiced, said,
‘To 'ave to wop the donkeys so
‘'Ardens the 'art, but they won't go
‘Without!’ My Wife, by this impress'd,
As men judge poets by their best,
When now we reach'd the welcome door,
Gave him his hire, and sixpence more.
289
XIX
From Jane
Dear Mrs. Graham, the fever's past,
And Fred is well. I, in my last,
Forgot to say that, while 'twas on,
A lady, call'd Honoria Vaughan,
One of his Salisbury Cousins, came.
Had I, she ask'd me, heard her name?
'Twas that Honoria, no doubt,
Whom he would sometimes talk about
And speak to, when his nights were bad,
And so I told her that I had.
She look'd so beautiful and kind!
And just the sort of wife my mind
Pictured for Fred, with many tears,
In those sad early married years.
Visiting, yesterday, she said,
The Admiral's Wife, she learn'd that Fred
Was very ill; she begg'd to be,
If possible, of use to me.
What could she do? Last year, his Aunt
Died, leaving her, who had no want,
Her fortune. Half was his, she thought;
But he, she knew, would not be brought
To take his rights at second hand.
Yet something might, she hoped, be plann'd.
What did I think of putting John
To school and college? Mr. Vaughan,
When John was old enough, could give
Preferment to her relative;
And she should be so pleased.—I said
I felt quite sure that dearest Fred
Would be most thankful. Would we come,
And make ourselves, she ask'd, at home,
Next month, at High-Hurst? Change of air
Both he and I should need, and there
At leisure we could talk, and then
Fix plans, as John was nearly ten.
290
It seemed so rude to think and doubt,
So I said, Yes. In going out,
She said, ‘How strange of Frederick, Dear,’
(I wish he had been there to hear,)
‘To send no cards, or tell me what
‘A nice new Cousin I had got!’
Was not that kind?
When Fred grew strong,
I had, I found, done very wrong.
Anger was in his voice and eye.
With people born and bred so high
As Fred and Mrs. Vaughan and you,
It's hard to guess what's right to do;
And he won't teach me!
Dear Fred wrote,
Directly, such a lovely note,
Which, though it undid all I had done,
Was, both to me and Mrs. Vaughan,
So kind! His words, I can't say why,
Like soldiers' music, made me cry.
~ Coventry Patmore,#NFDB
555:Ashtaroth: A Dramatic Lyric
Dramatis Personae
HUGO, a Norman Baron and a Scholar.
ERIC, a friend of Hugo's.
THURSTON, |
EUSTACE, |
RALPH, | Followers of Hugo.
HENRY, a Page.
LUKE, |
HUBERT, | Monks living in a Norman Chapel.
BASIL, Abbot of a Convent on the Rhine.
CYRIL, a Monk of the same Convent.
OSRIC, a Norwegian Adventurer, and formerly a Corsair.
RUDOLPH, an Outlawed Count, and the Captain of a Band of Robbers.
DAGOBERT, the Captain of some predatory Soldiers called "Free Lances".
HAROLD, a Danish Knight.
ORION.
THORA,
AGATHA,
ELSPETH, a Nurse of Thora's,
URSULA, Abbess of the Convent on the Rhine, |
NUNS, etc.
| Women.
Men-at-arms, Soldiers, and Robbers; Monks, Friars, and Churchmen, Spirits,
etc.
SCENE — A Castle in Normandy.
A Study in a Tower; HUGO seated at a table covered with maps and charts
of the heavens, astronomical instruments, books, manuscripts,
Enter HENRY, a Page.
Hugo:
Well, boy, what is it?
27
Henry: The feast is spread.
Hugo:
Why tarry the guests for me?
Let Eric sit at the table's head;
Alone I desire to be. [Henry goes out.]
What share have I at their festive board?
Their mirth I can only mar;
To me no pleasure their cups afford,
Their songs on my silence jar.
With an aching eye and a throbbing brain,
And yet with a hopeful heart,
I must toil and strain with the planets again
When the rays of the sun depart;
He who must needs with the topers tope,
And the feasters feast in the hall,
How can he hope with a matter to cope
That is immaterial?
Orion:
He who his appetite stints and curbs,
Shut up in the northern wing,
With his rye-bread flavoured with bitter herbs,
And his draught from the tasteless spring,
Good sooth, he is but a sorry clown.
There are some good things upon earth —
Pleasure and power and fair renown,
And wisdom of worldly worth!
There is wisdom in follies that charm the sense,
In follies that light the eyes,
But the folly to wisdom that makes pretence
Is alone by the fool termed wise.
Hugo:
Thy speech, Orion, is somewhat rude;
Perchance, having jeer'd and scoff'd
To thy fill, thou wilt curb thy jeering mood;
I wot thou hast served me oft.
This plan of the skies seems fairly traced;
What errors canst thou detect?
28
Orion:
Nay, the constellations are misplaced,
And the satellites incorrect;
Leave the plan to me; you have time to seek
An hour of needful rest,
The night is young and the planets are weak;
See, the sun still reddens the west.
Hugo:
I fear I shall sleep too long.
Orion: If you do
It matters not much; the sky
Is cloudy, the stars will be faint and few;
Now, list to my lullaby.
[Hugo reclines on a couch.]
(Sings.)
Still the darkling skies are red,
Though the day-god's course is run;
Heavenly night-lamps overhead
Flash and twinkle one by one.
Idle dreamer — earth-born elf!
Vainly grasping heavenly things,
Wherefore weariest thou thyself
With thy vain imaginings?
From the tree of knowledge first,
Since his parents pluck'd the fruit,
Man, with partial knowledge curs'd,
Of the tree still seeks the root;
Musty volumes crowd thy shelf —
Which of these true knowledge brings?
Wherefore weariest thou thyself
With thy vain imaginings?
Will the stars from heaven descend?
Can the earth-worm soar and rise?
Can the mortal comprehend
Heaven's own hallow'd mysteries?
Greed and glory, power and pelf —
These are won by clowns and kings;
Wherefore weariest thou thyself
29
With thy vain imaginings?
Sow and reap, and toil and spin;
Eat and drink, and dream and die;
Man may strive, yet never win,
And I laugh the while and cry —
Idle dreamer, earth-born elf!
Vainly grasping heavenly things,
Wherefore weariest thou thyself
With thy vain imaginings?
He sleeps, and his sleep appears serene,
Whatever dreams it has brought him —
[Looks at the plans.]
If he knows what those hieroglyphics mean,
He's wiser than one who taught him.
Why does he number the Pole-star thus?
Or the Pleiades why combine?
And what is he doing with Sirius,
In the devil's name or in mine?
Man thinks, discarding the beaten track,
That the sins of his youth are slain,
When he seeks fresh sins, but he soon comes back
To his old pet sins again.
SCENE — The Same.
HUGO waking, ORION seated near him. Daybreak.
Hugo:
Oh, weary spirit! oh, cloudy eyes!
Oh, heavy and misty brain!
Yon riddle that lies 'twixt earth and skies,
Ye seek to explore in vain!
See, the east is grey; put those scrolls away,
And hide them far from my sight;
I will toil and study no more by day,
I will watch no longer by night;
I have labour'd and long'd, and now I seem
No nearer the mystic goal;
30
Orion, I fain would devise some scheme
To quiet this restless soul;
To distant climes I would fain depart —
I would travel by sea or land.
Orion:
Nay, I warn'd you of this, "Short life, long art",
The proverb, though stale, will stand;
Full many a sage from youth to age
Has toil'd to obtain what you
Would master at once. In a pilgrimage,
Forsooth, there is nothing new;
Though virtue, I ween, in change of scene,
And vigour in change of air,
Will always be, and has always been,
And travel is a tonic rare.
Still, the restless, discontented mood
For the time alone is eased;
It will soon return with hunger renew'd,
And appetite unappeased.
Nathless I could teach a shorter plan
To win that wisdom you crave,
That lore that is seldom attain'd by man
From the cradle down to the grave.
Hugo:
Such lore I had rather do without,
It hath nothing mystic nor awful
In my eye. Nay, I despise and doubt
The arts that are term'd unlawful;
'Twixt science and magic the line lies plain,
I shall never wittingly pass it;
There is now no compact between us twain.
Orion: But an understanding tacit.
You have prospered much since the day we met;
You were then a landless knight;
You now have honour and wealth, and yet
I never can serve you right.
Hugo:
Enough; we will start this very day,
31
Thurston, Eric, and I,
And the baffled visions will pass away,
And the restless fires will die.
Orion:
Till the fuel expires that feeds those fires
They smoulder and live unspent;
Give a mortal all that his heart desires,
He is less than ever content.
SCENE — A Cliff on the Breton Coast, Overhanging the Sea.
HUGO.
Hugo:
Down drops the red sun; through the gloaming
They burst — raging waves of the sea,
Foaming out their own shame — ever foaming
Their leprosy up with fierce glee;
Flung back from the stone, snowy fountains
Of feathery flakes, scarcely flag
Where, shock after shock, the green mountains
Explode on the iron-grey crag.
The salt spray with ceaseless commotion
Leaps round me. I sit on the verge
Of the cliff — 'twixt the earth and the ocean —
With feet overhanging the surge.
In thy grandeur, oh, sea! we acknowledge,
In thy fairness, oh, earth! we confess,
Hidden truths that are taught in no college,
Hidden songs that no parchments express.
Were they wise in their own generations,
Those sages and sagas of old?
They have pass'd; o'er their names and their nations
Time's billows have silently roll'd;
They have pass'd, leaving little to their children,
Save histories of a truth far from strict;
Or theories more vague and bewildering,
32
Since three out of four contradict.
Lost labour! vain bookworms have sat in
The halls of dull pedants who teach
Strange tongues, the dead lore of the Latin,
The scroll that is god-like and Greek:
Have wasted life's springtide in learning
Things long ago learnt all in vain;
They are slow, very slow, in discerning
That book lore and wisdom are twain.
Pale shades of a creed that was mythic,
By time or by truth overcome,
Your Delphian temples and Pythic
Are ruins deserted and dumb;
Your Muses are hush'd, and your Graces
Are bruised and defaced; and your gods,
Enshrin'd and enthron'd in high places
No longer, are powerless as clods;
By forest and streamlet, where glisten'd
Fair feet of the Naiads that skimm'd
The shallows; where the Oreads listen'd,
Rose-lipp'd, amber-hair'd, marble-limb'd,
No lithe forms disport in the river,
No sweet faces peer through the boughs,
Elms and beeches wave silent for ever,
Ever silent the bright water flows.
(Were they duller or wiser than we are,
Those heathens of old? Who shall say?
Worse or better? Thy wisdom, O "Thea
Glaucopis", was wise in thy day;
And the false gods alluring to evil,
That sway'd reckless votaries then,
Were slain to no purpose; they revel
Re-crowned in the hearts of us men.)
Dead priests of Osiris and Isis,
And Apis! that mystical lore,
Like a nightmare, conceived in a crisis
Of fever, is studied no more;
33
Dead Magian! yon star-troop that spangles
The arch of yon firmament vast
Looks calm, like a host of white angels,
On dry dust of votaries past.
On seas unexplored can the ship shun
Sunk rocks? Can man fathom life's links,
Past or future, unsolved by Egyptian
Or Theban, unspoken by Sphinx?
The riddle remains still unravell'd
By students consuming night oil.
Oh, earth! we have toil'd, we have travail'd,
How long shall we travail and toil?
How long? The short life that fools reckon
So sweet, by how much is it higher
Than brute life? — the false gods still beckon,
And man, through the dust and the mire,
Toils onward, as toils the dull bullock,
Unreasoning, brutish, and blind,
With Ashtaroth, Mammon, and Moloch
In front, and Alecto behind.
The wise one of earth, the Chaldean,
Serves folly in wisdom's disguise;
And the sensual Epicurean,
Though grosser, is hardly less wise;
'Twixt the former, half pedant, half pagan,
And the latter, half sow and half sloth,
We halt, choose Astarte or Dagon,
Or sacrifice freely to both.
With our reason that seeks to disparage,
Brute instinct it fails to subdue;
With our false illegitimate courage,
Our sophistry, vain and untrue;
Our hopes that ascend so and fall so,
Our passions, fierce hates and hot loves,
We are wise (aye, the snake is wise also) —
Wise as serpents, NOT harmless as doves.
Some flashes, like faint sparks from heaven,
34
Come rarely with rushing of wings;
We are conscious at times we have striven,
Though seldom, to grasp better things;
These pass, leaving hearts that have falter'd,
Good angels with faces estranged,
And the skin of the Ethiop unalter'd,
And the spots of the leopard unchanged.
Oh, earth! pleasant earth! have we hanker'd
To gather thy flowers and thy fruits?
The roses are wither'd, and canker'd
The lilies, and barren the roots
Of the fig-tree, the vine, the wild olive,
Sharp thorns and sad thistles that yield
Fierce harvest — so WE live, and SO live
The perishing beasts of the field.
And withal we are conscious of evil
And good — of the spirit and the clod,
Of the power in our hearts of a devil,
Of the power in our souls of a God,
Whose commandments are graven in no cypher,
But clear as His sun — from our youth
One at least we have cherished — "An eye for
An eye, and a tooth for a tooth."
Oh, man! of thy Maker the image;
To passion, to pride, or to wealth,
Sworn bondsman, from dull youth to dim age,
Thy portion the fire or the filth,
Dross seeking, dead pleasure's death rattle
Thy memories' happiest song,
And thy highest hope — scarce a drawn battle
With dark desperation. How long?
Roar louder! leap higher! ye surf-beds,
And sprinkle your foam on the furze;
Bring the dreams that brought sleep to our turf-beds,
To camps of our long ago years,
With the flashing and sparkling of broadswords,
35
With the tossing of banners and spears,
With the trampling of hard hoofs on hard swards,
With the mingling of trumpets and cheers.
The gale has gone down; yet outlasting
The gale, raging waves of the sea,
Casting up their own foam, ever casting
Their leprosy up with wild glee,
Still storm; so in rashness and rudeness
Man storms through the days of his grace;
Yet man cannot fathom God's goodness,
Exceeding God's infinite space.
And coldly and calmly and purely
Grey rock and green hillock lie white
In star-shine dream-laden — so surely
Night cometh — so cometh the night
When we, too, at peace with our neighbour,
May sleep where God's hillocks are piled,
Thanking HIM for a rest from day's labour,
And a sleep like the sleep of a child!
SCENE — The Castle in Normandy.
THORA working at embroidery, ELSPETH spinning.
Thora (sings):
We severed in autumn early,
Ere the earth was torn by the plough;
The wheat and the oats and the barley
Are ripe for the harvest now.
We sunder'd one misty morning,
Ere the hills were dimm'd by the rain,
Through the flowers those hills adorning —
Thou comest not back again.
My heart is heavy and weary
With the weight of a weary soul;
36
The mid-day glare grows dreary,
And dreary the midnight scroll.
The corn-stalks sigh for the sickle,
'Neath the load of the golden grain;
I sigh for a mate more fickle —
Thou comest not back again.
The warm sun riseth and setteth,
The night bringeth moistening dew,
But the soul that longeth forgetteth
The warmth and the moisture too;
In the hot sun rising and setting
There is naught save feverish pain;
There are tears in the night-dews wetting —
Thou comest not back again.
Thy voice in mine ear still mingles
With the voices of whisp'ring trees;
Thy kiss on my cheek still tingles
At each kiss of the summer breeze;
While dreams of the past are thronging
For substance of shades in vain,
I am waiting, watching, and longing —
Thou comest not back again.
Waiting and watching ever,
Longing and lingering yet,
Leaves rustle and corn-stalks quiver,
Winds murmur and waters fret;
No answer they bring, no greeting,
No speech save that sad refrain,
Nor voice, save an echo repeating —
He cometh not back again.
Elspeth:
Thine eldest sister is wedded to Max;
With Biorn, Hilda hath cast her lot.
If the husbands vanish'd, and left no tracks,
Would the wives have cause for sorrow, I wot?
Thora:
How well I remember that dreary ride;
37
How I sigh'd for the lands of ice and snow,
In the trackless wastes of the desert wide,
With the sun o'erhead and the sand below;
'Neath the scanty shades of the feathery palms,
How I sigh'd for the forest of sheltering firs,
Whose shadows environ'd the Danish farms,
Where I sang and sported in childish years.
On the fourteenth day of our pilgrimage
We stayed at the foot of a sandhill high;
Our fever'd thirst we could scarce assuage
At the brackish well that was nearly dry,
And the hot sun rose, and the hot sun set,
And we rode all the day through a desert land,
And we camp'd where the lake and the river met,
On sedge and shingle and shining sand:
Enfolded in Hugo's cloak I slept,
Or watch'd the stars while I lay awake;
And close to our feet the staghound crept,
And the horses were grazing beside the lake;
Now we own castles and serving men,
Lands and revenues. What of that?
Hugo the Norman was kinder then,
And happier was Thora of Armorat.
Elspeth:
Nay, I warn'd thee, with Norman sails unfurl'd
Above our heads, when we wished thee joy,
That men are the same all over the world,
They will worship only the newest toy;
Yet Hugo is kind and constant too,
Though somewhat given to studies of late;
Biorn is sottish, and Max untrue,
And worse than thine is thy sisters' fate.
But a shadow darkens the chamber door.
Enter THURSTON.
Thurston:
'Tis I, Lady Thora; our lord is near.
My horse being fresher, I rode before;
Both he and Eric will soon be here.
38
Thora:
Good Thurston, give me your hand. You are
Most welcome. What has delayed you thus?
Thurston:
Both by sea and land we have travell'd far,
Yet little of note has happened to us —
We were wreck'd on the shores of Brittany,
Near the coast of Morbihan iron-bound;
The rocks were steep and the surf ran high,
Thy kinsman, Eric, was well-nigh drown'd.
By a swarm of knaves we were next beset,
Who took us for corsairs; then released
By a Breton count, whose name I forget.
Now I go, by your leave, to tend my beast.
[He goes out.]
Elspeth:
That man is rude and froward of speech:
My ears are good, though my sight grows dim.
Thora:
Thurston is faithful. Thou canst not teach
Courtly nor servile manners to him.
SCENE — The Castle Hall.
THURSTON, RALPH, EUSTACE, and other followers of HUGO,
seated at a long table. HAROLD seated apart.
Thurston:
Who is that stranger, dark and tall,
On the wooden settle next to the wall —
Mountebank, pilgrim, or wandering bard?
Eustace:
To define his calling is somewhat hard;
Lady Thora has taken him by the hand
Because he has come from the Holy Land.
39
Pilgrims and palmers are all the rage
With her, since she shared in that pilgrimage
With Hugo. The stranger came yesterday,
And would have gone on, but she bade him stay.
Besides, he sings in the Danish tongue
The songs she has heard in her childhood sung.
That's all I know of him, good or bad;
In my own opinion he's somewhat mad.
You must raise your voice if you speak with him,
And he answers as though his senses were dim.
Thurston (to Harold):
Good-morrow, sir stranger.
Harold: Good-morrow, friend.
Thurston:
Where do you come from? and whither wend?
Harold:
I have travelled of late with the setting sun
At my back; and as soon as my task is done
I purpose to turn my face to the north —
Yet we know not what a day may bring forth.
Thurston:
Indeed we don't.
(To Eustace, aside): Nay, I know him now
By that ugly scar that crosses his brow;
And the less we say to him the better.
Your judgment is right to the very letter —
The man is mad.
Eustace: But harmless, I think;
He eats but little, eschews strong drink,
And only speaks when spoken to first.
Thurston:
Harmless or not, he was once the worst
And bitterest foe Lord Hugo had;
And yet his story is somewhat sad.
40
Eustace:
May I hear it?
Thurston: Nay, I never reveal
What concerns me not. Our lord may conceal
Or divulge at pleasure his own affairs, —
Not even his comrade Eric shares
His secrets; though Eric thinks him wise,
Which is more than I do, for I despise
That foolish science he learnt in Rome.
He dreams and mopes when he sits at home,
And now he's not much better abroad;
'Tis hard to follow so tame a lord.
'Twixt us two, he won't be worth a rush
If he will persist in his studies ——
Eustace: Hush!
Ralph has persuaded our guest to sing.
Thurston:
I have known the day when his voice would ring
Till the rafters echoed.
Eustace: 'Tis pleasant still,
Though far too feeble this hall to fill.
Harold (sings):
On the current, where the wide
Windings of the river
Eddy to the North Sea tide,
Shall I in my shallop glide,
As I have done at her side?
Never! never! never!
In the forest, where the firs,
Pines, and larches quiver
To the northern breeze that stirs,
Shall my lips be press'd to hers,
As they were in by-gone years?
Never! never! never!
41
In the battle on the plain,
Where the lance-shafts shiver,
And the sword-strokes fall like rain,
Shall I bear her scarf again
As I have done — not in vain?
Never! never! never!
In a fairer, brighter land,
Where the saints rest ever,
Shall I once more see her stand,
White, amidst a white-robed band,
Harp and palm-branch in her hand?
Never! never! never!
SCENE — The Same.
EUSTACE, THURSTON, and followers of HUGO. HAROLD.
Enter, by the hall door, HUGO, ERIC, and THORA.
Eustace (and others standing up):
Welcome, Lord Hugo!
Hugo: Welcome or not,
Thanks for your greeting all.
Ha, Eustace! what complaints hast thou got?
What grievances to recall?
Eustace:
Count William came with a numerous band,
Ere the snows began to fall,
And slew a buck on your lordship's land,
Within a league of the wall.
Hugo:
Count William has done to us no more
Than we to him. In his vineyard
Last summer, or later, maybe, a boar
Was slaughter'd by Thurston's whinyard.
42
Thurston:
Aye, Hugo! But William kept the buck,
I will wager marks a score,
Though the tale is new to me; and, worse luck,
You made me give back the boar.
Harold (advancing):
Lord Hugo!
Hugo: What! Art thou living yet?
I scarcely knew thee, Sir Dane!
And 'tis not so very long since we met.
Harold:
'Twill be long ere we meet again. (gives a letter)
This letter was traced by one now dead
In the Holy Land; and I
Must wait till his dying request is read,
And in his name ask the reply.
Thora (aside):
Who is that stranger, Hugo?
Hugo: By birth
He is a countryman of thine,
Thora. What writing is this on earth?
I can scarce decipher a line.
Harold:
The pen in the clutch of death works ill.
Hugo:
Nay, I read now; the letters run
More clearly.
Harold: Wilt grant the request?
Hugo: I will.
Harold:
Enough! Then my task is done. (He holds out his hand.)
Hugo, I go to a far-off land,
43
Wilt thou say, "God speed thee!" now?
Hugo:
Sir Harold, I cannot take thy hand,
Because of my ancient vow.
Harold:
Farewell, then.
Thora: Friend, till the morning wait.
On so wild a night as this
Thou shalt not go from my husband's gate;
The path thou wilt surely miss.
Harold:
I go. Kind lady, some future day
Thy care will requited be.
Thora:
Speak, Hugo, speak.
Hugo: He may go or stay,
It matters little to me.
[Harold goes out.]
Thora:
Husband, that man is ill and weak;
On foot he goes and alone
Through a barren moor in a night-storm bleak.
Eric:
Now I wonder where he has gone!
Hugo:
Indeed, I have not the least idea;
The man is certainly mad.
He wedded my sister, Dorothea,
And used her cruelly bad.
He was once my firmest and surest friend,
And once my deadliest foe;
But hate and friendship both find their end —
Now I heed not where he may go.
44
SCENE — A Chamber in the Castle.
HUGO, THORA, and ERIC.
Hugo:
That letter that came from Palestine,
By the hands of yon wandering Dane,
Will cost me a pilgrimage to the Rhine.
Thora:
Wilt thou travel so soon again?
Hugo:
I can scarce refuse the dying request
Of my comrade, Baldwin, now;
His bones are dust. May his soul find rest
He once made a foolish vow,
That at Englemehr, 'neath the watchful care
Of the Abbess, his child should stay,
For a season at least. To escort her there
I must start at the break of day.
Thora:
Is it Agatha that goes, or Clare?
Hugo:
Nay, Clare is dwelling in Spain
With her spouse.
Thora: 'Tis Agatha. She is fair,
I am told; but giddy and vain.
Eric:
Some musty tales on my memory grow
Concerning Count Baldwin's vow;
Thou knew'st his daughter?
Hugo: Aye, years ago.
I should scarcely know her now.
45
It seems, when her father's vow was made,
She was taken sorely ill;
Then he travell'd, and on his return was stay'd;
He could never his oath fulfil.
Eric:
If rightly I've heard, 'twas Agatha
That fled with some Danish knight —
I forget the name.
Hugo: Nay, she fled not far;
She returned again that night.
Thora:
For a nun, I fear, she is too self-willed.
Hugo:
That is no affair of mine.
My task is over, my word fulfilled,
Should I bring her safe to the Rhine.
Come, Thora, sing.
Thora: Nay, I cannot sing,
Nor would I now if I could.
Sing thou.
Hugo: I will, though my voice should bring
No sound save a discord rude.
(Sings.)
Where the storm in its wrath hath lighted,
The pine lies low in the dust;
And the corn is withered and blighted,
Where the fields are red with the rust;
Falls the black frost, nipping and killing,
Where its petals the violet rears,
And the wind, though tempered, is chilling
To the lamb despoiled by the shears.
The strong in their strength are shaken,
The wise in their wisdom fall;
And the bloom of beauty is taken —
Strength, wisdom, beauty, and all,
46
They vanish, their lot fulfilling,
Their doom approaches and nears,
But the wind, though tempered, is chilling
To the lamb despoiled by the shears.
'Tis the will of a Great Creator,
He is wise, His will must be done,
And it cometh sooner or later;
And one shall be taken, and one
Shall be left here, toiling and tilling,
In this vale of sorrows and tears,
Where the wind, though tempered, is chilling
To the lamb despoiled by the shears.
Tell me, mine own one, tell me,
The shadows of life and the fears
Shall neither daunt me nor quell me,
While I can avert thy tears:
Dost thou shrink, as I shrink, unwilling
To realise lonely years?
Since the wind, though tempered, is chilling
To the lamb despoiled by the shears.
Enter HENRY.
Henry:
My lord, Father Luke craves audience straight,
He has come on foot from the chapel;
Some stranger perished beside his gate
When the dawn began to dapple.
SCENE — A Chapel Not Very Far from Hugo's Castle.
HUGO, ERIC, and two Monks (LUKE and HUBERT). The dead body of HAROLD.
Luke:
When the dawn was breaking,
Came a faint sound, waking
Hubert and myself; we hurried to the door,
Found the stranger lying
47
At the threshold, dying.
Somewhere have I seen a face like his before.
Hugo:
Harold he is hight.
Only yester-night
From our gates he wander'd, in the driving hail;
Well his face I know,
Both as friend and foe;
Of my followers only Thurston knows his tale.
Luke:
Few the words he said,
Faint the signs he made,
Twice or thrice he groaned; quoth Hubert, "Thou hast sinn'd.
This is retribution,
Seek for absolution;
Answer me — then cast thy sorrows to the wind.
Do their voices reach thee,
Friends who failed to teach thee,
In thine earlier days, to sunder right from wrong?
Charges 'gainst thee cited,
Cares all unrequited,
Counsels spurned and slighted — do they press and throng?"
But he shook his head.
"'Tis not so," he said;
"They will scarce reproach me who reproached of yore.
If their counsels good,
Rashly I withstood;
Having suffered longer, I have suffered more."
"Do their curses stun thee?
Foes who failed to shun thee,
Stricken by rash vengeance, in some wild career,
As the barbed arrow
Cleaveth bone and marrow,
From those chambers narrow — do they pierce thine ear?"
And he made reply,
Laughing bitterly,
"Did I fear them living — shall I fear them dead?
Blood that I have spilt
Leaveth little guilt;
48
On the hand it resteth, scarcely on the head."
"Is there one whom thou
May'st have wronged ere now,
Since remorse so sorely weigheth down thine heart?
By some saint in heaven,
Sanctified and shriven,
Would'st thou be forgiven ere thy soul depart?"
Not a word he said,
But he bowed his head
Till his temples rested on the chilly sods
And we heard him groan —
"Ah! mine own, mine own!
If I had thy pardon I might ask for God's."
Hubert raised him slowly,
Sunrise, faint and holy,
Lit the dead face, placid as a child's might be.
May the troubled spirit,
Through Christ's saving merit,
Peace and rest inherit. Thus we sent for thee.
Hugo:
God o'erruleth fate.
I had cause for hate;
In this very chapel, years back, proud and strong,
Joined by priestly vows,
He became the spouse
Of my youngest sister, to her bitter wrong.
And he wrought her woe,
Making me his foe;
Not alone unfaithful — brutal, too, was he.
She had scarce been dead
Three months, ere he fled
With Count Baldwin's daughter, then betrothed to me.
Fortune straight forsook him,
Vengeance overtook him;
Heavy crimes will bring down heavy punishment.
All his strength was shatter'd,
Even his wits were scatter'd,
Half-deranged, half-crippled, wandering he went.
We are unforgiving
49
While our foes are living;
Yet his retribution weigh'd so heavily
That I feel remorse,
Gazing on his corpse,
For my rudeness when he left our gates to die.
And his grave shall be
'Neath the chestnut tree,
Where he met my sister many years ago;
Leave that tress of hair
On his bosom there —
Wrap the cerecloth round him! Eric, let us go.
SCENE — A Room in the Castle.
HUGO and ERIC. Early morning.
Hugo:
The morn is fair, the weary miles
Will shorten 'neath the summer's wiles;
Pomona in the orchard smiles,
And in the meadow, Flora!
And I have roused a chosen band
For escort through the troubled land;
And shaken Elspeth by the hand,
And said farewell to Thora.
Comrade and kinsman — for thou art
Comrade and kin to me — we part
Ere nightfall, if at once we start,
We gain the dead Count's castle.
The roads are fair, the days are fine,
Ere long I hope to reach the Rhine.
Forsooth, no friend to me or mine
Is that same Abbot Basil;
I thought he wronged us by his greed.
My father sign'd a foolish deed
For lack of gold in time of need,
And thus our lands went by us;
Yet wrong on our side may have been:
As far as my will goes, I ween,
'Tis past, the grudge that lay between
50
Us twain. Men call him pious —
And I have prosper'd much since then,
And gain'd for one lost acre ten;
And even the ancient house and glen
Rebought with purchase-money.
He, too, is wealthy; he has got
By churchly rights a fertile spot,
A land of corn and wine, I wot,
A land of milk and honey.
Now, Eric, change thy plans and ride
With us; thou hast no ties, no bride.
Eric:
Nay, ties I have, and time and tide,
Thou knowest, wait for no man;
And I go north; God's blessing shuns
The dwellings of forgetful sons,
That proverb he may read who runs,
In Christian lore or Roman.
My good old mother she hath heard,
For twelve long months, from me no word;
At thought of her my heart is stirr'd,
And even mine eyes grow moister.
Greet Ursula from me; her fame
Is known to all. A nobler dame,
Since days of Clovis, ne'er became
The inmate of a cloister.
Our paths diverge, yet we may go
Together for a league or so;
I, too, will join thy band below
When thou thy bugle windest.
[Eric goes out.]
Hugo:
From weaknesses we stand afar,
On us unpleasantly they jar;
And yet the stoutest-hearted are
The gentlest and the kindest.
My mother loved me tenderly;
Alas! her only son was I.
I shudder'd, but my lids were dry,
By death made orphan newly.
51
A braver man than me, I swear,
Who never comprehended fear,
Scarce names his mother, and the tear,
Unbidden, springs unruly.
SCENE — A Road on the Norman Frontiers.
HUGO, AGATHA, ORION, THURSTON, and armed attendants, riding slowly.
Agatha:
Sir Knight, what makes you so grave and glum?
At times I fear you are deaf or dumb,
Or both.
Hugo: And yet, should I speak the truth,
There is little in common 'twixt us, forsooth;
You would think me duller, and still more vain,
If I uttered the thoughts that fill my brain;
Since the matters with which my mind is laden
Would scarcely serve to amuse a maiden.
Agatha:
I am so foolish and you are so wise,
'Tis the meaning your words so ill disguise.
Alas! my prospects are sad enough:
I had rather listen to speeches rough
Than muse and meditate silently
On the coming loss of my liberty.
Sad hope to me can my future bring,
Yet, while I may, I would prattle and sing,
Though it only were to try and assuage
The dreariness of my pilgrimage.
Hugo:
Prattle and sing to your heart's content,
And none will offer impediment.
Agatha (sings):
We were playmates in childhood, my sister and I,
Whose playtime with childhood is done;
52
Through thickets where briar and bramble grew high,
Barefooted I've oft seen her run.
I've known her, when mists on the moorland hung white,
Bareheaded past nightfall remain;
She has followed a landless and penniless knight
Through battles and sieges in Spain.
But I pulled the flower, and shrank from the thorn,
Sought the sunshine, and fled from the mist;
My sister was born to face hardship with scorn —
I was born to be fondled and kiss'd.
Hugo (aside):
She has a sweet voice.
Orion: And a sweet face, too —
Be candid for once, and give her her due.
Agatha:
Your face grows longer, and still more long,
Sir Scholar! how did you like my song?
Hugo:
I thought it rather a silly one.
Agatha:
You are far from a pleasant companion.
SCENE — An Apartment in a Wayside Inn.
HUGO and AGATHA. Evening.
Hugo:
I will leave you now — we have talked enough,
And for one so tenderly reared and nursed
This journey is wearisome, perhaps, and rough.
Agatha: Will you not finish your story first?
53
Hugo:
I repent me that I began it now,
'Tis a dismal tale for a maiden's ears;
Your cheek is pale already, your brow
Is sad, and your eyes are moist with tears.
Agatha:
It may be thus, I am lightly vexed,
But the tears will lightly come and go;
I can cry one moment and laugh the next,
Yet I have seen terrors, as well you know.
I remember that flight through moss and fern,
The moonlit shadows, the hoofs that rolled
In fierce pursuit, and the ending stern,
And the hawk that left his prey on the wold.
Hugo:
I have sorrowed since that I left you there:
Your friends were close behind on the heath,
Though not so close as I thought they were.
(Aside.) Now I will not tell her of Harold's death.
Agatha:
'Tis true, I was justly punished, and men,
As a rule, of pity have little share;
Had I died you had cared but little then.
Hugo: But little then, yet now I should care
More than you think for. Now, good-night.
Tears still? Ere I leave you, child, alone,
Must I dry your cheeks?
Agatha: Nay, I am not quite
Such a child but what I can dry my own.
[Hugo goes out. Agatha retires.]
Orion (singing outside the window of Agatha's chamber):
'Neath the stems with blossoms laden,
'Neath the tendrils curling,
I, thy servant, sing, oh, maiden!
I, thy slave, oh, darling!
54
Lo! the shaft that slew the red deer,
At the elk may fly too.
Spare them not! The dead are dead, dear,
Let the living die too.
Where the wiles of serpent mingle,
And the looks of dove lie,
Where small hands in strong hands tingle,
Loving eyes meet lovely:
Where the harder natures soften,
And the softer harden —
Certes! such things have been often
Since we left Eve's garden.
Sweeter follies herald sadder
Sins — look not too closely;
Tongue of asp and tooth of adder
Under leaf of rose lie.
Warned, advised in vain, abandon
Warning and advice too,
Let the child lay wilful hand on
Den of cockatrice too.
I, thy servant, or thy master,
One or both — no matter;
If the former — firmer, faster,
Surer still the latter —
Lull thee, soothe thee with my singing,
Bid thee sleep, and ponder
On my lullabies still ringing
Through thy dreamland yonder.
SCENE — A Wooded Rising Ground, Near the Rhine.
HUGO and AGATHA resting under the trees. THURSTON, EUSTACE,
and followers a little apart. ORION. (Noonday.)
The Towers of the Convent in the distance.
Agatha:
I sit on the greensward, and hear the bird sing,
55
'Mid the thickets where scarlet and white blossoms cling;
And beyond the sweet uplands all golden with flower,
It looms in the distance, the grey convent tower.
And the emerald earth and the sapphire-hued sky
Keep telling me ever my spring has gone by;
Ah! spring premature, they are tolling thy knell,
In the wind's soft adieu, in the bird's sweet farewell.
Oh! why is the greensward with garlands so gay,
That I quail at the sight of my prison-house grey?
Oh! why is the bird's note so joyous and clear?
The caged bird must pine in a cage doubly drear.
Hugo:
May the lances of Dagobert harry their house,
If they coax or intimidate thee to take vows;
May the freebooters pillage their shrines, should they dare
Touch with their scissors thy glittering hair.
Our short and sweet journey now draws to an end,
And homeward my sorrowful way I must wend;
Oh, fair one! oh, loved one! I would I were free,
To squander my life in the greenwood with thee.
Orion (aside):
Ho! seeker of knowledge, so grave and so wise,
Touch her soft curl again — look again in her eyes;
Forget for the nonce musty parchments, and learn
How the slow pulse may quicken — the cold blood may burn.
Ho! fair, fickle maiden, so blooming and shy!
The old love is dead, let the old promise die!
Thou dost well, thou dost wise, take the word of Orion,
"A living dog always before a dead lion!"
Thurston:
Ye varlets, I would I knew which of ye burst
Our wine-skin — what, ho! must I perish with thirst!
Go, Henry, thou hast a glib tongue, go and ask
Thy lord to send Ralph to yon inn for a flask.
Henry:
Nay, Thurston, not so; I decline to disturb
56
Our lord for the present; go thou, or else curb
Thy thirst, or drink water, as I do.
Thurston: Thou knave
Of a page, dost thou wish me the colic to have?
Orion (aside):
That clown is a thoroughbred Saxon. He thinks
With pleasure on naught save hard blows and strong drinks;
In hell he will scarce go athirst if once given
An inkling of any good liquors in heaven.
Hugo:
Our Pontiff to manhood at Englemehr grew,
The priests there are many, the nuns are but few.
I love not the Abbot — 'tis needless to tell
My reason; but all of the Abbess speak well.
Agatha:
Through vineyards and cornfields beneath us, the Rhine
Spreads and winds, silver-white, in the merry sunshine;
And the air, overcharged with a subtle perfume,
Grows faint from the essence of manifold bloom.
Hugo:
And the tinkling of bells, and the bleating of sheep,
And the chaunt from the fields, where the labourers reap
The earlier harvest, comes faint on the breeze,
That whispers so faintly in hedgerows and trees.
Orion:
And a waggon wends slow to those turrets and spires,
To feed the fat monks and the corpulent friars;
It carries the corn, and the oil, and the wine,
The honey and milk from the shores of the Rhine.
The oxen are weary and spent with their load,
They pause, but the driver doth recklessly goad;
Up yon steep, flinty rise they have staggered and reeled,
Even devils may pity dumb beasts of the field.
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Agatha (sings):
Oh! days and years departed,
Vain hopes, vain fears that smarted,
I turn to you sad-hearted —
I turn to you in tears!
Your daily sun shone brightly,
Your happy dreams came nightly,
Flowers bloomed and birds sang lightly,
Through all your hopes and fears!
You halted not, nor tarried,
Your hopes have all miscarried,
And even your fears are buried,
Since fear with hope must die.
You halted not, but hasted,
And flew past, childhood wasted,
And girlhood scarcely tasted,
Now womanhood is nigh.
Yet I forgive your wronging,
Dead seasons round me thronging,
With yearning and with longing,
I call your bitters sweet.
Vain longing, and vain yearning,
There now is no returning;
Oh! beating heart and burning,
Forget to burn and beat!
Oh! childish suns and showers,
Oh! girlish thorns and flowers,
Oh! fruitless days and hours,
Oh! groundless hopes and fears:
The birds still chirp and twitter,
And still the sunbeams glitter:
Oh! barren years and bitter,
Oh! bitter, barren years!
SCENE — The Summit of a Burning Mountain.
Night. A terrific storm. ORION (undisguised).
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Orion (sings):
From fathomless depths of abysses,
Where fires unquenchable burst,
From the blackness of darkness, where hisses
The brood of the serpent accurs'd;
From shrines where the hymns are the weeping
And wailing and gnashing of teeth,
Where the palm is the pang never sleeping,
Where the worm never dying is the wreath;
Where all fruits save wickedness wither,
Whence naught save despair can be gleaned —
Come hither! come hither! come hither!
Fall'n angel, fell sprite, and foul fiend.
Come hither! the bands are all broken,
And loosed in hell's innermost womb,
When the spell unpronounceable spoken
Divides the unspeakable gloom.
Evil Spirits approach. The storm increases.
Evil Spirits (singing):
We hear thee, we seek thee, on pinions
That darken the shades of the shade;
Oh! Prince of the Air, with dominions
Encompass'd, with powers array'd,
With majesty cloth'd as a garment,
Begirt with a shadowy shine,
Whose feet scorch the hill-tops that are meant
As footstools for thee and for thine.
Orion (sings):
How it swells through each pause of the thunder,
And mounts through each lull of the gust,
Through the crashing of crags torn asunder,
And the hurtling of trees in the dust;
With a chorus of loud lamentations,
With its dreary and hopeless refrain!
'Tis the cry of all tongues and all nations,
That suffer and shudder in vain.
59
Evil Spirits (singing):
'Tis the cry of all tongues and all nations;
Our song shall chime in with their strain;
Lost spirits blend their wild exultations
With the sighing of mortals in pain.
Orion (sings):
With just light enough to see sorrows
In this world, and terrors beyond,
'Twixt the day's bitter pangs and the morrow's
Dread doubts, to despair and despond,
Man lingers through toils unavailing
For blessings that baffle his grasp;
To his cradle he comes with a wailing,
He goes to his grave with a gasp.
Evil Spirits (singing):
His birth is a weeping and wailing,
His death is a groan and a gasp;
O'er the seed of the woman prevailing,
Thus triumphs the seed of the asp.
SCENE — Chamber of a Wayside Inn.
HUGO sitting alone. Evening.
Hugo:
And now the parting is over,
The parting should end the pain;
And the restless heart may recover,
And so may the troubled brain.
I am sitting within the chamber
Whose windows look on the porch,
Where the roses cluster and clamber;
We halted here on our march
With her to the convent going,
And now I go back alone:
Ye roses, budding and blowing,
Ye heed not though she is flown.
60
I remember the girlish gesture,
The sportive and childlike grace,
With which she crumpled and pressed your
Rose leaves to her rose-hued face.
Shall I think on her ways hereafter —
On those flashes of mirth and grief,
On that April of tears and laughter,
On our parting, bitterly brief?
I remember the bell at sunrise,
That sounded so solemnly,
Bidding monk, and prelate, and nun rise;
I rose ere the sun was high.
Down the long, dark, dismal passage,
To the door of her resting-place
I went, on a farewell message,
I trod with a stealthy pace.
There was no one there to see us
When she opened her chamber door.
"Miserere, mei Deus",
Rang faint from the convent choir.
I remember the dark and narrow
And scantily-furnished room;
And the gleam, like a golden arrow —
The gleam that lighted the gloom.
One couch, one seat, and one table,
One window, and only one —
It stands in the eastern gable,
It faces the rising sun;
One ray shot through it, and one light
On doorway and threshold played.
She stood within in the sunlight,
I stood without in the shade.
I remember that bright form under
The sheen of that slanting ray.
I spoke — "For life we must sunder,
Let us sunder without delay.
Let us sever without preamble,
As brother and sister part,
For the sake of one pleasant ramble,
61
That will live in at least one heart."
Still the choir in my ears rang faintly,
In the distance dying away,
Sweetly and sadly and saintly,
Through arch and corridor grey!
And thus we parted for ever,
Between the shade and the shine;
Not as brother and sister sever —
I fondled her hands in mine.
Still the choir in my ears rang deaden'd
And dull'd, though audible yet;
And she redden'd, and paled, and redden'd —
Her lashes and lids grew wet.
Not as brother severs from sister,
My lips clung fast to her lips;
She shivered and shrank when I kissed her.
On the sunbeam drooped the eclipse.
I remember little of the parting
With the Abbot, down by the gate,
My men were eager for starting;
I think he pressed me to wait.
From the lands where convent and glebe lie,
From manors, and Church's right,
Where I fought temptation so feebly,
I, too, felt eager for flight.
Alas! the parting is over —
The parting, but not the pain —
Oh! sweet was the purple clover,
And sweet was the yellow grain;
And sweet were the woody hollows
On the summery Rhineward track;
But a winter untimely swallows
All sweets as I travel back.
Yet I feel assured, in some fashion,
Ere the hedges are crisp with rime,
I shall conquer this senseless passion,
'Twill yield to toil and to time.
I will fetter these fancies roaming;
Already the sun has dipped;
62
I will trim the lamps in the gloaming,
I will finish my manuscript.
Through the nightwatch unflagging study
Shall banish regrets perforce;
As soon as the east is ruddy
Our bugle shall sound "To Horse!"
SCENE — Another Wayside House, Near the Norman Frontier.
HUGO and ORION in a chamber. Evening.
Orion:
Your eyes are hollow, your step is slow,
And your cheek is pallid as though from toil,
Watching or fasting, by which I know
That you have been burning the midnight oil.
Hugo:
Aye, three nights running.
Orion: 'Twill never do
To travel all day, and study all night;
Will you join in a gallop through mist and dew,
In a flight that may vie with the eagle's flight?
Hugo:
With all my heart. Shall we saddle "Rollo"?
Orion:
Nay, leave him undisturb'd in his stall;
I have steeds he would hardly care to follow.
Hugo:
Follow, forsooth! he can lead them all.
Orion:
Touching his merits we will not quarrel;
But let me mount you for once; enough
Of work may await your favourite sorrel,
And the paths we must traverse to-night are rough.
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But first let me mix you a beverage,
To invigorate your enfeebled frame.
[He mixes a draught and hands it to Hugo.]
All human ills this draught can assuage.
Hugo:
It hisses and glows like liquid flame;
Say, what quack nostrum is this thou'st brewed?
Speak out; I am learned in the chemist's lore.
Orion:
There is nothing but what will do you good;
And the drugs are simples; 'tis hellebore,
Nepenthe, upas, and dragon's blood,
Absinthe, and mandrake, and mandragore.
Hugo:
I will drink it, although, by mass and rood,
I am just as wise as I was before.
SCENE — A Rough, Hilly Country.
HUGO and ORION riding at speed on black horses.
Mountains in the distance. Night.
Hugo:
See! the sparks that fly from our hoof-strokes make
A fiery track that gleams in our wake;
Like a dream the dim landscape past us shoots,
Our horses fly.
Orion: They are useful brutes,
Though somewhat skittish; the foam is whit'ning
The crest and rein of my courser "Lightning";
He pulls to-night, being short of work,
And takes his head with a sudden jerk;
Still heel and steady hand on the bit,
For that is "Tempest" on which you sit.
Hugo:
64
'Tis the bravest steed that ever I back'd;
Did'st mark how he crossed yon cataract?
From hoof to hoof I should like to measure
The space he clear'd.
Orion: He can clear at leisure
A greater distance. Observe the chasm
We are nearing. Ha! did you feel a spasm
As we flew over it?
Hugo: Not at all.
Orion:
Nathless 'twas an ugly place for a fall.
Hugo:
Let us try a race to yon mountain high,
That rears its dusky peak 'gainst the sky.
Orion:
I won't disparage your horsemanship,
But your steed will stand neither spur nor whip,
And is hasty and hard to steer at times.
We must travel far ere the midnight chimes;
We must travel back ere the east is grey.
Ho! "Lightning"! "Tempest"! Away! Away!
[They ride on faster.]
SCENE — A Peak in a Mountainous Country Overhanging a Rocky Pass.
HUGO and ORION on black horses. Midnight.
Hugo:
These steeds are sprung from no common race,
Their vigour seems to annihilate space;
What hast thou brought me here to see?
Orion:
No boisterous scene of unhallow'd glee,
No sabbat of witches coarse and rude,
65
But a mystic and musical interlude;
You have long'd to explore the scrolls of Fate,
Dismount, as I do, and listen and wait.
[They dismount.]
Orion (chanting):
Spirits of earth, and air, and sea,
Spirits unclean, and spirits untrue,
By the symbols three that shall nameless be,
One of your masters calls on you.
Spirits (chanting in the distance):
From the bowels of earth, where gleams the gold;
From the air where the powers of darkness hold
Their court; from the white sea-foam,
Whence the white rose-tinted goddess sprung,
Whom poets of every age have sung,
Ever we come! we come!
Hugo:
How close to our ears the thunder peals!
How the earth beneath us shudders and reels!
A Voice (chanting):
Woe to the earth! Where men give death!
And women give birth!
To the sons of Adam, by Cain or Seth!
Plenty and dearth!
To the daughters of Eve, who toil and spin,
Barren of worth!
Let them sigh, and sicken, and suffer sin!
Woe to the earth!
Hugo:
What is yon phantom large and dim
That over the mountain seems to swim?
Orion:
'Tis the scarlet woman of Babylon!
Hugo:
Whence does she come? Where has she gone?
66
And who is she?
Orion: You would know too much;
These are subjects on which I dare not touch;
And if I were to try and enlighten you,
I should probably fail, and possibly frighten you.
You had better ask some learned divine,
Whose opinion is p'rhaps worth as much as mine,
In his own conceit; and who, besides,
Could tell you the brand of the beast she rides.
What can you see in the valley yonder?
Speak out; I can hear you, for all the thunder.
Hugo:
I see four shadowy altars rise,
They seem to swell and dilate in size;
Larger and clearer now they loom,
Now fires are lighting them through the gloom.
A Voice (chanting):
The first a golden-hued fire shows,
A blood-red flame on the second glows,
The blaze on the third is tinged like the rose,
From the fourth a column of black smoke goes.
Orion:
Can you see all this?
Hugo: I see and hear;
The lights and hues are vivid and clear.
Spirits (sing at the first altar):
Hail, Mammon! while man buys and barters,
Thy kingdom in this world is sure;
Thy prophets thou hast and thy martyrs,
Great things in thy name they endure;
Thy fetters of gold crush the miser,
The usurer bends at thy shrine,
And the wealthier nations and the wiser
Bow with us at this altar of thine.
Spirits (sing at the second altar):
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Hail, Moloch! whose banner floats blood-red,
From pole to equator unfurl'd,
Whose laws redly written have stood red,
And shall stand while standeth this world;
Clad in purple, with thy diadem gory,
Thy sceptre the blood-dripping steel,
Thy subjects with us give thee glory,
With us at thine altar they kneel.
Spirits (sing at the third altar):
Hail, Sovereign! whose fires are kindled
By sparks from the bottomless pit,
Has thy worship diminish'd or dwindled?
Do the yokes of thy slaves lightly sit?
Nay, the men of all climes and all races
Are stirr'd by the flames that now stir us;
Then (as we do) they fall on their faces,
Crying, "Hear us! Oh! Ashtaroth, hear us!"
Spirits (all in chorus):
The vulture her carrion swallows,
Returns to his vomit the dog.
In the slough of uncleanliness wallows
The he-goat, and revels the hog.
Men are wise with their schools and their teachers,
Men are just with their creeds and their priests;
Yet, in spite of their pedants and preachers,
They backslide in footprints of beasts!
Hugo:
From the smoky altar there seems to come
A stifled murmur, a droning hum.
Orion:
With that we have nothing at all to do,
Or, at least, not now, neither I nor you;
Though some day or other, possibly
We may see it closer, both you and I;
Let us visit the nearest altar first,
Whence the yellow fires flicker and burst,
Like the flames from molten ore that spring;
We may stand in the pale of the outer ring,
68
But forbear to trespass within the inner,
Lest the sins of the past should find out the sinner.
[They approach the first altar, and stand within the
outer circle which surrounds it, and near the inner.]
Spirits (sing):
Beneath us it flashes,
The glittering gold,
Though it turneth to ashes
And dross in the hold;
Yet man will endeavour,
By fraud or by strife,
To grasp it and never
To yield it with life.
Orion:
What can you see?
Hugo: Some decrepit shapes,
That are neither dwarfs, nor demons, nor apes;
In the hollow earth they appear to store
And rake together great heaps of ore.
Orion:
These are the gnomes, coarse sprites and rough;
Come on, of these we have seen enough.
[They approach second altar and stand as before.]
Spirits (singing):
Above us it flashes,
The glittering steel,
Though the red blood splashes
Where its victims reel;
Yet man will endeavour
To grapple the hilt,
And to wield the blade ever
Till his life be spilt.
Orion:
What see you now?
Hugo: A rocky glen,
69
A horrid jumble of fighting men,
And a face that somewhere I've seen before.
Orion:
Come on; there is naught worth seeing more,
Except the altar of Ashtaroth.
Hugo:
To visit that altar I am loth.
Orion:
Why so?
Hugo: Nay, I cannot fathom why,
But I feel no curiosity.
Orion:
Come on. Stand close to the inner ring,
And hear how sweetly these spirits sing.
[They approach third altar.]
Spirits (sing):
Around us it flashes,
The cestus of one
Born of white foam, that dashes
Beneath the white sun;
Let the mortal take heart, he
Has nothing to dare;
She is fair, Queen Astarte,
Her subjects are fair!
Orion:
What see you now, friend?
Hugo: Wood and wold,
And forms that look like the nymphs of old.
There is nothing here worth looking at twice.
I have seen enough.
Orion: You are far too nice;
Nevertheless, you must look again.
Those forms will fade.
70
Hugo: They are growing less plain.
They vanish. I see a door that seems
To open; a ray of sunlight gleams
From a window behind; a vision as fair
As the flush of dawn is standing there.
[He gazes earnestly.]
Orion (sings):
Higher and hotter the white flames glow,
And the adamant may be thaw'd like snow,
And the life for a single chance may go,
And the soul for a certainty.
Oh! vain and shallow philosopher,
Dost feel them quicken, dost feel them stir,
The thoughts that have stray'd again to HER
From whom thou hast sought to fly?
Lo! the furnace is heated till sevenfold;
Is thy brain still calm? Is thy blood still cold
To the curls that wander in ripples of gold,
On the shoulders of ivory?
Do the large, dark eyes, and the small, red mouth,
Consume thine heart with a fiery drouth,
Like the fierce sirocco that sweeps from the south,
When the deserts are parch'd and dry?
Aye, start and shiver and catch thy breath,
The sting is certain, the venom is death,
And the scales are flashing the fruit beneath,
And the fang striketh suddenly.
At the core the ashes are bitter and dead,
But the rind is fair and the rind is red,
It has ever been pluck'd since the serpent said,
Thou shalt NOT SURELY die.
[Hugo tries to enter the inner ring;
Orion holds him back; they struggle.]
Hugo:
Unhand me, slave! or quail to the rod!
Agatha! Speak! in the name of God!
71
[The vision disappears; the altars vanish.
Hugo falls insensible.]
SCENE — The Wayside House.
HUGO waking in his chamber. ORION unseen at first. Morning.
Hugo:
Vanish, fair and fatal vision!
Fleeting shade of fever'd sleep,
Chiding one whose indecision
Waking substance failed to keep;
Picture into life half starting,
As in life once seen before,
Parting somewhat sadly, parting
Slowly at the chamber door.
Were my waking senses duller?
Have I seen with mental eye
Light and shade, and warmth and colour,
Plainer than reality?
Sunlight that on tangled tresses
Every ripple gilds and tips;
Balm and bloom, and breath of kisses,
Warm on dewy, scarlet lips.
Dark eyes veiling half their splendour
'Neath their lashes' darker fringe,
Dusky, dreamy, deep and tender,
Passing smile and passing tinge;
Dimpling fast and flushing faster,
Ivory chin and coral cheek,
Pearly strings, by alabaster
Neck and arms made faint and weak;
Drooping, downcast lids enduring
Gaze of man unwillingly;
Sudden, sidelong gleams alluring,
Partly arch and partly shy.
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Do I bless or curse that beauty?
Am I longing, am I loth?
Is it passion, is it duty
That I strive with, one or both?
Round about one fiery centre
Wayward thoughts like moths revolve.
[He sees Orion.]
Ha! Orion, thou didst enter
Unperceived. I pray thee solve
These two questions: Firstly, tell me,
Must I strive for wrong or right?
Secondly, what things befell me —
Facts, or phantasies — last night?
Orion:
First, your strife is all a sham, you
Know as well as I which wins;
Second, waking sins will damn you,
Never mind your sleeping sins;
Both your questions thus I answer;
Listen, ere you seek or shun:
I at least am no romancer,
What you long for may be won.
Turn again and travel Rhineward,
Tread once more the flowery path.
Hugo:
Aye, the flowery path that, sinward
Pointing, ends in sin and wrath.
Orion:
Songs by love-birds lightly caroll'd,
Even the just man may allure.
Hugo:
To his shame; in this wise Harold
Sinn'd, his punishment was sure.
Orion:
Nay, the Dane was worse than you are,
Base and pitiless to boot;
73
Doubtless all are bad, yet few are
Cruel, false, and dissolute.
Hugo:
Some sins foreign to our nature
Seem; we take no credit when
We escape them.
Orion: Yet the creature,
Sin-created, lives to sin.
Hugo:
Be it so; come good, come evil,
Ride we to the Rhine again!
Orion (aside):
'Gainst the logic of the devil
Human logic strives in vain.
SCENE — A Camp Near the Black Forest.
RUDOLPH, OSRIC, DAGOBERT, and followers. ORION disguised as
one of the Free-lances. Mid-day.
Osric:
Now, by axe of Odin, and hammer of Thor,
And by all the gods of the Viking's war,
I swear we have quitted our homes in vain:
We have nothing to look to, glory nor gain.
Will our galley return to Norway's shore
With heavier gold, or with costlier store?
Will our exploits furnish the scald with a song?
We have travell'd too far, we have tarried too long.
Say, captains all, is there ever a village
For miles around that is worth the pillage?
Will it pay the costs of my men or yours
To harry the homesteads of German boors?
Have we cause for pride in our feats of arms
When we plunder the peasants or sack the farms?
I tell thee, Rudolph of Rothenstein,
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That were thy soldiers willing as mine,
And I sole leader of this array,
I would give Prince Otto battle this day.
Dost thou call thy followers men of war?
Oh, Dagobert! thou whose ancestor
On the neck of the Caesar's offspring trod,
Who was justly surnamed "The Scourge of God".
Yet in flight lies safety. Skirmish and run
To forest and fastness, Teuton and Hun,
From the banks of the Rhine to the Danube's shore,
And back to the banks of the Rhine once more;
Retreat from the face of an armed foe,
Robbing garden and hen-roost where'er you go.
Let the short alliance betwixt us cease,
I and my Norsemen will go in peace!
I wot it never will suit with us,
Such existence, tame and inglorious;
I could live no worse, living single-handed,
And better with half my men disbanded.
Rudolph:
Jarl Osric, what would'st thou have me do?
'Gainst Otto's army our men count few;
With one chance of victory, fight, say I!
But not when defeat is a certainty.
If Rudiger joins us with his free-lances,
Our chance will be equal to many chances;
For Rudiger is both prompt and wary;
And his men are gallant though mercenary;
But the knave refuses to send a lance
Till half the money is paid in advance.
Dagobert:
May his avarice wither him like a curse!
I guess he has heard of our late reverse;
But, Rudolph, whether he goes or stays,
There is reason in what Jarl Osric says;
Of provisions we need a fresh supply,
And our butts and flasks are shallow or dry;
My men are beginning to grumble sadly,
'Tis no wonder, since they must fare so badly.
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Rudolph:
We have plenty of foragers out, and still
We have plenty of hungry mouths to fill;
And, moreover, by some means, foul or fair,
We must raise money; 'tis little I care,
So long as we raise it, whence it comes.
Osric:
Shall we sit till nightfall biting our thumbs?
The shortest plan is ever the best;
Has anyone here got aught to suggest?
Orion:
The cornfields are golden that skirt the Rhine,
Fat are the oxen, strong is the wine,
In those pleasant pastures, those cellars deep,
That o'erflow with the tears that those vineyards weep;
Is it silver you stand in need of, or gold?
Ingot or coin? There is wealth untold
In the ancient convent of Englemehr;
That is not so very far from here.
The Abbot, esteem'd a holy man,
Will hold what he has and grasp what he can;
The cream of the soil he loves to skim,
Why not levy a contribution on him?
Dagobert:
The stranger speaks well; not far away
That convent lies; and one summer's day
Will suffice for a horseman to reach the gate;
The garrison soon would capitulate,
Since the armed retainers are next to none,
And the walls, I wot, may be quickly won.
Rudolph:
I kept those walls for two months or more,
When they feared the riders of Melchior!
That was little over three years ago.
Their Abbot is thrifty, as well I know;
He haggled sorely about the price
Of our service.
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Dagobert: Rudolph, he paid thee twice.
Rudolph:
Well, what of that? Since then I've tried
To borrow from him; now I know he lied
When he told me he could not spare the sum
I asked. If we to his gates should come,
He could spare it though it were doubled; and still,
This war with the Church I like it ill.
Osric:
The creed of our fathers is well-nigh dead,
And the creed of the Christian reigns in its stead
But the creed of the Christian, too, may die,
For your creeds or your churches what care I!
If there be plunder at Englemehr,
Let us strike our tents and thitherward steer.
SCENE — A Farm-house on the Rhine (About a mile from the Convent).
HUGO in chamber alone. Enter ERIC.
Eric:
What, Hugo, still at the Rhine! I thought
You were home. You have travell'd by stages short.
Hugo (with hesitation):
Our homeward march was labour in vain,
We had to retrace our steps again;
It was here or hereabouts that I lost
Some papers of value; at any cost
I must find them; and which way lies your course?
Eric:
I go to recruit Prince Otto's force.
I cannot study as you do; I
Am wearied with inactivity;
So I carry a blade engrim'd with rust
(That a hand sloth-slacken'd has, I trust,
Not quite forgotten the way to wield),
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To strike once more on the tented field.
Hugo:
Fighting is all a mistake, friend Eric,
And has been so since the age Homeric,
When Greece was shaken and Troy undone,
Ten thousand lives for a worthless one.
Yet I blame you not; you might well do worse;
Better fight and perish than live to curse
The day you were born; and such has been
The lot of many, and shall, I ween,
Be the lot of more. If Thurston chooses
He may go with you. The blockhead abuses
Me and the life I lead.
Enter ORION.
Orion: Great news!
The Englemehr monks will shake in their shoes;
In the soles of their callous feet will shake
The barefooted friars. The nuns will quake.
Hugo: Wherefore?
Orion: The outlaw of Rothenstein
Has come with his soldiers to the Rhine,
Back'd by those hardy adventurers
From the northern forests of pines and firs,
And Dagobert's horse. They march as straight
As the eagle swoops to the convent gate.
Hugo:
We must do something to save the place.
Orion:
They are sure to take it in any case,
Unless the sum that they ask is paid.
Eric:
Some effort on our part must be made.
Hugo:
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'Tis not so much for the monks I care.
Eric:
Nor I; but the Abbess and nuns are there.
Orion:
'Tis not our business; what can we do?
They are too many, and we are too few;
And yet, I suppose, you will save, if you can,
That lady, your ward, or your kinswoman.
Hugo:
She is no kinswoman of mine;
How far is Otto's camp from the Rhine?
Orion:
Too far for help in such time of need
To be brought, though you used your utmost speed.
Eric:
Nay, that I doubt.
Hugo: And how many men
Have they?
Orion: To your one they could muster ten.
Eric:
I know Count Rudolph, and terms may be made
With him, I fancy; for though his trade
Is a rough one now, gainsay it who can,
He was once a knight and a gentleman.
And Dagobert, the chief of the Huns,
Bad as he is, will spare the nuns;
Though neither he nor the Count could check
Those lawless men, should they storm and sack
The convent. Jarl Osric, too, I know;
He is rather a formidable foe,
And will likely enough be troublesome;
But the others, I trust, to terms will come.
Hugo:
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Eric, how many men have you?
I can count a score.
Eric: I have only two.
Hugo:
At every hazard we must try to save
The nuns.
Eric: Count Rudolph shall think we have
A force that almost equals his own,
If I can confer with him alone.
Orion:
He is close at hand; by this time he waits
The Abbot's reply at the convent gates.
Hugo:
We had better send him a herald.
Eric: Nay,
I will go myself. [Eric goes out.]
Hugo: Orion, stay!
So this is the reed on which I've leaned,
These are the hopes thou hast fostered, these
The flames thou hast fanned. Oh, lying fiend!
Is it thus thou dost keep thy promises?
Orion:
Strong language, Hugo, and most unjust;
You will cry out before you are hurt —
You will live to recall your words, I trust.
Fear nothing from Osric or Dagobert,
These are your friends, if you only knew it,
And would take the advice of a friend sincere;
Neglect his counsels and you must rue it,
For I know by a sign the crisis is near.
Accept the terms of these outlaws all,
And be thankful that things have fallen out
Exactly as you would have had them fall —
You may save the one that you care about;
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Otherwise, how did you hope to gain
Access to her — on what pretence?
What were the schemes that worried your brain
To tempt her there or to lure her thence?
You must have bungled, and raised a scandal
About your ears, that might well have shamed
The rudest Hun, the veriest Vandal,
Long or ever the bird was tamed.
Hugo:
The convent is scarce surrounded yet,
We might reach and hold it against their force
Till another sun has risen and set;
And should I despatch my fleetest horse
To Otto ——
Orion: For Abbot, or Monk, or Friar,
Between ourselves, 'tis little you care
If their halls are harried by steel and fire:
Their avarice left your heritage bare.
Forsake them! Mitres, and cowls, and hoods
Will cover vices while earth endures;
Through the green and gold of the summer woods
Ride out with that pretty bird of yours.
If again you fail to improve your chance,
Why, then, my friend, I can only say
You are duller far than the dullest lance
That rides in Dagobert's troop this day.
"Faemina semper", frown not thus,
The girl was always giddy and wild,
Vain, and foolish, and frivolous,
Since she fled from her father's halls, a child.
I sought to initiate you once
In the mystic lore of the old Chaldean;
But I found you far too stubborn a dunce,
And your tastes are coarser and more plebeian.
Yet mark my words, for I read the stars,
And trace the future in yonder sky;
To the right are wars and rumours of wars,
To the left are peace and prosperity.
Fear naught. The world shall never detect
The cloven hoof, so carefully hid
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By the scholar so staid and circumspect,
So wise for once to do as he's bid.
Remember what pangs come year by year
For opportunity that has fled;
And Thora in ignorance.
Hugo: Name not her!
I am sorely tempted to strike thee dead!
Orion:
Nay, I hardly think you will take my life,
The angel Michael was once my foe;
He had a little the best of our strife,
Yet he never could deal so stark a blow.
SCENE — A Chamber in the Nuns' Apartments of the Convent.
AGATHA and URSULA.
Agatha:
My sire in my childhood pledged my hand
To Hugo — I know not why —
They were comrades then, 'neath the Duke's command,
In the wars of Lombardy.
I thought, ere my summers had turned sixteen,
That mine was a grievous case;
Save once, for an hour, I had never seen
My intended bridegroom's face;
And maidens vows of their own will plight.
Unknown to my kinsfolk all
My love was vowed to a Danish knight,
A guest in my father's hall.
His foot fell lightest in merry dance,
His shaft never missed the deer;
He could fly a hawk, he could wield a lance,
Our wildest colt he could steer.
His deep voice ringing through hall or glen
Had never its match in song;
And little was known of his past life then,
Or of Dorothea's wrong.
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I loved him — Lady Abbess, I know
That my love was foolish now;
I was but a child five years ago,
And thoughtless as bird on bough.
One evening Hugo the Norman came,
And, to shorten a weary tale,
I fled that night (let me bear the blame)
With Harold by down and dale.
He had mounted me on a dappled steed,
And another of coal-black hue
He rode himself; and away at speed
We fled through mist and dew.
Of miles we had ridden some half a score,
We had halted beside a spring,
When the breeze to our ears through the still night bore
A distant trample and ring;
We listen'd one breathing space, and caught
The clatter of mounted men,
With vigour renewed by their respite short
Our horses dash'd through the glen.
Another league, and we listen'd in vain;
The breeze to our ears came mute;
But we heard them again on the spacious plain,
Faint tidings of hot pursuit.
In the misty light of a moon half hid
By the dark or fleecy rack,
Our shadows over the moorland slid,
Still listening and looking back.
So we fled (with a cheering word to say
At times as we hurried on),
From sounds that at intervals died away,
And at intervals came anon.
Another league, and my lips grew dumb,
And I felt my spirit quailing,
For closer those sounds began to come,
And the speed of my horse was failing.
"The grey is weary and lame to boot,"
Quoth Harold; "the black is strong,
And their steeds are blown with their fierce pursuit,
What wonder! our start was long.
Now, lady, behind me mount the black,
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The double load he can bear;
We are safe when we reach the forest track,
Fresh horses and friends wait there."
Then I sat behind him and held his waist,
And faster we seemed to go
By moss and moor; but for all our haste
Came the tramp of the nearing foe.
A dyke through the mist before us hover'd,
And, quicken'd by voice and heel,
The black overleap'd it, stagger'd, recover'd;
Still nearer that muffled peal.
And louder on sward the hoof-strokes grew,
And duller, though not less nigh,
On deader sand; and a dark speck drew
On my vision suddenly,
And a single horseman in fleet career,
Like a shadow appear'd to glide
To within six lances' lengths of our rear,
And there for a space to bide.
Quoth Harold, "Speak, has the moon reveal'd
His face?" I replied, "Not so!
Yet 'tis none of my kinsfolk." Then he wheel'd
In the saddle and scanned the foe,
And mutter'd, still gazing in our wake,
"'Tis he; now I will not fight
The brother again, for the sister's sake,
While I can escape by flight."
"Who, Harold?" I asked; but he never spoke.
By the cry of the bittern harsh,
And the bull-frog's dull, discordant croak,
I guess'd that we near'd the marsh;
And the moonbeam flash'd on watery sedge
As it broke from a strip of cloud,
Ragged and jagged about the edge,
And shaped like a dead man's shroud.
And flagg'd and falter'd our gallant steed,
'Neath the weight of his double burden,
As we splash'd through water and crash'd through reed;
Then the soil began to harden,
And again we gain'd, or we seem'd to gain,
With our foe in the deep morass;
But those fleet hoofs thunder'd, and gain'd again,
84
When they trampled the firmer grass,
And I cried, and Harold again look'd back,
And bade me fasten mine eyes on
The forest, that loom'd like a patch of black
Standing out from the faint horizon.
"Courage, sweetheart! we are saved," he said;
"With the moorland our danger ends,
And close to the borders of yonder glade
They tarry, our trusty friends."
Where the mossy uplands rise and dip
On the edge of the leafy dell,
With a lurch, like the lurch of a sinking ship,
The black horse toppled and fell.
Unharm'd we lit on the velvet sward,
And even as I lit I lay,
But Harold uprose, unsheath'd his sword,
And toss'd the scabbard away.
And spake through his teeth, "Good brother-in-law,
Forbearance, at last, is spent;
The strife that thy soul hath lusted for
Thou shalt have to thy soul's content!"
While he spoke, our pursuer past us swept,
Ere he rein'd his war-horse proud,
To his haunches flung, then to the earth he leapt,
And my lover's voice rang loud:
"Thrice welcome! Hugo of Normandy,
Thou hast come at our time of need,
This lady will thank thee, and so will I,
For the loan of thy sorrel steed!"
And never a word Lord Hugo said,
They clos'd 'twixt the wood and the wold,
And the white steel flickered over my head
In the moonlight calm and cold;
'Mid the feathery grasses crouching low,
With face bow'd down to the dust,
I heard the clash of each warded blow,
The click of each parried thrust,
And the shuffling feet that bruis'd the lawn,
As they traversed here and there,
And the breath through the clench'd teeth heavily drawn
When breath there was none to spare;
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Sharp ringing sword play, dull, trampling heel,
Short pause, spent force to regain,
Quick muffled footfall, harsh grating steel,
Sharp ringing rally again;
They seem'd long hours, those moments fleet,
As I counted them one by one,
Till a dead weight toppled across my feet,
And I knew that the strife was done.
When I looked up, after a little space,
As though from a fearful dream,
The moon was flinging on Harold's face
A white and a weird-like gleam;
And I felt mine ankles moist and warm
With the blood that trickled slow
From a spot on the doublet beneath his arm,
From a ghastly gash on his brow;
I heard the tread of the sorrel's hoof
As he bore his lord away;
They passed me slowly, keeping aloof,
Like spectres, misty and grey.
I thought Lord Hugo had left me there
To die, but it was not so;
Yet then for death I had little care,
My soul seem'd numb'd by the blow;
A faintness follow'd, a sickly swoon,
A long and a dreamless sleep,
And I woke to the light of a sultry noon
In my father's castled keep.
And thus, Lady Abbess, it came to pass
That my father vow'd his vow;
Must his daughter espouse the Church? Alas!
Is she better or wiser now?
For some are feeble and others strong,
And feeble am I and frail.
Mother! 'tis not that I love the wrong,
'Tis not that I loathe the veil,
But with heart still ready to go astray,
If assail'd by a fresh temptation,
I could sin again as I sinned that day,
For a girl's infatuation.
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See! Harold, the Dane, thou say'st is dead,
Yet I weep NOT BITTERLY;
As I fled with the Dane, so I might have fled
With Hugo of Normandy.
Ursula:
My child, I advise no hasty vows,
Yet I pray that in life's brief span
Thou may'st learn that our Church is a fairer spouse
Than fickle and erring man;
Though fenced for a time by the Church's pale,
When that time expires thou'rt free;
And we cannot force thee to take the veil,
Nay, we scarce can counsel thee.
Enter the ABBOT hastily.
Basil (the Abbot):
I am sorely stricken with shame and grief,
It has come by the self-same sign,
A summons brief from the outlaw'd chief,
Count Rudolph of Rothenstein.
Lady Abbess, ere worse things come to pass,
I would speak with thee alone;
Alack and alas! for by the rood and mass
I fear we are all undone.
SCENE — A Farm-house Near the Convent.
A Chamber furnished with writing materials. HUGO, ERIC, and THURSTON
on one side; on the other OSRIC, RUDOLPH, and DAGOBERT.
Osric:
We have granted too much, ye ask for more;
I am not skill'd in your clerkly lore,
I scorn your logic; I had rather die
Than live like Hugo of Normandy:
I am a Norseman, frank and plain;
Ye must read the parchment over again.
87
Eric:
Jarl Osric, twice we have read this scroll.
Osric:
Thou hast read a part.
Eric: I have read the whole.
Osric:
Aye, since I attached my signature!
Eric:
Before and since!
Rudolph: Nay, of this be sure,
Thou hast signed; in fairness now let it rest.
Osric:
I had rather have sign'd upon Hugo's crest;
He has argued the question mouth to mouth
With the wordy lore of the subtle south;
Let him or any one of his band
Come and argue the question hand to hand.
With the aid of my battle-axe I will show
That a score of words are not worth one blow.
Thurston:
To the devil with thee and thy battle-axe;
I would send the pair of ye back in your tracks,
With an answer that even to thy boorish brain
Would scarce need repetition again.
Osric:
Thou Saxon slave to a milksop knight,
I will give thy body to raven and kite.
Thurston:
Thou liest; I am a freeborn man,
And thy huge carcase — in cubit and span
Like the giant's of Gath — 'neath Saxon steel,
Shall furnish the kites with a fatter meal.
88
Osric:
Now, by Odin!
Rudolph: Jarl Osric, curb thy wrath;
Our names are sign'd, our words have gone forth.
Hugo:
I blame thee, Thurston.
Thurston: And I, too, blame
Myself, since I follow a knight so tame!
[Thurston goes out.]
Osric:
The Saxon hound, he said I lied!
Rudolph:
I pray thee, good Viking, be pacified.
Osric:
Why do we grant the terms they ask?
To crush them all were an easy task.
Dagobert:
That know'st thou not; if it come to war,
They are stronger, perhaps, than we bargain for.
Eric:
Jarl Osric, thou may'st recall thy words —
Should we meet again.
Osric: Should we meet with swords,
Thou, too, may'st recall them to thy sorrow.
Hugo:
Eric! we dally. Sir Count, good-morrow.
SCENE — The Guest Chamber of the Convent.
HUGO, ERIC, and ORION.
89
Eric:
Hugo, their siege we might have tried;
This place would be easier fortified
Than I thought at first; it is now too late,
They have cut off our access to the gate.
Hugo:
I have weigh'd the chances and counted the cost,
And I know by the stars that all is lost
If we take up this quarrel.
Eric: So let it be!
I yield to one who is wiser than me. (Aside.)
Nevertheless, I have seen the day
When the stars would scarcely have bade us stay.
Enter the ABBOT, CYRIL, and other Monks.
Hugo:
Lord Abbot, we greet thee. Good fathers all,
We bring you greeting.
Orion (aside): And comfort small.
Abbot:
God's benediction on you, my sons.
Hugo:
May He save you, too, from Norsemen and Huns!
Since the gates are beleaguer'd and walls begirt
By the forces of Osric and Dagobert;
'Tis a heavy price that the knaves demand.
Abbot:
Were we to mortgage the Church's land
We never could raise what they would extort.
Orion (aside):
The price is too long and the notice too short.
Eric:
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And you know the stern alternative.
Abbot:
If we die we die, if we live we live;
God's will be done; and our trust is sure
In Him, though His chast'nings we endure.
Two messengers rode from here last night,
To Otto they carry news of our plight;
On my swiftest horses I saw them go.
Orion (aside):
Then his swiftest horses are wondrous slow.
Eric:
One of these is captive and badly hurt;
By the reckless riders of Dagobert
He was overtaken and well-nigh slain,
Not a league from here on the open plain.
Abbot:
But the other escap'd.
Eric: It may be so;
We had no word of him, but we know
That unless you can keep these walls for a day
At least, the Prince is too far away
To afford relief.
Abbot: Then a hopeless case
Is ours, and with death we are face to face.
Eric:
You have arm'd retainers.
Cyril (a Monk): Aye, some half score;
And some few of the brethren, less or more,
Have in youth the brunt of the battle bided,
Yet our armoury is but ill provided.
Hugo:
We have terms of truce from the robbers in chief,
Though the terms are partial, the truce but brief;
91
To Abbess, to nuns, and novices all,
And to every woman within your wall,
We can offer escort, and they shall ride
From hence in safety whate'er betide.
Abbot:
What escort, Hugo, canst thou afford?
Hugo:
Some score of riders who call me lord
Bide at the farm not a mile from here,
Till we rejoin them they will not stir;
My page and armourer wait below,
And all our movements are watch'd by the foe.
Strict stipulation was made, of course,
That, except ourselves, neither man nor horse
Should enter your gates — they were keen to shun
The chance of increasing your garrison.
Eric:
I hold safe conduct here in my hand,
Signed by the chiefs of that lawless band;
See Rudolph's name, no disgrace to a clerk,
And Dagobert's scrawl, and Osric's mark;
Jarl signed sorely against his will,
With a scratch like the print of a raven's bill;
But the foe have muster'd in sight of the gate.
For another hour they will scarcely wait;
Bid Abbess and dame prepare with haste.
Hugo:
Lord Abbot, I tell thee candidly
There is no great love between thou and I,
As well thou know'st; but, nevertheless,
I would we were more, or thy foes were less.
Abbot:
I will summon the Lady Abbess straight.
[The Abbot and Monks go out.]
Eric:
'Tis hard to leave these men to their fate,
92
Norsemen and Hun will never relent;
Their day of grace upon earth is spent.
[Hugo goes out, followed by Orion.]
SCENE — The Corridor Outside the Guest Chamber.
HUGO pacing up and down. ORION leaning against the wall.
Hugo:
My day of grace with theirs is past.
I might have saved them; 'tis too late —
Too late for both. The die is cast,
And I resign me to my fate.
God's vengeance I await.
Orion:
The boundary 'twixt right and wrong
Is not so easy to discern;
And man is weak, and fate is strong,
And destiny man's hopes will spurn,
Man's schemes will overturn.
Hugo:
Thou liest, thou fiend! Not unawares
The sinner swallows Satan's bait,
Nor pits conceal'd nor hidden snares
Seeks blindly; wherefore dost thou prate
Of destiny and fate?
Orion:
Who first named fate? But never mind,
Let that pass by — to Adam's fall
And Adam's curse look back, and find
Iniquity the lot of all,
And sin original.
Hugo:
But I have sinn'd, repented, sinn'd,
Till seven times that sin may be
By seventy multiplied; the wind
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Is constant when compared with me,
And stable is the sea!
My hopes are sacrificed, for what?
For days of folly, less or more,
For years to see those dead hopes rot,
Like dead weeds scatter'd on the shore,
Beyond the surfs that roar!
Orion:
The wiles of Eve are swift to smite;
Aye, swift to smite and not to spare —
Red lips and round limbs sweet and white,
Dark eyes and sunny, silken hair,
Thy betters may ensnare.
Hugo:
Not so; the strife 'twixt hell and heaven
I felt last night, and well I knew
The crisis; but my aid was given
To hell. Thou'st known the crisis too,
For once thou'st spoken true.
Having foretold it, there remains
For grace no time, for hope no room;
Even now I seem to feel the pains
Of hell, that wait beyond the gloom
Of my dishonour'd tomb.
Thou who hast lived and died to save,
Us sinners, Christ of Galilee!
Thy great love pardon'd and forgave
The dying thief upon the tree,
Thou canst not pardon me!
Dear Lord! hear Thou my latest prayer,
For prayer must die since hope is dead;
Thy Father's vengeance let me bear,
Nor let my guilt be visited
Upon a guiltless head!
Ah! God is just! Full sure I am
94
He never did predestinate
Our souls to hell. Ourselves we damn —
[To Orion, with sudden passion]
Serpent! I know thee now, too late;
Curse thee! Work out thy hate!
Orion:
I hate thee not; thy grievous plight
Would move my pity, but I bear
A curse to which thy curse seems light!
Thy wrong is better than my right,
My day is darker than thy night;
Beside the whitest hope I share
How white is thy despair!
SCENE — The Chapel of the Convent.
URSULA, AGATHA, Nuns and Novices.
(Hymn of the Nuns):
Jehovah! we bless Thee,
All works of Thine hand
Extol Thee, confess Thee;
By sea and by land,
By mountain and river,
By forest and glen,
They praise Thee for ever!
And ever! Amen!
The heathen are raging
Against Thee, O Lord!
The ungodly are waging
Rash war against God!
Arise, and deliver
Us, sheep of Thy pen,
Who praise Thee for ever!
And ever! Amen!
Thou Shepherd of Zion!
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Thy firstlings didst tear
From jaws of the lion,
From teeth of the bear;
Thy strength to deliver
Is strong now as then.
We praise Thee for ever!
And ever! Amen!
Thine arm hath delivered
Thy servants of old,
Hath scatter'd and shiver'd
The spears of the bold,
Hath emptied the quiver
Of bloodthirsty men.
We praise Thee for ever!
And ever! Amen!
Nathless shall Thy right hand
Those counsels fulfil
Most wise in Thy sight, and
We bow to Thy will;
Thy children quail never
For dungeon or den,
They praise Thee for ever!
And ever! Amen!
Though fierce tribulation
Endure for a space,
Yet God! our salvation!
We gain by Thy grace,
At end of life's fever,
Bliss passing man's ken;
There to praise Thee for ever!
And ever! Amen!
SCENE — The Guest Room of the Convent.
HUGO, ERIC, and ORION. Enter URSULA, AGATHA, and Nuns.
Ursula:
96
Hugo, we reject thine offers,
Not that we can buy
Safety from the Church's coffers,
Neither can we fly.
Far too great the price they seek is,
Let their lawless throng
Come, we wait their coming; weak is
Man, but God is strong.
Eric:
Think again on our proposals:
It will be too late
When the robbers hold carousals
On this side the gate.
Ursula:
For myself I speak and others
Weak and frail as I;
We will not desert our brothers
In adversity.
Hugo (to the Nuns):
Does the Abbess thus advance her
Will before ye all?
A Nun:
We will stay.
Hugo: Is this thine answer,
Agatha? The wall
Is a poor protection truly,
And the gates are weak,
And the Norsemen most unruly.
Come, then.
A Nun (to Agatha): Sister, speak!
Orion (aside to Hugo):
Press her! She her fears dissembling,
Stands irresolute;
She will yield — her limbs are trembling,
Though her lips are mute.
97
[A trumpet is heard without.]
Eric:
Hark! their savage war-horn blowing
Chafes at our delay.
Hugo:
Agatha, we must be going.
Come, girl!
Agatha (clinging to Ursula): Must I stay?
Ursula:
Nay, my child, thou shalt not make me
Judge; I cannot give
Orders to a novice.
Agatha: Take me,
Hugo! Let me live!
Eric (to Nuns):
Foolish women! will ye tarry,
Spite of all we say?
Hugo:
Must we use our strength and carry
You by force away?
Ursula:
Bad enough thou art, Sir Norman,
Yet thou wilt not do
This thing. Shame! — on men make war, man,
Not on women few.
Eric:
Heed her not — her life she barters,
Of her free accord,
For her faith; and, doubtless, martyrs
Have their own reward.
Ursula:
In the Church's cause thy father
98
Never grudged his blade —
Hugo, did he rue it?
Orion: Rather!
He was poorly paid.
Hugo:
Abbess, this is not my doing;
I have said my say;
How can I avert the ruin,
Even for a day,
Since they count two hundred fairly,
While we count a score;
And thine own retainers barely
Count a dozen more?
Agatha (kneeling to Ursula):
Ah! forgive me, Lady Abbess,
Bless me ere I go;
She who under sod and slab is
Lying, cold and low,
Scarce would turn away in anger
From a child so frail;
Not dear life, but deadly danger,
Makes her daughter quail.
Hugo:
Eric, will those faces tearful
To God's judgment seat
Haunt us?
Eric: Death is not so fearful.
Hugo: No, but life is sweet —
Sweet for once, to me, though sinful.
Orion (to Hugo): Earth is scant of bliss;
Wisest he who takes his skinful
When the chance is his.
(To Ursula):
Lady Abbess! stay and welcome
99
Osric's savage crew;
Yet when pains of death and hell come,
Thou thy choice may'st rue.
Ursula (to Orion):
What dost thou 'neath roof-trees sacred?
Man or fiend, depart!
Orion:
Dame, thy tongue is sharp and acrid,
Yet I bear the smart.
Ursula (advancing and raising up a crucifix):
I conjure thee by this symbol
Leave us!
[Orion goes out hastily.]
Hugo: Ha! the knave,
He has made an exit nimble;
Abbess! thou art brave.
Yet once gone, we're past recalling,
Let no blame be mine.
See, thy sisters' tears are falling
Fast, and so are thine.
Ursula:
Fare you well! The teardrop splashes
Vainly on the ice.
Ye will sorrow o'er our ashes
And your cowardice.
Eric:
Sorry am I, yet my sorrow
Cannot alter fate;
Should Prince Otto come to-morrow,
He will come too late.
Hugo:
Nay, old comrade, she hath spoken
Words we must not hear;
Shall we pause for sign or token —
Taunted twice with fear?
100
Yonder, hilt to hilt adjusted,
Stand the swords in which we trusted
Years ago. Their blades have rusted,
So, perchance, have we.
Ursula! thy words may shame us,
Yet we once were counted famous,
Morituri, salutamus,
Aut victuri, te! [They go out.]
SCENE — The Outskirts of Rudolph's Camp.
RUDOLPH, OSRIC, and DAGOBERT. HUGO.
Rudolph:
Lord Hugo! thy speech is madness;
Thou hast tax'd our patience too far;
We offer'd thee peace — with gladness,
We gladly accept thy war.
Dagobert:
And the clemency we extended
To thee and thine we recall;
And the treaty 'twixt us is ended —
We are ready to storm the wall.
Osric:
Now tear yon parchment to tatters;
Thou shalt make no further use
Of our safeguard; the wind that scatters
The scroll shall scatter the truce.
Hugo:
Jarl Osric, to save the spilling
Of blood, and the waste of life,
I am willing, if thou art willing,
With thee to decide this strife;
Let thy comrades draw their force back;
I defy thee to single fight,
I will meet thee on foot or horseback,
And God shall defend the right.
101
Rudolph:
No single combat shall settle
This strife; thou art overbold —
Thou hast put us all on our mettle,
Now the game in our hands we hold.
Dagobert:
Our lances round thee have hover'd,
Have seen where thy fellows bide;
Thy weakness we have discover'd,
Thy nakedness we have spied.
Osric:
And hearken, knight, to my story —
When sack'd are the convent shrines,
When the convent thresholds are gory,
And quaff'd are the convent wines:
When our beasts with pillage are laden,
And the clouds of our black smoke rise
From yon tower, one fair-haired maiden
Is singled as Osric's prize.
I will fit her with chain and collar
Of red gold, studded with pearls;
With bracelet of gold, Sir Scholar,
The queen of my captive girls.
Hugo (savagely):
May the Most High God of battles
The Lord and Ruler of fights,
Who breaketh the shield that rattles,
Who snappeth the sword that smites,
In whose hands are footmen and horsemen,
At whose breath they conquer or flee,
Never show me His mercy, Norseman!
If I show mercy to thee.
Osric:
What, ho! art thou drunk, Sir Norman?
Has the wine made thy pale cheek red?
Now, I swear by Odin and Thor, man,
Already I count thee dead.
102
Rudolph:
I crave thy pardon for baulking
The flood of thine eloquence,
But thou canst not scare us with talking,
I therefore pray thee go hence.
Osric:
Though I may not take up thy gauntlet,
Should we meet where the steel strikes fire,
'Twixt thy casque and thy charger's frontlet
The choice will perplex thy squire.
Hugo:
When the Norman rowels are goading,
When glitters the Norman glaive,
Thou shalt call upon Thor and Odin:
They shall not hear thee nor save.
"Should we meet!" Aye, the chance may fall so,
In the furious battle drive,
So may God deal with me — more, also!
If we separate, both alive!
SCENE — The Court-yard of the Old Farm.
EUSTACE and other followers of HUGO and ERIC lounging about.
Enter THURSTON hastily, with swords under his arm.
Thurston:
Now saddle your horses and girth them tight,
And see that your weapons are sharp and bright.
Come, lads, get ready as fast as you can.
Eustace:
Why, what's this bustle about, old man?
Thurston:
Well, it seems Lord Hugo has changed his mind,
As the weathercock veers with the shifting wind;
He has gone in person to Osric's camp,
103
To tell him to pack up his tents and tramp!
But I guess he won't.
Eustace: Then I hope he will,
They are plenty to eat us, as well as to kill.
Ralph:
And I hope he won't — I begin to feel
A longing to moisten my thirsty steel.
[They begin to saddle and make preparations
for a skirmish.]
Thurston:
I've a couple of blades to look to here.
In their scabbards I scarcely could make them stir
At first, but I'll sharpen them both ere long.
A Man-at-arms:
Hurrah for a skirmish! Who'll give us a song?
Thurston (sings, cleaning and sharpening):
Hurrah! for the sword! I hold one here,
And I scour at the rust and say,
'Tis the umpire this, and the arbiter,
That settles in the fairest way;
For it stays false tongues and it cools hot blood,
And it lowers the proud one's crest;
And the law of the land is sometimes good,
But the law of the sword is best.
In all disputes 'tis the shortest plan,
The surest and best appeal; —
What else can decide between man and man?
(Chorus of all):
Hurrah! for the bright blue steel!
Thurston (sings):
Hurrah! for the sword of Hugo, our lord!
'Tis a trusty friend and a true;
It has held its own on a grassy sward,
When its blade shone bright and blue,
Though it never has stricken in anger hard,
104
And has scarcely been cleansed from rust,
Since the day when it broke through Harold's guard
With our favourite cut and thrust;
Yet Osric's crown will look somewhat red,
And his brain will be apt to reel,
Should the trenchant blade come down on his head —
(Chorus of all):
Hurrah! for the bright blue steel!
Thurston (sings):
Hurrah! for the sword of our ally bold,
It has done good service to him;
It has held its own on an open wold,
When its edge was in keener trim.
It may baffle the plots of the wisest skull,
It may slacken the strongest limb,
Make the brains full of forethought void and null,
And the eyes full of far-sight dim;
And the hasty hands are content to wait,
And the knees are compelled to kneel,
Where it falls with the weight of a downstroke straight —
(Chorus of all):
Hurrah! for the bright blue steel!
Thurston (sings):
Hurrah! for the sword — I've one of my own;
And I think I may safely say,
Give my enemy his, let us stand alone,
And our quarrel shall end one way;
One way or the other — it matters not much,
So the question be fairly tried.
Oh! peacemaker good, bringing peace with a touch,
Thy clients will be satisfied.
As a judge, thou dost judge — as a witness, attest,
And thou settest thy hand and seal,
And the winner is blest, and the loser at rest —
(Chorus of all):
Hurrah! for the bright blue steel!
[Hugo and Eric enter during the last verse
105
of the song.]
Hugo:
Boot and saddle, old friend,
Their defiance they send;
Time is short — make an end
Of thy song.
Let the sword in this fight
Strike as hard for the right
As it once struck for might
Leagued with wrong.
Ha! Rollo, thou champest
Thy bridle and stampest,
For the rush of the tempest
Dost long?
Ho! the kites will grow fatter
On the corpses we scatter,
In the paths where we shatter
Their throng.
Where Osric, the craven,
Hath reared the black raven
'Gainst monks that are shaven
And cowl'd:
Where the Teuton and Hun sit,
In the track of our onset,
Will the wolves, ere the sunset,
Have howl'd.
Retribution is good,
They have revell'd in blood,
Like the wolves of the wood
They have prowl'd.
Birds of prey they have been,
And of carrion unclean,
And their own nests (I ween)
They have foul'd.
Eric:
Two messengers since
Yestermorn have gone hence,
106
And ere long will the Prince
Bring relief.
Shall we pause? — they are ten
To our one, but their men
Are ill-arm'd, and scarce ken
Their own chief;
And for this we give thanks:
Their disorderly ranks,
If assail'd in the flanks,
Will as lief
Run as fight — loons and lords.
Hugo:
Mount your steeds! draw your swords!
Take your places! My words
Shall be brief:
Ride round by the valley,
Through pass and gorge sally —
The linden trees rally
Beneath.
Then, Eric and Thurston,
Their ranks while we burst on,
Try which will be first on
The heath.
(Aside)
Look again, mother mine,
Through the happy starshine,
For my sins dost thou pine?
With my breath,
See! thy pangs are all done,
For the life of thy son:
Thou shalt never feel one
For his death.
[They all go out but Hugo, who lingers to tighten
his girths. Orion appears suddenly in the gateway.]
Orion:
Stay, friend! I keep guard on
Thy soul's gates; hold hard on
Thy horse. Hope of pardon
107
Hath fled!
Bethink once, I crave thee,
Can recklessness save thee?
Hell sooner will have thee
Instead.
Hugo:
Back! My soul, tempest-toss'd,
Hath her Rubicon cross'd,
She shall fly — saved or lost!
Void of dread!
Sharper pang than the steel,
Thou, oh, serpent! shalt feel,
Should I set the bruised heel
On thy head.
[He rides out.]
SCENE — A Room in the Convent Tower Overlooking the Gate.
URSULA at the window. AGATHA and Nuns crouching or kneeling in a corner.
Ursula:
See, Ellinor! Agatha! Anna!
While yet for the ladders they wait,
Jarl Osric hath rear'd the black banner
Within a few yards of the gate;
It faces our window, the raven,
The badge of the cruel sea-kings,
That has carried to harbour and haven
Destruction and death on its wings.
Beneath us they throng, the fierce Norsemen,
The pikemen of Rudolph behind
Are mustered, and Dagobert's horsemen
With faces to rearward inclined;
Come last, on their coursers broad-chested,
Rough-coated, short-pastern'd and strong,
Their casques with white plumes thickly crested,
Their lances barb-headed and long:
They come through the shades of the linden,
Fleet riders and war-horses hot:
108
The Normans, our friends — we have sinn'd in
Our selfishness, sisters, I wot —
They come to add slaughter to slaughter,
Their handful can ne'er stem the tide
Of our foes, and our fate were but shorter
Without them. How fiercely they ride!
And "Hugo of Normandy!" "Hugo!"
"A rescue! a rescue!" rings loud,
And right on the many the few go!
A sway and a swerve of the crowd!
A springing and sparkling of sword-blades!
A crashing and 'countering of steeds!
And the white feathers fly 'neath their broad blades
Like foam-flakes! the spear-shafts like reeds!
A Nun (to Agatha):
Pray, sister!
Agatha: Alas! I have striven
To pray, but the lips move in vain
When the heart with such terror is riven.
Look again, Lady Abbess! Look again!
Ursula:
As leaves fall by wintry gusts scatter'd,
As fall by the sickle ripe ears,
As the pines by the whirlwind fall shatter'd,
As shatter'd by bolt fall the firs —
To the right hand they fall, to the left hand
They yield! They go down! they give back!
And their ranks are divided and cleft, and
Dispers'd and destroy'd in the track!
Where, stirrup to stirrup, and bridle
To bridle, down-trampling the slain!
Our friends, wielding swords never idle,
Hew bloody and desperate lane
Through pikemen, so crowded together
They scarce for their pikes can find room,
Led by Hugo's gilt crest, the tall feather
Of Thurston, and Eric's black plume!
A Nun (to Agatha):
109
Pray, sister!
Agatha: First pray thou that heaven
Will lift this dull weight from my brain,
That crushes like crime unforgiven.
Look again, Lady Abbess! Look again!
Ursula:
Close under the gates men are fighting
On foot where the raven is rear'd!
'Neath that sword-stroke, through helm and skull smiting,
Jarl Osric falls, cloven to the beard!
And Hugo, the hilt firmly grasping,
His heel on the throat of his foe,
Wrenches back. I can hear the dull rasping,
The steel through the bone grating low!
And the raven rocks! Thurston has landed
Two strokes, well directed and hard,
On the standard pole, wielding, two-handed,
A blade crimson'd up to the guard.
Like the mast cut in two by the lightning,
The black banner topples and falls!
Bewildering! back-scattering! affright'ning!
It clears a wide space next the walls.
A Nun (to Agatha):
Pray, sister!
Agatha: Does the sinner unshriven,
With naught beyond this life to gain,
Pray for mercy on earth or in heaven?
Look again, Lady Abbess! Look again!
Ursula:
The gates are flung open, and straightway,
By Ambrose and Cyril led on,
Our own men rush out through the gateway;
One charge, and the entrance is won!
No! our foes block the gate and endeavour
To force their way in! Oath and yell,
Shout and war-cry wax wilder than ever!
Those children of Odin fight well;
110
And my ears are confused by the crashing,
The jarring, the discord, the din;
And mine eyes are perplex'd by the flashing
Of fierce lights that ceaselessly spin;
So when thunder to thunder is calling,
Quick flash follows flash in the shade,
So leaping and flashing and falling,
Blade flashes and follows on blade!
While the sward, newly plough'd, freshly painted,
Grows purple with blood of the slain,
And slippery! Has Agatha fainted?
Agatha:
Not so, Lady Abbess! Look again!
Ursula:
No more from the window; in the old years
I have look'd upon strife. Now I go
To the court-yard to rally our soldiers
As I may — face to face with the foe.
[She goes out.]
SCENE — A Room in the Convent.
THURSTON seated near a small fire.
Enter EUSTACE.
Eustace:
We have come through this skirmish with hardly a scratch.
Thurston:
And without us, I fancy, they have a full batch
Of sick men to look to. Those robbers accurs'd
Will soon put our soundest on terms with our worst.
Nathless I'd have bartered, with never a frown,
Ten years for those seconds when Osric went down.
Where's Ethelwolf?
Eustace: Dying.
111
Thurston: And Reginald?
Eustace: Dead.
And Ralph is disabled, and Rudolph is sped.
He may last till midnight — not longer. Nor Tyrrel,
Nor Brian will ever see sunrise.
Thurston: That Cyril,
The monk, is a very respectable fighter.
Eustace:
Not bad for a monk. Yet our loss had been lighter
Had he and his fellows thrown open the gate
A little more quickly. And now, spite of fate,
With thirty picked soldiers their siege we might weather,
But the Abbess is worth all the rest put together.
[Enter Ursula.]
Thurston:
Here she comes.
Ursula: Can I speak with your lord?
Eustace: 'Tis too late,
He was dead when we carried him in at the gate.
Thurston:
Nay, he spoke after that, for I heard him myself;
But he won't speak again, he must lie on his shelf.
Ursula:
Alas! is he dead, then?
Thurston: As dead as St. Paul.
And what then? to-morrow we, too, one and all,
Die, to fatten these ravenous carrion birds.
I knelt down by Hugo and heard his last words:
"How heavy the night hangs — how wild the waves dash;
Say a mass for my soul — and give Rollo a mash."
Ursula:
112
Nay, Thurston, thou jestest.
Thurston: Ask Eric. I swear
We listened and caught every syllable clear.
Eustace:
Why, his horse was slain, too.
Thurston: 'Neath the linden trees grey,
Ere the onset, young Henry rode Rollo away;
He will hasten the Prince, and they may reach your gate
To-morrow — though to-morrow for us is too late.
Hugo rode the boy's mare, and she's dead — if you like —
Disembowel'd by the thrust of a freebooter's pike.
Eustace:
Neither Henry nor Rollo we ever shall see.
Ursula:
But we may hold the walls till to-morrow.
Thurston: Not we.
In an hour or less, having rallied their force,
They'll storm your old building — and take it, of course,
Since of us, who alone in war's science are skill'd,
One-third are disabled, and two-thirds are kill'd.
Ursula:
Art thou hurt?
Thurston: At present I feel well enough,
But your water is brackish, unwholesome and rough;
Bring a flask of your wine, dame, for Eustace and I,
Let us gaily give battle and merrily die.
[Enter Eric, with arm in sling.]
Eric:
Thou art safe, Lady Abbess! The convent is safe!
To be robbed of their prey how the ravens will chafe!
The vanguard of Otto is looming in sight!
At the sheen of their spears, see! thy foemen take flight,
Their foremost are scarce half a mile from the wall.
113
Thurston:
Bring the wine, lest those Germans should swallow it all.
SCENE — The Chapel of the Convent.
Dirge of the Monks:
Earth to earth, and dust to dust,
Ashes unto ashes go.
Judge not. He who judgeth just,
Judgeth merciful also.
Earthly penitence hath fled,
Earthly sin hath ceased to be;
Pile the sods on heart and head,
Miserere Domine!
Hominum et angelorum,
Domine! precamur te
Ut immemor sis malorum —
Miserere Domine!
(Miserere!)
Will the fruits of life brought forth,
Pride and greed, and wrath and lust,
Profit in the day of wrath,
When the dust returns to dust?
Evil flower and thorny fruit
Load the wild and worthless tree.
Lo! the axe is at the root,
Miserere Domine!
Spes, fidesque, caritasque,
Frustra fatigant per se,
Frustra virtus, forsque, fasque,
Miserere Domine!
(Miserere!)
Fair without and foul within,
When the honey'd husks are reft
From the bitter sweets of sin,
114
Bitterness alone is left;
Yet the wayward soul hath striven
Mostly hell's ally to be,
In the strife 'twixt hell and heaven,
Miserere Domine!
Heu! heu! herba latet anguis —
Caro herba — carni vae —
Solum purgat, Christi sanguis,
Miserere Domine!
(Miserere!)
Pray that in the doubtful fight
Man may win through sore distress,
By His goodness infinite,
And His mercy fathomless.
Pray for one more of the weary,
Head bow'd down and bended knee,
Swell the requiem, Miserere!
Miserere Domine!
Bonum, malum, qui fecisti
Mali imploramus te,
Salve fratrem, causa Christi,
Miserere Domine!
(Miserere!)
[End of Ashtaroth.]
~ Adam Lindsay Gordon,#NFDB
1317 Integral Yoga
316 Poetry
109 Occultism
101 Philosophy
93 Christianity
85 Fiction
83 Yoga
64 Psychology
27 Mysticism
17 Theosophy
15 Education
14 Integral Theory
13 Science
10 Mythology
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9 Sufism
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6 Baha i Faith
4 Kabbalah
4 Cybernetics
2 Zen
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770 The Mother
618 Sri Aurobindo
436 Satprem
307 Nolini Kanta Gupta
66 Carl Jung
60 William Wordsworth
53 Sri Ramakrishna
53 H P Lovecraft
36 Percy Bysshe Shelley
33 Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
32 Aleister Crowley
27 Saint Augustine of Hippo
26 Friedrich Nietzsche
24 A B Purani
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19 Walt Whitman
15 Swami Vivekananda
14 Jorge Luis Borges
14 Aldous Huxley
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11 Rabindranath Tagore
10 Swami Krishnananda
10 Robert Browning
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5 Swami Sivananda Saraswati
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125 The Synthesis Of Yoga
65 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 03
60 Wordsworth - Poems
57 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04
56 Questions And Answers 1957-1958
54 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07
53 Lovecraft - Poems
52 The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna
51 Questions And Answers 1950-1951
50 Agenda Vol 01
48 Letters On Yoga IV
46 On Thoughts And Aphorisms
44 Letters On Yoga II
44 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01
43 Questions And Answers 1956
42 The Life Divine
41 Agenda Vol 08
39 Letters On Yoga III
39 Agenda Vol 04
38 Agenda Vol 03
37 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02
37 Agenda Vol 10
36 Shelley - Poems
36 Savitri
35 Essays In Philosophy And Yoga
34 Prayers And Meditations
33 Agenda Vol 06
29 Questions And Answers 1953
29 Essays On The Gita
29 Agenda Vol 07
29 Agenda Vol 02
28 Questions And Answers 1954
27 Questions And Answers 1955
27 Mysterium Coniunctionis
27 Agenda Vol 05
25 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 05
25 Agenda Vol 09
24 Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo
22 The Human Cycle
22 Letters On Yoga I
21 Record of Yoga
21 Magick Without Tears
21 Agenda Vol 11
20 The Golden Bough
20 Keats - Poems
19 Thus Spoke Zarathustra
19 Questions And Answers 1929-1931
18 Whitman - Poems
18 The Practice of Psycho therapy
18 Letters On Poetry And Art
17 Sri Aurobindo or the Adventure of Consciousness
17 On the Way to Supermanhood
17 City of God
17 Agenda Vol 13
16 Essays Divine And Human
16 Agenda Vol 12
15 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 08
14 The Perennial Philosophy
14 Some Answers From The Mother
14 Collected Poems
13 Yeats - Poems
13 The Phenomenon of Man
13 The Mother With Letters On The Mother
13 On Education
13 Of The Nature Of Things
12 Words Of The Mother II
12 The Secret Of The Veda
12 Theosophy
12 The Ladder of Divine Ascent
12 Liber ABA
12 Labyrinths
11 The Confessions of Saint Augustine
11 Tagore - Poems
11 Aion
10 The Study and Practice of Yoga
10 The Bible
10 The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious
10 Talks
10 Preparing for the Miraculous
10 Browning - Poems
9 Words Of Long Ago
9 Twelve Years With Sri Aurobindo
9 Schiller - Poems
9 Bhakti-Yoga
8 Vedic and Philological Studies
8 The Future of Man
8 Knowledge of the Higher Worlds
8 Emerson - Poems
8 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 06
8 A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah
7 Twilight of the Idols
7 Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 02
7 Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 01
7 Isha Upanishad
7 Hymn of the Universe
6 Walden
6 Vishnu Purana
6 The Secret Doctrine
6 The Problems of Philosophy
6 The Integral Yoga
6 Metamorphoses
6 Kena and Other Upanishads
6 Faust
5 The Practice of Magical Evocation
5 Tara - The Feminine Divine
5 Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 04
5 Maps of Meaning
5 Let Me Explain
5 Hymns to the Mystic Fire
5 How to Free Your Mind - Tara the Liberator
5 A Treatise on Cosmic Fire
5 Amrita Gita
4 Words Of The Mother III
4 The Red Book Liber Novus
4 The Hero with a Thousand Faces
4 The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People
4 Rilke - Poems
4 Poe - Poems
4 Milarepa - Poems
4 General Principles of Kabbalah
4 Cybernetics
3 The Lotus Sutra
3 The Interior Castle or The Mansions
3 The Book of Certitude
3 The Alchemy of Happiness
3 Songs of Kabir
3 Sex Ecology Spirituality
3 Raja-Yoga
3 Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 03
3 Patanjali Yoga Sutras
3 Arabi - Poems
3 Anonymous - Poems
3 5.1.01 - Ilion
2 Writings In Bengali and Sanskrit
2 Words Of The Mother I
2 The Way of Perfection
2 The Tibetan Yogas of Dream and Sleep
2 The Essentials of Education
2 The Blue Cliff Records
2 Symposium
2 Selected Fictions
2 Poetics
2 Liber Null
2 Borges - Poems
2 Beating the Cloth Drum Letters of Zen Master Hakuin
2 Advanced Dungeons and Dragons 2E
00.01 - The Approach to Mysticism, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
For it must be understood that the heart, the mystic heart, is not the external thing which is the seat of emotion or passion; it is the secret heart that is behind, the inner heartantarhdaya of the Upanishadwhich is the centre of the individual consciousness, where all the divergent lines of that consciousness meet and from where they take their rise. That is what the Upanishad means when it says that the heart has a hundred channels which feed the human vehicle. That is the source, the fount and origin, the very substance of the true personality. Mystic knowledge the true mystic knowledge which saves and fulfilsbegins with the awakening or the entrance into this real being. This being is pure and luminous and blissful and sovereignly real, because it is a portion, a spark of the Divine Consciousness and Nature: a contact and communion with it brings automatically into play the light and the truth that are its substance. At the same time it is an uprising flame that reaches out naturally to higher domains of consciousness and manifests them through its translucid dynamism.
The knowledge that is obtained without the heart's instrumentation or co-operation is liable to be what the Gita describes as Asuric. First of all, from the point of view of knowledge itself, it would be, as I have already said, egocentric, a product and agent of one's limited and isolated self, easily put at the service of desire and passion. This knowledge, whether rationalistic or occult, is, as it were, hard and dry in its constitution, and oftener than not, negative and destructivewi thering and blasting in its career like the desert simoom.
00.02 - Mystic Symbolism, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
These other worlds are constituted in other ways than ours. Their contents are different and the laws that obtain there are also different. It would be a gross blunder to attempt a chart of any of these other systems, to use an Einsteinian term, with the measures and conventions of the system to which our external waking consciousness belongs. For, there "the sun shines not, nor the moon, nor the stars, neither these lightnings nor this fire." The difficulty is further enhanced by the fact that there are very many unseen worlds and they all differ from the seen and from one another in manner and degree. Thus, for example, the Upanishads speak of the swapna, the suupta, and the turya, domains beyond the jgrat which is that where the rational being with its mind and senses lives and moves. And there are other systems and other ways in which systems exist, and they are practically innumerable.
If, however, we have to speak of these other worlds, then, since we can speak only in the terms of this world, we have to use them in a different sense from those they usually bear; we must employ them as figures and symbols. Even then they may prove inadequate and misleading; so there are Mystics who are averse to all speech and expression they are mauni; in silence they experience the inexpressible and in silence they communicate it to the few who have the capacity to receive in silence.
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When a Mystic refers to the Solar Light or to the Fire the light, for example, that struck down Saul and transformed him into Saint Paul or the burning bush that visited Moses, it is not the physical or material object that he means and yet it is that in a way. It is the materialization of something that is fundamentally not material: some movement in an inner consciousness precipitates itself into the region of the senses and takes from out of the material the form commensurable with its nature that it finds there.
And there is such a commensurability or parallelism between the various levels of consciousness, in and through all the differences that separate them from one another. Thus an object or a movement apprehended on the physical plane has a sort of line of re-echoing images extended in a series along the whole gradation of the inner planes; otherwise viewed, an object or movement in the innermost consciousness translates itself in varying modes from plane to plane down to the most material, where it appears in its grossest form as a concrete three-dimensional object or a mechanical movement. This parallelism or commensurability by virtue of which the different and divergent states of consciousness can portray or represent each other is the source of all symbolism.
A symbol symbolizes something for this reason that both possess in common a certain identical, at least similar, quality or rhythm or vibration, the symbol possessing it in a grosser or more apparent or sensuous form than the thing symbolized does. Sometimes it may happen that it is more than a certain quality or rhythm or vibration that is common between the two: the symbol in its entirety is the thing symbolized but thrown down on another plane, it is the embodiment of the latter in a more concrete world. The light and the fire that Saint Paul and Moses saw appear to be of this kind.
Thus there is a great diversity of symbols. At the one end is the mere metaphor or simile or allegory ('figure', as we have called it) and at the other end is the symbol identical with the thing symbolized. And upon this inner character of the symbol depends also to a large extent its range and scope. There are symbols which are universal and intimately ingrained in the human consciousness itself. Mankind has used them in all ages and climes almost in the same sense and significance. There are others that are limited to peoples and ages. They are made out of forms that are of local and temporal interest and importance. Their significances vary according to time and place. Finally, there are symbols which are true of the individual consciousness only; they depend on personal peculiarities and idiosyncrasies, on one's environment and upbringing and education.
Man being an embodied soul, his external consciousness (what the Upanishad calls jgrat) is the milieu in which his soul-experiences naturally manifest and find their play. It is the forms and movements of that consciousness which clo the and give a concrete habitation and name to perceptions on the subtler ranges of the inner existence. If the experiences on these planes are to be presented to the conscious memory and to the brain-mind and made communicable to others through speech, this is the inevitable and natural process. Symbols are a translation in mental and sensual (and vocal) terms of experiences that are beyond the mind and the sense and the speech and yet throw a kind of echoing vibrations upon these lesser levels.
***
00.03 - Upanishadic Symbolism, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
It may be asked why the dog has been chosen as the symbol of Intuition. In the Vedas, the cow and the horse also play a large part; even the donkey and the frog have their own assigned roles. These objects are taken from the environment of ordinary life, and are those that are most familiar to the external consciousness, through which the inner experiences have to express themselves, if they are to be expressed at all. These material objects represent various kinds of forces and movements and subtle and occult and spiritual dynamisms. Strictly speaking, however, symbols are not chosen in a subtle or spiritual experience, that is to say, they are not arbitrarily selected and constructed by the conscious intelligence. They form part of a dramatization (to use a term of the Freudian psychology of dreams), a psychological alchemy, whose method and process and rationale are very obscure, which can be penetrated only by the vision of a third eye.
I. The Several Lights
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The progression indicated by the order of succession points to a gradual withdrawal from the outer to the inner light, from the surface to the deep, from the obvious to the secret, from the actual and derivative to the real and original. We begin by the senses and move towards the Spirit.
The Sun is the first and the most immediate source of light that man has and needs. He is the presiding deity of our waking consciousness and has his seat in the eyecakusa ditya, ditya caku bhtvakii prviat. The eye is the representative of the senses; it is the sense par excellence. In truth, sense-perception is the initial light with which we have to guide us, it is the light with which we start on the way. A developed stage comes when the Sun sets for us, that is to say, when we retire from the senses and rise into the mind, whose divinity is the Moon. It is the mental knowledge, the light of reason and intelligence, of reflection and imagination that govern our consciousness. We have to proceed farther and get beyond the mind, exceed the derivative light of the Moon. So when the Moon sets, the Fire is kindled. It is the light of the ardent and aspiring heart, the glow of an inner urge, the instincts and inspirations of our secret life-will. Here we come into touch with a source of knowledge and realization, a guidance more direct than the mind and much deeper than the sense-perception. Still this light partakes more of heat than of pure luminosity; it is, one may say, incandescent feeling, but not vision. We must probe deeper, mount higherreach heights and profundities that are serene and transparent. The Fire is to be quieted and silenced, says the Upanishad. Then we come nearer, to the immediate vicinity of the Truth: an inner hearing opens, the direct voice of Truth the Wordreaches us to lead and guide. Even so, however, we have not come to the end of our journey; the Word of revelation is not the ultimate Light. The Word too is clothing, though a luminous clothinghiramayam ptram When this last veil dissolves and disappears, when utter silence, absolute calm and quietude reign in the entire consciousness, when no other lights trouble or distract our attention, there appears the Atman in its own body; we stand face to face with the source of all lights, the self of the Light, the light of the Self. We are that Light and we become that Light.
II. The Four Oblations
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Fire represents the Heart. It is that which gives the inner motive to the forces of life, it is the secret inspiration and aspiration that drive the movements of life. It is the heat of consciousness, the ardour of our central being that lives in the Truth and accepts nothing, nothing but the Truth. It is the pure and primal energy of our divine essence, driving ever upward and onward life's course of evolution.
Air is Mind, the world of thought, of conscious formation; it is where life-movements are taken up and given a shape or articulate formula for an organised expression. The forms here have not, however, the concrete rigidity of Matter, but are pliant and variable and fluidin fact, they are more in the nature of possibilities, rather than actualities. The Vedic Maruts are thought-gods, and lndra (the Luminous Mind), their king, is called the Fashioner of perfect forms.
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Some Western and Westernised scholars have tried to show that the phenomenon described here is an exclusively natural phenomenon, actually visible in the polar region where the sun never sets for six months and moves in a circle whose plane is parallel to the plane of the horizon on the summer solstice and is gradually inclined as the sun regresses towards the equinox (on which day just half the solar disc is visible above the horizon). The sun may be said there to move in the direction East-South-West-North and again East. Indeed the Upanishad mentions the positions of the sun in that order and gives a character to each successive station. The Ray from the East is red, symbolising the Rik, the Southern Ray is white, symbolising the Yajur, the Western Ray is black symbolising the Atharva. The natural phenomenon, however, might have been or might not have been before the mind's eye of the Rishi, but the symbolism, the esotericism of it is clear enough in the way the Rishi speaks of it. Also, apart from the first four movements (which it is already sufficiently difficult to identify completely with what is visible), the fifth movement, as a separate descending movement from above appears to be a foreign element in the context. And although, with regard to the sixth movement or status, the sun is visible as such exactly from the point of the North Pole for a while, the ring of the Rishi's utterance is unmistakably spiritual, it cannot but refer to a fact of inner consciousness that is at least what the physical fact conveys to the Rishi and what he seeks to convey and express primarily.
Now this is what is sought to be conveyed and expressed. The five movements of the sun here also are nothing but the five smas and they refer to the cycle of the Cosmic or Universal Brahman. The sixth status where all movements cease, where there is no rising and setting, no ebb and flow, no waxing and waning, where there is the immutable, the ever-same unity, is very evidently the Transcendental Brahman. It is That to which the Vedic Rishi refers when he prays for a constant and fixed vision of the eternal Sunjyok ca sryam drie.
It would be interesting to know what the five ranges or levels or movements of consciousness exactly are that make up the Universal Brahman described in this passage. It is the mystic knowledge, the Upanishad says, of the secret delight in thingsmadhuvidy. The five ranges are the five fundamental principles of delightimmortalities, the Veda would say that form the inner core of the pyramid of creation. They form a rising tier and are ruled respectively by the godsAgni, Indra, Varuna, Soma and Brahmawith their emanations and instrumental personalities the Vasus, the Rudras, the Adityas, the Maruts and the Sadhyas. We suggest that these refer to the five well-known levels of being, the modes or nodi of consciousness or something very much like them. The Upanishad speaks elsewhere of the five sheaths. The six Chakras of Tantric system lie in the same line. The first and the basic mode is the physical and the ascent from the physical: Agni and the Vasus are always intimately connected with the earth and -the earth-principles (it can be compared with the Muladhara of the Tantras). Next, second in the line of ascent is the Vital, the centre of power and dynamism of which the Rudras are the deities and Indra the presiding God (cf. Swadhishthana of the Tantras the navel centre). Indra, in the Vedas, has two aspects, one of knowledge and vision and the other of dynamic force and drive. In the first aspect he is more often considered as the Lord of the Mind, of the Luminous Mind. In the present passage, Indra is taken in his second aspect and instead of the Maruts with whom he is usually invoked has the Rudras as his agents and associates.
The third in the line of ascension is the region of Varuna and the Adityas, that is to say, of the large Mind and its lightsperhaps it can be connected with Tantric Ajnachakra. The fourth is the domain of Soma and the Marutsthis seems to be the inner heart, the fount of delight and keen and sweeping aspirations the Anahata of the Tantras. The fifth is the region of the crown of the head, the domain of Brahma and the Sadhyas: it is the Overmind status from where comes the descending inflatus, the creative Maya of Brahma. And when you go beyond, you pass into the ultimate status of the Sun, the reality absolute, the Transcendent which is indescribable, unseizable, indeterminate, indeterminable, incommensurable; and once there, one never returns, neverna ca punarvartate na ca punarvartate.
VIII. How Many Gods?
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The first boon regards the individual, that is to say, the individual identity and integrity. It asks for the maintenance of that individuality so that it may be saved from the dissolution that Death brings about. Death, of course, means the dissolution of the body, but it represents also dissolution pure and simple. Indeed death is a process which does not stop with the physical phenomenon, but continues even after; for with the body gone, the other elements of the individual organism, the vital and the mental too gradually fall off, fade and dissolve. Nachiketas wishes to secure from Death the safety and preservation of the earthly personality, the particular organisation of mind and vital based upon a recognisable physical frame. That is the first necessity for the aspiring mortalfor, it is said, the body is the first instrument for the working out of one's life ideal. But man's true personality, the real individuality lies beyond, beyond the body, beyond the life, beyond the mind, beyond the triple region that Death lords it over. That is the divine world, the Heaven of the immortals, beyond death and beyond sorrow and grief. It is the hearth secreted in the inner heart where burns the Divine Fire, the God of Life Everlasting. And this is the nodus that binds together the threefold status of the manifested existence, the body, the life and the mind. This triplicity is the structure of name and form built out of the bricks of experience, the kiln, as it were, within which burns the Divine Agni, man's true soul. This soul can be reached only when one exceeds the bounds and limitations of the triple cord and experiences one's communion and identity with all souls and all existence. Agni is the secret divinity within, within the individual and within the world; he is the Immanent Divine, the cosmic godhead that holds together and marshals all the elements and components, all the principles that make up the manifest universe. He it is that has entered into the world and created facets of his own reality in multiple forms: and it is he that lies secret in the human being as the immortal soul through all its adventure of life and death in the series of incarnations in terrestrial evolution. The adoration and realisation of this Immanent Divinity, the worship of Agni taught by Yama in the second boon, consists in the triple sacrifice, the triple work, the triple union in the triple status of the physical, the vital and the mental consciousness, the mastery of which leads one to the other shore, the abode of perennial existence where the human soul enjoys its eternity and unending continuity in cosmic life. Therefore, Agni, the master of the psychic being, is called jtaveds, he who knows the births, all the transmigrations from life to life.
The third boon is the secret of secrets, for it is the knowledge and realisation of Transcendence that is sought here. Beyond the individual lies the universal; is there anything beyond the universal? The release of the individual into the cosmic existence gives him the griefless life eternal: can the cosmos be rolled up and flung into something beyond? What would be the nature of that thing? What is there outside creation, outside manifestation, outside Maya, to use a latter day term? Is there existence or non-existence (utter dissolution or extinctionDeath in his supreme and absolute status)? King Yama did not choose to answer immediately and even endeavoured to dissuade Nachiketas from pursuing the question over which people were confounded, as he said. Evidently it was a much discussed problem in those days. Buddha was asked the same question and he evaded it, saying that the pragmatic man should attend to practical and immediate realities and not, waste time and energy in discussing things ultimate and beyond that have hardly any relation to the present and the actual.
But Yama did answer and unveil the mystery and impart the supreme secret knowledge the knowledge of the Transcendent Brahman: it is out of the transcendent reality that the immanent deity takes his birth. Hence the Divine Fire, the Lord of creation and the inner Mastersarvabhtntartm, antarymis called brahmajam, born of the Brahman. Yama teaches the process of transcendence. Apart from the knowledge and experience first of the individual and then of the cosmic Brahman, there is a definite line along which the human consciousness (or unconsciousness, as it is at present) is to ascend and evolve. The first step is to learn to distinguish between the Good and the Pleasurable (reya and preya). The line of pleasure leads to the external, the superficial, the false: while the other path leads towards the inner and the higher truth. So the second step is the gradual withdrawal of the consciousness from the physical and the sensual and even the mental preoccupation and focussing it upon what is certain and permanent. In the midst of the death-ridden consciousness in the heart of all that is unstable and fleetingone has to look for Agni, the eternal godhead, the Immortal in mortality, the Timeless in time through whom lies the passage to Immortality beyond Time.
Man has two souls corresponding to his double status. In the inferior, the soul looks downward and is involved in the current of Impermanence and Ignorance, it tastes of grief and sorrow and suffers death and dissolution: in the higher it looks upward and communes and joins with the Eternal (the cosmic) and then with the Absolute (the transcendent). The lower is a reflection of the higher, the higher comes down in a diminished and hence tarnished light. The message is that of deliverance, the deliverance and reintegration of the lower soul out of its bondage of worldly ignorant life into the freedom and immortality first of its higher and then of its highest status. It is true, however, that the Upanishad does not make a trenchant distinction between the cosmic and the transcendent and often it speaks of both in the same breath, as it were. For in fact they are realities involved in each other and interwoven. Indeed the triple status, including the Individual, forms one single totality and the three do not exclude or cancel each other; on the contrary, they combine and may be said to enhance each other's reality. The Transcendence expresses or deploys itself in the cosmoshe goes abroad,sa paryagt: and the cosmic individualises, concretises itself in the particular and the personal. The one single spiritual reality holds itself, aspects itself in a threefold manner.
The teaching of Yama in brief may be said to be the gospel of immortality and it consists of the knowledge of triple immortality. And who else can be the best teacher of immortality than Death himself, as Nachiketas pointedly said? The first immortality is that of the physical existence and consciousness, the preservation of the personal identity, the individual name and formthis being in itself as expression and embodiment and instrument of the inner Reality. This inner reality enshrines the second immortality the eternity and continuity of the soul's life through its incarnations in time, the divine Agni lit for ever and ever growing in flaming consciousness. And the third and final immortality is in the being and consciousness beyond time, beyond all relativities, the absolute and self-existent delight.
Rig Veda, X. 14-11, 12.
00.04 - The Beautiful in the Upanishads, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The perception of beauty in the Upanishadic consciousness is something elemental-of concentrated essence. It silhouettes the main contour, outlines the primordial gestures. Pregnant and pulsating with the burden of beauty, the mantra here reduces its external expression to a minimum. The body is bare and unadorned, and even in its nakedness, it has not the emphatic and vehement musculature of an athlete; rather it tends to be slim and slender and yet vibrant with the inner nervous vigour and glow. What can be more bare and brief and full to the brim of a self-gathered luminous energy than, for example:
yat prena na praiti yena pra
00.05 - A Vedic Conception of the Poet, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
'Kavi' is an invariable epithet of the gods. The Vedas mean by this attribute to bring out a most fundamental character, an inalienable dharma of the heavenly host. All the gods are poets; and a human being can become a poet only in so far as he attains to the nature and status of a god. Who is then a kavi? The Poet is he who by his poetic power raises forms of beauty in heavenkavi kavitv divi rpam sajat.1Thus the essence of poetic power is to fashion divine Beauty, to reveal heavenly forms. What is this Heaven whose forms the Poet discovers and embodies? HeavenDyaushas a very definite connotation in the Veda. It means the luminous or divine Mind 2the mind purified of its obscurity and limitations, due to subjection to the external senses, thus opening to the higher Light, receiving and recording faithfully the deeper and vaster movements and vibrations of the Truth, giving them a form, a perfect body of the right thought and the right word. Indra is the lord of this world and he can be approached only with an enkindled intelligence, ddhay man,3a faultless understanding, sumedh. He is the supreme Artisan of the poetic power,Tash, the maker of perfect forms, surpa ktnum.4 All the gods turn towards Indra and become gods and poets, attain their Great Names of Supreme Beauty.5 Indra is also the master of the senses, indriyas, who are his hosts. It is through this mind and the senses that the poetic creation has to be manifested. The mind spreads out wide the Poet's weaving;6 the poet is the priest who calls down and works out the right thinking in the sacrificial labour of creation.7 But that creation is made in and through the inner mind and the inner senses that are alive to the subtle formation of a vaster knowledge.8 The poet envisages the golden forms fashioned out of the very profundity of the consciousness.9 For the substance, the material on which the Poet works, is Truth. The seat of the Truth the poets guard, they uphold the supreme secret Names.10 The poet has the expressive utterance, the creative word; the poet is a poet by his poetic creation-the shape faultlessly wrought out that unveils and holds the Truth.11The form of beauty is the body of the Truth.
The poet is a trinity in himself. A triune consciousness forms his personality. First of all, he is the Knower-the Seer of the Truth, kavaya satyadrara. He has the direct vision, the luminous intelligence, the immediate perception.12 A subtle and profound and penetrating consciousness is his,nigam, pracetas; his is the eye of the Sun,srya caku.13 He secures an increased being through his effulgent understanding.14 In the second place, the Poet is not only Seer but Doer; he is knower as well as creator. He has a dynamic knowledge and his vision itself is power, ncak;15 he is the Seer-Will,kavikratu.16 He has the blazing radiance of the Sun and is supremely potent in his self-Iuminousness.17 The Sun is the light and the energy of the Truth. Even like the Sun the Poet gives birth to the Truth, srya satyasava, satyya satyaprasavya. But the Poet as Power is not only the revealer or creator,savit, he is also the builder or fashioner,ta, and he is the organiser,vedh is personality. First of all, he is the Knower-the Seer of the Truth, kavaya satyadrara, of the Truth.18 As Savita he manifests the Truth, as Tashta he gives a perfected body and form to the Truth, and as Vedha he maintains the Truth in its dynamic working. The effective marshalling and organisation of the Truth is what is called Ritam, the Right; it is also called Dharma,19 the Law or the Rhythm, the ordered movement and invincible execution of the Truth. The Poet pursues the Path of the Right;20 it is he who lays out the Path for the march of the Truth, the progress of the Sacrifice.21 He is like a fast steed well-yoked, pressing forward;22 he is the charger that moves straight and unswerving and carries us beyond 23into the world of felicity.
0.00a - Introduction, #A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah, #Israel Regardie, #Occultism
Fortunately many scientists in the field of psycho therapy are beg inning to sense this correlation. In Francis G. Wickes' The inner World of Choice reference is made to "the existence in every person of a galaxy of potentialities for growth marked by a succession of personalogical evolution and interaction with environments." She points out that man is not only an individual particle but "also a part of the human stream, governed by a Self greater than his own individual self."
The Book of the Law states simply, "Every man and every woman is a star." This is a startling thought for those who considered a star a heavenly body, but a declaration subject to proof by anyone who will venture into the realm of his own Unconscious. This realm, he will learn if he persists, is not hemmed in by the boundaries of his physical body but is one with the boundless reaches of outer space.
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May everyone who reads this new edition of A Garden of Pomegranates be encouraged and inspired to light his own candle of inner vision and begin his journey into the boundless space that lies within himself. Then, through realization of his true identity, each student can become a lamp unto his own path. And more. Awareness of the Truth of his being will rip asunder the veil of unknowing that has heretofore enshrouded the star he already is, permitting the brilliance of his light to illumine the darkness of that part of the Universe in which he abides.
0.00 - INTRODUCTION, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
SRI RAMAKRISHNA, the God-man of modern India, was born at Kamarpukur. This village in the Hooghly District preserved during the last century the idyllic simplicity of the rural areas of Bengal. Situated far from the railway, it was untouched by the glamour of the city. It contained rice-fields, tall palms, royal banyans, a few lakes, and two cremation grounds. South of the village a stream took its leisurely course. A mango orchard dedicated by a neighbouring zemindar to the public use was frequented by the boys for their noonday sports. A highway passed through the village to the great temple of Jagannath at Puri, and the villagers, most of whom were farmers and craftsmen, entertained many passing holy men and pilgrims. The dull round of the rural life was broken by lively festivals, the observance of sacred days, religious singing, and other innocent pleasures.
About his parents Sri Ramakrishna once said: "My mother was the personification of rectitude and gentleness. She did not know much about the ways of the world; innocent of the art of concealment, she would say what was in her mind. People loved her for her open-heartedness. My father, an orthodox brahmin, never accepted gifts from the sudras. He spent much of his time in worship and meditation, and in repeating God's name and chanting His glories. Whenever in his daily prayers he invoked the Goddess Gayatri, his chest flushed and tears rolled down his cheeks. He spent his leisure hours making garlands for the Family Deity, Raghuvir."
Khudiram Chattopadhyaya and Chandra Devi, the parents of Sri Ramakrishna, were married in 1799. At that time Khudiram was living in his ancestral village of Dereypore, not far from Kamarpukur. Their first son, Ramkumar, was born in 1805, and their first daughter, Katyayani, in 1810. In 1814 Khudiram was ordered by his landlord to bear false witness in court against a neighbour. When he refused to do so, the landlord brought a false case against him and deprived him of his ancestral property. Thus dispossessed, he arrived, at the invitation of another landlord, in the quiet village of Kamarpukur, where he was given a dwelling and about an acre of fertile land. The crops from this little property were enough to meet his family's simple needs. Here he lived in simplicity, dignity, and contentment.
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Gadadhar was on the threshold of youth. He had become the pet of the women of the village. They loved to hear him talk, sing, or recite from the holy books. They enjoyed his knack of imitating voices. Their woman's instinct recognized the innate purity and guilelessness of this boy of clear skin, flowing hair, beaming eyes, smiling face, and inexhaustible fun. The pious elderly women looked upon him as Gopala, the Baby Krishna, and the younger ones saw in him the youthful Krishna of Vrindavan. He himself so idealized the love of the gopis for Krishna that he sometimes yearned to be born as a woman, if he must be born again, in order to be able to love Sri Krishna with all his heart and soul.
--- COMING TO CALCUTTA
--
The anguish of the inner soul of India found expression through these passionate words of the young Gadadhar. For what did his unsophisticated eyes see around him in Calcutta, at that time the metropolis of India and the centre of modem culture and learning? Greed and lust held sway in the higher levels of society, and the occasional religious practices were merely outer forms from which the soul had long ago departed. Gadadhar had never seen anything like this at Kamarpukur among the simple and pious villagers. The sadhus and wandering monks whom he had served in his boyhood had revealed to him an altogether different India. He had been impressed by their devotion and purity, their self-control and renunciation. He had learnt from them and from his own intuition that the ideal of life as taught by the ancient sages of India was the realization of God.
When Ramkumar reprimanded Gadadhar for neglecting a "bread-w inning education", the inner voice of the boy reminded him that the legacy of his ancestors — the legacy of Rama, Krishna, Buddha, Sankara, Ramanuja, Chaitanya — was not worldly security but the Knowledge of God. And these noble sages were the true representatives of Hindu society. Each of them was seated, as it were, on the crest of the wave that followed each successive trough in the tumultuous course of Indian national life. All demonstrated that the life current of India is spirituality. This truth was revealed to Gadadhar through that inner vision which scans past and future in one sweep, unobstructed by the barriers of time and space. But he was unaware of the history of the profound change that had taken place in the land of his birth during the previous one hundred years.
Hindu society during the eighteenth century had been passing through a period of decadence. It was the twilight of the Mussalman rule. There were anarchy and confusion in all spheres. Superstitious practices dominated the religious life of the people. Rites and rituals passed for the essence of spirituality. Greedy priests became the custodians of heaven. True philosophy was supplanted by dogmatic opinions. The pundits took delight in vain polemics.
--
The temple of Radhakanta, also known as the temple of Vishnu, contains the images of Radha and Krishna, the symbol of union with God through ecstatic love. The two images stand on a pedestal facing the west. The floor is paved with marble. From the ceiling of the porch hang chandeliers protected from dust by coverings of red cloth. Canvas screens shield the images from the rays of the setting sun. Close to the threshold of the inner shrine is a small brass cup containing holy water. Devoted visitors reverently drink a few drops from the vessel.
--- KALI
--
Born in an orthodox brahmin family, Sri Ramakrishna knew the formalities of worship, its rites and rituals. The innumerable gods and goddesses of the Hindu religion are the human aspects of the indescribable and incomprehensible Spirit, as conceived by the finite human mind. They understand and appreciate human love and emotion, help men to realize their secular and spiritual ideals, and ultimately enable men to attain liberation from the miseries of phenomenal life. The Source of light, intelligence, wisdom, and strength is the One alone from whom comes the fulfilment of desire. Yet, as long as a man is bound by his human limitations, he cannot but worship God through human forms. He must use human symbols. Therefore Hinduism asks the devotees to look on God as the ideal father, the ideal mother, the ideal husband, the ideal son, or the ideal friend. But the name ultimately leads to the Nameless, the form to the Formless, the word to the Silence, the emotion to the serene realization of Peace in Existence-Knowledge-Bliss Absolute. The gods gradually merge in the one God. But until that realization is achieved, the devotee cannot dissociate human factors from his worship. Therefore the Deity is bathed and clothed and decked with ornaments. He is fed and put to sleep. He is propitiated with hymns, songs, and prayers. And there are appropriate rites connected with all these functions. For instance, to secure for himself external purity, the priest bathes himself in holy water and puts on a holy cloth. He purifies the mind and the sense-organs by appropriate meditations. He fortifies the place of worship against evil forces by drawing around it circles of fire and water. He awakens the different spiritual centres of the body and invokes the Supreme Spirit in his heart. Then he transfers the Supreme Spirit to the image before him and worships the image, regarding it no longer as clay or stone, but as the embodiment of Spirit, throbbing with Life and Consciousness. After the worship the Supreme Spirit is recalled from the image to Its true sanctuary, the heart of the priest. The real devotee knows the absurdity of worshipping the Transcendental Reality with material articles — clothing That which pervades the whole universe and the beyond, putting on a pedestal That which cannot be limited by space, feeding That which is disembodied and incorporeal, singing before That whose glory the music of the spheres tries vainly to proclaim. But through these rites the devotee aspires to go ultimately beyond rites and rituals, forms and names, words and praise, and to realize God as the All-pervading Consciousness.
Hindu priests are thoroughly acquainted with the rites of worship, but few of them are aware of their underlying significance. They move their hands and limbs mechanically, in obedience to the letter of the scriptures, and repeat the holy mantras like parrots. But from the very beg inning the inner meaning of these rites was revealed to Sri Ramakrishna. As he sat facing the image, a strange transformation came over his mind. While going through the prescribed ceremonies, he would actually find himself encircled by a wall of fire protecting him and the place of worship from unspiritual vibrations, or he would feel the rising of the mystic Kundalini through the different centres of the body. The glow on his face, his deep absorption, and the intense atmosphere of the temple impressed everyone who saw him worship the Deity.
Ramkumar wanted Sri Ramakrishna to learn the intricate rituals of the worship of Kali. To become a priest of Kali one must undergo a special form of initiation from a qualified guru, and for Sri Ramakrishna a suitable brahmin was found. But no sooner did the brahmin speak the holy word in his ear than Sri Ramakrishna, overwhelmed with emotion, uttered a loud cry and plunged into deep concentration.
--
He saw in a vision the Ultimate Cause of the universe as a huge luminous triangle giving birth every moment to an infinite number of worlds. He heard the Anahata Sabda, the great sound Om, of which the innumerable sounds of the universe are only so many echoes. He acquired the eight supernatural powers of yoga, which make a man almost omnipotent, and these he spurned as of no value whatsoever to the Spirit. He had a vision of the divine Maya, the inscrutable Power of God, by which the universe is created and sustained, and into which it is finally absorbed. In this vision he saw a woman of exquisite beauty, about to become a mother, emerging from the Ganges and slowly approaching the Panchavati. Presently she gave birth to a child and began to nurse it tenderly. A moment later she assumed a terrible aspect, seized the child with her grim jaws, and crushed it. Swallowing it, she re-entered the waters of the Ganges.
But the most remarkable experience during this period was the awakening of the Kundalini Sakti, the "Serpent Power". He actually saw the Power, at first lying asleep at the bottom of the spinal column, then waking up and ascending along the mystic Sushumna canal and through its six centres, or lotuses, to the Sahasrara, the thousand-petalled lotus in the top of the head. He further saw that as the Kundalini went upward the different lotuses bloomed. And this phenomenon was accompanied by visions and trances. Later on he described to his disciples and devotees the various movements of the Kundalini: the fishlike, birdlike, monkeylike, and so on. The awaken- ing of the Kundalini is the beg inning of spiritual consciousness, and its union with Siva in the Sahasrara, ending in samadhi, is the consummation of the Tantrik disciplines.
--
There are three kinds of formal devotion: tamasic, rajasic, and sattvic. If a person, while showing devotion, to God, is actuated by malevolence, arrogance, jealousy, or anger, then his devotion is tamasic, since it is influenced by tamas, the quality of inertia. If he worships God from a desire for fame or wealth, or from any other worldly ambition, then his devotion is rajasic, since it is influenced by rajas, the quality of activity. But if a person loves God without any thought of material gain, if he performs his duties to please God alone and maintains toward all created beings the attitude of friendship, then his devotion is called sattvic, since it is influenced by sattva, the quality of harmony. But the highest devotion transcends the three gunas, or qualities, being a spontaneous, uninterrupted inclination of the mind toward God, the inner Soul of all beings; and it wells up in the heart of a true devotee as soon as he hears the name of God or mention of God's attributes. A devotee possessed of this love would not accept the happiness of heaven if it were offered him. His one desire is to love God under all conditions — in pleasure and pain, life and death, honour and dishonour, prosperity and adversity.
There are two stages of bhakti. The first is known as vaidhi-bhakti, or love of God qualified by scriptural injunctions. For the devotees of this stage are prescribed regular and methodical worship, hymns, prayers, the repetition of God's name, and the chanting of His glories. This lower bhakti in course of time matures into para-bhakti, or supreme devotion, known also as prema, the most intense form of divine love. Divine love is an end in itself. It exists potentially in all human hearts, but in the case of bound creatures it is misdirected to earthly objects.
--
One day Jatadhari requested Sri Ramakrishna to keep the image and bade him adieu with tearful eyes. He declared that Ramlala had fulfilled his innermost prayer and that he now had no more need of formal worship. A few days later Sri Ramakrishna was blessed through Ramlala with a vision of Ramachandra, whereby he realized that the Rama of the Ramayana, the son of Dasaratha, pervades the whole universe as Spirit and Consciousness; that He is its Creator, Sustainer, and Destroyer; that, in still another aspect, He is the transcendental Brahman, without form, attribute, or name.
While worshipping Ramlala as the Divine Child, Sri Ramakrishna's heart became filled with motherly tenderness, and he began to regard himself as a woman. His speech and gestures changed. He began to move freely with the ladies of Mathur's family, who now looked upon him as one of their own sex. During this time he worshipped the Divine Mother as Her companion or handmaid.
--
From now on Sri Ramakrishna began to seek the company of devotees and holy men. He had gone through the storm and stress of spiritual disciplines and visions. Now he realized an inner calmness and appeared to others as a normal person. But he could not bear the company of worldly people or listen to their talk. Fortunately the holy atmosphere of Dakshineswar and the liberality of Mathur attracted monks and holy men from all parts of the country. Sadhus of all denominations — monists and dualists, Vaishnavas and Vedantists, Saktas and worshippers of Rama — flocked there in ever increasing numbers. Ascetics and visionaries came to seek Sri Ramakrishna's advice. Vaishnavas had come during the period of his Vaishnava sadhana, and Tantriks when he practised the disciplines of Tantra. Vedantists began to arrive after the departure of Totapuri. In the room of Sri Ramakrishna, who was then in bed with dysentery, the Vedantists engaged in scriptural discussions, and, forgetting his own physical suffering, he solved their doubts by referring directly to his own experiences. Many of the visitors were genuine spiritual souls, the unseen pillars of Hinduism, and their spiritual lives were quickened in no small measure by the sage of Dakshineswar. Sri Ramakrishna in turn learnt from them anecdotes concerning the ways and the conduct of holy men, which he subsequently narrated to his devotees and disciples. At his request Mathur provided him with large stores of food-stuffs, clothes, and so forth, for distribution among the wandering monks.
"Sri Ramakrishna had not read books, yet he possessed an encyclopedic knowledge of religions and religious philosophies. This he acquired from his contacts with innumerable holy men and scholars. He had a unique power of assimilation; through meditation he made this knowledge a part of his being. Once, when he was asked by a disciple about the source of his seemingly inexhaustible knowledge, he replied; "I have not read; but I have heard the learned. I have made a garland of their knowledge, wearing it round my neck, and I have given it as an offering at the feet of the Mother."
Sri Ramakrishna used to say that when the flower blooms the bees come to it for honey of their own accord. Now many souls began to visit Dakshineswar to satisfy their spiritual hunger. He, the devotee and aspirant, became the Master. Gauri, the great scholar who had been one of the first to proclaim Sri Ramakrishna an Incarnation of God, paid the Master a visit in 1870 and with the Master's blessings renounced the world. Narayan Shastri, another great pundit, who had mastered the six systems of Hindu philosophy and had been offered a lucrative post by the Maharaja of Jaipur, met the Master and recognized in him one who had realized in life those ideals which he himself had encountered merely in books. Sri Ramakrishna initiated Narayan Shastri, at his earnest request, into the life of sannyas. Pundit Padmalochan, the court pundit of the Maharaja of Burdwan, well known for his scholarship in both the Vedanta and the Nyaya systems of philosophy, accepted the Master as an Incarnation of God. Krishnakishore, a Vedantist scholar, became devoted to the Master. And there arrived Viswanath Upadhyaya, who was to become a favourite devotee; Sri Ramakrishna always addressed him as "Captain". He was a high officer of the King of Nepal and had received the title of Colonel in recognition of his merit. A scholar of the Gita, the Bhagavata, and the Vedanta philosophy, he daily performed the worship of his Chosen Deity with great devotion. "I have read the Vedas and the other scriptures", he said. "I have also met a good many monks and devotees in different places. But it is in Sri Ramakrishna's presence that my spiritual yearnings have been fulfilled. To me he seems to be the embodiment of the truths of the scriptures."
--
In 1878 a schism divided Keshab's Samaj. Some of his influential followers accused him of infringing the Brahmo principles by marrying his daughter to a wealthy man before she had attained the marriageable age approved by the Samaj. This group seceded and established the Sadharan Brahmo Samaj, Keshab remaining the leader of the Navavidhan. Keshab now began to be drawn more and more toward the Christ ideal, though under the influence of Sri Ramakrishna his devotion to the Divine Mother also deepened. His mental oscillation between Christ and the Divine Mother of Hinduism found no position of rest. In Bengal and some other parts of India the Brahmo movement took the form of unitarian Christianity, scoffed at Hindu rituals, and preached a crusade against image worship. Influenced by Western culture, it declared the supremacy of reason, advocated the ideals of the French Revolution, abolished the caste-system among its own members, stood for the emancipation of women, agitated for the abolition of early marriage, sanctioned the remarriage of widows, and encouraged various educational and social-reform movements. The immediate effect of the Brahmo movement in Bengal was the checking of the proselytizing activities of the Christian missionaries. It also raised Indian culture in the estimation of its English masters. But it was an intellectual and eclectic religious ferment born of the necessity of the time. Unlike Hinduism, it was not founded on the deep inner experiences of sages and prophets. Its influence was confined to a comparatively few educated men and women of the country, and the vast masses of the Hindus remained outside it. It sounded monotonously only one of the notes in the rich gamut of the Eternal Religion of the Hindus.
--- ARYA SAMAJ
--
Keshab Chandra Sen and Sri Ramakrishna met for the first time in the garden house of Jaygopal Sen at Belgharia, a few miles from Dakshineswar, where the great Brahmo leader was staying with some of his disciples. In many respects the two were poles apart, though an irresistible inner attraction was to make them intimate friends. The Master had realized God as Pure Spirit and Consciousness, but he believed in the various forms of God as well. Keshab, on the other hand, regarded image worship as idolatry and gave allegorical explanations of the Hindu deities. Keshab was an orator and a writer of books and magazine articles; Sri Ramakrishna had a horror of lecturing and hardly knew how to write his own name, Keshab's fame spread far and wide, even reaching the distant shores of England; the Master still led a secluded life in the village of Dakshineswar. Keshab emphasized social reforms for India's regeneration; to Sri Ramakrishna God-realization was the only goal of life. Keshab considered himself a disciple of Christ and accepted in a diluted form the Christian sacraments and Trinity; Sri Ramakrishna was the simple child of Kali, the Divine Mother, though he too, in a different way, acknowledged Christ's divinity. Keshab was a householder holder and took a real interest in the welfare of his children, whereas Sri Ramakrishna was a paramahamsa and completely indifferent to the life of the world. Yet, as their acquaintance ripened into friendship, Sri Ramakrishna and Keshab held each other in great love and respect. Years later, at the news of Keshab's death, the Master felt as if half his body had become paralyzed. Keshab's concepts of the harmony of religions and the Motherhood of God were deepened and enriched by his contact with Sri Ramakrishna.
Sri Ramakrishna, dressed in a red-bordered dhoti, one end of which was carelessly thrown over his left shoulder, came to Jaygopal's garden house accompanied by Hriday. No one took notice of the unostentatious visitor. Finally the Master said to Keshab, "People tell me you have seen God; so I have come to hear from you about God." A magnificent conversation followed. The Master sang a thrilling song about Kali and forthwith went into samadhi. When Hriday uttered the sacred "Om" in his ears, he gradually came back to consciousness of the world, his face still radiating a divine brilliance. Keshab and his followers were amazed. The contrast between Sri Ramakrishna and the Brahmo devotees was very interesting. There sat this small man, thin and extremely delicate. His eyes were illumined with an inner light. Good humour gleamed in his eyes and lurked in the corners of his mouth. His speech was Bengali of a homely kind with a slight, delightful stammer, and his words held men enthralled by their wealth of spiritual experience, their inexhaustible store of simile and metaphor, their power of observation, their bright and subtle humour, their wonderful catholicity, their ceaseless flow of wisdom. And around him now were the sophisticated men of Bengal, the best products of Western education, with Keshab, the idol of young Bengal, as their leader.
Keshab's sincerity was enough for Sri Ramakrishna. Henceforth the two saw each other frequently, either at Dakshineswar or at the temple of the Brahmo Samaj. Whenever the Master was in the temple at the time of divine service, Keshab would request him to speak to the congregation. And Keshab would visit the saint, in his turn, with offerings of flowers and fruits.
--
As time passed, Girish began to learn that the guru is the one who silently unfolds the disciple's inner life. He became a steadfast devotee of the Master. He often loaded the Master with insults, drank in his presence, and took liberties which astounded the other devotees. But the Master knew that at heart Girish was tender, faithful, and sincere. He would not allow Girish to give up the theatre. And when a devotee asked him to tell Girish to give up drinking, he sternly replied: "That is none of your business. He who has taken charge of him will look after him. Girish is a devotee of heroic type. I tell you, drinking will not affect him." The Master knew that mere words could not induce a man to break deep-rooted habits, but that the silent influence of love worked miracles. Therefore he never asked him to give up alcohol, with the result that Girish himself eventually broke the habit. Sri Ramakrishna had strengthened Girish's resolution by allowing him to feel that he was absolutely free.
One day Girish felt depressed because he was unable to submit to any routine of spiritual discipline. In an exalted mood the Master said to him: "All right, give me your power of attorney. Henceforth I assume responsibility for you. You need not do anything." Girish heaved a sigh of relief. He felt happy to think that Sri Ramakrishna had assumed his spiritual responsibilities. But poor Girish could not then realize that He also, on his part, had to give up his freedom and make of himself a puppet in Sri Ramakrishna's hands. The Master began to discipline him according to this new attitude. One day Girish said about a trifling matter, "Yes, I shall do this." "No, no!" the Master corrected him. "You must not speak in that egotistic manner. You should say, 'God willing, I shall do it.'" Girish understood. Thenceforth he tried to give up all idea of personal responsibility and surrender himself to the Divine Will. His mind began to dwell constantly on Sri Ramakrishna. This unconscious meditation in time chastened his turbulent spirit.
--
When they returned to the room and Narendra heard the Master speaking to others, he was surprised to find in his words an inner logic, a striking sincerity, and a convincing proof of his spiritual nature. In answer to Narendra's question, "Sir, have you seen God?" the Master said: "Yes, I have seen God. I have seen Him more tangibly than I see you. I have talked to Him more intimately than I am talking to you." Continuing, the Master said: "But, my child, who wants to see God? People shed jugs of tears for money, wife, and children. But if they would weep for God for only one day they would surely see Him." Narendra was amazed. These words he could not doubt. This was the first time he had ever heard a man saying that he had seen God. But he could not reconcile these words of the Master with the scene that had taken place on the verandah only a few minutes before. He concluded that Sri Ramakrishna was a monomaniac, and returned home rather puzzled in mind.
During his second visit, about a month later, suddenly, at the touch of the Master, Narendra felt overwhelmed and saw the walls of the room and everything around him whirling and vanishing. "What are you doing to me?" he cried in terror. "I have my father and mother at home." He saw his own ego and the whole universe almost swallowed in a nameless void. With a laugh the Master easily restored him. Narendra thought he might have been hypnotized, but he could not understand how a monomaniac could cast a spell over the mind of a strong person like himself. He returned home more confused than ever, resolved to be henceforth on his guard before this strange man.
--
Gangadhar, Harinath's friend, also led the life of a strict brahmachari, eating vegetarian food cooked by his own hands and devoting himself to the study of the scriptures. He met the Master in 1884 and soon became a member of his inner circle. The Master praised his ascetic habit and attributed it to the spiritual disciplines of his past life. Gangadhar became a close companion of Narendra.
--- HARIPRASANNA
--
With his woman devotees Sri Ramakrishna established a very sweet relationship. He himself embodied the tender traits of a woman: he had dwelt on the highest plane of Truth, where there is not even the slightest trace of sex; and his innate purity evoked only the noblest emotion in men and women alike. His woman devotees often said: "We seldom looked on Sri Ramakrishna as a member of the male sex. We regarded him as one of us. We never felt any constraint before him. He was our best confidant." They loved him as their child, their friend, and their teacher. In spiritual discipline he advised them to renounce lust and greed and especially warned them not to fall into the snares of men.
--- GOPAL MA
--
In the beg inning of September 1885 Sri Ramakrishna was moved to Syampukur. Here Narendra organized the young disciples to attend the Master day and night. At first they concealed the Master's illness from their guardians; but when it became more serious they remained with him almost constantly, sweeping aside the objections of their relatives and devoting themselves whole-heartedly to the nursing of their beloved guru. These young men, under the watchful eyes of the Master and the leadership of Narendra, became the antaranga bhaktas, the devotees of Sri Ramakrishna's inner circle. They were privileged to witness many manifestations of the Master's divine powers. Narendra received instructions regarding the propagation of his message after his death.
The Holy Mother — so Sarada Devi had come to be affectionately known by Sri Ramakrishna's devotees — was brought from Dakshineswar to look after the general cooking and to prepare the special diet of the patient. The dwelling space being extremely limited, she had to adapt herself to cramped conditions. At three o'clock in the morning she would finish her bath in the Ganges and then enter a small covered place on the roof, where she spent the whole day cooking and praying. After eleven at night, when the visitors went away, she would come down to her small bedroom on the first floor to enjoy a few hours' sleep. Thus she spent three months, working hard, sleeping little, and praying constantly for the Master's recovery.
0.00 - The Book of Lies Text, #The Book of Lies, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
What man is at ease in his inn?
Get out.
0.00 - THE GOSPEL PREFACE, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
I have made a literal translation, omitting only a few pages of no particular interest to English-speaking readers. Often literary grace has been sacrificed for the sake of literal translation. No translation can do full justice to the original. This difficulty is all the more felt in the present work, whose contents are of a deep mystical nature and describe the inner experiences of a great seer. Human language is an altogether inadequate vehicle to express supersensuous perception. Sri Ramakrishna was almost illiterate. He never clothed his thoughts in formal language. His words sought to convey his direct realization of Truth. His conversation was in a village patois. Therein lies its charm. In order to explain to his listeners an abstruse philosophy, he, like Christ before him, used with telling effect homely parables and illustrations, culled from his observation of the daily life around him.
The reader will find mentioned in this work many visions and experiences that fall outside the ken of physical science and even psychology. With the development of modern knowledge the border line between the natural and the supernatural is ever shifting its position. Genuine mystical experiences are not as suspect now as they were half a century ago. The words of Sri Ramakrishna have already exerted a tremendous influence in the land of his birth. Savants of Europe have found in his words the ring of universal truth.
0.01 - I - Sri Aurobindos personality, his outer retirement - outside contacts after 1910 - spiritual personalities- Vibhutis and Avatars - transformtion of human personality, #Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo, #unset, #Zen
The question which Arjuna asks Sri Krishna in the Gita (second chapter) occurs pertinently to many about all spiritual personalities: "What is the language of one whose understanding is poised? How does he speak, how sit, how walk?" Men want to know the outer signs of the inner attainment, the way in which a spiritual person differs outwardly from other men. But all the tests which the Gita enumerates are inner and therefore invisible to the outer view. It is true also that the inner or the spiritual is the essential and the outer derives its value and form from the inner. But the transformation about which Sri Aurobindo writes in his books has to take place in nature, because according to him the divine Reality has to manifest itself in nature. So, all the parts of nature including the physical and the external are to be transformed. In his own case the very physical became the transparent mould of the Spirit as a result of his intense Sadhana. This is borne out by the impression created on the minds of sensitive outsiders like Sj. K. M. Munshi who was deeply impressed by his radiating presence when he met him after nearly forty years.
The Evening Talks collected here may afford to the outside world a glimpse of his external personality and give the seeker some idea of its richness, its many-sidedness, its uniqueness. One can also form some notion of Sri Aurobindo's personality from the books in which the height, the universal sweep and clear vision of his integral ideal and thought can be seen. His writings are, in a sense, the best representative of his mental personality. The versatile nature of his genius, the penetrating power of his intellect, his extraordinary power of expression, his intense sincerity, his utter singleness of purpose all these can be easily felt by any earnest student of his works. He may discover even in the realm of mind that Sri Aurobindo brings the unlimited into the limited. Another side of his dynamic personality is represented by the Ashram as an institution. But the outer, if one may use the phrase, the human side of his personality, is unknown to the outside world because from 1910 to 1950 a span of forty years he led a life of outer retirement. No doubt, many knew about his staying at Pondicherry and practising some kind of very special Yoga to the mystery of which they had no access. To some, perhaps, he was living a life of enviable solitude enjoying the luxury of a spiritual endeavour. Many regretted his retirement as a great loss to the world because they could not see any external activity on his part which could be regarded as 'public', 'altruistic' or 'beneficial'. Even some of his admirers thought that he was after some kind of personal salvation which would have very little significance for mankind in general. His outward non-participation in public life was construed by many as lack of love for humanity.
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Sri Aurobindo has explained the mystery of personality in some of his writings. Ordinarily by personality we mean something which can be described as "a pattern of being marked out by a settled combination of fixed qualities, a determined character.... In one view personality is regarded as a fixed structure of recognisable qualities expressing a power of being"; another idea regards "personality as a flux of self-expressive or sensitive and responsive being.... But flux of nature and fixity of nature" which some call character "are two aspects of being neither of which, nor indeed both together, can be a definition of personality.... But besides this flux and this fixity there is also a third and occult element, the Person behind of whom the personality is a self-expression; the Person puts forward the personality as his role, character, persona, in the present act of his long drama of manifested existence. But the Person is larger than his personality, and it may happen that this inner largeness overflows into the surface formation; the result is a self-expression of being which can no longer be described by fixed qualities, normalities of mood, exact lineaments, or marked out by structural limits."[4]
The gospel of the Supermind which Sri Aurobindo brought to man envisages a new level of consciousness beyond Mind. When this level is attained it imposes a complete and radical reintegration of the human personality. Sri Aurobindo was not merely the exponent but the embodiment of the new, dynamic truth of the Supermind. While exploring and sounding the tremendous possibilities of human personality in his intense spiritual Sadhana, he has shown us that practically there are no limits to its expansion and ascent. It can reach in its growth what appears to man at present as a 'divine' status. It goes without saying that this attainment is not an easy task; there are conditions to be fulfilled for the transformation from the human to the divine.
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In his Essays on the Gita, Sri Aurobindo says about the Avatar: "He may, on the other hand, descend as an incarnation of divine life, the divine personality and power in its characteristic action, for a mission ostensibly social, ethical and political, as is represented in the story of Rama or Krishna; but always then this descent becomes in the soul of the race a permanent power for the inner living and the spiritual rebirth."[5]
"He comes as the divine power and love which calls men to itself, so that they may take refuge in that and no longer in the insufficiency of their human wills and the strife of their human fear, wrath and passion, and liberated from all this unquiet and suffering may live in the calm and bliss of the Divine."[6]
0.01 - Letters from the Mother to Her Son, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
something of another world, a world in which the inner life
governs the outer, a world where things get done, where work
0.01 - Life and Yoga, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Rajayoga, for instance, depends on this perception and experience that our inner elements, combinations, functions, forces, can be separated or dissolved, can be new-combined and set to novel and formerly impossible workings or can be transformed and resolved into a new general synthesis by fixed internal processes. Hathayoga similarly depends on this perception and experience that the vital forces and functions to which our life is normally subjected and whose ordinary operations seem set and indispensable, can be mastered and the operations changed or suspended with results that would otherwise be impossible and that seem miraculous to those who have not seized the rationale of their process. And if in some other of its forms this character of Yoga is less apparent, because they are more intuitive and less mechanical, nearer, like the Yoga of Devotion, to a supernal ecstasy or, like the Yoga of Knowledge, to a supernal infinity of consciousness and being, yet they too start from the use of some principal faculty in us by ways and for ends not contemplated in its everyday spontaneous workings. All methods grouped under the common name of Yoga are special psychological processes founded on a fixed truth of Nature and developing, out of normal functions, powers and results which were always latent but which her ordinary movements do not easily or do not often manifest.
But as in physical knowledge the multiplication of scientific processes has its disadvantages, as that tends, for instance, to develop a victorious artificiality which overwhelms our natural human life under a load of machinery and to purchase certain forms of freedom and mastery at the price of an increased servitude, so the preoccupation with Yogic processes and their exceptional results may have its disadvantages and losses. The
--
Yogin tends to draw away from the common existence and lose his hold upon it; he tends to purchase wealth of spirit by an impoverishment of his human activities, the inner freedom by an outer death. If he gains God, he loses life, or if he turns his efforts outward to conquer life, he is in danger of losing
God. Therefore we see in India that a sharp incompatibility has been created between life in the world and spiritual growth and perfection, and although the tradition and ideal of a victorious harmony between the inner attraction and the outer demand remains, it is little or else very imperfectly exemplified. In fact, when a man turns his vision and energy inward and enters on the path of Yoga, he is popularly supposed to be lost inevitably to the great stream of our collective existence and the secular effort of humanity. So strongly has the idea prevailed, so much has it been emphasised by prevalent philosophies and religions that to escape from life is now commonly considered as not only the necessary condition, but the general object of Yoga. No synthesis of Yoga can be satisfying which does not, in its aim, reunite God and Nature in a liberated and perfected human life or, in its method, not only permit but favour the harmony of our inner and outer activities and experiences in the divine consummation of both. For man is precisely that term and symbol of a higher Existence descended into the material world in which it is possible for the lower to transfigure itself and put on the nature of the higher and the higher to reveal itself in the forms of the lower. To avoid the life which is given him for the realisation of that possibility, can never be either the indispensable condition or the whole and ultimate object of his supreme endeavour or of his most powerful means of self-fulfilment. It can only be a temporary necessity under certain conditions or a specialised extreme effort imposed on the individual so as to prepare a greater general possibility for the race. The true and full object and utility of Yoga can only be accomplished when the conscious
Yoga in man becomes, like the subconscious Yoga in Nature, outwardly conterminous with life itself and we can once more, looking out both on the path and the achievement, say in a more perfect and luminous sense: "All life is Yoga."
0.02 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I am not astonished. You have reached a point of inner progress
when you can no more get into fits of anger without feeling the
--
at the clock with my inner sight and told Z, "To make it go
slower, you have to shorten the pendulum." He looked at me
--
I believe in the superiority of the inner vision over the outer
vision and this belief is based not merely on theoretical knowledge but on the thousands of examples I have come across in
--
times with the inner eye and I saw this: brush the walls with a
metal brush so that whatever is loose falls off and cover the rest
--
Listen to these two accounts of inner suggestions.
(Two instances are given.) From these two accounts You
--
It was obviously an inner voice. One rarely hears the sound of
the words, but rather the message is expressed as words in the
0.02 - The Three Steps of Nature, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Yoga, the inner instrument.4 And Indian tradition asserts that this which is to be manifested is not a new term in human experience, but has been developed before and has even governed humanity in certain periods of its development. In any case, in order to be known it must at one time have been partly developed.
And if since then Nature has sunk back from her achievement, the reason must always be found in some unrealised harmony, some insufficiency of the intellectual and material basis to which she has now returned, some over-specialisation of the higher to the detriment of the lower existence.
0.03 - III - The Evening Sittings, #Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo, #unset, #Zen
Then, on 23 November 1938, I got up at 2 o'clock to prepare hot water for the Mother's early bath because the 24th was Darshan day. Between 2.20 and 2.30 the Mother rang the bell. I ran up the staircase to be told about an accident that had happened to Sri Aurobindo's thigh and to be asked to fetch the doctor. This accident brought about a change in his complete retirement, and rendered him available to those who had to attend on him. This opened out a long period of 12 years during which his retirement was modified owing to circumstances, inner and outer, that made it possible for him to have direct physical contacts with the world outside.
The long period of the Second World War with all its vicissitudes passed through these years. It was a priceless experience to see how he devoted his energies to the task of saving humanity from the threatened reign of Nazism. It was a practical lesson of solid work done for humanity without any thought of return or reward, without even letting humanity know what he was doing for it! Thus he lived the Divine and showed us how the Divine cares for the world, how He comes down and works for man. I shall never forget how he who was at one time in his own words "not merely a non-co-operator but an enemy of British Imperialism" bestowed such anxious care on the health of Churchill, listening carefully to the health-bulletins! It was the work of the Divine, it was the Divine's work for the world.
0.03 - Letters to My little smile, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
stories are not true) is one of the most innocent pursuits of
this restless mind. Of course, it must become calm and quiet
--
I am speaking of your inner eyes, not the physical ones.
"Turn your faculty of feeling inward instead of letting it
--
you should concentrate in the inner being, which has a life
independent of the senses (sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch).
0.03 - The Threefold Life, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
2 The Unified, in whom conscious thought is concentrated, who is all delight and enjoyer of delight, the Wise. . . . He is the Lord of all, the Omniscient, the inner Guide.
Mandukya Upanishad 5, 6.
But the spiritual life, like the mental, may thus make use of this outward existence for the benefit of the individual with a perfect indifference to any collective uplifting of the merely symbolic world which it uses. Since the Eternal is for ever the same in all things and all things the same to the Eternal, since the exact mode of action and the result are of no importance compared with the working out in oneself of the one great realisation, this spiritual indifference accepts no matter what environment, no matter what action, dispassionately, prepared to retire as soon as its own supreme end is realised. It is so that many have understood the ideal of the Gita. Or else the inner love and bliss may pour itself out on the world in good deeds, in service, in compassion, the inner Truth in the giving of knowledge, without therefore attempting the transformation of a world which must by its inalienable nature remain a battlefield of the dualities, of sin and virtue, of truth and error, of joy and suffering.
But if Progress also is one of the chief terms of worldexistence and a progressive manifestation of the Divine the true sense of Nature, this limitation also is invalid. It is possible for the spiritual life in the world, and it is its real mission, to change the material life into its own image, the image of the Divine. Therefore, besides the great solitaries who have sought and attained their self-liberation, we have the great spiritual teachers who have also liberated others and, supreme of all, the great dynamic souls who, feeling themselves stronger in the might of the Spirit than all the forces of the material life banded together, have thrown themselves upon the world, grappled with it in a loving wrestle and striven to compel its consent to its own transfiguration. Ordinarily, the effort is concentrated on a mental and moral change in humanity, but it may extend itself also to the alteration of the forms of our life and its institutions so that they too may be a better mould for the inpourings of the Spirit. These attempts have been the supreme landmarks in the progressive development of human ideals and the divine preparation of the race. Every one of them, whatever its outward results, has left Earth more capable of Heaven and quickened in its tardy movements the evolutionary Yoga of Nature.
0.04 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I have watched the thing from the roof, and saw with the inner
sight also. There is absolutely no doubt about what is happening
0.04 - The Systems of Yoga, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
But Rajayoga does not forget that the disabilities of the ordinary mind proceed largely from its subjection to the reactions of the nervous system and the body. It adopts therefore from the Hathayogic system its devices of asana and pran.ayama, but reduces their multiple and elaborate forms in each case to one simplest and most directly effective process sufficient for its own immediate object. Thus it gets rid of the Hathayogic complexity and cumbrousness while it utilises the swift and powerful efficacy of its methods for the control of the body and the vital functions and for the awakening of that internal dynamism, full of a latent supernormal faculty, typified in Yogic terminology by the kun.d.alin, the coiled and sleeping serpent of Energy within. This done, the system proceeds to the perfect quieting of the restless mind and its elevation to a higher plane through concentration of mental force by the successive stages which lead to the utmost inner concentration or ingathered state of the consciousness which is called Samadhi.
By Samadhi, in which the mind acquires the capacity of withdrawing from its limited waking activities into freer and higher states of consciousness, Rajayoga serves a double purpose. It compasses a pure mental action liberated from the confusions of the outer consciousness and passes thence to the higher supra-mental planes on which the individual soul enters into its true spiritual existence. But also it acquires the capacity of that free and concentrated energising of consciousness on
0.05 - Letters to a Child, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Peace, peace, my little child, the sweet peace of inner silence and
outer calm. May it always be with you.
--
It is by inner identification that the true closeness can come.
I am always with you in all love.
--
This inner condition is getting worse and worse instead of better. You said to be patient, but as it is I am
becoming like a stone, without energy, inert, and more
--
It has stopped now. Is there some inner preparation
at work and is it waiting for the descent of a higher
--
the inner help, not on an outer and superficial help.
I am telling you all this so that you may not be disappointed
--
painting. Give me a strong energy. I want the inner and
outer silence - peace in all my being, from the innermost
part to the outermost. Peace, peace in all my being. I
0.05 - The Synthesis of the Systems, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Thirdly, the divine Power in us uses all life as the means of this integral Yoga. Every experience and outer contact with our world-environment, however trifling or however disastrous, is used for the work, and every inner experience, even to the most repellent suffering or the most humiliating fall, becomes a step on the path to perfection. And we recognise in ourselves with opened eyes the method of God in the world, His purpose of light in the obscure, of might in the weak and fallen, of delight in what is grievous and miserable. We see the divine method to be the same in the lower and in the higher working; only in the one it is pursued tardily and obscurely through the subconscious in
Nature, in the other it becomes swift and self-conscious and the instrument confesses the hand of the Master. All life is a Yoga of Nature seeking to manifest God within itself. Yoga marks the stage at which this effort becomes capable of self-awareness and therefore of right completion in the individual. It is a gathering up and concentration of the movements dispersed and loosely combined in the lower evolution.
0.06 - Letters to a Young Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I am always with you, and to become conscious of the inner
Presence is one of the most important points of the sadhana.
--
Remain very quiet, open your mind and your heart to Sri Aurobindo's influence and mine, withdraw deep into an inner silence
(which may be had in all circumstances), call me from the depths
--
The Divine is infinite and innumerable, and consequently the
ways of approaching Him are also infinite and innumerable,
and on the manner of one's approach to the Divine depends
--
all on the inner state.
A pure being is always pure, in all circumstances.
--
It is just when one is innocent that one ought to be most indifferent to ill-treatment, because there is nothing to blame oneself
for and one has the approbation of one's conscience to console
--
One must find the inner peace and keep it constantly. In the force
this peace brings, all these little miseries will disappear.
0.07 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
If only you could keep always your inner happiness, it would
please me immensely and help you very much on the way.
0.08 - Letters to a Young Captain, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
This process of development goes on tirelessly through innumerable lives, and if one is not conscious of it, it is because
one is not conscious of one's psychic being - for that is the
--
an attitude of inner good-will, with a desire to receive and live
what is taught.
--
unless one is specially gifted with an innate intuitive faculty.
In any case, I always advise reading a little at a time, keeping
--
to cosmic zones or planes, and it is as these inner states of being
are developed that one becomes conscious of those domains.
0.09 - Letters to a Young Teacher, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
centre, the soul, in the course of its innumerable lives in the
terrestrial evolution, until the time comes when the psychic being, fully formed and wholly awakened, becomes the conscious
01.01 - A Yoga of the Art of Life, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 03, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
It is not my purpose here to enter into details as to the exact meaning of the descent, how it happens and what are its lines of activity and the results brought about. For it is indeed an actual descent that happens: the Divine Light leans down first into the mind and begins its purificatory work therealthough it is always the inner heart which first recognises the Divine Presence and gives its assent to the Divine action for the mind, the higher mind that is to say, is the summit of the ordinary human consciousness and receives more easily and readily the Radiances that descend. From the Mind the Light filters into the denser regions of the emotions and desires, of life activity and vital dynamism; finally, it gets into brute Matter itself, the hard and obscure rock of the physical body, for that too has to be illumined and made the very form and figure of the Light supernal. The Divine in his descending Grace is the Master-Architect who is building slowly and surely the many-chambered and many-storeyed edifice that is human nature and human life into the mould of the Divine Truth in its perfect play and supreme expression. But this is a matter which can be closely considered when one is already well within the mystery of the path and has acquired the elementary essentials of an initiate.
Another question that troubles and perplexes the ordinary human mind is as to the time when the thing will be done. Is it now or a millennium hence or at some astronomical distance in future, like the cooling of the sun, as someone has suggested for an analogy. In view of the magnitude of the work one might with reason say that the whole eternity is there before us, and a century or even a millennium should not be grudged to such a labour for it is nothing less than an undoing of untold millenniums in the past and the building of a far-flung futurity. However, as we have said, since it is the Divine's own work and since Yoga means a concentrated and involved process of action, effectuating in a minute what would perhaps take years to accomplish in the natural course, one can expect the work to be done sooner rather than later. Indeed, the ideal is one of here and nowhere upon this earth of material existence and now in this life, in this very bodynot hereafter or elsewhere. How long exactly that will mean, depends on many factors, but a few decades on this side or the other do not matter very much.
--
From a certain point of view, from the point of view of essentials and inner realities, it would appear that spirituality is, at least, the basis of the arts, if not the highest art. If art is meant to express the soul of things, and since the true soul of things is the divine element in them, then certainly spirituality, the discipline of coming in conscious contact with the Spirit, the Divine, must be accorded the regal seat in the hierarchy of the arts. Also, spirituality is the greatest and the most difficult of the arts; for it is the art of life. To make of life a perfect work of beauty, pure in its lines, faultless in its rhythm, replete with strength, iridescent: with light, vibrant with delightan embodiment of the Divine, in a wordis the highest ideal of spirituality; viewed the spirituality that Sri Aurobindo practisesis the ne plus ultra of artistic creation
The Gita, II. 40
01.01 - Sri Aurobindo - The Age of Sri Aurobindo, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Apart from the well-recognised fact that only in distress does the normal man think of God and non-worldly things, the real matter, however, is that the inner life is a thing apart and follows its own line of movement, does not depend upon, is not subservient to, the kind of outer life that one may happen to live under. The Bible says indeed, "Blessed are the poor, blessed are they that mourn"... But the Upanishad declares, on the other hand, that even as one lies happily on a royal couch, bathes and anoints himself with all the perfumes of the world, has attendants all around and always to serve him, even so, one can be full of the divine consciousness from the crown of the head to the tip of his toe-nail. In fact, a poor or a prosperous life is in no direct or even indirect ratio to a spiritual life. All the miseries and immediate needs of a physical life do not and cannot detain or delay one from following the path of the ideal; nor can all your riches be a burden to your soul and overwhelm it, if it chooses to walk onit can not only walk, but soar and fly with all that knapsack on its back.
If one were to be busy about reforming the world and when that was done then alone to turn to other-worldly things, in that case, one would never take the turn, for the world will never be reformed totally or even considerably in that way. It is not that reformers have for the first time appeared on the earth in the present age. Men have attempted social, political, economic and moral reforms from times immemorial. But that has not barred the spiritual attempt or minimised its importance. To say that because an ideal is apparently too high or too great for the present age, it must be kept in cold storage is to set a premium on the present nature of humanity arid eternise it: that would bind the world to its old moorings and never give it the opportunity to be free and go out into the high seas of larger and greater realisations.
The ideal or perhaps one should say the policy of Real-politick is the thing needed in this world. To achieve something actually in the physical and material field, even a lesser something, is worth much more than speculating on high flaunting chimeras and indulging in day-dreams. Yes, but what is this something that has to be achieved in the material world? It is always an ideal. Even procuring food for each and every person, clothing and housing all is not less an ideal for all its concern about actuality. Only there are ideals and ideals; some are nearer to the earth, some seem to be in the background. But the mystery is that it is not always the ideal nearest to the earth which is the easiest to achieve or the first thing to be done first. Do we not see before our very eye show some very simple innocent social and economic changes are difficult to carry outthey bring in their train quite disproportionately gestures and movements of violence and revolution? That is because we seek to cure the symptoms and not touch the root of the disease. For even the most innocent-looking social, economic or political abuse has at its base far-reaching attitudes and life-urgeseven a spiritual outlook that have to be sought out and tackled first, if the attempt at reform is to be permanently and wholly successful. Even in mundane matters we do not dig deep enough, or rise high enough.
Indeed, looking from a standpoint that views the working of the forces that act and achieve and not the external facts and events and arrangements aloneone finds that things that are achieved on the material plane are first developed and matured and made ready behind the veil and at a given moment burst out and manifest themselves often unexpectedly and suddenly like a chick out of the shell or the young butterfly out of the cocoon. The Gita points to that truth of Nature when it says: "These beings have already been killed by Me." It is not that a long or strenuous physical planning and preparation alone or in the largest measure brings about a physical realisation. The deeper we go within, the farther we are away from the surface, the nearer we come to the roots and sources of things even most superficial. The spiritual view sees and declares that it is the Brahmic consciousness that holds, inspires, builds up Matter, the physical body and form of Brahman.
The highest ideal, the very highest which God and Nature and Man have in view, is not and cannot be kept in cold storage: it is being worked out even here and now, and it has to be worked out here and now. The ideal of the Life Divine embodies a central truth of existence, and however difficult or chimerical it may appear to be to the normal mind, it is the preoccupation of the inner being of manall other ways or attempts of curing human ills are faint echoes, masks, diversions of this secret urge at the source and heart of things. That ideal is a norm and a force that is ever dynamic and has become doubly so since it has entered the earth atmosphere and the waking human consciousness and is labouring there. It is always safer and wiser to recognise that fact, to help in the realisation of that truth and be profited by it.
***
01.01 - The New Humanity, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
And now the days of captivity or rather of inner preparation are at an end. The voice in the wilderness was necessary, for it was a call and a communion in the silence of the soul. Today the silence seeks utterance. Today the shell is ripe enough to break and to bring out the mature and full-grown being. The king that was in hiding comes in glory and triumph, in his complete regalia.
Another humanity is rising out of the present human species. The beings of the new order are everywhere and it is they who will soon hold sway over earth, be the head and front of the terrestrial evolution in the cycle that is approaching as it was with man in the cycle that is passing away. What will this new order of being be like? It will be what man is not, also what man is. It will not be man, because it will overstep the limitations and incapacities inherent in man; and it will be man by the realisation of those fundamental aspirations and yearnings that have troubled and consoled the deeper strata the soulin him throughout the varied experiences of his terrestrial life.
The New Man will be Master and not slave. He will be master, first, of himself and then of the world. Man as he actually is, is but a slave. He has no personal voice or choice; the determining soul, the Ishwara, in him is sleep-bound and hushed. He is a mere plaything in the hands of nature and circumstances. Therefore it is that Science has become his supreme Dharmashastra; for science seeks to teach us the moods of Nature and the methods of propitiating her. Our actual ideal of man is that of the cleverest slave. But the New Man will have found himself and by and according to his inner will, mould and create his world. He will not be in awe of Nature and in an attitude of perpetual apprehension and hesitation, but will ground himself on a secret harmony and union that will declare him as the lord. We will recognise the New Man by his very gait and manner, by a certain kingly ease and dominion in every shade of his expression.
Not that this sovereign power will have anything to do with aggression or over-bearingness. It will not be a power that feels itself only by creating an eternal opponentErbfeindby coming in constant clash with a rival that seeks to gain victory by subjugating. It will not be Nietzschean "will to power," which is, at best, a supreme Asuric power. It will rather be a Divine Power, for the strength it will exert and the victory it will achieve will not come from the egoit is the ego which requires an object outside and against to feel and affirm itself but it will come from a higher personal self which is one with the cosmic soul and therefore with other personal souls. The Asura, in spite of, or rather, because of his aggressive vehemence betrays a lack of the sovereign power that is calm and at ease and self-sufficient. The Devic power does not assert hut simply accomplishes; the forces of the world act not as its opponent but as its instrument. Thus the New Man shall affirm his individual sovereignty and do so to perfection by expressing through it his unity with the cosmic powers, with the infinite godhead. And by being Swarat, Self-Master, he will become Samrat, world-master.
This mastery will be effected not merely in will, but in mind and heart also. For the New Man will know not by the intellect which is egocentric and therefore limited, not by ratiocination which is an indirect and doubtful process, but by direct vision, an inner communion, a soul revelation. The new knowledge will be vast and profound and creative, based as it will be upon the reality of things and not upon their shadows. Truth will shine through every experience and every utterance"a truth shall have its seat on our speech and mind and hearing", so have the Vedas said. The mind and intellect will not be active and constructive agents but the luminous channel of a self-luminous knowledge. And the heart too which is now the field of passion and egoism will be cleared of its noise and obscurity; a serener sky will shed its pure warmth and translucent glow. The knot will be rent asunderbhidyate hridaya granthih and the vast and mighty streams of another ocean will flow through. We will love not merely those to whom we are akin but God's creatures, one and all; we will love not with the yearning and hunger of a mortal but with the wide and intense Rasa that lies in the divine identity of souls.
And the new society will be based not upon competition, nor even upon co-operation. It will not be an open conflict, neither will it be a convenient compromise of rival individual interests. It will be the organic expression of the collective soul of humanity, working and achieving through each and every individual soul its most wide-winging freedom, manifesting the godhead that is, proper to each and every one. It will be an organisation, most delicate and subtle and supple, the members of which will have no need to live upon one another but in and through one another. It will be, if you like, a henotheistic hierarchy in which everyone will be the greatest, since everyone is all and all everyone simultaneously.
01.01 - The One Thing Needful, #The Integral Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
To find the Divine is indeed the first reason for seeking the spiritual Truth and the spiritual life; it is the one thing indispensable and all the resit is nothing without it. The Divine once found, to manifest Him, - that is, first of all to transform one's own limited consciousness into the Divine Consciousness, to live in the infinite Peace, Light, Love, Strength, Bliss, to become that in one's essential nature and, as a consequence, to be its vessel, channel, instrument in one's active nature. To bring into activity the principle of oneness on the material plane or to work for humanity is a mental mistranslation of the Truth - these things cannot be the first true object of spiritual seeking. We must find the Self, the Divine, then only can we know what is the work the Self or the Divine demands from us. Until then our life and action can only be a help or a means towards finding the Divine and it ought not to have any other purpose. As we grow in inner consciousness, or as the spiritual Truth of the Divine grows in us, our life and action must indeed more and more flow from that, be one with that. But to decide beforeh and by our limited mental conceptions what they must be is to hamper the growth of the spiritual Truth within. As that grows we shall feel the Divine Light and Truth, the Divine Power and Force, the Divine Purity and Peace working within us, dealing with our actions as well as our consciousness, making use of them to reshape us into the Divine Image, removing the dross, substituting the pure Gold of the Spirit. Only when the Divine Presence is there in us always and the consciousness transformed, can we have the right to say that we are ready to manifest the Divine on the material plane. To hold up a mental ideal or principle and impose that on the inner working brings the danger of limiting ourselves to a mental realisation or of impeding or even falsifying by a halfway formation the truth growth into the full communion and union with the Divine and the free and intimate outflowing of His will in our life. This is a mistake of orientation to which the mind of today is especially prone. It is far better to approach the Divine for the Peace or Light or Bliss that the realisation of Him gives than to bring in these minor things which can divert us from the one thing needful. The divinisation of the material life also as well as the inner life is part of what we see as the Divine Plan, but it can only be fulfilled by an ourflowing of the inner realisation, something that grows from within outwards, not by the working out of a mental principle.
The realisation of the Divine is the one thing needful and the rest is desirable only in so far as it helps or leads towards that or when it is realised, extends and manifests the realisation. Manifestation and organisation of the whole life for the divine work, - first, the sadhana personal and collective necessary for the realisation and a common life of God-realised men, secondly, for help to the world to move towards that, and to live in the Light - is the whole meaning and purpose of my Yoga. But the realisation is the first need and it is that round which all the rest moves, for apart from it all the rest would have no meaning.
--
Sadhana must be the main thing and sadhana means the purification of the nature, the consecration of the being, the opening of the psychic and the inner mind and vital, the contact and presence of the Divine, the realisation of the Divine in all things, surrender, devotion, the widening of the consciousness into the cosmic Consciousness, the Self one in all, the psychic and the spiritual transformation of the nature.
... the principle of this Yoga is not perfection of the human nature as it is but a psychic and spiritual transformation of all the parts of the being through the action of an inner consciousness and then of a higher consciousness which works on them, throws out the old movements or changes them into the image of its own and so transmutes lower into higher nature. It is not so much the perfection of the intellect as a transcendence of it, a transformation of the mind, the substitution of a larger greater principle of knowledge - and so with all the rest of the being.
This is a slow and difficult process; the road is long and it is hard to establish even the necessary basis. The old existing nature resists and obstructs and difficulties rise one after another and repeatedly till they are overcome. It is therefore necessary to be sure that this is the path to which one is called before one finally decides to tread it.
01.02 - Natures Own Yoga, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 03, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Sri Aurobindo's Yoga is in the direct line of Nature's own Yoga. Nature has a Yoga, which she follows unfailingly, and inevitably for it is her innermost law of being. Yoga means, in essence, a change or transformation of consciousness, a heightening and broadening of consciousness, which is effected by communion or union or identification with a higher and vaster consciousness.
This process of a developing consciousness in Nature is precisely what is known as Evolution. It is the bringing out and fixing of a higher and higher principle of consciousness, hitherto involved and concealed behind the veil, in the earth consciousness as a dynamic factor in Nature's manifest working. Thus, the first stage of evolution is the status of inconscient Matter, of the lifeless physical elements; the second stage is that of the semi-conscious life in the plant, the third that of the conscious life in the animal, and finally the fourth stage, where we stand at present, is that of the embodied self-conscious life in man.
01.02 - The Creative Soul, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Now the centre of this energy, the matrix of creativity is the soul itself, one's own soul. If you want to createlive, grow and be real-find yourself, be yourself. The simple old wisdom still remains the eternal wisdom. It is because we fall off from our soul that we wander into side-paths, paths that do not belong to our real nature and hence that lead to imitation and repetition, decay and death. This is what happens to what we call common souls. The force of circumstances, the pressure of environment or simply the momentum of custom or habit compel them to choose the easiest and the readiest way that may lie before them. They do not consult the demand of the inner being but the requirement of the moment. Our bodily needs, our vital hungers and our mental prejudices obsess and obscure the impulsions that thrill the hidden spirit. We hasten to gratify the immediate and forget the eternal, we clutch at the shadow and let go the substance. We are carried away in the flux and tumult of life. It is a mixed and collective whirla Weltgeist that moves and governs us. We are helpless straws drifting in the current. But manhood demands that we stop and pause, pull ourselves out of the Maelstrom and be what we are. We must shape things as we want and not allow things to shape us as they want.
Let each take cognisance of the godhead that is within him for self is Godand in the strength of the soul-divinity create his universe. It does not matter what sort of universe he- creates, so long as he creates it. The world created by a Buddha is not the same as that created by a Napoleon, nor should they be the same. It does not prove anything that I cannot become a Kalidasa; for that matter Kalidasa cannot become what I am. If you have not the genius of a Shankara it does not mean that you have no genius at all. Be and become yourselfma gridhah kasyachit dhanam, says the Upanishad. The fountain-head of creative genius lies there, in the free choice and the particular delight the self-determination of the spirit within you and not in the desire for your neighbours riches. The world has become dull and uniform and mechanical, since everybody endeavours to become not himself, but always somebody else. Imitation is servitude and servitude brings in grief.
01.02 - The Issue, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
As in a many-hued flaming inner dawn,
Her life's broad highways and its sweet bypaths
01.03 - Mystic Poetry, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Among the ancients, strictly speaking, the later classical Lucretius was a remarkable phenomenon. By nature he was a poet, but his mental interest lay in metaphysical speculation, in philosophy, and unpoetical business. He turned away from arms and heroes, wrath and love and, like Seneca and Aurelius, gave himself up to moralising and philosophising, delving 'into the mystery, the why and the how and the whither of it all. He chose a dangerous subject for his poetic inspiration and yet it cannot be said that his attempt was a failure. Lucretius was not a religious or spiritual poet; he was rather Marxian,atheistic, materialistic. The dialectical materialism of today could find in him a lot of nourishment and support. But whatever the content, the manner has made a whole difference. There was an idealism, a clarity of vision and an intensity of perception, which however scientific apparently, gave his creation a note, an accent, an atmosphere high, tense, aloof, ascetic, at times bordering on the supra-sensual. It was a high light, a force of consciousness that at its highest pitch had the ring and vibration of something almost spiritual. For the basic principle of Lucretius' inspiration is a large thought-force, a tense perception, a taut nervous reactionit is not, of course, the identity in being with the inner realities which is the hallmark of a spiritual consciousness, yet it is something on the way towards that.
There have been other philosophical poets, a good number of them since thennot merely rationally philosophical, as was the vogue in the eighteenth century, but metaphysically philosophical, that is to say, inquiring not merely into the phenomenal but also into the labyrinths of the noumenal, investigating not only what meets the senses, but also things that are behind or beyond. Amidst the earlier efflorescence of this movement the most outstanding philosopher poet is of course Dante, the Dante of Paradiso, a philosopher in the mediaeval manner and to the extent a lesser poet, according to some. Goe the is another, almost in the grand modern manner. Wordsworth is full of metaphysics from the crown of his head to the tip of his toe although his poetry, perhaps the major portion of it, had to undergo some kind of martyrdom because of it. And Shelley, the supremely lyric singer, has had a very rich undertone of thought-content genuinely metaphysical. And Browning and Arnold and Hardyindeed, if we come to the more moderns, we have to cite the whole host of them, none can be excepted.
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Poetry, actually however, has been, by and large, a profane and mundane affair: for it expresses the normal man's perceptions and feelings and experiences, human loves and hates and desires and ambitions. True. And yet there has also always been an attempt, a tendency to deal with them in such a way as can bring calm and puritykatharsisnot trouble and confusion. That has been the purpose of all Art from the ancient days. Besides, there has been a growth and development in the historic process of this katharsis. As by the sublimation of his bodily and vital instincts and impulses., man is gradually growing into the mental, moral and finally spiritual consciousness, even so the artistic expression of his creative activity has followed a similar line of transformation. The first and original transformation happened with religious poetry. The religious, one may say, is the profane inside out; that is to say, the religious man has almost the same tone and temper, the same urges and passions, only turned Godward. Religious poetry too marks a new turn and development of human speech, in taking the name of God human tongue acquires a new plasticity and flavour that transform or give a new modulation even to things profane and mundane it speaks of. Religious means at bottom the colouring of mental and moral idealism. A parallel process of katharsis is found in another class of poetic creation, viz., the allegory. Allegory or parable is the stage when the higher and inner realities are expressed wholly in the modes and manner, in the form and character of the normal and external, when moral, religious or spiritual truths are expressed in the terms and figures of the profane life. The higher or the inner ideal is like a loose clothing upon the ordinary consciousness, it does not fit closely or fuse. In the religious, however, the first step is taken for a mingling and fusion. The mystic is the beg inning of a real fusion and a considerable ascension of the lower into the higher. The philosopher poet follows another line for the same katharsisinstead of uplifting emotions and sensibility, he proceeds by thought-power, by the ideas and principles that lie behind all movements and give a pattern to all things existing. The mystic can be of either type, the religious mystic or the philosopher mystic, although often the two are welded together and cannot be very well separated. Let us illustrate a little:
The spacious firmament on high,
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An allegorical structure has been transfused into a living and burning symbolism of an inner world.
But all that is left far behind, when we hear a new voice announcing an altogether new manner, revelatory of the truly and supremely spiritual consciousness, not simply mystic or religious but magically occult and carved out of the highest if recondite philosophia:
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"Auguries of innocence".
K. D. Sethna: "This Errant Life" in The Secret Splentiour.
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"Auguries of innocence".
"Jerusalem".
01.03 - The Yoga of the King - The Yoga of the Souls Release, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
His inner self grew near to others' selves
And bore a kinship's weight, a common tie,
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Opened the windows of the inner sight.
He owned the house of undivided Time.
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The inner planes uncovered their crystal doors;
Strange powers and influences touched his life.
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Watched by the inner Witness's moveless peace.
Even on the struggling Nature left below
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The voices that an inner listening hears
Conveyed to him their prophet utterances,
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His commonest doings welled from an inner Light.
Awakened to the lines that Nature hides,
01.03 - Yoga and the Ordinary Life, #The Integral Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
But even if he can live partly in it or keep himself constantly open to it, he receives enough of this spiritual light and peace and strength and happiness to carry him securely through all the shocks of life. What one gains by opening to this spiritual consciousness, depends on what one seeks from it; if it is peace, one gets peace; if it is light or knowledge, one lives in a great light and receives a knowledge deeper and truer than any the normal mind of man can acquire; if it [is] strength or power, one gets a spiritual strength for the inner life or Yogic power to govern the outer work and action; if it is happiness, one enters into a beatitude far greater than any joy or happiness that the ordinary human life can give.
There are many ways of opening to this Divine consciousness or entering into it. My way which I show to others is by a constant practice to go inward into oneself, to open by aspiration to the Divine and once one is conscious of it and its action to give oneself to It entirely. This self-giving means not to ask for anything but the constant contact or union with the Divine Consciousness, to aspire for its peace, power, light and felicity, but to ask nothing else and in life and action to be its instrument only for whatever work it gives one to do in the world. If one can once open and feel the Divine Force, the
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Apart from external things there are two possible inner ideals which a man can follow. The first is the highest ideal of ordinary human life and the other the divine ideal of Yoga.
I must say in view of something you seem to have said to your father that it is not the object of the one to be a great man or the object of the other to be a great Yogin. The ideal of human life is to establish over the whole being the control of a clear, strong and rational mind and a right and rational will, to master the emotional, vital and physical being, create a harmony of the whole and develop the capacities whatever they are and fulfil them in life. In the terms of Hindu thought, it is to enthrone the rule of the purified and sattwic buddhi, follow the dharma, fulfilling one's own svadharma and doing the work proper to one's capacities, and satisfy kama and artha under the control of the buddhi and the dharma. The object of the divine life, on the other hand, is to realise one's highest self or to realise
01.04 - Motives for Seeking the Divine, #The Integral Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
- for these are the things that lead on towards the Divine so long as the absolute inner call that is there all the time does not push itself to the surface. But it is really that that has drawn from the beg inning and is there behind - it is the categorical spiritual imperative, the absolute need of the soul for the Divine.
I am not saying that there is to be no Ananda. The selfgiving itself is a profound Ananda and what it brings, carries in its wake an inexpressible Ananda - and it is brought by this method sooner than by any other, so that one can say almost,
01.04 - The Poetry in the Making, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
I said that the supreme artist is superconscious: his consciousness withdraws from the normal mental consciousness and becomes awake and alive in another order of consciousness. To that superior consciousness the artist's mentalityhis ideas and dispositions, his judgments and valuations and acquisitions, in other words, his normal psychological make-upserves as a channel, an instrument, a medium for transcription. Now, there are two stages, or rather two lines of activity in the processus, for they may be overlapping and practically simultaneous. First, there is the withdrawal and the in-gathering of consciousness and then its reappearance into expression. The consciousness retires into a secret or subtle worldWords-worth's "recollected in tranquillity"and comes back with the riches gathered or transmuted there. But the purity of the gold thus garnered and stalled in the artistry of words and sounds or lines and colours depends altogether upon the purity of the channel through which it has to pass. The mental vehicle receives and records and it can do so to perfection if it is perfectly in tune with what it has to receive and record; otherwise the transcription becomes mixed and blurred, a faint or confused echo, a poor show. The supreme creators are precisely those in whom the receptacle, the instrumental faculties offer the least resistance and record with absolute fidelity the experiences of the over or inner consciousness. In Shakespeare, in Homer, in Valmiki the inflatus of the secret consciousness, the inspiration, as it is usually termed, bears down, sweeps away all obscurity or contrariety in the recording mentality, suffuses it with its own glow and puissance, indeed resolves it into its own substance, as it were. And the difference between the two, the secret norm and the recording form, determines the scale of the artist's creative value. It happens often that the obstruction of a too critically observant and self-conscious brain-mind successfully blocks up the flow of something supremely beautiful that wanted to come down and waited for an opportunity.
Artists themselves, almost invariably, speak of their inspiration: they look upon themselves more or less as mere instruments of something or some Power that is beyond them, beyond their normal consciousness attached to the brain-mind, that controls them and which they cannot control. This perception has been given shape in myths and legends. Goddess Saraswati or the Muses are, however, for them not a mere metaphor but concrete realities. To what extent a poet may feel himself to be a mere passive, almost inanimate, instrumentnothing more than a mirror or a sensitive photographic plateis illustrated in the famous case of Coleridge. His Kubla Khan, as is well known, he heard in sleep and it was a long poem very distinctly recited to him, but when he woke up and wanted to write it down he could remember only the opening lines, the rest having gone completely out of his memory; in other words, the poem was ready-composed somewhere else, but the transmitting or recording instrument was faulty and failed him. Indeed, it is a common experience to hear in sleep verses or musical tunes and what seem then to be very beautiful things, but which leave no trace on the brain and are not recalled in memory.
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The three or four major orders I speak of in reference to conscious artistry are exampled characteristically in the history of the evolution of Greek poetry. It must be remembered, however, at the very outset that the Greeks as a race were nothing if not rational and intellectual. It was an element of strong self-consciousness that they brought into human culture that was their special gift. Leaving out of account Homer who was, as I said, a primitive, their classical age began with Aeschylus who was the first and the most spontaneous and intuitive of the Great Three. Sophocles, who comes next, is more balanced and self-controlled and pregnant with a reasoned thought-content clothed in polished phrasing. We feel here that the artist knew what he was about and was exercising a conscious control over his instruments and materials, unlike his predecessor who seemed to be completely carried away by the onrush of the poetic enthousiasmos. Sophocles, in spite of his artistic perfection or perhaps because of it, appears to be just a little, one remove, away from the purity of the central inspiration there is a veil, although a thin transparent veil, yet a veil between which intervenes. With the third of the Brotherhood, Euripides, we slide lower downwe arrive at a predominantly mental transcription of an experience or inner conception; but something of the major breath continues, an aura, a rhythm that maintains the inner contact and thus saves the poetry. In a subsequent age, in Theocritus, for example, poetry became truly very much 'sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought', so much of virtuosity and precocity entered into it; in other words, the poet then was an excessively self-conscious artist. That seems to be the general trend of all literature.
But should there be an inherent incompatibility between spontaneous creation and self-consciousness? As we have seen, a harmony and fusion can and do happen of the superconscious and the normally conscious in the Yogi. Likewise, an artist also can be wakeful and transparent enough so that he is conscious on both the levels simultaneouslyabove, he is conscious of the source and origin of his inspiration, and on the level plain he is conscious of the working of the instrument, how the vehicle transcribes and embodies what comes from elsewhere. The poet's consciousness becomes then divalent as it werethere is a sense of absolute passivity in respect of the receiving apparatus and coupled and immisced with it there is also the sense of dynamism, of conscious agency as in his secret being he is the master of his apparatus and one with the Inspirerin other words, the poet is both a seer (kavih) and a creator or doer (poits).
Not only so, the future development of the poetic consciousness seems inevitably to lead to such a consummation in which the creative and the critical faculties will not be separate but form part of one and indivisible movement. Historically, human consciousness has grown from unconsciousness to consciousness and from consciousness to self-consciousness; man's creative and artistic genius too has moved pari passu in the same direction. The earliest and primitive poets were mostly unconscious, that is to say, they wrote or said things as they came to them spontaneously, without effort, without reflection, they do not seem to know the whence and wherefore and whither of it all, they know only that the wind bloweth as it listeth. That was when man had not yet eaten the fruit of knowledge, was still in the innocence of childhood. But as he grew up and progressed, he became more and more conscious, capable of exerting and exercising a deliberate will and initiating a purposive action, not only in the external practical field but also in the psychological domain. If the earlier group is called "primitives", the later one, that of conscious artists, usually goes by the name of "classicists." Modern creators have gone one step farther in the direction of self-consciousness, a return upon oneself, an inlook of full awareness and a free and alert activity of the critical faculties. An unconscious artist in the sense of the "primitives" is almost an impossible phenomenon in the modern world. All are scientists: an artist cannot but be consciously critical, deliberate, purposive in what he creates and how he creates. Evidently, this has cost something of the old-world spontaneity and supremacy of utterance; but it cannot be helped, we cannot comm and the tide to roll back, Canute-like. The feature has to be accepted and a remedy and new orientation discovered.
The modern critical self-consciousness in the artist originated with the Romantics. The very essence of Romanticism is curiosity the scientist's pleasure in analysing, observing, experimenting, changing the conditions of our reactions, mental or sentimental or even nervous and physical by way of discovery of new and unforeseen or unexpected modes of "psychoses" or psychological states. Goethe, Wordsworth, Stendhal represented a mentality and initiated a movement which led logically to the age of Hardy, Housman and Bridges and in the end to that of Lawrence and Joyce, Ezra Pound and Eliot and Auden. On the Continent we can consider Flaubert as the last of the classicists married to the very quintessence of Romanticism. A hard, self-regarding, self-critical mentality, a cold scalpel-like gaze that penetrates and upturns the reverse side of things is intimately associated with the poetic genius of Mallarm and constitutes almost the whole of Valry's. The impassioned lines of a very modern poet like Aragon are also characterised by a consummate virtuosity in chiselled artistry, conscious and deliberate and willed at every step and turn.
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I have spoken of the source of inspiration as essentially and originally being a super-consciousness or over-consciousness. But to be more precise and accurate I should add another source, an inner consciousness. As the super-consciousness is imaged as lying above the normal consciousness, so the inner consciousness may be described as lying behind or within it. The movement of the inner consciousness has found expression more often and more largely than that of over-consciousness in the artistic creation of the past : and that was in keeping with the nature of the old-world inspiration, for the inspiration that comes from the inner consciousness, which can be considered as the lyrical inspiration, tends to be naturally more "spontaneous", less conscious, since it does not at all go by the path of the head, it evades that as much as possible and goes by the path of the heart.
But the evolutionary urge, as I have said, has always been to bring down or instil more and more light and self-consciousness into the depths of the heart too: and the first result has been an intellectualisation, a rationalisation of the consciousness, a movement of scientific observation and criticism which very naturally leads to a desiccation of the poetic enthusiasm and fervour. But a period of transcendence is in gestation. All efforts of modern poets and craftsmen, even those that seem apparently queer, bizarre and futile, are at bottom a travail for this transcendence, including those that seem contradictory to it.
01.04 - The Secret Knowledge, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
In moments when the inner lamps are lit
And the life's cherished guests are left outside,
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A silence overhead, an inner voice,
A living image seated in the heart,
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A Power into mind's inner chamber steal,
A charm and sweetness open life's closed doors
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The Spirit, the innumerable One,
He has left behind his lone eternity,
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As if he had lost an inner light he seeks:
As a sojourner lingering amid alien scenes
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On a secret inner ocean without bourne:
He is the adventurer and cosmologist
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Takes deeper meanings to his inner view;
His is a search of darkness for the light,
01.05 - Rabindranath Tagore: A Great Poet, a Great Man, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Tagore is in direct line with those bards who have sung of the Spirit, who always soared high above the falsehoods and uglinesses of a merely mundane life and lived in the undecaying delights and beauties of a diviner consciousness. Spiritual reality was the central theme of his poetic creation: only and naturally he viewed it in a special way and endowed it with a special grace. We know of another God-intoxicated man, the Jewish philosopher Spinoza, who saw things sub specie aeternitatis, under the figure or mode of eternity. Well, Tagore can be said to see things, in their essential spiritual reality, under the figure or mode of beauty. Keats indeed spoke of truth being beauty and beauty truth. But there is a great difference in the outlook and inner experience. A worshipper of beauty, unless he rises to the Upanishadic norm, is prone to become sensuous and pagan. Keats was that, Kalidasa was that, even Shelley was not far different. The spiritual vein in all these poets remains secondary. In the old Indian master, it is part of his intellectual equipment, no doubt, but nothing much more than that. In the other two it comes in as strange flashes from an unknown country, as a sort of irruption or on the peak of the poetic afflatus or enthousiasmos.
The world being nothing but Spirit made visible is, according to Tagore, fundamentally a thing of beauty. The scars and spots that are on the surface have to be removed and mankind has to repossess and clo the itself with that mantle of beauty. The world is beautiful, because it is the image of the Beautiful, because it harbours, expresses and embodies the Divine who is Beauty supreme. Now by a strange alchemy, a wonderful effect of polarisation, the very spiritual element in Tagore has made him almost a pagan and even a profane. For what are these glories of Nature and the still more exquisite glories that the human body has captured? They are but vibrations and modulations of beauty the delightful names and forms of the supreme Lover and Beloved.
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Tagore is no inventor or innovator when he posits Spirit as Beauty, the spiritual consciousness as the ardent rhythm of ecstasy. This experience is the very core of Vaishnavism and for which Tagore is sometimes called a Neo-Vaishnava. The Vaishnava sees the world pulsating in glamorous beauty as the Lila (Play) of the Lord, and the Lord, God himself, is nothing but Love and Beauty. Still Tagore is not all Vaishnava or merely a Vaishnava; he is in addition a modern (the carping voice will say, there comes the dilution and adulteration)in the sense that problems exist for himsocial, political, economic, national, humanitarianwhich have to be faced and solved: these are not merely mundane, but woven into the texture of the fundamental problem of human destiny, of Soul and Spirit and God. A Vaishnava was, in spite of his acceptance of the world, an introvert, to use a modern psychological phrase, not necessarily in the pejorative sense, but in the neutral scientific sense. He looks upon the universe' and human life as the play of the Lord, as an actuality and not mere illusion indeed; but he does not participate or even take interest in the dynamic working out of the world process, he does not care to know, has no need of knowing that there is a terrestrial purpose and a diviner fulfilment of the mortal life upon earth. The Vaishnava dwells more or less absorbed in the Vaikuntha of his inner consciousness; the outer world, although real, is only a symbolic shadowplay to which he can but be a witness-real, is only a nothing more.
A modern idealist of the type of a reformer would not be satisfied with that role. If he is merely a moralist reformer, he will revolt against the "witness business", calling it a laissez-faire mentality of bygone days. A spiritual reformer would ask for morea dynamic union with the Divine Will and Consciousness, not merely a passive enjoyment in the Bliss, so that he may be a luminous power or agent for the expression of divine values in things mundane.
Not the acceptance of the world as it is, not even a joyous acceptance, viewing it as an inexplicable and mysterious and magic play of, God, but the asp ration and endeavour to change it, mould it in the pattern of its inner divine realities for there are such realities which seek expression and embodiment in earthly life that is the great mission and labour of humanity and that is all the meaning of man's existence here below. And Tagore is one of the great prophets and labourers who had the vision of the shape of things to come and worked for it. Only it must be noted, as I have already said, that unlike mere moral reformists or scientific planners, Tagore grounded himself upon the eternal ancient truths that "age cannot wither nor custom stale"the divine truths of the Spirit.
Tagore was a poet; this poetic power of his he put in the service of the great cause for the divine uplift of humanity. Naturally, it goes without saying, his poetry did not preach or propagandize the truths for which he stoodhe had a fine and powerful weapon in his prose to do the work, even then in a poetic way but to sing them. And he sang them not in their philosophical bareness, like a Lucretius, or in their sheer transcendental austerity like some of the Upanishadic Rishis, but in and through human values and earthly norms. The especial aroma of Tagore's poetry lies exactly here, as he himself says, in the note of unboundedness in things bounded that it describes. A mundane, profane sensuousness, Kalidasian in richness and sweetness, is matched or counterpointed by a simple haunting note imbedded or trailing somewhere behind, a lyric cry persevering into eternity, the nostalgic cry of the still small voice.2
01.05 - The Yoga of the King - The Yoga of the Spirits Freedom and Greatness, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Warnings from the daemonic inner voice
And peeps and lightning-leaps of prophecy
And intimations to the inner ear,
Abrupt interventions stark and absolute
01.06 - On Communism, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Communism takes man not as ego or the vital creature; it turns him upside downurdhomulo' vaksakhah and establishes him upon his soul, his inner godhead. Thus established the individual soul finds and fulfils the divine law that by increasing itself it increases others and by increasing others it increases itself and thus by increasing one another they attain the supreme good. Unless man goes beyond himself and reaches this self, this godhead above, he will not find any real poise, will always swing between individualism and collectivism, he will remain always boundbound either in his freedom or in his bondage.
A commune is a group of individuals having a common self and a common life-intuition. A common self presupposes the realisation by each individual of his deepest being the self which is at once distinct from and instinct with other selves; a common life-intuition presupposes the awakening of each individual to his inmost creative urge, which, pure and true and vast as it is, fulfils itself in and through other creative urges.
01.06 - Vivekananda, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The gospel of strength that Vivekananda spread was very characteristic of the man. For it is not mere physical or nervous bravery, although that too is indispensable, and it is something more than moral courage. In the speeches referred to, the subject-matter (as well as the manner to a large extent) is philosophical, metaphysical, even abstract in outlook and treatment: they are not a call to arms, like the French National Anthem, for example; they are not merely an ethical exhortation, a moral lesson either. They speak of the inner spirit, the divine in man, the supreme realities that lie beyond. And yet the words are permeated through and through with a vibration life-giving and heroic-not so much in the explicit and apparent meaning as in the style and manner and atmosphere: it is catching, even or precisely when he refers, for example, to these passages in the Vedas and the Upanishads, magnificent in their poetic beauty, sublime in their spiritual truth,nec plus ultra, one can say, in the grand style supreme:
Yasyaite himavanto mahitv
01.07 - Blaise Pascal (1623-1662), #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
But the pressure upon his dynamic and heated brain the fiery zeal in his mindwas already proving too much and he was advised medically to take complete rest. Thereupon followed what was known as Pascal's mundane lifea period of distraction and dissipation; but this did not last long nor was it of a serious nature. The inner fire could brook no delay, it was eager and impatient to englobe other fields and domains. Indeed, it turned to its own field the heart. Pascal became initiated into the mystery of Faith and Grace. Still he had to pass through a terrible period of dejection and despair: the life of the world had given him no rest or relaxation, it served only to fill his cup of misery to the brim. But the hour of final relief was not long postponed: the Grace came to him, even as it came to Moses or St. Paul as a sudden flare of fire which burnt up the Dark Night and opened out the portals of Morning Glory.
Pascal's place in the evolution of European culture and consciousness is of considerable significance and importance. He came at a critical time, on the mounting tide of rationalism and scepticism, in an age when the tone and temper of human mentality were influenced and fashioned by Montaigne and Rochefoucauld, by Bacon and Hobbes. Pascal himself, born in such an atmosphere of doubt and disbelief and disillusionment, had sucked in a full dose of that poison; yet he survived and found the Rock of Ages, became the clarion of Faith against Denial. What a spectacle it was! This is what one wrote just a quarter of a century after the death of Pascal:
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Pascal's faith had not the calm, tranquil, serene, luminous and happy self-possession of an Indian Rishi. It was ardent and impatient, fiery and vehement. It had to be so perhaps, since it was to stand against his steely brain (and a gloomy vital or life force) as a counterpoise, even as an antidote. This tension and schism brought about, at least contri buted to his neuras thenia and physical infirmity. But whatever the effect upon his inner consciousness and spiritual achievement, his power of expression, his literary style acquired by that a special quality which is his great gift to the French language. If one speaks of Pascal, one has to speak of his language also; for he was one of the great masters who created the French prose. His prose was a wonderful blend of clarity, precision, serried logic and warmth, colour, life, movement, plasticity.
A translation cannot give any idea of the Pascalian style; but an inner echo of the same can perhaps be caught from the thought movement of these characteristic sayings of his with which we conclude:
"Contradiction is not a mark of falsehood, nor is uncontradiction a mark of truth."8
01.08 - Walter Hilton: The Scale of Perfection, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Here is the Augustinian mantra taken as the motto of The Scale of Perfection: We ascend the ascending grades in our heart and we sing the song of ascension1. The journey's end is heavenly Jerusalem, the House of the Lord. The steps of this inner ascension are easily visible, not surely to the outer eye of the sense-burdened man, but to the "ghostly seeing" of the aspirant which is hazy in the beg inning but slowly clears as he advances. The first step is the withdrawal from the outer senses and looking and seeing within. "Turn home again in thyself, and hold thee within and beg no more without." The immediate result is a darkness and a restless darknessit is a painful night. The outer objects of attraction and interest have been discarded, but the inner attachments and passions surge there still. If, however, one continues and persists, refuses to be drawn out, the turmoil settles down and the darkness begins to thin and wear away. One must not lose heart, one must have patience and perseverance. So when the outward world is no more-there and its call also no longer awakes any echo in us, then comes the stage of "restful darkness" or "light-some darkness". But it is still the dark Night of the soul. The outer light is gone and the inner light is not yet visible: the night, the desert, the great Nought, stretches between these two lights. But the true seeker goes through and comes out of the tunnel. And there is happiness at the end. "The seeking is travaillous, but the finding is blissful." When one steps out of the Night, enters into the deepest layer of the being, one stands face to face to one's soul, the very image of God, the perfect God-man, the Christ within. That is the third degree of our inner ascension, the entry into the deepest, purest and happiest statein which one becomes what he truly is; one finds the Christ there and dwells in love and union with him. But there is still a further step to take, and that is real ascension. For till now it has been a going within, from the outward to the inner and the inmost; now one has to go upward, transcend. Within the body, in life, however deep you may go, even if you find your soul and your union with Jesus whose tabernacle is your soul, still there is bound to remain a shadow of the sinful prison-house; the perfect bliss and purity without any earthly taint, the completeness and the crowning of the purgation and transfiguration can come only when you go beyond, leaving altogether the earthly form and worldly vesture and soar into Heaven itself and be in the company of the Trinity. "Into myself, and after... above myself by overpassing only into Him." At the same time it is pointed out, this mediaeval mystic has the common sense to see that the going in and going above of which one speaks must not be understood in a literal way, it is a figure of speech. The movement of the mystic is psychological"ghostly", it is saidnot physical or carnal.
This spiritual march or progress can also be described as a growing into the likeness of the Lord. His true self, his own image is implanted within us; he is there in the profoundest depth of our being as Jesus, our beloved and our soul rests in him in utmost bliss. We are aware neither of Jesus nor of his spouse, our soul, because of the obsession of the flesh, the turmoil raised by the senses, the blindness of pride and egoism. All that constitutes the first or old Adam, the image of Nought, the body of death which means at bottom the "false misruled love in to thyself." This self-love is the mother of sin, is sin itself. What it has to be replaced by is charity that is the true meaning of Christian charity, forgetfulness of self. "What is sin but a wanting and a forbearing of God." And the whole task, the discipline consists in "the shaping of Christ in you, the casting of sin through Christ." Who then is Christ, what is he? This knowledge you get as you advance from your sense-bound perception towards the inner and inmost seeing. As your outer nature gets purified, you approach gradually your soul, the scales fall off from your eyes too and you have the knowledge and "ghostly vision." Here too there are three degrees; first, you start with faith the senses can do nothing better than have faith; next, you rise to imagination which gives a sort of indirect touch or inkling of the truth; finally, you have the "understanding", the direct vision. "If he first trow it, he shall afterwards through grace feel it, and finally understand it."
It is never possible for man, weak and bound as he is, to reject the thraldom of his flesh, he can never purify himself wholly by his own unaided strength. God in his infinite mercy sent his own son, an emanation created out of his substancehis embodied loveas a human being to suffer along with men and take upon himself the burden of their sins. God the Son lived upon earth as man and died as man. Sin therefore has no longer its final or definitive hold upon mankind. Man has been made potentially free, pure and worthy of salvation. This is the mystery of Christ, of God the Son. But there is a further mystery. Christ not only lived for all men for all time, whether they know him, recognise him or not; but he still lives, he still chooses his beloved and his beloved chooses him, there is a conscious acceptance on either side. This is the function of the Holy Ghost, the redeeming power of Love active in him who accepts it and who is accepted by it, the dynamic Christ-Consciousness in the true Christian.
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Indeed, it would be interesting to compare and contrast the Eastern and Western approach to Divine Love, the Christian and the Vaishnava, for example. Indian spirituality, whatever its outer form or credal formulation, has always a background of utter unity. This unity, again, is threefold or triune and is expressed in those great Upanishadic phrases,mahvkyas,(1) the transcendental unity: the One alone exists, there is nothing else than theOneekamevdvityam; (2) the cosmic unity: all existence is one, whatever exists is that One, thereare no separate existences:sarvam khalvidam brahma neha nnsti kincaa; (3) That One is I, you too are that One:so' ham, tattvamasi; this may be called the individual unity. As I have said, all spiritual experiences in India, of whatever school or line, take for granted or are fundamentally based upon this sense of absolute unity or identity. Schools of dualism or pluralism, who do not apparently admit in their tenets this extreme monism, are still permeated in many ways with that sense and in some form or other take cognizance of the truth of it. The Christian doctrine too says indeed, 'I and my Father in Heaven are one', but this is not identity, but union; besides, the human soul is not admitted into this identity, nor the world soul. The world, we have seen, according to the Christian discipline has to be altogether abandoned, negatived, as we go inward and upward towards our spiritual status reflecting the divine image in the divine company. It is a complete rejection, a cutting off and casting away of world and life. One extreme Vedantic path seems to follow a similar line, but there it is not really rejection, but a resolution, not the rejection of what is totally foreign and extraneous, but a resolution of the external into its inner and inmost substance, of the effect into its original cause. Brahman is in the world, Brahman is the world: the world has unrolled itself out of the Brahmansi, pravttiit has to be rolled back into its, cause and substance if it is to regain its pure nature (that is the process of nivitti). Likewise, the individual being in the world, "I", is the transcendent being itself and when it withdraws, it withdraws itself and the whole world with it and merges into the Absolute. Even the Maya of the Mayavadin, although it is viewed as something not inherent in Brahman but superimposed upon Brahman, still, has been accepted as a peculiar power of Brahman itself. The Christian doctrine keeps the individual being separate practically, as an associate or at the most as an image of God. The love for one's neighbour, charity, which the Christian discipline enjoins is one's love for one's kind, because of affinity of nature and quality: it does not dissolve the two into an integral unity and absolute identity, where we love because we are one, because we are the One. The highest culmination of love, the very basis of love, according to the Indian conception, is a transcendence of love, love trans-muted into Bliss. The Upanishad says, where one has become the utter unity, who loves whom? To explain further our point, we take two examples referred to in the book we are considering. The true Christian, it is said, loves the s inner too, he is permitted to dislike sin, for he has to reject it, but he must separate from sin the s inner and love him. Why? Because the s inner too can change and become his brother in spirit, one loves the s inner because there is the possibility of his changing and becoming a true Christian. It is why the orthodox Christian, even such an enlightened and holy person as this mediaeval Canon, considers the non-Christian, the non-baptised as impure and potentially and fundamentally s inners. That is also why the Church, the physical organisation, is worshipped as Christ's very body and outside the Church lies the pagan world which has neither religion nor true spirituality nor salvation. Of course, all this may be symbolic and it is symbolic in a sense. If Christianity is taken to mean true spirituality, and the Church is equated with the collective embodiment of that spirituality, all that is claimed on their behalf stands justified. But that is an ideal, a hypothetical standpoint and can hardly be borne out by facts. However, to come back to our subject, let us ow take the second example. Of Christ himself, it is said, he not only did not dislike or had any aversion for Judas, but that he positively loved the traitor with a true and sincere love. He knew that the man would betray him and even when he was betraying and had betrayed, the Son of Man continued to love him. It was no make-believe or sham or pretence. It was genuine, as genuine as anything can be. Now, why did he love his enemy? Because, it is said, the enemy is suffered by God to do the misdeed: he has been allowed to test the faith of the faithful, he too has his utility, he too is God's servant. And who knows even a Judas would not change in the end? Many who come to scoff do remain to pray. But it can be asked, 'Does God love Satan too in the same way?' The Indian conception which is basically Vedantic is different. There is only one reality, one truth which is viewed differently. Whether a thing is considered good or evil or neutral, essentially and truly, it is that One and nothing else. God's own self is everywhere and the sage makes no difference between the Brahmin and the cow and the elephant. It is his own self he finds in every person and every objectsarvabhtsthitam yo mm bhajati ekatvamsthitah"he has taken his stand upon oneness and loves Me in all beings."2
This will elucidate another point of difference between the Christian's and the Vaishnava's love of God, for both are characterised by an extreme intensity and sweetness and exquisiteness of that divine feeling. This Christian's, however, is the union of the soul in its absolute purity and simplicity and "privacy" with her lord and master; the soul is shred here of all earthly vesture and goes innocent and naked into the embrace of her Beloved. The Vaishnava feeling is richer and seems to possess more amplitude; it is more concrete and less ethereal. The Vaishnava in his passionate yearning seeks to carry as it were the whole world with him to his Lord: for he sees and feels Him not only in the inmost chamber of his soul, but meets Him also in and I through his senses and in and through the world and its objects around. In psychological terms one can say that the Christian realisation, at its very source, is that of the inmost soul, what we call the "psychic being" pure and simple, referred to in the book we are considering; as: "His sweet privy voice... stirreth thine heart full stilly." Whereas the Vaishnava reaches out to his Lord with his outer heart too aflame with passion; not only his inmost being but his vital being also seeks the Divine. This bears upon the occult story of man's spiritual evolution upon earth. The Divine Grace descends from the highest into the deepest and from the deepest to the outer ranges of human nature, so that the whole of it may be illumined and transformed and one day man can embody in his earthly life the integral manifestation of God, the perfect Epiphany. Each religion, each line of spiritual discipline takes up one limb of manone level or mode of his being and consciousness purifies it and suffuses it with the spiritual and divine consciousness, so that in the end the whole of man, in his integral living, is recast and remoulded: each discipline is in charge of one thread as it were, all together weave the warp and woof in the evolution of the perfect pattern of a spiritualised and divinised humanity.
The conception of original sin is a cardinal factor in Christian discipline. The conception, of sinfulness is the very motive-power that drives the aspirant. "Seek tensely," it is said, "sorrow and sigh deep, mourn still, and stoop low till thine eye water for anguish and for pain." Remorse and grief are necessary attendants; the way of the cross is naturally the calvary strewn with pain and sorrow. It is the very opposite of what is termed the "sunlit path" in spiritual ascension. Christian mystics have made a glorious spectacle of the process of "dying to the world." Evidently, all do not go the whole length. There are less gloomy and happier temperaments, like the present one, for example, who show an unusual balance, a sturdy common sense even in the midst of their darkest nights, who have chalked out as much of the sunlit path as is possible in this line. Thus this old-world mystic says: it is true one must see and admit one's sinfulness, the grosser and apparent and more violent ones as well as all the subtle varieties of it that are in you or rise up in you or come from the Enemy. They pursue you till the very end of your journey. Still you need not feel overwhelmed or completely desperate. Once you recognise the sin in you, even the bare fact of recognition means for you half the victory. The mystic says, "It is no sin as thou feelest them." The day Jesus gave himself away on the Cross, since that very day you are free, potentially free from the bondage of sin. Once you give your adherence to Him, the Enemies are rendered powerless. "They tease the soul, but they harm not the soul". Or again, as the mystic graphically phrases it: "This soul is not borne in this image of sin as a sick man, though he feel it; but he beareth it." The best way of dealing with one's enemies is not to struggle and "strive with them." The aspirant, the lover of Jesus, must remember: "He is through grace reformed to the likeness of God ('in the privy substance of his soul within') though he neither feel it nor see it."
0.10 - Letters to a Young Captain, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Stores, the road was covered with innumerable snakes.
I was taken aback and rather afraid. So I was about to
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it will help you in your inner progress; because if you are sincere,
you will one day realise that it is the Divine in her that you love
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main thing is to have tact and sufficient inner perception to
intervene when necessary or to close one's eyes when it is
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It is probably a kind of inner discretion; it is rather a good
sign, because this kind of discretion comes from the psychic
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comes to the same thing - I am speaking of the inner attitude,
of the excessive importance one gives to food, and of greediness.
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liberator. Not the Pundit, but the Yogin, not monasticism, but the inner renunciation of
desire and ignorance and egoism."
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inner closeness and intimacy in the inner being, the sense of the
Mother's love and presence etc."
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consciousness which does not have contact with the inner states
of being. You have to go out of this external consciousness and
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It is a question of inner sincerity. Common sense is not a judge
because it is a mental function of a rather inferior order.
01.10 - Principle and Personality, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The thing, however, is that what you call principles do not drop from heaven in their virgin purity and all at once lay hold of mankind en masse. It is always through a particular individual that a great principle manifests itself. Principles do not live in the general mind of man and even if they live, they live secreted and unconscious; it is only a puissant personality, who has lived the principle, that can bring it forward into life and action, can awaken, like the Vedic Dawn, what was dead in allmritam kanchana bodhayanti. Men in general are by themselves 'inert and indifferent; they have little leisure or inclination to seek, from any inner urge of their own, for principles and primal truths; they become conscious of these only when expressed and embodied in some great and rare soul. An Avatar, a Messiah or a Prophet is the centre, the focus through which a Truth and Law first dawns and then radiates and spreads abroad. The little lamps are all lighted by the sparks that the great torch scatters.
And yet we yield to none in our demand for holding forth the principles always and ever before the wide open gaze of all. The principle is there to make people self-knowing and self-guiding; and the man is also there to illustrate that principle, to serve as the hope and prophecy of achievement. The living soul is there to touch your soul, if you require the touch; and the principle is there by which to test and testify. For, we do not ask anybody to be a mere automaton, a blind devotee, a soul without individual choice and initiative. On the contrary, we insist on each and every individual to find his own soul and stand on his own Truththis is the fundamental principle we declare, the only creedif creed it be that we ask people to note and freely follow. We ask all people to be fully self-dependent and self-illumined, for only thus can a real and solid reconstruction of human nature and society be possible; we do not wish that they should bow down ungrudgingly to anything, be it a principle or a personality. In this respect we claim the very first rank of iconoclasts and anarchists. And along with that, if we still choose to remain an idol-lover and a hero-worshipper, it is because we recognise that our mind, human as it is, being not a simple equation but a complex paradox, the idol or the hero symbolises for us and for those who so will, the very iconoclasm and anarchism and perhaps other more positive things as wellwhich we behold within and seek to manifest.
01.11 - Aldous Huxley: The Perennial Philosophy, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The neatness of the commentary cannot be improved upon. Only with regard to the "ironical ring" of which Huxley speaks, it has just to be pointed out, as he himself seems to understand, that the "we" referred to in the phrase does not mean humanity in general that 'splashes about in the lower ooze' but those who have a sufficiently developed inner spiritual life.
There is a quotation from Lao Tzu put under the heading "Grace and Free Will": "It was when the Great Way declined that human kindness and morality arose".
01.11 - The Basis of Unity, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Islam comes with a full-fledged spiritual soul and a mental and vital formation commensurable with that inner being and consciousness. It comes with a dynamic spirit, a warrior mood, that aims at conquering the physical world for the Lord, a temperament which Indian spirituality had not, or had lost long before, if she had anything of it. This was, perhaps, what Vivekananda meant when he spoke graphically of a Hindu soul with a Muslim body. The Islamic dispensation, however, brings with it not only something complementary, but also something contradictory, if not for anything else, at least for the strong individuality which does not easily yield to assimilation. Still, in spite of great odds, the process of assimilation was going on slowly and surely. But of late it appears to have come to a dead halt; difficulties have been presented which seem insuperable.
If religious toleration were enough, if that made up man's highest and largest achievement, then Nature need not have attempted to go beyond cultural fusion; a liberal culture is the surest basis for a catholic religious spirit. But such a spirit of toleration and catholicity, although it bespeaks a widened consciousness, does not always enshrine a profundity of being. Nobody is more tolerant and catholic than a dilettante, but an ardent spiritual soul is different.
01.12 - Three Degrees of Social Organisation, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
What is required is not therefore an external delimitation of frontiers between unit and unit, but an inner outlook of nature and a poise of character. And this can be cultivated and brought into action by learning to live by the sense of duty. Even then, even the sense of duty, we have to admit, is not enough. For if it leads or is capable of leading into an aberration, we must have something else to check and control it, some other higher and more potent principle. Indeed, both the conceptions of Duty and Right belong to the domain of mental ideal, although one is usually more aggressive and militant (Rajasic) and the other tends to be more tolerant and considerate (sattwic): neither can give an absolute certainty of poise, a clear guarantee of perfect harmony.
Indian wisdom has found this other, a fairer terma tertium quid,the mystic factor, sought for by so many philosophers on so many counts. That is the very well- known, the very familiar termDharma. What is Dharma then? How does it accomplish the miracle which to others seems to have proved an impossibility? Dharma is self-law, that is to say, the law of the Self; it is the rhythm and movement of our inner or inmost being, the spontaneous working out of our truth-conscious nature.
We may perhaps view the three terms Right, Duty and Dharma as degrees of an ascending consciousness. Consciousness at Its origin and in its primitive formulation is dominated by the principle of inertia (tamas); in that state things have mostly an undifferentiated collective existence, they helplessly move about acted upon by forces outside them. A rise in growth and evolution brings about differentiation, specialisation, organisation. And this means consciousness of oneself of the distinct and separate existence of each and everyone, in other words, self-assertion, the claim, the right of each individual unit to be itself, to become itself first and foremost. It is a necessary development; for it signifies the growth of self consciousness in the units out of a mass unconsciousness or semi-consciousness. It is the expression of rajas, the mode of dynamism, of strife and struggle, it is the corrective of tamas.
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The principle of Dharma then inculcates that each individual must, in order to act, find out his truth of being, his true soul and inmost consciousness: one must entirely and integrally merge oneself into that, be identified with it in such a manner that all acts and feelings and thoughts, in fact all movements, inner and outerspontaneously and irrepressibly well out of that fount and origin. The individual souls, being made of one truth-nature in its multiple modalities, when they live, move and have their being in its essential law and dynamism, there cannot but be absolute harmony and perfect synthesis between all the units, even as the sun and moon and stars, as the Veda says, each following its specific orbit according to its specific nature, never collide or haltna me thate na tas thatuh but weave out a faultless pattern of symphony.
The future society of man is envisaged as something of like nature. When the mortal being will have found his immortal soul and divine self, then each one will be able to give full and free expression to his self-nature (swabhava); then indeed the utmost sweep of dynamism in each and all will not cause clash or conflict; on the contrary, each will increase the other and there will be a global increment and fulfilmentparasparam bhavayantah. The division and conflict, the stress and strain that belong to the very nature of the inferior level of being and consciousness will then have been transcended. It is only thus that a diviner humanity can be born and replace all the other moulds and types that can never lead to anything final and absolutely satisfactory.
01.13 - T. S. Eliot: Four Quartets, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Eliot's is a very Christian soul, but we must remember at the same time that he is nothing if not modern. And this modernism gives all the warp and woof woven upon that inner core. How is it characterised? First of all, an intellectualism that requires a reasoned and rational synthesis of all experiences. Another poet, a great poet of the soul's Dark Night was, as we all know, Francis Thompson: it was in his case not merely the soul's night, darkness extended even to life, he lived the Dark Night actually and physically. His haunting, weird lines, seize within their grip our brain and mind and very flesh
My days have crackled and gone up in smoke,5
01.14 - Nicholas Roerich, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The call that stirred a Western soul, made him a wanderer over the world in quest of the Holy Grail and finally lodged him in the Home of the Snows is symbolic of a more than individual destiny. It is representative of the secret history of a whole culture and civilisation that have been ruling humanity for some centuries, its inner want and need and hankering and fulfilment. The West shall come to the East and be reborn. That is the prophecy of occult seers and sages.
I speak of Roerich as a Western soul, but more precisely perhaps he is a soul of the mid-region (as also in another sense we shall see subsequently) intermediary between the East and the West. His external make-up had all the characteristic elements of the Western culture, but his mind and temperament, his inner soul was oriental. And yet it was not the calm luminous staticancientsoul that an Indian or a Chinese sage is; it is a nomad soul, newly awakened, young and fresh and ardent, something primitive, pulsating with the unspoilt green sap of life something in the manner of Whitman. And that makes him all the more representative of the young and ardent West yearning for the light that was never on sea or land.
Is it not strange that one should look to the East for the light? There is a light indeed that dwells in the setting suns, but that is the inferior light, the light that moves level with the earth, pins us down to the normal and ordinary life and consciousness: it" leads into the Night, into Nihil, pralaya. It is the light of the morning sun that man looks up to in his forward march, the sun that rises in the East whom the Vedic Rishi invoked in these magnificent lines:
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The stress of the inner urge to the heights and depths of spiritual values and realities found special and significant expression in his paintings. It is a difficult problem, a problem which artists and poets are tackling today with all their skill and talent. Man's consciousness is no longer satisfied with the customary and the ordinary actions and reactions of life (or thought), with the old-world and time-worn modes and manners. It is no more turned to the apparent and the obvious, to the surface forms and movements of things. It yearns to look behind and beyond, for the secret mechanism, the hidden agency that really drives things. Poets and artists are the vanguards of the age to come, prophets and pioneers preparing the way for the Lord.
Roerich discovered and elaborated his own technique to reveal that which is secret, express that which is not expressed or expressible. First of all, he is symbolical and allegorical: secondly, the choice of his symbols and allegories is hieratic, that is to say, the subject-matter refers to objects and events connected with saints and legends, shrines and enchanted places, hidden treasures, spirits and angels, etc. etc.; thirdly, the manner or style of execution is what we may term pantomimic, in other words, concrete, graphic, dramatic, even melodramatic. He has a special predilection for geometrical patterns the artistic effect of whichbalance, regularity, fixity, soliditywas greatly utilised by the French painter Czanne and poet Mallarm who seem to have influenced Roerich to a considerable degree. But this Northerner had not the reticence, the suavity, the tonic unity of the classicist, nor the normality and clarity of the Latin temperament. The prophet, the priest in him was the stronger element and made use of the artist as the rites andceremoniesmudras and chakrasof his vocation demanded. Indeed, he stands as the hierophant of a new cultural religion and his paintings and utterances are, as it were, gestures that accompany a holy ceremonial.
0.11 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
During sleep the inner beings become consciously active. When
one wakes up, it is the waking being that is not conscious of the
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Even "good and innocent movements" are said to take
on different colours in the light of the psychic flame.
0.12 - Letters to a Student, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
From the viewpoint of the inner nature, the individual is more receptive on his birthday from year to year, and thus it is an opportune moment to help him to make some new progress each year.
Blessings.
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There have been - and there still are - beings whose inner
consciousness is sufficiently developed for them to know for
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just as you are conscious of your days. It is a matter of inner
development and discipline of the consciousness.
0.13 - Letters to a Student, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
enter into relation with the inner Divine; it is only gradually,
through thousands of years of ascending evolution, that men
0.14 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
to concentrate on it by making it the witness of all your inner
movements and the judge of all that you should or should not
0 1954-08-25 - what is this personality? and when will she come?, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
But if She is ever to reside and act here, She has to find at least a minimal receptivity, at least one human being with the required vital and physical qualities, a kind of super-Parsifal gifted with an innate and integral purity, yet possessing at the same time a body strong enough and poised enough to bear unwaveringly the intensity of the Ananda She brings.
Thus far, She has not found what is needed. Men remain obstinately men and do not want to or are unable to become supermen. All they can receive and express is a love at their own dimension: a human lovewhereas the supreme bliss of divine Ananda eludes their perception.
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Before, when there were we started with 35 or 36 people but even when it got up to 150, even with 150it was as if they were all nestled in a cocoon in my consciousness: they were so near to me that I could constantly guide ALL their inner or outer movements. Day and night, at each moment, everything was totally under my control. And naturally, I think they made a great deal of progress at that time: it is a fact that I was CONSTANTLY doing the sadhana2 for them. But then, with this baby boom The sadhana cant be done for little sprouts who are 3 or 4 or 5 years old! Its out of the question. The only thing I can do is wrap them in the Consciousness and try to see that they grow up in the best of all possible conditions. However, the one advantage to all this is that instead of there being such a COMPLETE and PASSIVE dependence on the disciples part, each one has to make his own little effort. Truly, thats excellent.
I dont know to whom I was mentioning this today (I think it was for a Birthday3 No, I dont know now. It was to someone who told me he was 18 years old. I said that between the ages of 18 and 20, I had attained a constant and conscious union with the Divine Presence and that I had done this ALL ALONE, without ANYONES help, not even books. When a little later I chanced upon Vivekanandas Raja Yoga, it really seemed so wonderful to me that someone could explain something to me! And it helped me realize in only a few months what would have otherwise taken years.
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So some of you people have been here since the time you were toddlerseverything has been explained to you, the whole thing has been served to you on a silver platter (not only with words, but through psychic aid and in every possible way), you have been put on the path of this inner discovery and then you just go on drifting along: When it comes, it will come.If you even spare it that much thought!
So thats how it is.
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Well, I am only telling you all this because I thought someone might ask me about it, but otherwise I dont have that kind of relationship with Her. You see, if you consider this body, this poor body, it is very innocent: it in no way tries to draw attention to itself nor to attract forces nor to do anything at all except its workas best it can. And thats how it stands: its importance is proportionate to its usefulness and to the significance the world attri butes to itsince its action is for the world.
But in and of itself, it is only one body among countless others. Thats all.
0 1955-04-04, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Mother, for more than a year now I have been near you and nothing, no really significant inner experience, no sign has come that allows me to feel I have progressed or merely to show me that I am on the right path. I cannot even say I am happy.
I am not so absurdly pretentious as to blame the divine, nor yourself and I remain quite convinced that all this is my own fault. Undoubtedly I have not known how to surrender totally in some part of myself, or I do not aspire enough or know how to open myself as needed. Also, I should rely entirely upon the divine to take care of my progress and not be concerned about the absence of experiences. I have therefore asked myself why I am so far away from the true attitude, the genuine opening, and I see two main reasons: on the one hand, the difficulties inherent in my own nature, and on the other, the outer conditions of this sadhana. These conditions do not seem to be conducive to helping me overcome the difficulties in my own nature.
--
By continuing this daily little ant-like struggle and by having to confront the same desires, the same distractions every day, it seems to me I am wasting my energy in vain. Sri Aurobindos Yoga, which is meant to include life, is so difficult that one should come to it only after having already established the solid base of a concrete divine realization. That is why I want to ask you if I should not withdraw for a certain time, to Almora,3 for example, to Brewsters place,4 to live in solitude, silence, meditation, far away from people, work and temptations, until a beg inning of Light and Realization is concretized in me. Once this solid base is acquired, it would be easier for me to resume my work and the struggle here for the true transformation of the outer being. But to want to transform this outer being without having fully illumined the inner being seems to me to be putting the cart before the horse, or at least condemning myself to a pitiless and endless battle in which the best of my forces are fruitlessly consumed.
In all sincerity, I must say that when I was at Brewsters place in Almora, I felt very near to that state in which the Light must surge forth. I quite understand the imperfection of this process, which involves fleeing from difficulties, but this would only be a stage, a strategic retreat, as it were.
--
In any event, my blessings will always be with you to help you find, at long last, this inner Presence which alone gives joy and stability.
Signed: Mother
0 1956-03-19, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
On March 19 during the translation class the inner voice said:
Hold yourself straight
0 1956-04-04, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Mother, two months ago I had a clear mental perception of what was asked of me: to spend the rest of my life here. This is the source of my difficulties and of the inner hell I have been living through ever since. Each time I try to emerge, there is this image that rises up in me: your-whole-life and this casts me into a violent conflict. When I came here, I thought of staying for two or three years; for me the Ashram was a means of realization, not an end.
I understand now that as long as my whole being has not ACCEPTED that it must finish its life here, there is no way out nor any recovery possible. Through my mental force alone, this acceptance is impossible; I have been turning infernally in circles these past two months, and the mind is in league with the vital. Therefore, a force greater than mine must help me accept that my way is here. I need you, Mother, for without you I am lost. I need you to tell me that the Truth of my being is indeed here and that I am truly ready to follow this path. Mother, I beseech you, help me to see the truth of my being, give me some sign that my way is here and not elsewhere. I beg of you, Mother, help me to know.
I also had a very clear sensation that you were abandoning me, that you had no further interest in me and I could just as well do as I pleased. Perhaps you cannot forgive some of my inner rebellions which have been so very violent? Am I totally guilty? Is it true that you are abandoning me?
I am broken and battered in the depths of my being as I was in my flesh in the concentration camps. Will the divine grace take pity on me? Can you, do you want to help me? Alone I can do nothing. I am in an absolute solitude, even beyond all rebellion, at my very end.
0 1956-05-02, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
But for this only like can know like. Only the Supramental Consciousness in an individual can perceive the Supramental acting in the earth atmosphere. Those who, for whatever reason, have developed this perception can see it. But those who are not even remotely conscious of their inner beings, who would be quite at a loss to say what their souls look like, are certainly not ready to perceive the difference in the earth atmosphere. They still have quite a way to go for that. Because, for those whose consciousness is more or less exclusively centered in the outer beingmental, vital and physicalthings need to have an absurd or unexpected appearance to be noticeable. And then they call it a miracle.
But we do not call a miracle the constant miracle of the forces that intervene to change circumstances and human natures and which have very far-reaching consequences, for we see only the appearance, and this appearance seems quite natural. But in truth, if you were to reflect upon the least thing that happens, you would be forced to acknowledge that it is miraculous.
--
They ask if their inner difficulties will be easier to overcome.
I would repeat the same thing. What reason and what right have they to ask that things be easier? What have they done on their side? Why should it be easier? To satisfy peoples laziness and slothor what?
--
I am not speaking of people from outside who have never thought about it, who have never felt concerned and who do not even know that there may be something like the Supermind to receive, in fact. I am speaking of people who have built their lives upon this aspiration (and I dont doubt their sincerity for a minute), who have workedsome of them for thirty years, some for thirty-five, others somewhat lessall the while saying, When the supermind comes When the supermind comes That was their refrain: When the supermind comes Consequently, they were really in the best possible frame of mind, one could not have dreamt of a better predisposition. How is it, then, that their inner preparation was so lets just say incomplete, that they did not feel the Vibration immediately, as soon as it came, through a shock of identity?
Individually, each ones goal was to make himself ready, to enter into a more or less intimate individual relationship with this Force, so as to help the process; or else, if he could not help, at least be ready to recognize and be open to the Force when it would manifest. Then instead of being an alien element in a world in which your OWN inner capacity remains unmanifest, you suddenly become THAT, you enter directly, fully, into the very atmosphere: the Force is there, all around you, permeating you.
If you had had a little inner contact, you would have recognized it immediately, dont you think so?
Well, in any event, that was the case for those who had a little inner contact; they recognized it, they felt it, and they said, Ah, there it is! It has come! But how is it that so many hundreds of peoplenot to mention the handful of those who really wanted only that, thought only of that, had staked their whole lives on thathow is it that they felt nothing? What can this mean?
It is well known that only like knows like. It is an obvious fact.
There was indeed a possibility to enter into contact with the Thing individuallythis was even what Sri Aurobindo had described as being the necessary procedure: a certain number of people would enter into contact with this Force through their inner effort and their aspiration. We had called it the ascent towards the Supermind. And IF and when they had touched the Supermind through an inner ascent (that is, by freeing themselves from the material consciousness), they should have recognized it SPONTANEOUSLY as soon as it came. But a preliminary contact was indispensableif you have never touched it, how can you recognize it?
Thats how the universal movement works (I read this to you a few days ago): through their inner effort and inner progress, certain individuals, who are the pioneers, the forerunners, enter into communication with the new Force which is to manifest, and they receive it in themselves. And because a number of calls like this surge forth, the thing becomes possible, and the era, the time, the moment for the manifestation comes. This is how it happened and the Manifestation took place.
But then, all those who were ready should have recognized it.
0 1956-10-28, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Sweet Mother, my birthday is the day after tomorrow, the 30th. I come to place my inner situation before you so that you may help me take a decision.
I am facing the same difficulties as before my departure to Hyderabad, and I have made the same mistakes. The main reason for this state is that, on the one hand, words and ideas seem to have lost all power over me, and on the other, the vital elan which led me thus far is dead. So upon what shall my faith rest? I still have some faith, of course, but it has become totally ABSTRACT. The vital does not cooperate, so I feel all withered, suspended in a void, nothing seems to give me direction anymore. There is no rebelliousness in me, but rather a void.
In this state, I am ceaselessly thinking of my forest in Guiana or of my travels through Africa and the ardor that filled me with life in those days. I seem to need to have my goal before me and to walk towards it. Outer difficulties also seem to help me resolve my inner problems: there is a kind of need in me for the elements the sea, the forest, the desert for a milieu with which I can wrestle and through which I can grow. Here, I seem to lack a dynamic point of leverage. Here, in the everyday routine, everything seems to be falling apart in me. Should I not return to my forest in Guiana?
Mother, I implore you, in the name of whatever led me to you in the first place, give me the strength to do WHAT HAS TO BE DONE. You who see and who can, decide for me. You are my Mother. Whatever my shortcomings, my difficulties, I feel I am so deeply your child.
0 1957-07-03, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Yet it is one of the most common types of human collectivityto group together, band together, unite around a common ideal, a common action, a common realization but in an absolutely artificial way. In contrast to this, Sri Aurobindo tells us that a true communitywhat he terms a gnostic or supramental communitycan be based only upon the innER REALIZATION of each one of its members, each realizing his real, concrete oneness and identity with all the other members of the community; that is, each one should not feel himself a member connected to all the others in an arbitrary way, but that all are one within himself. For each one, the others should be as much himself as his own bodynot in a mental and artificial way, but through a fact of consciousness, by an inner realization.
(silence)
0 1957-10-08, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
There is no question of my abandoning the path and I remain convinced that the only goal in life is spiritual. But I need things to help me along the way: I am not yet ripe enough to depend upon inner strength alone. And when I speak of the forest or a boat, it is not only for the sake of adventure or the feeling of space, but also because they mean a discipline. Outer constraints and difficulties help me, they force me to remain concentrated around that which is best in me. In a sense, life here is too easy. Yet it is also too hard, for one must depend on ones own discipline I do not yet have that strength, I need to be helped by outer circumstances. The very difficulty of life in the outside world helps me to be disciplined, for it forces me to concentrate all my vital strength in effort. Here, this vital part is unemployed, so it acts foolishly, it strains at the leash.
I doubt that a new experience outside can really resolve things, but I believe it might help me make it to the next stage and consolidate my inner life. And if you wish, I would return in a year or two.
I shall soon have completed the revision1 of The Life Divine and The Human Cycle, so I believe I shall have done the best I could, at present, to serve you. October 30th is my birthday. Could I leave immediately thereafter?
0 1957-10-17, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
One of the very first results of the supramental manifestation was to give the body a freedom and an autonomy it has never before known. And when I say freedom, I dont mean some psychological perception or an inner state of consciousness, but something else and far betterit is a new phenomenon in the body, in the cells of the body. For the first time, the cells themselves have felt that they are free, that they have the power to decide. When the new vibrations came and combined with the old ones, I felt it at once and it showed me that a new world was really taking birth.
In its normal state, the body always feels that it is not its own master: illnesses invade it without its really being able to resist thema thousand factors impose themselves or exert pressure upon it. Its sole power is the power to defend itself, to react. Once the illness has got in, it can fight and overcome iteven modern medicine has acknowledged that the body is cured only when it decides to get cured; it is not the drugs per se that heal, for if the ailment is temporarily suppressed by a drug without the bodys will, it grows up again elsewhere in some other form until the body itself has decided to be cured. But this implies only a defensive power, the power to react against an invading enemyit is not true freedom.
0 1957-12-13, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Sweet Mother, this is what is rising from my soul: I feel in me something unemployed, something seeking to express itself in life. I want to be like a knight, your knight, and go off in search of a treasure that I could bring back to you. The world has lost all sense of the wonderful, all beauty of Adventure, this quest known to the knights of the Middle Ages. It is this that calls so relentlessly within me, this need for a quest in the world and for a beautiful Adventure which at the same time would be an adventure of the soul. How I wish that the two things, inner and outer, be JOINED, that the joy of action, of the open road and the quest help the souls blossoming, that they be like a prayer of the soul expressed in life. The knights of the Middle Ages knew this. Perhaps it is all childish and absurd in the midst of this 20th century, but this is what I feel, this that is summoning me to leavenot anything base, not anything mediocre, only a need for something in me to be fulfilled. If only I could bring you back a beautiful treasure!
After that, perhaps I would be riper to accept the everyday life of the Ashram, and know how to give myself better.
0 1957-12-21, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
In the external consciousness, the impersonal and mechanical recording of what is happening and of what are the people and things that comprise both the field of action and the limitations imposed upon this action. The recording is innately automatic and mechanical, without any kind of evaluation, as objective as possible.
***
0 1958-01-01, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
I have one thing to add: we must not misinterpret the meaning of this experience and imagine that henceforth everything will take place without difficulties or always in accordance with our personal desires. It is not at this level. It does not mean that when we do not want it to rain, it will not rain! Or when we want some event to take place in the world, it will immediately take place, or that all difficulties will be abolished and everything will be like a fairy tale. It is not like that. It is something more profound. Nature has accepted into her play of forces the newly manifested Force and has included it in her movements. But as always, the movements of Nature take place on a scale infinitely surpassing the human scale and invisible to the ordinary human consciousness. It is more of an inner, psychological possibility that has been born in the world than a spectacular change in earthly events.
I mention this because you might be tempted to believe that fairy tales are going to be realized upon earth. The time has not yet come.
0 1958-02-03b - The Supramental Ship, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
The nature of objects on this ship was not that which we know upon earth; for example, the clothes were not made of cloth, and this thing that resembled cloth was not manufacturedit was a part of the body, made of the same substance that took on different forms. It had a kind of plasticity. When a change had to be made, it was done not by artificial and outer means but by an inner working, by a working of the consciousness that gave the substance its form or appearance. Life created its own forms. There was ONE SINGLE substance in all things; it changed the nature of its vibration according to the needs or uses.
Those who were sent back for more training were not of a uniform color; their bodies seemed to have patches of a grayish opacity, a substance resembling the earth substance. They were dull, as though they had not been wholly permeated by the light or wholly transformed. They were not like this all over, but in places.
--
What I can say is that the criterion or the judgment was based EXCLUSIVELY on the substance constituting the peoplewhe ther they belonged completely to the supramental world or not, whether they were made of this very special substance. The criterion adopted was neither moral nor psychological. It is likely that their bodily substance was the result of an inner law or an inner movement which, at that time, was not in question. At least it is quite clear that the values are different.
When I came back, along with the memory of the experience, I knew that the supramental world was permanent, that my presence there is permanent, and that only a missing link is needed to allow the consciousness and the substance to connectand it is this link that is being built. At that time, my impression (an impression which remained rather long, almost the whole day) was of an extreme relativityno, not exactly that, but an impression that the relationship between this world and the other completely changes the criterion by which things are to be evaluated or judged. This criterion had nothing mental about it, and it gave the strange inner feeling that so many things we consider good or bad are not really so. It was very clear that everything depended upon the capacity of things and upon their ability to express the supramental world or be in relationship with it. It was so completely different, at times even so opposite to our ordinary way of looking at things! I recall one little thing that we usually consider bad actually how funny it was to see that it is something excellent! And other things that we consider important were really quite unimportant there! Whether it was like this or like that made no difference. What is very obvious is that our appreciation of what is divine or not divine is incorrect. I even laughed at certain things Our usual feeling about what is anti-divine seems artificial, based upon something untrue, unliving (besides, what we call life here appeared lifeless in comparison with that world); in any event, this feeling should be based upon our relationship between the two worlds and according to whether things make this relationship easier or more difficult. This would thus completely change our evaluation of what brings us nearer to the Divine or what takes us away from Him. With people, too, I saw that what helps them or prevents them from becoming supramental is very different from what our ordinary moral notions imagine. I felt just how ridiculous we are.
(Then Mother speaks to the children)
--
In ordinary life, EVERYTHING is artificial. Depending upon the chance of your birth or circumstances, you have a more or less high position or a more or less comfortable life, not because it is the spontaneous, natural and sincere expression of your way of being and of your inner need, but because the fortuity of lifes circumstances has placed you in contact with these things. An absolutely worthless man may be in a very high position, and a man who might have marvelous capacities of creation and organization may find himself toiling in a quite limited and inferior position, whereas he would be a wholly useful individual if the world were sincere.
It is this artificiality, this insincerity, this complete lack of truth that appeared so shocking to me that one wonders how, in a world as false as this one, we can arrive at any truthful evaluation of things.
0 1958-04-03, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
I was waiting for things to be well established in me before writing you again. An important change has occurred: it seems that something in me has clickedwhat Sri Aurobindo calls the central will, perhapsand I am living literally in the obsession of divine realization. This is what I want, nothing else, it is the only goal in life, and at last I have understood (not with the head) that the outer realization in the world will be the consequence of the inner realization. So thousands of times a day, I repeat, Mother, I want to be your instrument, ever more conscious, I want to express your truth, your light. I want to be what you want, as you want, when you want. There is in me now a kind of need for perfection, a will to abolish this ego, a real understanding that to become your instrument means at the same time to find the perfect plenitude of ones personality. So I am living in an almost constant state of aspiration, I feel your force constantly, or nearly so, and if I am distracted a few minutes, I experience a void, an uneasiness that calls me back to you.
And at the same time, I saw that it is you who is doing everything, you who aspires in me, you who wants the progress, and that all I myself am in this affair is a screen, a resisting obstacle. O Mother, break this screen that I may be wholly transparent before you, that your transforming force may purify all the secret recesses in my being, that nothing may remain but you and you alone. O Mother, may all my being be a living expression of your light, your truth.
0 1958-05-01, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
To do the divine Will I have been doing the sadhana for a long time, and I can say that not a day has passed that I have not done the Divines Will. But I didnt know what it was! I was living in all the inner realms, from the subtle physical to the highest regions, yet I didnt know what it was I always had to listen, to refer things, to pay attention. Now, no morebliss! There are no more problems, and everything is done in such harmony! Even if I had to leave my body, I would be in bliss! And it would happen in the best possible way.
Only now am I beg inning to understand what Sri Aurobindo has written in The Synthesis of Yoga! And the human mind, the physical mind, appears so stupid, so stupid!
0 1958-05-10, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
I saw and understood very well that by concentrating, I could have given it the attitude of the absolute authority of the eternal Mother. When Sri Aurobindo told me, You are She, at the same time he bestowed upon my body this attitude of absolute authority. But as I had the inner vision of this truth, I concerned myself very little with the imperfections of the physical body I didnt bother about that, I only used it as an instrument. Sri Aurobindo did the sadhana for this body, which had only to remain constantly open to his action.1
Afterwards, when he left and I had to do the Yoga myself, to be able to take his physical place, I could have adopted the attitude of the sage, which is what I did since I was in an unparalleled state of calm when he left. As he left his body and entered into mine, he told me, You will continue, you will go right to the end of the work. It was then that I imposed a calm upon this body the calm of total detachment. And I could have remained like that.
--
No. From the minute it is conscious, it is conscious of its own falsehood! It is conscious of this law, of that law, of this third law that fourth law, this tenth laweverything is a law. We are subject to physical laws: this will produce such and such a result if you do that, this will happen, etc. Oh! It reeks! I know it well. I know it very well. These laws reek of falsehood. In the body, we have no faith in the divine Grace, none, none, none, none! Those who have not undergone a tapasya2 as I have, say, Yes, all these inner moral things, feelings, psychology, all that is very good; we want the Divine and we are ready to But all the same, material facts are material facts, they have their concrete reality, after all an illness is an illness, food is food, and everything you do has a consequence, and when you are bah, bah, bah, bah, bah!
We must understand that this isnt trueit isnt true, its a falsehood, all this is sheer falsehood. It is NOT TRUE, it is not true!
0 1958-07-06, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
For the last, for money, he told me, I still dont know exactly what it depends on. Then one day I entered into trance with this idea in mind, and after a certain journey I came to a place like a subterranean grotto (which means that it is in the subconscient, or perhaps even in the inconscient) which was the source, the place and the power over money. I was about to enter into this grotto (a kind of inner cave) when I saw, coiled and upright, an immense serpent, like an all black python, formidable, as big as a seven-story house, who said, You cannot pass!Why not? Let me pass!Myself, I would let you pass, but if I did, they would immediately destroy me.Who, then, is this they?They are the asuric4 powers who rule over money. They have put me here to guard the entrance, precisely so that you may not enter.And what is it that would give one the power to enter? Then he told me something like this: I heard (that is, he himself had no special knowledge, but it was something he had heard from his masters, those who ruled over him), I heard that he who will have a total power over the human sexual impulses (not merely in himself, but a universal power that is, a power enabling him to control this everywhere, among all men) will have the right to enter. In other words, these forces would not be able to prevent him from entering.
A personal realization is very easy, it is nothing at all; a personal realization is one thing, but the power to control it among all men that is, to control or master such movements at will, everywhereis quite another. I dont believe that this condition has been fulfilled. If what the serpent said is true and if this is really what will vanquish these hostile forces that rule over money, well then, it has not been fulfilled.
0 1958-07-19, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
I say that every fruit should be eaten in its own way. The being who lives according to his own nature, his own truth, must spontaneously find the right way of using things. When you live according to the truth of your being, you dont need to learn things: you do them spontaneously, according to the inner law. When you sincerely follow your nature, spontaneously and sincerely, you are divine. As soon as you think or look at yourself acting or start questioning, you are full of sin.
It is mans mental consciousness that has filled all Nature with the idea of sin and all the misery it brings. Animals are not at all unhappy in the way we are. Not at all, not at all, exceptas Sri Aurobindo saysthose that are corrupted. Those that are corrupted are those that live with men. Dogs have the sense of sin and guilt, for their whole aspiration is to resemble man. Man is the god. Hence there is dissimulation, hypocrisy: dogs lie. But men admire that. They say, Oh! How intelligent they are!
0 1958-07-21, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
But instead of using the energy in this way, they immediately throw it out. They start stirring about, reacting, working, speaking They feel full of energy and they throw it all out! They cant keep anything. So naturally, since the energy was not sent to be wasted like that but for an inner use, they feel absolutely flat, run down. And it is universal. They dont know, they do not know how to make this movementto turn within, to use the energy (not to keep it, it doesnt keep), to use it to repair the damage done to the body and to go deeply within to find the reason for this accident or illness, and there to change it by an aspiration, an inner transformation. Instead of that, right away they start speaking, stirring about, reacting, doing this or that!
In fact, the immense majority of human beings feel they are living only when they waste their energy. Otherwise, it does not seem to them to be life.
0 1958-08-09, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Anusuya: wife of the rishi Atri and endowed with a great inner force. In her husband's absence, three gods came (Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva) disguised as brahmins and asked her for something to eat. Then they refused to eat unless she served them naked. Since they were brahmins, she could not send them away without feeding them, so by her inner power, she changed them into babies and served them naked. This film was shown at the Ashram Playground on August 5, 1958.
***
0 1958-09-16 - OM NAMO BHAGAVATEH, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
So each one must find something that acts on himself, individually. I am only speaking of the action on the physical plane, because mentally, vitally, in all the inner parts of the being, the aspiration is always, always spontaneous. I am referring only to the physical plane.
The physical seems to be more open to something that is repetitious for example, the music we play on Sundays, which has three series of combined mantras. The first is that of Chandi, addressed to the universal Mother:
0 1958-10-04, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
It must be strong enough to pull me from my concentration or my activity. If I knew when you concentrate or do your puja,1 I could tune into you, and shell I would know more; otherwise, my inner life is too l am not at all passive inwardly, you see, I am very active, so I dont usually receive your vibrations unless they impose themselves strongly or unless I have decided beforeh and to be attentive to what is coming from someone or other. If I know that at a given moment something is going to happen, then I open a door, as it were. But its difficult to speak of these things.
When you left on your journey,2 for example, I made a specie! concentration for all to go well so that nothing untoward happen to you. I even made a formation and asked for a constant, special help over you. Then I renewed my concentration every day, which is how I came to notice that you were invoking me very regulary. I Saw you everyday, everyday, with a very regular precision. It was something that imposed itself on me, but it imposed itself only because l had initially made a formation to follow you.
For people here in the Ashram, my work is not the same. It is more like a kind of atmosphere that extends everywherea very conscious atmospherewhich I let work for each one according to his need. I dont have a special action for each person, unless something requires my special attention. When I would tune into you while you were travelling, I clearly saw your image appear before me, as though you were looking at me, but now that you have returned here, I no longer see it. Rather, I receive a sensation or an impression; and as these sensations and impressions are innumerable, its rather like one element among many. It no longer imposes itself in such an entirely distinct way nor does it appear before me in the same manner, as a clear image of yourself, as though you wanted to know something.
As soon as I am alone, I enter into a very deep concentration,a state of consciousness, a kind of universal activity. Is it deep? What is it? It is far beyond all the mental regions, far, far beyond, and it is constant. As soon as I am alone or resting somewhere, thats how it is.
--
When you asked me if X4 were thinking of me, I consulted my atmosphere and saw that it was true, that even many times a day Xs thoughts were coming. So I know that he is concentrating on me, or something: it simply passes through me, and I answer automatically. But I dont particularly pay attention to X, unless you ask me a question about him, in which case I deliberately tune into him, then observe and determine whether its like this or like that. Whereas this vision the other day was something that thrust itself on me; I was in another region altogether, in my inner contemplation, my concentrationa very strong concentrationwhen I was forced to enter into contact with this being whose vision I had and who was obviously a very powerful being. After telling me what he had to tell me, he went away in a very peculiar way, not at all suddenly as most people appear and disappear, not at all like that. When I first saw him, there was a living form the being himself was there but upon leaving (probably to see the effect, to find out whether he had truly succeeded in making himself understood), he left behind a kind of image of himself. Afterwards, this image blurred and it left only a silhouette, an outline, then it disappeared altogether leaving only an impression. That was the last thing I saw. So I kept the impression and analyzed it to find out exactly what was involved; all this was filed away, and then it was over. I began my concentration once again.
I intentionally carry everybody in my active consciousness for the work, and I do the work consciously; but the extent to which people in the world, or those who are here in the Ashram, are conscious of this or receive the results depends upon them, though not exclusively.
The other day, for example, though I no longer recall exactly when (I forget everything on purpose)but it was in the last part of the night I had a rather long activity concerning the whole realization of the Ashram, notably in the fields of education and art. I was apparently inspecting this area to see how things were there, so naturally I saw a certain number of people, their work and their inner states. Some saw me and, at that moment, had a vision of me. It is likely that many were asleep and didnt notice anything, but some actually saw me. The next morning, for example, someone who works at the theater told me that she had had a splendid vision of me in which I had spoken to her, blessed her, etc. This was her way of receiving the work I had done. And this kind of thing is happening more and more, in that my action is awakening the consciousness in others more and more strongly.
Naturally, the reception is always incomplete or partially modified; when it passes through the individuality, it becomes narrowed, a personal thing. It seems impossible for each one to have a consciousness vast enough to see the thing in its entirety.
0 1958-11-04 - Myths are True and Gods exist - mental formation and occult faculties - exteriorization - work in dreams, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
All these regions, all these realms are filled with beings who exist separately in their own realms, and if you are awake and conscious on a given plane for example, if while going out of a more material body you awaken on some higher planeyou can have the same relationship with the things and people of that plane as with the things and people of the material world. In other words, there exists an entirely objective relationship that has nothing to do with your own idea of things. Naturally, the resemblance becomes greater and greater as you draw nearer the physical world, the material world, and there is even a moment when one region can act directly upon the other. In any case, in what Sri Aurobindo calls the kingdoms of the overmind, you find a concrete reality entirely independent of your personal experience; whenever you come back to it, you again find the same things, with some differences that may have occurred DURING YOUR ABSENCE. And your relationships with the beings there are identical to those you have with physical beings, except that they are more flexible, more supple and more direct (for example, there is a capacity to change the outer form, the visible form, according to your inner state), but you can make an appointment with someone, come to the meeting and again find the same being, with only certain differences that may have occurred during your absence but it is absolutely concrete, with absolutely concrete results.
However, you must have at least a little experience of these things to understand them. Otherwise, if you are convinced that all this is just human fancy or mental formations, if you believe that these gods have such and such a form because men have imagined them to be like that, or that they have such and such defects or qualities because men have envisioned it that wayas with all those who say God is created in the image of man and exists only in human thoughtall such people wont understand, it will seem absolutely ridiculous to them, a kind of madness. You must live a little, touch the subject a little to know how concrete it is.
--
There are subtle bodies and subtle worlds that correspond to these bodies; it is what the psychological method calls states of consciousness, but these states of consciousness really correspond to worlds. The occult process consists in becoming aware of these various inner states of being, or subtle bodies, and of mastering them sufficiently to be able to make one come out of the other, successively. For there is a whole hierarchy of increasing subtletiesor decreasing, depending upon the direction and the occult process consists in making a more subtle body come out from a denser body, and so forth, right to the most ethereal regions. You go out through successive exteriorizations into more and more subtle bodies or worlds. Each time it is rather like passing into another dimension. In fact, the fourth dimension of the physicists is only the scientific transcription of an occult knowledge.
To give another comparison, it could be said that the physical body is at the centerit is the most material and the most condensed, as well as the smallestand the more subtle inner bodies increasingly overlap the limits of this central physical body; they pass through it and extend further and further out, like water evaporating from a porous vase which creates a kind of steam all around it. And the more subtle it is, the more its extension tends to fuse with that of the universe: you finally become universal. It is an entirely concrete process that makes the invisible worlds an objective experience and even allows you to act in those worlds.
In Sri Aurobindo's and Mother's terminology, 'psychic' or 'psychic being' means the soul or the portion of the Supreme in man which evolves from life to life until it becomes a fully self-conscious being. The soul is a special capacity or grace of human beings on earth.
0 1958-11-08, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Yes, it was not a willed experience, for I had not decided I would do this. It did not correspond to an inner attitude. In a meditation, one can decide, I will meditate on this or on that or on something else I will do this or that. For meditations, I usually have a kind of inner (or higher) perception of what has to be done, and I do it. But it was not that way. I had decided: nothing, to decide nothing, to be like that (gesture of turning upwards).
And then it happened.
--
And so, physically, the body followed. My body has been taught to express the inner experience to a certain extent. In the body there is the body-force or the body-form or the body-spirit (according to the different schools, it bears a different name), and this is what leaves the body last when one dies, usually taking a period of seven days to leave.2 With special training, it can acquire a conscious lifeindependent and consciousto such a degree that not only in a state of trance (in trance, it frequently happens that one can speak and move if one is slightly trained or educated), but even in a cataleptic state it can produce sounds and even make the body move. Thus, through training, the body begins to have somnambulistic capacitiesnot an ordinary somnambulism, but it can live an autonomous life.3 This is what took place, yesterday evening it was like that I had gone out of my body, but my body was participating. And then I was pulled downwards: my hand, which had been on the arm of the chair, slipped down, then the other hand, then my head was almost touching my knees! (The consciousness was elsewhere, I saw it from outsideit was not that I didnt know what I was doing, I saw it from outside.) So I said, In any case, this has to stop somewhere because if it continues, my head (laughing) is going to be on the ground! And I thought, But what is there at the bottom of this hole?
Scarcely had these words been formulated when there I was, at the bottom of the hole! And it was absolutely as if a tremendous, almighty spring were there, and then (Mother hits the table) vrrrm! I was cast out of the abyss into a vastness. My body immediately sat straight up, head on high, following the movement. If someone had been watching, this is what he would have seen: in a single bound, vrrrm! Straight up, to the maximum, my head on high.
And I followed all this without objectifying it in the least; I was not aware of what it was nor of what was happening, nor of any explanation at all, nothing: it was like that. I was living it, thats all. The experience was absolutely spontaneous. And after this rather painful descent, phew!there was a kind of super-comfort. I cant explain it otherwise, an ease,4 but an ease to the utmost. A perfect immobility in a sense of eternity but with an extraordinary INTENSITY of movement and life! An inner intensity, unmanifested; it was within, self-contained. And motionless (had there been an outside, it would have been motionless in relation to that) and it was in a life so immeasurable that it can only be expressed metaphorically as infinite. And with an intensity, a POWER, a force and a peace the peace of eternity. A silence, a calm. A POWER capable of of EVERYTHING. Everything.
And I was not imagining nor objectifying it; I was living it with easewith a great ease. And it lasted until the end of the meditation. When it gradually began fading, I stopped the meditation and left.
0 1958-11-22, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
As soon as you had left, and since I was following you, I saw that nothing of the kind was going to happen, but rather something very superficial which would not be of much use. And when I received your letters and saw that you were in difficulty, I did something. There are places that are favorable for occult experiences. Benares is one of these places, the atmosphere there is filled with vibrations of occult forces, and if one has the slightest capacity, it spontaneously develops there, in the same way that a spiritual aspiration develops very strongly and spontaneously as soon as one lands in India. These are Graces. Graces, because it is the destiny of the country, it has been so throughout its history, and because India has always been turned much more towards the heights and the inner depths than towards the outer world. Now, it is in the process of losing all that and wallowing in the mud, but thats another story it was like that and it is still like that. And in fact, when you returned from Rameswaram with your robes, I saw with much satisfaction that there was still a GREAT dignity and a GREAT sincerity in this endeavor of the Sannyasis towards the higher life and in the self-giving of a certain number of people to realize this higher life. When you returned, it had become a very concrete and a very real thing that immediately commanded respect. Before, I had seen only a copy, an imitation, an hypocrisy, a pretentionnothing that was really lived. But then, I saw that it was true, that it was lived, that it was real and that it was still Indias great heritage. I dont believe it is very prevalent now, but in any case, it is still there, and as I told you, it commands respect. And then, as I felt you in difficulty and as the outer conditions were not only veiling but spoiling the inner, well, on that day I wrote you a short note I no longer recall when it was exactly, but I wrote you just a word or two, which I put in an envelope and sent you I concentrated very strongly upon those few words and sent you something. I didnt note the date, I dont remember when it was, but its likely that it happened as I wished when you were in Benares; and then you had this experience.
But when you returned the second time, from the Himalayas, you didnt have the same flame as when you returned the first time. And I understood that this kind of difficult karma still clung to you, that it had not been dissolved. I had hoped that your contact with the mountains but in a true solitude (I dont mean that your body had to be all alone, but there should not have been all kinds of outer, superficial things) Anyway, it didnt happen. So it means that the time had not come.
0 1958-11-27 - Intermediaries and Immediacy, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
It is like the story X told me of his guru2 who could comm and the coming of Kali (something which seems quite natural to me when one is sufficiently developed); well, not only could he commend the coming of Kali, but Kali with I dont know how many crores of her warriors! For me, Kali was Kali, after all, and she did her work; but in the universal organization, her action, the innumerable multiplicity of her action, is expressed by an innumerable multitude of conscious entities at work. It is this individualization, as it were, that gives to these forces a consciousness and a certain play of freedom, and this is what makes all the difference in action. It is in this respect that the occult system is an absolutely indispensable complement to spiritual action.
The spiritual action is direct, but it may not be immediate (anyway, thats my experience). Sri Aurobindo said that with the supramental presence, it becomes immediate and I have experienced this. But this would then mean that the supramental Power automatically commands all these intermediaries, whereas if its not present, even the highest spiritual power would need a specialized knowledge to act in this realm, a knowledge equivalent to an occult or initiatory knowledge of all these realms. This is why I told X, Well, you taught me many things while you were here. There is always something to learn.
0 1958-12-04, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
I have just received your letter which I read with all my love, the love that understands and effaces. When you return here, you will always be very welcome, and we shall certainly take up our work together again. I shall be happy, and it is very much needed. But first of all, it will be good for you to go to Rameswaram. I know that you will be welcome there. Stay there as long as necessary to find and consolidate your experience. Afterwards, come back here, stronger and better armed, to face a new period of outer and inner work. At the end of the labor is the Victory.
With all my confident love.
0 1959-01-14, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
I am taking advantage of this situation to work. I have chosen the articles for the Bulletin. They are as follows: 1) Message. 2) To keep silent. 3) Can there be intermediary states between man and super-man? 4) The Anti-Divine. 5) What is the role of the spirit? 6) Karma (I have touched this one up to make it less personal). 7) The Worship of the Supreme in Matter. Now I would like to prepare the first twelve Aphorisms3 for printing. But as you have not yet revised the last two, I am sending them to you. Could you do them when you have finished what you are doing for the Bulletin? It is not urgent, take your time. Do not disturb your real work for this in any way. For, in my eyes, this work of inner liberation is much more important.
You will find in this letter a little money. I thought you might need it for your stamps, etc.
0 1959-04-07, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
1) The fact that I am plagued by a lack of time and, occasionally, a certain repugnance for mental work. Then the ensuing suggestion: to have a hut in Rameswaram and devote myself exclusively to inner development.
2) I am very pullednot constantly, but periodicallyby the need to write (not mental things) and exasperated by the fact that this Orpailleur is not published because I have not taken the time to carry out certain corrections. When I am in a good mood, I offer all this to you (is it perhaps a hidden ambition? But I am not so sure; it is rather a need, I believe) and when I am not in a good mood, I fume about not having the time to write something else.
--
I read your P.S. and I understand. This too confirms my feeling. I am not happy that you are plagued with work, and especially urgent work that has to be done quicklyit is contrary to the inner calm and concentration so indispensable for getting rid of ones difficulties. I am going to do what is necessary to change this situation. Besides, this is why I have been telling you recently that my work is not urgent. But this work for the Bulletin should stop for the moment.
The other point also has its element of truthwe shall speak of it later.
0 1959-04-13, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
It is a rough sketch, and in the actual process of writing, the proposed sequence may change according to the inner necessity, but these are the themes to be developed. So now T would like to know what you feel and if you see anything to be changed, added or deleted.
Your child, with love.
0 1959-05-28, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
3) There is also the destiny that feels human love as something divine, something that can be transfigured and become a very powerful driving force. I did not believe it possible, except in dreams, until the day I met someone here. But you do not believe in these things, so I shall not speak of it further. I can gag this also and tell myself that one day all will be filled in the inner divine love. But that does not prevent this other need in me from living and from finding that life is dry and from saying, Why this outer manifestation if all life is in the inner realms? But neither can I stifle this with reasoning.
So there remains the pure spiritual destiny, pure interiorization. That is what I have been trying to do for the last five years, without much success. There are good periods of collaboration, because one part of my being can be happy in any condition. But in a certain way this achievement remains truncated, especially when you base spiritual life on a principle of integrality. And these three destinies in me have their own good reasons, which are true: they are not inferior, they are not incidental, they are woven from the very threads that created the spiritual life in me. My error is to open the door to revolt when I feel too poignantly one or the other being stifled.
0 1959-06-03, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
As for the emptiness you feel (which perhaps is already better): to those who complained of this sensation of inner emptiness, Sri Aurobindo always said that it is a very good thing; it is the sign that they are going to be filled with something better and truer.
I have carefully noted Xs predictions.
0 1959-06-08, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
You are constantly with me, and I am following all your inner movements with love and concern.
The great secret is to learn to give oneself
0 1959-06-13a, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
For me, the inner things seem to have taken a better turn since X revealed certain things to me, but I prefer to say nothing. I dare not say anything since I know from experience that all this is as unstable as dynamite.
Your child,
0 1959-08-11, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Now I can tell you that not for one hour have I left you; I have been constantly near you, hoping that your inner eyes would open and that you would see me, watching over you and enveloping you with my force and my love. It is within yourself that I want you to find the certitude, truth and joy.
Now I write you what I have wanted to tell you from the beg inning: when you return to the Ashram, do not put on the orange robe1 again, return with the clothing X has given you
0 1959-10-06 - Sri Aurobindos abode, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Shortly before the 15th of August I had a unique experience that exemplifies all this.1 For the first time the supramental light entered directly into my body, without passing through the inner beings. It entered through the feet (a red and gold colormarvelous, warm, intense), and it climbed up and up. And as it climbed, the fever also climbed because the body was not accustomed to this intensity. As all this light neared the head, I thought I would burst and that the experience would have to be stopped. But then, I very clearly received the indication to make the Calm and Peace descend, to widen all this body-consciousness and all these cells, so that they could contain the supramental light. So I widened, and as the light was ascending, I brought down the vastness and an unshakable peace. And suddenly, there was a second of fainting.
I found myself in another world, but not far away (I was not in a total trance). This world was almost as substantial as the physical world. There were roomsSri Aurobindos room with the bed he rests on and he was living there, he was there all the time: it was his abode. Even my room was there, with a large mirror like the one I have here, combs, all kinds of things. And the substance of these objects was almost as dense as in the physical world, but they shone with their own light. It was not translucent, not transparent, not radiant, but self-luminous. The various objects and the material of the rooms did not have this same opacity as the physical objects here, they were not dry and hard as in the physical world we know.
--
And yet, it would take little, very little, to pass from this world to the other, or for the other to become the real world. A little click would be enough, or rather a little reversal in the inner attitude. How should I put it? It is imperceptible to the ordinary consciousness; a very little inner shift would be enough, a change in quality.
It is similar with this japa: an imperceptible little change, and one can pass from a more or less mechanical, more or less efficient and real japa, to the true japa full of power and light. I even wondered if this difference is what the tantrics call the power of the japa. For example, the other day I was down with a cold. Each time I opened my mouth, there was a spasm in the throat and I coughed and coughed. Then a fever came. So I looked, I saw where it was coming from, and I decided that it had to stop. I got up to do my japa as usual, and I started walking back and forth in my room. I had to apply a certain will. Of course, I could do my japa in trance, I could walk in trance while repeating the japa, because then you feel nothing, none of all the bodys drawbacks. But the work has to be done in the body! So I got up and started doing my japa. Then, with each word pronounced the Light, the full Power. A power that heals everything. I began the japa tired, ill, and I came out of it refreshed, rested, cured. So those who tell me they come out of it exhausted, contracted, emptied, it means that they are not doing it in the true way.
--
In fact, when I walk back and forth in my room, I dont cut myself off from the rest of the worldalthough it would be so much more convenient! All kinds of things come to mesuggestions, wills, aspirations. But automatically I make a movement of offering: things come to me and just as they are about to touch my head, I turn them upwards and offer them to the Light. They dont enter into me. For example, if someone speaks to me while I am saying my japa, I hear quite well what is being said, I may even answer, but the words remain a little outside, at a certain distance from the head. And yet sometimes, there are things that insist, more defined wills that present themselves to me, so then I have to do a little work, but all that without a pause in the japa. If that happens, there is sometimes a change in the quality of my japa, and instead of being fully the power, fully the light, it is certainly something that produces results, but results more or less sure, more or less long to fructify; it becomes uncertain, as with all things of this physical world. Yet the difference between the two japas is imperceptible; its not a difference between saying the japa in a more or less mechanical way and saying it consciously, because even while I work I remain fully conscious of the japa I continue to repeat it putting the full meaning into each syllable. But nevertheless, there is a difference. One is the all-powerful japa; the other, an almost ordinary japa There is a difference in the inner attitude. Perhaps for the japa to become true, a kind of joy, an elation, a warmth of enthusiasm has to be added but especially joy. Then everything changes.
Well, it is the same thing, the same imperceptible difference, when it comes to entering the world of Truth. On one side there is the falsehood, and on the other, close by, like the lining of this one, the true life. Only a little difference in the inner quality, a little reversal, is enough to pass to the other side, into the Truth and Light.
Perhaps simply to add joy would suffice.
0 1959-11-25, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
There is one element that remains fixed: for each type of atom, the inner organization of the elements is different, which is what creates the difference in their substance. So perhaps similarly, each individual has a different, particular way of organizing the cells of his body, and it is this particular way that persists through all the outer changes. All the rest is undone and redone, but undone in a forward thrust towards the new instead of collapsing backwards into death, and redone in a constant aspiration to follow the progressive movement of the divine Truth.
But for that, the body the body-consciousness must first learn to widen itself. It is indispensable, for otherwise all the cells become a kind of boiling porridge under the pressure of the supramental light.
0 1960-04-07, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
This inner fusion you speak of as a truth to be realized is already accomplished, absolutely perceptible to me. For long I have felt you as an integral part of my being; it seems to me that only some surface eddies prevent you also from feeling and living it.
But I am convinced it will come. Meanwhile, I am trying to make you feel my presence not as an impersonal force but as a real and concrete presence, and I am happy to have succeeded in part.
0 1960-04-26, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
It will be a joy to be with you again and resume the work. Here, I am sparing as many hours as I can to correcting The Human Cycle I follow X perfectly in his inner life, unreservedly, but I have to force myself to follow him in his outer life.
Mother, I am at your feet, with my love and my gratitude.
0 1960-05-16, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
If there is one fundamental necessity, it is humility. To be humble. Not humble as it is normally understood, such as merely saying, I am so small, Im nothing at allno, something else Because the pitfalls are innumerable, and the further you progress in yoga, the more subtle they become, and the more the ego masks itself behind marvelous and saintly appearances. So when somebody says, I no longer want to rely on anything but Him. I want to close my eyes and rest in Him alone, this comfortable Him, which is exactly what you want him to be, is the egoor a formidable Asura, or a Titan (depending on each ones capacity). Theyre all over the earth, the earth is their domain. So the first thing to do is to pocket your egonot preserve it, but get rid of it as soon as possible!
You can be sure that the God youve created is a God of the ego whenever something within you insists, This is what I feel, this is what I think, this is what I see; its my way, my very ownits my way of being, my way of understanding, my relationship with the Divine, etc.
0 1960-06-03, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
The best rest is to enter into the inner silence for a few moments.
Blessings.
0 1960-08-10 - questions from center of Education - reading Sri Aurobindo, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
What is so interesting in it is this insistence on the divinity of man If thatthis feeling of the inner divinitycould be established in oneself in a constant way (Ive seen this for most people I know), so MANY things would There is no need for any effort at all, things fall away from you like dust.
There is no need to react against difficulties; you are immediately pulled out of them, as if you were taken out like this (gesture of pulling someone out of a difficulty with her two fingers).
0 1960-09-20, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
When Amrita,5 seized with zeal, wanted to make him understand what we were doing here and what Sri Aurobindo had wanted, it almost erupted into an unpleasant situation. So after that, I decided to identify myself with him to see I had never done this, because normally I only do it when I am responsible for someone, in order to truly help someone, and Ive never felt any responsibility in regard to X. So I wanted to see his inner situation, what could and could not be done. That was the day you saw him coming down from our meditation in an ecstatic state, when he told you that all separation between him and me had dropped awayit was to be expected, I anticipated as much!
But when I did that, I saw what X wanted to do for me. As a matter of fact, I recalled that when we first met I had told him that everything was all right up to this point (Mother indicates the region above the head), but below that, in the outer being, I wanted to hasten the transformation, and things there were difficult to handle.
0 1960-10-02a, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
From a documentary standpoint, my nights are getting quite interesting. In the Yoga of Self-Perfection, Sri Aurobindo describes precisely this state you reach in which all things assume meaning and a quality of inner significance, clarification of various points, and help. From this point of view, my nights have become extraordinary. I see infinitely more things than I saw before. Before, it was very limited to a personal contact with people. Now In my nights, each thing and each person has the appearance, the gesture, the word or the action that describes EXACTLY his condition. Its becoming quite interesting.
Of course, I much prefer being in my great currents of forcefrom a personal standpoint, such immensity of action is much more interesting. But these documentary things are also valuable. It is so tremendously different from the dreams and even the vi. signs you have when you enter certain representative realms of the mind (which is what I used to do). It is so different, it has another content, another life altogether: it carries its light, its understanding, its explanation within itselfyou look, and everything is explained.
0 1960-10-11, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Doing japa seems to exert a pressure on my physical consciousness, which goes on turning! How can I silence it? As soon as my concentration is not absolute, the physical mind starts upit grabs at anything, anything at all, any word, fact or event that comes along, and it starts turning, turning. If you stop it, if you put some pressure on it, then it springs back up two minutes later And there is no inner consent at all. It chews on words, it chews on ideas or feelingsinterminably. What should I do?
Yes, its the physical mind. The japa is made precisely to control the physical mind.
0 1960-10-22, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
There was this Themanlys, my brothers schoolmate; he wrote books, but he was lazy-minded and didnt want to work! So he had passed that job on to me. But it was impossible, you couldnt do a thing with it. And what words! Theon would invent words for the subtle organs, the inner senses; he had found a word for each thinga frightful barbarism! And I took care of everything: I found the printer, corrected the proofsall the work for a long time.
They were stories, narratives, an entire initiation in the form of stories. There was a lot in it, really a lot. She knew many things. But it was presented in such a way that it was unreadable.
0 1960-10-25, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
When I tell people that their health depends on their inner life (an intermediate inner life, not the deepest), its because of this.
During the last two years, Ive been accumulating experiences IN THEIR MINUTEST DETAILS, things that might seem most useless. You have to consent to that and not have a mania for greatness; you must know that where the key is found is in the tiniest effort to create a true attitude in a few cells.
0 1960-11-12, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Sri Aurobindo had also written to the effect, If Divine Love were to manifest now in all its fullness and totality, not a single material organism would but burst. So we must learn to widen, widen, widen not only the inner consciousness (that is relatively easyat least feasible), but even this conglomeration of cells. And Ive experienced this: you have to be able to widen this sort of crystallization if you want to be able to hold this Force. I know. Two or three times, upstairs (in Mothers room), I felt the body about to burst. Actually, I was on the verge of saying, burst and be done with. But Sri Aurobindo always intervenedall three times he intervened in an entirely tangible, living and concrete way and he arranged everything so that I was forced to wait.
Then weeks go by, sometimes even months, between one thing and another, so that some elasticity may come into these stupid cells.
0 1960-11-26, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
This interests me, for these things do not at all enter through the mind (he doesnt receive a thing there, hes closed there). So in his letter he says that this thing or that is necessary (he describes it in his own words), and he adds, This is why we must be so grateful to have among us the the great Mother7 (as he puts it), the great Mother who knows these things.Good! I said to myself. (It had to do with something specific concerning the capacity for discrimination in the outside world, the different qualities and different functions of different beings, all of which depends on ones inner construction, as it were.) So I see that even this, even these physical experiences, is received (and yet I hadnt tried, I had never tried to make him receive it); it merely works like this, you see (gesture of a widespread diffusion), and the experience is veryhow should I say?drastic, with a kind of (power of radiation). Imperative.
Original English.
0 1960-12-17, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
(Mother gives the disciple a cadamba flower which she has named 'Supramental Sun'a striking orange ball consisting of innumerable stamens)
Its beautiful, isnt it? Its all together, but its innumerable. Its ONE thing going in all directions. And what a color! The tree is glorious.
Nature is a marvelous inventoreverything She does is beautiful. I dont believe that man has succeeded in producing anything so perfect. Later, its true, some new species were developed by him, but nevertheless Nature still remains the origin.
0 1961-01-10, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
What I say to people depends entirely upon their inner state. Thats precisely why I had such enormous difficulty at the Playground3the atmosphere was so mixed! It was a STRUGGLE to find someone receptive so I could speak. And if Im in the presence of people who understand nothing, I cant say a word. On the other hand, some people come prepared to receive and then suddenly it all comes but usually theres no tape-recorder!
I have replied endlessly, I have given all sorts of explanations about the organization of the School, about World Union,4 about the true way to organize industry (its true functioning)so many things! If all that were compiled we could publish brochures! Sometimes Ive spoken three-quarters of an hour non-stop to people who listened with delight and were receptive but quite incapable of making a written report of it. At times like that we could have used one of your machines! But when things are organized in advance, it may well be that nothing comes out at allmentalizing stops the flow. If I is in front of me, I cant say anything to her because she doesnt understand. I already have trouble writing to herwhat I have to say is always brought down a bit; but if she were here in the room and I had to speak to her, nothing at all would come out!
0 1961-01-27, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
There is now a kind of VERY PRECISE knowledge of the whole inner mechanism for all thingsand what has to be done materially. This is developing, as a flower blossoms: you see one petal open and then another and then another; it is proceeding like that, slowly, taking its time. Its the same process for the Power.
To illustrate this, an interesting thing came upyesterday, I think. (All these experiences come to show me the difference, as if to give proof of the change.) Someone had had a dream about me whispered to him by the adverse forces for specific reasons (I wont go into the details). He was much affected by it, so he wrote down the dream and gave it to me. I was carrying his letter along with all the others, as I usually do, but suddenly I knew I had to read it right away: I read it. Then I saw the whole thing with such clarity, precision, accuracy: how it had come about, how the dream had been produced, its effect the whole functioning of all the forces. As I read along and it went on unfolding, I did what was necessary for him (he was present at the time) in order to undo what the adverse forces had done. Then at the end, when I had finished, said everything, explained what it was all about and what had to be done, something SO CATEGORICAL came into me (I cannot verbalize this kind of experience, it is what I call the difference in power: something categorical). I took the letter, uttered a few words (which I wont repeat) and said, You see, its like this: so much for that, and I ripped the letter a first time. Then, thats for that, I tore it a second time and so on. I ripped it up five times and the fifth time I saw that their power was destroyed.
0 1961-01-29, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
But otherwise. Some of the things you note down I just put away. But some I show to Nolini (of them all, Nolini is the one who can best understand). I give him certain things to read, but otherwise, no. It is completely different between us, as I told you completely different. If you benefit from it, so much the better! If it helps you in your inner development, good, I have no objectionon the contrary. Its quite natural, the natural consequence of our meetings.
But if while speaking with Sujata you feel that something might help her, I have no objection to your telling hersimply say that its between the two of you.
0 1961-01-31, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I am translating it to make myself understoodit wasnt like that at the time of the experience. Suppose, for example, that there was a disorder here or there in the body, not actually an illness (because illness implies some important inner factor such as an attack or the necessity for some transformation, many different things), but the outer expression of a disorder, such as swollen legs or a malfunctioning liver not an illness, a disorder, a functional disorder. Well, it was all utterly unimportant: IT IN NO WAY CHANGES THE BODYS TRUE CONSCIOUSNESS. Although we are in the habit of thinking that the body is very disturbed when its ill, when something is going wrong, its not so. It isnt disturbed in the way we understand it.
Then what is disturbed if not the body?
--
With my japa the contrast is the same, its absolutely astounding: I feel I am saying the words in the same way, with the same sound, exactly the same rhythm, but in some cases, with a particular inner attitude, the time by the clock is different! Yet nevertheless, bound up as we are in our physical Matter, we imagine it has taken exactly the same amount of time! Thats what is so strange, this extraordinary relativity vis--vis the clock.
This must be what they tried to express by Joshua making the sun stand still.
0 1961-02-07, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
The other is to find something worth concentrating upon that diverts your attention from your small, personal self. The most effective is a big ideal, but there are innumerable things that enter into this category. Most commonly, people choose marriage, because it is the most easily available (Mother laughs). To love somebody and to love children makes you busy and compels you to forget your own self a little. But it is rarely successful, because love is not a common thing.
Others turn to art, others to science; some choose a social or a political life, etc., etc.
0 1961-02-18, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
The worlds outer evolution is moving ahead so rapidlyin terms of scientific developments that this change CANNOT be put off for millions of years. Mans inner development needs to catch up with all that, doesnt it?
Yes, surelyoh, yes!
0 1961-02-25, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
The first sign is perfect equality as Sri Aurobindo has described it (you must know it, theres a whole chapter on equality, samat, in The Synthesis of Yoga)exactly as he described it with such wonderful precision! But this equality (which is not equanimity) is a particular STATE where one relates to all things, outer and inner, and to each individual thing, in the same way. That is truly perfect equality: vibrations from things, from people, from contacts have no power to alter that state.
In my reply I mentioned this first, though I didnt give him all these explanations. I put it in a few words as a kind of test of his intelligence, and in a somewhat cryptic form to see if he would understand.
--
All this [the world, the Ashram] is held in my consciousness with a kind of essential compassion applying equally to all things, all difficulties, all obstacles. I receive letters by the dozens, as you know, and each person comes to me with his own little misery or problem, inner or outer (a tiny pimple becomes a mountain). When people come to me, my inner consciousness always responds in the same way, with a kind of equality and compassion for all. But when people are talking to me or I am reading a letter and my body grows conscious of what it calls the to-do they make over their miseries, it has a kind of feeling (I mean there is a feeling in the cells): Why do they take things like that! They are making things much more difficult. The body understands. It understands that their way of taking the least little difficulty in such a blind, egotistical and self-centered manner, increases its difficulties furiously!
Its a rather amusing sensation, a combination of sensation and feeling, that the ordinary human attitude towards things multiplies and magnifies the difficulties to FANTASTIC proportions; while if they simply had the true attitudea NORMAL attitude, quite simple, uncomplicatedahh, all life would be much easier. For the body feels the vibrations (those very vibrations which concentrate to form a body), it feels their nature and sees that its normal reaction, a peaceful and confident reaction, makes things so much easier! But as soon as this agitation of anxiety, fear, discontent comes in, the reaction of a will that doesnt want any of it oh, right away it becomes like water boiling: pff! pff! pff! like a machine. While if the difficulty is accepted with confidence and simplicity, its reduced to its minimum, and I mean purely materially, in the material vibration itself.
--
Even in this, right now, in what I am saying, theres a sense of tapasya; theres the whole inner consciousness making the body do a tapasya. But my knowledge and my certainty (what I KNOW) is that it may be a necessary preparation, but it is NOT what accomplishes the work.15 Rather, it is something acting like that (Mother abruptly turns her hand over to indicate a reversal of states). And when it goes like that, it is done, all is done. All is done.
Are these disorders necessary for it to become like that? I have my doubts. I have my doubts. But the question cant even be asked, because what it implies seems to verge on a fatalism having no truth in itselfit is not a fatalism, not at all. What is it? Something that defies expression.
0 1961-03-04, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Im going to send this to V, asking her innocently, Has this appeared in your journal? Because it would be better if it didnt: we dont make propaganda. Oh, I am hard on them, you know!
But it doesnt matter, we must always keep smiling, mon petit. In the end, good always comes out of such thingsits a sorting-out! A splendid, splendid sifter!
0 1961-03-27, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
It gave me the impression you get in outer life: all the pieces more or less dovetail but with no inner unitytheres not ONE thing, not one, that is true, essentially and always true. We know it is like that outwardly, of course; but I have always felt that with people who have an inner life, one could attain a kind of identity of vibration and knowledge but no!
Very well, I said, if thats how it is..
--
I was under the impression, for example, that when I thought something (not actually thought, but when I had an inner perception) X could receive it; particularly when I had such a feeling for him and summoned the Force, made the Force come down, my impression was that he knew it!
But if its like that.
--
That risks a terrible misunderstanding; be careful. Perhaps he wont even remember what he said anymore. Its difficult with X because he doesnt say things with his mindit just comes like that, and then he forgets. You know how it is. Something may have made him speak. For instance, I know that with N. he almost always says unpleasant things about people and situations and this entirely results from N.s atmosphere. I have told N., He speaks like that because of your inner attitude. To one person he will say one thing, to another something completely different on the same subjectit depends a great deal on who hes talking to. No, I havent told you all this for you to speak with X about it, I have told you because it has posed a serious problem for me.
Its best to wait and see. I put a certain force into that note I wrote this morning (I wrote it at a very early hour) and you know that a formation4 is created when I write; I willed it to go to himand he may have received it. Well see what happens. Its better not to speak of it because it might speaking is too external.
0 1961-04-07, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
In your case, it is very clear: each time he comes, everything seems to go askew. And the only reason for it is the conflict between the force he brings down (of course, when he comes I encourage it to come down!), and the inner resistances; and this creates the Contradiction, which becomes more and more pronounced.
It speeds up the work, but at the same time it makes it a bit taxing.
0 1961-04-29, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Europeans dont have the inner sense at all. To them, everything is like this (gesture), a surfacenot even that, a film on the surface. And they cant feel anything behind. But its an absolutely real fact that the Presence is there I guarantee it. People have given me statuettes of various gods, little things in metal, wood or ivory; and as soon as I take one in my hand, the god is there. I have a Ganesh2 (I have been given several) and if I take it in my hand and look at it for a moment, hes there. I have a little one by my bedside where I work, eat, and meditate. And then there is a Narayana3 which comes from the Himalayas, from Badrinath. I use them both as paperweights for my handkerchiefs! (My handkerchiefs are kept on a little table next to my bed, and I keep Ganapati and Narayana on top of them.) And no one touches them but me I pick them up, take a fresh handkerchief, and put them back again. Once I blended some nail polish myself, and before applying it, I put some on Ganapatis forehead and stomach and fingertips! We are on the best of terms, very friendly. So to me, you see, all this is very true.
Only.
--
When I was told that the Divine was within the teaching of the Gita, but in words understandable to a Westerner that there was an inner Presence, that one carried the Divine within oneself, oh! What a revelation! In a few minutes, I suddenly understood all, all, all. Understood everything. It brought the contact instantly.
(silence)
0 1961-05-02, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I have seen people (people from outside) who were enemiesall their enmity was pacified, pacified, pacified. They were unable to do any harm, even when they wanted to. Everything was made innocuous in that way. And it was the same thing here in the Ashram; as always, people had wrong movements and wrong thoughts, but all this, too, was dominatedit was pacified, pacified.
I had continued to work in the same way. But now its as if everything has been engulfed. And the number of ugly things, petty movements, nasty reactionseverywhere, everywhere, in everyone, oh! I am swamped with letters, and such letters! Such letters!
0 1961-05-12, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
But I dont know. I dont know if they had it PHYSICALLYin the inner worlds of course, certainly! Its all very well, one is very happy living in those worlds. But it is hereHERE! How to make of this life here, this world here, something really worth living. Havent yet found the trick.
Thats all I can say. Thats what I am up against.
0 1961-06-06, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Take absolutely identical circumstances: the same outer circumstances, the same inner circumstances the psychological condition is the same; circumstances of life, the same; events, the same; people, no appreciable difference. Identical circumstances, a few hoursnot even a dayapart. And in one case, the body that is, the cellular consciousness feels a sort of eurhythmy and general harmony, everything dovetails in such a marvelous way, without rubbing, without frictioneverything functions and organizes itself in a total harmony. Its a peace and a joy (without the vital intensity, of courseits something physical). All, all is so harmonious and truly you feel a sense of the divine organization of everything, of all the cellsall is marvelous and the body feels well. Then in the other case everything is the same, the consciousness is the same and something escapes the perception of harmony is no longer there. For what reason? One doesnt understand anymore. And then the body begins to function wrongly. Yet everything is absolutely identicalmental conditions, vital conditions, physical conditions, all identical and suddenly it all seems meaningless. One still has the consciousness, the full consciousness of the divine Presence, and one senses somewhere something escaping, and all becomes its like running after something that escapes. Things become meaningless. In absolutely identical conditionseven the movements of the body (functional movements, I mean) may be identical, but they are felt to be disharmonious (these words are much too crude, its more subtle than that), meaningless, disharmonious. And what escapes? You cant make it out.
What is it?
--
And when the body makes this movement (gesture of stepping back from physical appearances)what to call it? This movement of fusion (is it fusion?), of no longer being a separate body, of being the Divine there is something which. There is a sort of abstraction of something (and even that is putting it too concretely). And sometimes it succeeds, the body floats in the Light; sometimes its only partial. Sometimes all the inner consciousness is there, full and total but HERE things remain as they are, stupid, stupid, utterly stupid! Blind, in shifting sands, painful (and its not a thought, its not even a sensation; I dont know what it is).
And THERE the conscious will can do nothing. Nothing. All it could do it has done, and it continues to do all it can at each minute, and its nothing, it is not THATwhat is it??
0 1961-06-20, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
It was a large globe. Although no distinct rays could be seen, it appeared to be projecting innumerable rays like flashes of lightning. It was sparkling all over.
What does it mean?
--
(Satprem remarks on the gap between the inner realization of certain yogis like X and their outer behavior, which doesnt always seem up to the mark.)
I truly have the impression of a kind of abyss between the X I can sense, who attracts me, and the outer man.
--
Oh, he is splendid! There is such a sweet warmth in him, so good, and a mastery (mastery of inner movements, of the vital movement) and the ability to bring into the physical this peace, this absolute immobility. Its splendid! I have been doing this for something like forty years and you cant imagine how difficult it is, how much effort it takes to achieve it! With him it comes all by itself. Thats the tantric mastery.
And to a certain extent it has a healing power (to a certain extent). But its not that supramental thing Sri Aurobindo had: he would pass his hand like this (gesture), and the disorder would be gone completely!
0 1961-06-24, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I have received your note1 and it didnt surprise me, because just about a month ago I received what seemed like an SOS from your mother, telling me your father was rapidly declining. I have done what I could, mainly to bring in some tranquillity, some calm, some inner peace. But I havent done. You see, there are always two possibilities when people are so seriously ill: they can be helped to die quickly, or else made to linger on for a very long time. When I have no outer or inner indications, all I ever do is apply the consciousness for the best to happen to them (the best from the souls standpoint, of course).
Do you know whether your father has expressed any wish?
--
There was an experience like that quite recently. A.s mother was illold and seriously ill. Seeing her declining, A. wrote to me: If the time has come, make it happen quicklydont let her suffer. Then I saw very clearly that there was still something in her which didnt want to go; and when I applied the Force for the best to happen she suddenly began to recover! It must have coincided with a kind of inner aspiration in herno more fever, she was feeling well. And A. began preparing to come back here. If shes recovering, he said, theres no longer any point in my staying! The same evening she had a relapse and he sent me a telegram. Meanwhile (it was evening) I had gone upstairs to walk; suddenly The Will came (which is a very, very rare thing), The Will: Enough, now it must finishits enough as it is. Within half an hour she was dead.
These things are very interesting. They must form part of the work I have come on earth to do. Because even before encountering Theon, before knowing anything, I had experiences at night, certain types of activities looking after people who were leaving their bodiesand with a knowledge of the process; I didnt know what I was doing nor did I seek to know, yet I knew exactly what had to be done and I did it. I was around twenty.
--
I was keeping I.B. near me because I already had the idea of putting him immediately back into another bodyhis soul was not satisfied, it had not finished its experience (there was a whole combination of circumstances) and it wanted to continue to live on earth. Then, that night, his inner being went to find V., lamenting, saying he was dead and hadnt wanted to die, that he had lost his body and wanted to continue to live. V. was very perplexed. He let me know about it in the morning: Heres what has happened. I sent word to him of what I was doing, that I was keeping I.B. in my atmosphere and that he should stay very calm and not get excited, for I was going to put him back into a body as soon as possible I already had something in view. The same evening I.B. again went to find V., with the same complaint. V. told him very clearly, Here is what Mother says, here is what she is going to do; come now, be calm and dont torment yourself. And he saw in I.B.s face that he had understood (the inner being was taking on I.B.s physical appearance, naturally); his face relaxed, he became content.
He went away and he never came back. That is, he stayed tranquilly with me, until I was able to put him into C.s child.
--
Not long ago M.s sister died (psychologically, she was in a terrible stateshe had no faith). Well, on that day,5 just when I came to know that she was passing away, I remember being upstairs in the bathroom communicating with Sri Aurobindo, having a sort of conversation with him (it happens very often), and I asked him, What happens to such people when they die here at the Ashram? Look, he replied, and I saw her passing away; and on her forehead, I saw Sri Aurobindos symbol in a SOLID golden light (not very luminous, but very concrete). There it was. And with the presence of this sign the psychological state no longer matterednothing touched her. And she departed tranquilly, tranquilly. Then Sri Aurobindo told me, All who have lived at the Ashram and who die there have automatically the same protection, whatever their inner state.
I cant say I was surprised, but I admired the mighty power by which the simple fact of having been here and died here was sufficient to help you to the utmost in that transition.
--
Do you know the story of the two simultaneous operations of E. and of T.? T. is that vice-admiral who came here and became quite enthusiastiche had a kind of inner revelation here. The two of them were operated on for a similar complaint, a dangerous ulcer in the digestive system. He was in one town and she was in another, and they were operated on a day apartboth serious operations. And in each case, after a few days had gone by, the surgeon who did the operation said, I congratulate you. Practically the same phrase in both cases. And they both protested: Why are you congratulating me? (Each one wrote me about this separately; they were living far from one another and only met afterwards.) Why? You did the operationyou should be congratulated for my quick recovery. And in both cases the doctor replied, No, no; we only operate, the body does the healing; you have healed yourself in a way which can qualify as miraculous, and I genuinely congratulate you. And then the two of them had the same reaction they wrote to me saying, We know where the miracle comes from. And they had both called me. Moreover, E. had written me a remarkable letter a few days before her operation, where she quoted the Gita as if it were quite natural for her, and told me, I know that the operation is ALREADY done, that the Lord has already done it, and so I am calm.
Things like that, everywhere and PRECISE! Something quite precise. Of course, to say that I work consciously is almost silly, its commonplace. But in many cases one may work consciously for long years without getting that precision in the result the action enters a hazy atmosphere and makes a kind of stir, and out of it comes the best that can, but no more than that. But now its exact, preciseits becoming interesting.
0 1961-06-27, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I have what could be called a tactile sensation that the contents of the subtle atmosphere are increasing. This atmosphere is not part of material space as we conceive of or see it physically, where one thing has to give place to another (Mother changes the position of an eraser on the table)and even that (laughing) I believe is an illusion! It only SEEMS like that to us! Its not on the wholly material plane, but just behind or within (how to put it?), and its contents are increasing. And as its happening within inner dimensions, it can augment, so to speak, indefinitely; things become more and more interwoven, if you see what I meanwhere there was one phenomenon of consciousness there may now be hundreds, interwoven with each other in the inner dimensions; which means, for example, considering only our tiny planet, that the earth is becoming more and more compact and rich with all that has been since the beg inning of its formationbecause its all there, it is all still there.
Actually, as soon as one is not totally, totally tied down by the physical sense organs. For example, I am more and more frequently experiencing changes in the quality of vision. Quite recently, yesterday or the day before, I was sitting in the bathroom drying my face before going out and I raised my eyes (I was sitting before a mirror, although I dont usually look at myself); I raised my eyes and looked, and I saw many things (Mother laughs, greatly amused). At that moment, I had an experience which made me say to myself, Ah! Thats why, from the physical, purely material standpoint, my vision seems to be a bit blurred. Because what I was seeing was MUCH clearer and infinitely more expressive than normal physical sight. And I recalled that it is with these clearer eyes that I see and recognize all my people at balcony darshan. (From the balcony I recognize all my people.) And its that vision (but with open eyes!) which. It is of another order.
--
Sometimes, all of a sudden, I see myself as a FORMIDABLE concentration of power, pushing, pushing, pushing in an inner concentration to pass through. It happens to me anywhere, any time, at any moment I see a whole mass of consciousness gathered into a formidable power pushing, pushing, pushing to pass to the other side.
When we have passed to the other side, all will be well.
0 1961-07-12, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
But Perfection is only one side, one special way of approaching the Divine. There are innumerable sides, angles, aspects innumerable ways to approach the Divine. When I am walking, for example, doing japa, I have the sense of Unity (I have spoken to you of all the things I mention when I am upstairs walking: will, truth, purity, perfection, unity, immortality, eternity, infinity, silence, peace, existence, consciousness the list goes on). And when one follows a particular tack and does succeed in reaching or approaching or contacting the Divine, one realizes through experience that these many approaches differ only in their most external forms the contact itself is identical. Its like looking through a kaleidoscopeyou revolve around a center, a globe, and see it under various aspects; but as soon as the contact is established, its identical.
The number of approaches is practically infinite. Each one senses the path which accords with his temperament.
0 1961-07-18, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
What I myself have seen was a plan that came complete in all details, but that doesnt at all conform in spirit and consciousness with what is possible on earth now (although, in its most material manifestation, the plan was based on existing terrestrial conditions). It was the idea of an ideal city, the nucleus of a small ideal country, having only superficial and extremely limited contacts with the old world. One would already have to conceive (its possible) of a Power sufficient to be at once a protection against aggression or bad will (this would not be the most difficult protection to provide) and a protection (which can just barely be imagined) against infiltration and admixture. From the social or organizational standpoint, these problems are not difficult, nor from the standpoint of inner life; the problem is the relationship with what is not supramentalizedpreventing infiltration or admixture, keeping the nucleus from falling back into an inferior creation during the transitional period.
(silence)
--
In my experience, it is; and it has come to the point where the more concentrated the Force, the more things turn up at the very moment they ought to, people come just when they should and do just what they ought to be doing, the things around me fall into place naturally and this goes for the LEAST little detail. And simultaneously it brings with it a sense of harmony and rhythm, a joya very smiling joy in organization, as if everything were joyously participating in this restructuring. For example, you want to tell someone something and he comes to you; you need someone to do a particular work and he appears; something has to be organizedall the required elements are at hand. All with a kind of miraculous harmony, but nothing miraculous about it! Essentially its simply the inner force meeting with a minimum of obstacles, and so things get molded by its action. This happens to me very often, VERY often; and sometimes it goes on for hours.
But its rather delicate, like a very, very delicate clockwork, like a precision machine, and the least little thing throws everything out of gear. When someone has a bad reaction, for instance, or a bad thought, or an agitated vibration, or an anxietyanything of this nature is enough to dissolve all the harmony. For me, its translated straight-away into a malaise in my body, a very particular type of malaise; then disorder sets in, and the ordinary routine returns. So again I have to gather up, as it were, the Presence of the Lord and begin to infuse it everywhere. Sometimes it goes quickly, sometimes it takes longer; when the disorganization is a little more radical, it takes a little longer.
0 1961-07-28, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Other traditions speak of the Consciousness, the divine Consciousness, instead of Love. One even finds accounts full of imagery depicting a Being of prismatic light lying in deep sleep in the cave of the Inconscient; and this Descent awakens him to an activity which is still (how to put it?) inner, an immobile activity, an activity by radiation. Countless rays issue from his body and spread throughout the Inconscient, and little by little they awaken in each thing, in each atom, as it were, the aspiration to Consciousness and the beg inning of evolution.
I have had this experience.
0 1961-08-02, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
But in our case, would there be innumerable modes of being, each representing one particular aspect?
Yes, the multitudeo therwise there can be no Play.
I just translated a passage where Sri Aurobindo speaks of the enjoyment and possession of the One by the multitude, of the multitude by the One, and of the multitude by the multitude.4 Such a play must then involve an innumerable diversity innumerable!
Then why have those who had realizations in the past, who found the true Self, all said it meant the dissolution of the individual, that no personality remained?
--
It was this: Krishna consented to descend into Sri Aurobindos bodyto be FIXED there; there is a great difference, you understand, between incarnating, being fixed in a body, and simply acting as an influence that comes and goes and moves about. The gods are always moving about, and its plain that we ourselves, in our inner beings, come and go and act in a hundred or a thousand places at once. There is a difference between just coming occasionally and accepting to be permanently tied to a bodybetween a permanent influence and a permanent presence.
These things have to be experienced.
--
It was at that time that he decided to stop dealing with people and retire to his room. So he called everyone together for one last meeting. Before then, he used to go out on the verandah every day to meet and talk with all who came to see him (this is the origin of the famous Talks with Sri Aurobindo9Mother is about to say something severe, then reconsidersanyway) I was living in the inner rooms and seeing no one; he was going out onto the verandah, seeing everyone, receiving people, speaking, discussing I saw him only when he came back inside.
After a while, I too began having meditations with people. I had begun a sort of overmental creation, to make each god descend into a beingthere was an extraordinary upward curve! Well, I was in contact with these beings and I told Krishna (because I was always seeing him around Sri Aurobindo), This is all very fine, but what I want now is a creation on earthyou must incarnate. He said Yes. Then I saw him I saw him with my own eyes ( inner eyes, of course), join himself to Sri Aurobindo.
--
See Thoughts and Glimpses: 'What then was the commencement of the whole matter? Existence that multiplied itself for sheer delight of being and plunged into numberless trillions of forms so that it might find itself innumerably.... And what is the end of the whole matter? As if honey could taste itself and all its drops together and all its drops could taste each other and each the whole honeycomb as itself, so should the end be with God and the soul of man and the universe.'
Cent. Ed. Vol. XVI, p. 384
0 1961-09-10, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I feel this so often now. How to put it. I always try not to talktalking bothers me. Yes, its a real nuisance. When I see someone, the first thing I do is to avoid talking. Then, when the Vibration comes, its good; there is a sort of communication, and if the person is the least bit receptive, what comes is like a its subtler than music; its a vibration bringing its own principle of harmony. But people usually get impatient after a while and, wanting something more concrete, oblige me to talk. They always insist on it. Then, being in a certain atmosphere, a certain vibration, I immediately feel something going like this (gesture of a fall to another level), and then hardening. Even when I babble (you see, the very effort of trying to be more subtle makes me babble), even my babblings (laughing) become dry by comparison. There are all sorts of things that are so much fullerfull, packed with an inner richnessand as soon as this is put into words, oh!
The night before last, around 3 in the morning, I was in a place where there were a lot of people from here (you were there), and I was trying to play some music, precisely in order to SAY something. There were three pianos there, which seemed to be interlocked into each other, so I leaned over sideways to get at one of the three and began playing on it. It was in a large hall with people seated at a distance, but you were just at my left alongside a young lady who was a symbol figure (that is, the vibration or impression I received from her and the relationship I had with her could be applied as well to four or five persons here: it was like relating to an amalgam something that is very interesting and often happens to me). Anyway, I was leaning over one of the keyboards and trying trying to work something out, to illustrate how this would translate into that. Finally I realized that playing half-standing, half-leaning was unnecessary acrobatics, because a grand piano was right there in front, so I sat down before it. Well, the most amusing part of it was that the keys (there were two keyboards) were all bluelike the marbled paper we are making now, all blue, and with every possible marbled effect. Black keys, white keys, high keys, low keys (all of them were the same width, quite wide, like this), all seemed to be coated but it wasnt paperwith this blue. Facing the piano I said to myself, Well now, this cant be played with physical eyesit has to be played FROM ABOVE.
0 1961-09-16, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
You know, we are surrounded by complications, but there is always a place where it all opens out simple and straightthis is a fact of my experience. You go around in circles, seeking, working at it, and you feel stuck; then something in the inner attitude gives way, and all of a sudden it opens outquite simply.
I have had this experience very often. So I have asked Sri Aurobindo to give it to you.
--
This morning when I was walking, the program of the day and the work ahead of me was so formidable that I felt it to be impossible. And yet simultaneously there was this immobile inner POSITION in me; as soon as I stop my movement of formation and action, it becomes like a dance of joy: all the cells vibrating (there is a sort of vivacity, and an extraordinary music), all the cells vibrant with the joy of the Presence the divine Presence. But when I see the outside world entering and attacking, well this joy doesnt exactly disappear, but it retreats. And the result is that I always feel like sitting down and keeping stillwhen I can do that it is marvelous. But of course, all the suggestions from outside come in: suggestions of helplessness and old age, of wear and tear, of diminishing power, all thatand I know positively that its false. But calm in the body is indispensable. Well, for me also Sri Aurobindos answer is always the same: Be simple, be simple, very simple.
And I know what he means: to deny entry to regimenting, organizing, prescriptive, judgmental though the wants none of all that. What he calls being simple is a joyous spontaneity; in action, in expression, in movement, in lifebe simple, be simple, be simple. A joyous spontaneity. To rediscover in evolution that condition he calls divine, which was a spontaneous and happy condition. He wants us to rediscover that. And for days now he has been here telling me (and the same goes for your work): Be simple, be simple, be simple. And in his simplicity was a luminous joy.
0 1961-10-30, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
When he first read the Vedastranslated by Western Sanskritists or Indian pandits they appeared to Sri Aurobindo as an important document of [Indian] history, but seemed of scant value or importance for the history of thought or for a living spiritual experience.2 Fifteen years later, however, Sri Aurobindo would reread the Vedas in the original Sanskrit and find there a constant vein of the richest gold of thought and spiritual experience.3 Meanwhile, Sri Aurobindo had had certain psychological experiences of my own for which I had found no sufficient explanation either in European psychology or in the teachings of Yoga or of Vedanta, and which the mantras of the Veda illuminated with a clear and exact light.4 And it was through these experiences of his own that Sri Aurobindo came to discover, from within, the true meaning of the Vedas (and especially the most ancient of the four, the Rig-veda, which he studied with special care). What the Vedas brought him was no more than a confirmation of what he had received directly. But didnt the Rishis themselves speak of Secret words, clairvoyant wisdoms, that reveal their inner meaning to the seer (Rig-veda IV, 3.16)?
It is not surprising, therefore, that exegetes have seen the Vedas primarily as a collection of propitiatory rites centered around sacrificial fires and obscure incantations to Nature divinities (water, fire, dawn, the moon, the sun, etc.), for bringing rain and rich harvests to the tribes, male progeny, blessings upon their journeys or protection against the thieves of the sunas though these shepherds were barbarous enough to fear that one inauspicious day their sun might no longer rise, stolen away once and for all. Only here and there, in a few of the more modern hymns, was there the apparently inadvertent intrusion of a few luminous passages that might have justifiedjust barely the respect which the Upanishads, at the beg inning of recorded history, accorded to the Veda. In Indian tradition, the Upanishads had become the real Veda, the Book of Knowledge, while the Veda, product of a still stammering humanity, was a Book of Worksacclaimed by everyone, to be sure, as the venerable Authority, but no longer listened to. With Sri Aurobindo we might ask why the Upanishads, whose depth of wisdom the whole world has acknowledged, could claim to take inspiration from the Veda if the latter contained no more than a tapestry of primitive rites; or how it happened that humanity could pass so abruptly from these so-called stammerings to the manifold richness of the Upanishadic Age; or how we in the West were able to evolve from the simplicity of Arcadian shepherds to the wisdom of Greek philosophers. We cannot assume that there was nothing between the early savage and Plato or the Upanishads.5
--
Nor was it insignificant that fire, Agni, was the core of the Vedic mysteries: Agni, the inner flame, the soul within us (for who can deny that the soul is fire?), the innate aspiration drawing man towards the heights; Agni, the ardent will within us that sees, always and forever, and remembers; Agni, the priest of the sacrifice, the divine worker, the envoy between earth and heaven (Rig-veda III, 3.2) he is there in the middle of his house (I.70.2). The Fathers who have divine vision set him within as a child that is to be born (IX.83.3). He is the boy suppressed in the secret cavern (V.2.1). He is as if life and the breath of our existence, he is as if our eternal child (I.66.1). O Son of the body (III.4.2), O Fire, thou art the son of heaven by the body of the earth (III.25.1). Immortal in mortals (IV.2. 1), old and outworn he grows young again and again (II.4.5). When he is born he becomes one who voices the godhead: when as life who grows in the mother he has been fashioned in the mother he becomes a gallop of wind in his movement (III.29.11). O Fire, when thou art well borne by us thou becomest the supreme growth and expansion of our being, all glory and beauty are in thy desirable hue and thy perfect vision. O Vastness, thou art the plenitude that carries us to the end of our way; thou art a multitude of riches spread out on every side (II.1.12). O Fire brilliant ocean of light in which is divine vision (III.22.2), the Flame with his hundred treasures O knower of all things born(I.59).
But the divine fire is not our exclusive privilegeAgni exists not only in man: He is the child of the waters, the child of the forests, the child of things stable and the child of things that move. Even in the stone he is there (I.70.2).
--
But we have not yet reached the heart of the Vedic secret. The birth of Agni, the soul (and so many men are still unborn) is merely the start of the voyage. This inner flame seeks, it is the seeker within us, for it is a spark of the great primordial Fire and will never be satisfied until it has recovered its solar totality, the lost sun of which the Veda incessantly speaks. Yet even when we have risen from plane to plane and the Flame has taken successive births in the triple world of our lower existence (the physical, vital and mental world), it will still remain unsatisfiedit wants to ascend, ascend further. And soon we reach a mental frontier where there seems to be nothing to grasp any longer, nor even to see, and nothing remains but to abolish everything and leap into the ecstasy of a great Light. At this point, we feel almost painfully the imprisoning carapace of matter all around us, preventing that apotheosis of the Flame; then we understand the cry, My kingdom is not of this world, and the insistence of Indias Vedantic sagesand perhaps the sages of all worlds and all religions that we must abandon this body to embrace the Eternal. Will our flame thus forever be truncated here below and our quest always end in disappointment? Shall we always have to choose one or the other, to renounce earth to gain heaven?
Yet beyond the lower triple world, the Rishis had discovered a certain fourth, touryam svid; they found the vast dwelling place, the solar world, Swar: I have arisen from earth to the mid-world [life], I have arisen from the mid-world to heaven [mind], from the level of the firmament of heaven I have gone to the Sun-world, the Light (Yajur-veda 17.67). And it is said, Mortals, they achieved immortality (Rig-veda I.110.4). What then was their secret? How did they pass from a heaven of mind to the great heaven without leaving the body, without, as it were, going off into ecstasies?
0 1961-11-05, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I dont like to talk about these things, though they dont interest me. As Sri Aurobindo said, I lived my whole life absolutely free. I watched myself living through events like watching a movie. I had an inner vision, an inner will, and my inner reason for doing things was an Order received, an Order I was conscious of; but outwardlyfantastic! Naturallyhow else could it have been?
Here in Pondicherry, those last days might have become tragic (but of course it was impossible). There was the great argument (for he was perfectly aware of who I was): But after all, he would tell me, since you are the eternal Mother, why have you chosen Aurobindo as Avatar? Choose me! You must choose meme! It was the Asura speaking through him. I would smile and not discuss it. Thats not how its done! I would tell him (laughing). Then one day he said, Ah, so you dont want to. (gesture to the throat) Well, if you dont choose me, then. He was a strong fellow with powerful hands. I kept quite calm and said inwardly, My Lord, my Lord. I called Sri Aurobindo and I saw him come, like that (gesture enveloping Mother and immobilizing everything). Then Richards hands loosened their grip.
--
Theon knew something about it, and he called it the new world or the new creation on earth and the glorified body (I dont remember his exact terminology); but he knew of the Superminds existenceit had been revealed to him and he announced its coming. He said it would be reached THROUGH the discovery of the God within. And for him, as I told you the other day, this meant a greater densitywhich seems to be a correct experience. Well, on my side, I have made investigations and had innumerable visions concerning the earths history, and I spoke about it a good deal with Sri Aurobindo.
(silence)
0 1961-11-07, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
But naturally, you understand, once the border has been crossed, there is no more ascent and descent; you have the feeling of rising up only at the very start, while leaving the terrestrial consciousness and emerging into the higher mind. But once you have gone beyond that, theres no notion of rising; theres a sense, instead, of a sort of inner transformation.
And from there I would redescend, re-entering my bodies one after another there is a real feeling of re-entry; it actually produces friction.
--
One thing is certainas soon as one goes beyond the terrestrial atmosphere, beyond the higher minds highest region, the sensation of high and low totally vanishes. There are no longer movements of ascent and descent, but (Mother turns her hand over) something like inner reversals.
I think the problem arises only when you try to see and understand with the mental consciousness, even with the higher mind.
--
It depends upon the level of development, thats what Theon used to say: One goes into trance only when certain links are missing. He saw people as made up of innumerable small bridges, with intermediary zones. If you have an intermediary zone that is undeveloped, he said, a zone where you are not conscious because its not individualized, then you will be in trance when you cross it. Trance is the sign of non-individualization the consciousness is not awake and so your body goes into trance. But if your consciousness is wide awake you can sit, keeping full contact with things, and have the total experience. I could go out of my body with no need of trance, except when Theon wanted me to do a particular work. That was a different business the vital force (not the consciousness, the vital force) had to go out for that work, so the body had to go into trance. But even then. For instance, very often when I am called and go to do something in response, my body does become still, but its not in trance; I can be sitting and, even in the middle of a gesture, suddenly become immobile for a few seconds.7 But I was doing another type of work with Theondangerous work, at thatand it would last for an hour. Then all the bodys vital energy would go out, all of it, as it does when you die (in fact, thats how I came to experience death).
But it isnt necessary to have all those experiences, not at allSri Aurobindo never did. (Theon didnt have experiences, either; he had only the knowledgehe made use of Madame Theons experiences.) Sri Aurobindo told me he had never really entered the unconsciousness of samadhi for him, these domains were conscious; he would sit on his bed or in his armchair and have all the experiences.
0 1961-11-16a, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Im more or less familiar with them all, and I can seenot with images their inner natures much more clearly than usual. The inner perception, the perception of what people are feeling and thinking, is very acute, so much so that I see thoughts and feelings more that I see physical appearances.
But worknot a stroke. Ah, yes, I am translating The Synthesis of Yoga and it seems much easier. I go slower, a certain tension has disappeared, and the meaning is far clearer than usual. In other words, Im interiorized there you have it.
0 1961-12-20, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Then when Richard came here he met Sri Aurobindo (he was haunted by the idea of meeting the Master, the Guru, the Great Teacher). Sri Aurobindo was in hiding, seeing no one, but when Richard insisted, he met him, and Richard returned with a photograph. It was one of those early photos, with nothing in it. It was empty, the remnants of the political man, not at all resembling what I had seen I didnt recognize him. Its strange, I said to myself, thats not it (for I saw only his external appearance, there was no inner contact). But still, I was curious to meet him. At any rate, I cant say that when I saw this photograph I felt, Hes the one! Not at all. He impressed me as being a very interesting man, but no more.
I came here. But something in me wanted to meet Sri Aurobindo all alone the first time. Richard went to him in the morning and I had an appointment for the afternoon. He was living in the house thats now part of the second dormitory, the old Guest House.5 I climbed up the stairway and he was standing there, waiting for me at the top of the stairs. EXACTLY my vision! Dressed the same way, in the same position, in profile, his head held high. He turned his head towards me and I saw in his eyes that it was He. The two things clicked (gesture of instantaneous shock), the inner experience immediately became one with the outer experience and there was a fusion the decisive shock.
But this was merely the beg inning of my vision. Only after a series of experiencesa ten months sojourn in Pondicherry, five years of separation, then the return to Pondicherry and the meeting in the same house and in the same waydid the END of the vision occur. I was standing just beside him. My head wasnt exactly on his shoulder, but where his shoulder was (I dont know how to explain itphysically there was hardly any contact). We were standing side by side like that, gazing out through the open window, and then TOGETHER, at exactly the same moment, we felt, Now the Realization will be accomplished. That the seal was set and the Realization would be accomplished. I felt the Thing descending massively within me, with the same certainty I had felt in my vision. From that moment on there was nothing to sayno words, nothing. We knew it was THAT.
--
I dont know, Im putting it poorly, but this experience was concrete to the point of being physical. It happened in a Japanese country-house where we were living, near a lake. There was a whole series of circumstances, events, all kinds of thingsa long, long story, like a novel. But one day I was alone in meditation (I have never had very profound meditations, only concentrations of consciousness Mother makes an abrupt gesture showing a sudden ingathering of the entire being); and I was seeing. You know that I had taken on the conversion of the Lord of Falsehood: I tried to do it through an emanation incarnated in a physical being [Richard]7, and the greatest effort was made during those four years in Japan. The four years were coming to an end with an absolute inner certainty that there was nothing to be done that it was impossible, impossible to do it this way. There was nothing to be done. And I was intensely concentrated, asking the Lord, Well, I made You a vow to do this, I had said, Even if its necessary to descend into hell, I will descend into hell to do it. Now tell me, what must I do?The Power was plainly there: suddenly everything in me became still; the whole external being was completely immobilized and I had a vision of the Supreme more beautiful than that of the Gita. A vision of the Supreme.8 And this vision literally gathered me into its arms; it turned towards the West, towards India, and offered meand there at the other end I saw Sri Aurobindo. It was I felt it physically. I saw, sawmy eyes were closed but I saw (twice I have had this vision of the Supremeonce here, much later but this was the first time) ineffable. It was as if this Immensity had reduced itself to a rather gigantic Being who lifted me up like a wisp of straw and offered me. Not a word, nothing else, only that.
Then everything vanished.
--
But it never passed through my head first, never, never, never! Experiences came in my childhood that I didnt understand until Sri Aurobindo told me certain things; then I said, Ah, so thats what it was! But I never had that kind of curiosity, I never cared to understand with the head, I wasnt interested. I was interested in the result, in the inner change: how my attitude towards the world changed, my position relative to the creation that interested me from my infancy; how what seemed to be quite ordinary incidents could so completely change my relationship with that whole little world of children. And it was always the same thing: instead of feeling burdened, with a weight on your head, and just plodding on like a donkey, something would lift (gesture) and you would be on top of ityou could smile and begin to change. See that thing thats out of place? Why not set it right! Like arranging things in a drawer.
Why? How? What does it all mean? What do I care! Setting it right is whats important!
0 1961-12-23, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Because there comes a time when one perceives the entire universe in such a total and comprehensive way that, in truth, it is impossible to remove anything from it without disturbing everything. And going a couple of steps further, one knows for certain that things which shock us as contradictions of the Divine are simply things out of place. Each thing must be exactly in its place, and whats more, be supple enough, plastic enough, to admit into a harmonious, progressive organization all the new elements constantly being added to the manifest universe. The universe is in a perpetual movement of internal reorganization, and at the same time its growing: its becoming more and more complex, more and more complete, more and more integralindefinitely. And as the new elements manifest, the whole reorganization must be built on a new basis, and thus there isnt a second when ALL is not in perpetual movement. And when the movement is in accord with the divine order, its harmonious, so perfectly harmonious that its almost imperceptible. Now, if you descend from this consciousness towards a more external consciousness, you begin naturally to have a very precise feeling of what helps you attain the true consciousness and what bars the way or pulls you backwards or even fights against your progress. And so the perspective changes and you are obliged to say: this is divine or a help towards the Divine; and that goes against the Divine, its the Divines enemy. But this is a pragmatic standpoint, geared to action, to movement in material lifebecause you havent yet attained the consciousness surpassing all that; because you havent reached that inner perfection where you no longer have to fight, since you have gone beyond the field or the time or the utility of struggle. But before reaching that state in your consciousness and action, there is necessarily struggle; and if there is struggle, there is choice; and to choose, you need discrimination.
(Mother remains silent)
--
And in the experience there was no difference between my physical and my inner being (actually, its that way more and more for me); even physically, externally, there was a kind of love full of adoration, and so spontaneousnot even any sense of wonder! And there was such a formidable Power in it, formidable from the standpoint of the entire earth. It lasted one hour. After an hour, the experience slowly began to fade (it had to fade for purely practical reasons). But it left me so confident of a radical changenot a total change, for it wasnt permanent but so radical that even outwardly, way down below in me, something was saying, Ah, how will the meditations with X be now? I caught Myself not thinking, not myself: someone thought like that, somewhere way down below. This pulled me out of the experience and I wondered, Thats strange, whos thinking like that? It was one of the personalities4 (in terms of work, its the one that gives each action its proper place), someone way down below, spontaneously feeling: But thats going to change the meditations! What will they be like now? When I returned and began to look at things with the usual discernment, I told myself that perhaps there actually will be a change.
But truly, EVERYTHING was changed at that moment: something was achieved. It was the perception of Power the Power that comes from Love (what Love is to the Supreme Consciousness, which has nothing to do with what we usually mean by the word love). And it was it was simple! None of those complications resulting from thought, intellect, understandingall that was gone, all gone. A formidable Power! And it made me understand one thing, that the state I had been put in (by the Lord of Yoga, in fact) was for obtaining the particular power that comes through an identity with all material things, a power possessed by certain personsnot always yogis, certain mediums, for instance. I saw it with Madame Theon: she would will a thing to come to her instead of going to the thing herself; instead of going to get her sandals when she wanted them, she made the sandals come to her. She did this through a capacity to radiate her mattershe exercised a will over her matterher central will acted upon matter anywhere, since she WAS THERE. With her, then, I saw this power in a methodical, organized way, not as something accidental or spasmodic (as it is with mediums), but as an organization of Matter. And so I began to understand: With this comes the power to put each thing in its place! provided one is universal enough.
0 1962-01-09, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
These past few days Ive had some interesting experiences from this standpoint. I had what is commonly called fever, but it wasnt feverit was a resurfacing from the subconscient of all the struggles, all the tensions this body has had for what will soon be eighty-three years. I went through a period in my life when the tension was tremendous, because it was psychological and vital as well as physical: a perpetual struggle against adverse forces; and during my stay in Japan, particularly oh, it was terrible! So at night, everything that had been part of that life in Japanpeople, things, movements, circumstancesall of it seemed to be surrounding my body in the form of vital3 vibrations, and to be taking the place of my present state, which had completely vanished. For hours during the night, the body was reliving all the terrible tensions it had during those four years in Japan. And I realized how much (because at the time you pay no attention; the consciousness is busy with something else and not concentrated on the body), how much the body resists and is tense. And just as I was realizing this, I had a communication with Sri Aurobindo: But youre keeping it up! he told me. Your body still has the habit of being tense. (Its much less now, of course; its quite different since the inner consciousness is in perfect peace, but the BODY keeps the habit of being tense.) For instance, in the short interval between the time I get up and the time I come down to the balcony,4 when I am getting ready (I have to get this body ready to come down) well, the body is tense about being ready in time. And thats why accidents happen at that moment. So the following morning I said, All right, no more tension, and I was exclusively concerned with keeping my body perfectly tranquil I was no later than usual! So its obviously just one of the bodys bad habits. Everything went off the same as usual, and since then things are better. But its a nasty habit.
And so I looked. Is it something particular to this body? I wondered. To everyone who has lived closely with it, my body gives the impression of two things: a very concentrated, very stubborn will, and such endurance! Sri Aurobindo used to tell me he had never dreamed a body could have such endurance. And thats probably why. But I dont want to curtail this ability in any way, because it is a CELLULAR will, and a cellular endurance toowhich is quite intriguing. Its not a central will and central endurance (thats something else altogether)its cellular. Thats why Sri Aurobindo used to tell me this body had been specially prepared and chosen for the Workbecause of its capacity for obstinate endurance and will. But thats no reason to exercise this ability uselessly! So I am making sure it relaxes now; I tell it constantly, Now, now! Just let go! Relax, have some fun, wheres the harm in it? I have to tell it to be quiet, very quiet. And its very surprised to hear that: Ah! Can I live that way? I dont have to hurry? I can live that way?
--
It gets much less winded, of course, when you have the inner equality of the divine Presence. So much fatigue is due to excess tension produced by desire or effort or struggle, by the constant battle against all opposing forces. All that can go.
We tire ourselves out quite needlessly.
--
And the feeling was so strong that even during his illness (which lasted for months, you know), I had a sense of perfect security; so much so that the idea of his life being really affected in the least by this illness couldnt even occur to me! I didnt want to believe it when the doctor said, Its over. I didnt want to believe it. And as long as I stayed in the room with me in the room he couldnt leave his body. And so there was a terrible tension in himon the one hand the inner will to depart, and then this thing holding him there in his body: the fact that I knew he was alive and could only be alive. He had to signal me to go to my room, supposedly to rest (I didnt rest); and no sooner had I left his room than he was gone.
They immediately called me back. Thats how it was. Then when he came to me, when I really saw what had happened, when he went out of his body and entered into mine (the most material part of him, the part involved with external things) and I understood that I had the entire responsibility for all the work AND for the sadhana7well, then I locked a part of me away, a deep psychic8 part that was living, beyond all responsibility, in the ECSTASY of the realization: the Supreme. I took it and locked it away, I sealed it off and said, Youre not moving until until all the rest is ready.
--
The criterion or the judgment [for passing the tests] was based EXCLUSIVELY on the substance constituting the peoplewhe ther they belonged completely to the supramental world or not, whether they were made of this very special substance. The criterion adopted was neither moral nor psychological. It is likely that their bodily substance was the result of an inner law or an inner movement which, at that time, was not in question. At least it is quite clear that the values are different.
And then you add:
--
This criterion had nothing mental about it, and it gave the strange inner feeling that so many things we consider good or bad are not really so. It was very clear that everything depended upon the CAPACITY of things and upon their ABILITY to express the supramental world or be in relationship with it. It was so completely different, at times even so opposite to our ordinary way of looking at things!
Yes.
0 1962-01-12 - supramental ship, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
So we can say that the Supermind can express itself through a terrestrial consciousness only when there is a constant state of perfect equalityequality arising out of spiritual identification with the Supreme: all becomes the Supreme in perfect equality. And it must be automatic, not an equality obtained through conscious will or intellectual effort or an understanding preceding the state itselfnone of that. It has to be spontaneous and automatic; one must no longer react to what comes from outside as though it were coming from outside. That pattern of reception and reaction must be replaced by a state of constant perception and (I dont mean identical in all cases, because each thing necessarily calls forth its own particular reaction) but practically free from all rebound, you might say. Its the difference between something coming from outside and striking you, making you react, and something freely circulating and quite naturally generating the vibrations needed for the overall action. I dont know if I am making myself clear. Its the difference between a vibratory movement circulating within an IDENTICAL field of action, and a movement from an outside source, touching you and getting a reaction (this is the usual state of human consciousness). But once the consciousness is identified with the Supreme, all movements are, so to speak, inner inner in the sense that nothing comes from outside; there are only things circulating, which, through similarity or necessity, naturally generate or change the vibrations within the circulatory milieu.
I am very familiar with this, because I am now constantly in that state. I never have the feeling of something coming from outside and bumping into me; theres rather the sense of multiple and sometimes contradictory inner movements, and of a constant circulation generating the inner changes necessary to the movement.
This is the indispensable foundation.
--
Mother later clarified the meaning of this sentence: "I saw that to follow the Supreme in the Becoming one has to be able to expand, because the universe expands in the Becoming the amount of expansion in the universe is not matched by an equal amount of dissolution. So it is really necessary to be able to grow, as a child grows, to expand; but at the same time, for things to progress, this process of expansion demands a constant inner reorganization. As the quantity is increased (if we can speak of quantity here), so must the quality be simultaneously maintained by an ongoing internal reorganization of intercellular relationships."
In December 1958.
0 1962-01-21, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
The other motive for anubhava is of a more general applicability; for in order to reject anything from the being one has first to become conscious of it, to have the clear inner experience of its action and to discover its actual place in the workings of the nature. One can then work upon it to eliminate it, if it is an entirely wrong movement, or to transform it if it is only the degradation of a higher and true movement. It is this or something like it that is attempted crudely and improperly with a rudimentary and insufficient knowledge in the system of psycho-analysis. The process of raising up the lower movements into the full light of consciousness in order to know and deal with them is inevitable; for there can be no complete change without it. But it can truly succeed only when a higher light and force are sufficiently at work to overcome, sooner or later, the force of the tendency that is held up for change. Many, under the pretext of anubhava, not only raise up the adverse movement, but support it with their consent instead of rejecting it, find justifications for continuing or repeating it and so go on playing with it, indulging its return, eternising it; afterwards when they want to get rid of it, it has got such a hold that they find themselves helpless in its clutch and only a terrible struggle or an intervention of divine grace can liberate them.Some do this out of a vital twist or perversity, others out of sheer ignorance; but in yoga, as in life, ignorance is not accepted by Nature as a justifying excuse. This danger is there in all improper dealings with the ignorant parts of the nature; but none is more ignorant, more perilous, more unreasoning and obstinate in recurrence than the lower vital subconscious and its movements. To raise it up prematurely or improperly for anubhava is to risk suffusing the conscious parts also with its dark and dirty stuff and thus poisoning the whole vital and even the mental nature. Always therefore one should begin by a positive, not a negative experience, by bringing down something of the divine nature, calm, light, equanimity, purity, divine strength into the parts of the conscious being that have to be changed; only when that has been sufficiently done and there is a firm positive basis, is it safe to raise up the concealed subconscious adverse elements in order to destroy and eliminate them by the strength of the divine calm, light, force and knowledge. Even so, there will be enough of the lower stuff rising up of itself to give you as much of the anubhava as you will need for getting rid of the obstacles; but then they can be dealt with with much less danger and under a higher internal guidance.
***
0 1962-02-03, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I mean, if they themselves discover the experiences they had in their past life, then its part of a whole inner, psychic awakening, and very useful. But if some guru or other comes along and tells you, Here, this was your karma. I dont think its useful, to put it mildly!
If you discover the line of a former life on your own, thats different; its part of an inner, psychic awakening, and its very good. But I dont think its helpful when someone sees something and comes and tells you, You know, you have been this, you have done that. I feel it makes things worse instead of betterit puts you back in touch with things you were in the process of eliminating.
(silence)
--
This analogy is very apt down here on this plane, but for the higher realms it doesnt applyup there its just the opposite! As long as you remain the archer, touching one point, thats how it is; all intelligence below is like that, seeing all sorts of possibilities, so it cant make a choice and act. To see the whole target, the all-inclusive Truth, you must cross to the other side. And when you do, what you see is not the sum of countless truths, an innumerable quantity of truths added together and viewed one after another, making it impossible to grasp the whole at a glance; when you go above, its the whole you see first, AT A GLANCE, in its entirety, without division. So there is no longer any choice to be made; its a vision: THAT is to be done. The choice is no longer between this and that, it doesnt work that way any more. Things are no longer seen in succession, one after another; there is rather a simultaneous vision of a whole that exists as a unit. The choice is simply a vision.
As long as youre not in that state, you cant see the whole. The whole cant be seen successively, by adding one truth to another; this is precisely what the mind does, and why it is incapable of seeing the whole. It cant do it. The mind will always see things in succession, by addition, but thats not IT, something will always elude you the very sense of truth will elude you.
--
In the course of my observation, I also saw the position of X and people like him, who practically spend their lives doing japa, plus meditation, puja,4 ceremonies (I am talking only about sincere people, not fakers). Well, thats their way of working for the world, of serving the Divine, and it seems the best way to themperhaps even the only way but its a question of mental belief. In any case, its obvious that even a bit of not exactly puja, but some sort of ceremony that you set yourself to dohabitual gestures symbolizing and expressing a particular inner statecan also be a help and a way of offering yourself and relating to the Divine and thus serving the Divine. I feel its important looked at in this waynot from the traditional viewpoint, I cant stand that traditional viewpoint; I understand it, but it seems to me like putting a brake on true self-giving to the Divine. I am speaking of SELF-IMPOSED japa and rules (or, if someone gives you the japa, rules you accept with all your heart and adhere to). These self-imposed rules should be followed as a gesture of love, as a way of saying to the Divine, I love You. Do you see what I mean? Like arranging flowers in a certain way, burning incense, dozens of little things like that, made beautiful because of what is put into themit is a form of self-giving.
Now, I think that doing japa with the will and the idea of getting something out of it spoils it a little. You spoil it. I dont much like it when somebody says, Do this and you will get that. Its trueits true, but its a bit like baiting a fish. I dont much like it.
0 1962-02-06, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I can have that experience at any moment whatsoever: one second of concentration, stepping back from action, and its Bliss. And when I dont step back, then its something like an eternal omnipotence geared to action and entirely upheld and englobed by That. This power geared to action is the first manifestation of That thats what manifests first when That begins to exist consciously. (Mother places her palms together and, without separating them, turns her hands from side to side, as if to show two faces of the same thing.) So its indissoluble: its not two things, not even two aspects, because it isnt an aspect at all (words are idiotic, imbecilic, meaningless). The experience is renewable at will: one single thing in its essence, innumerable in its expression, and apparently increasing in power. I have experienced this at will, in every possible circumstance, including physically fainting (I told you the other day). Its called fainting, but I didnt lose consciousness for a minute! Not for one minute did I PHYSICALLY lose consciousness and behind it all, witnessing everything, was this experience.
(Pavitra enters the room to ask Mother an urgent question)
--
And the experience is renewable, renewable, renewable I have only to make a slight inner movement and there it is.
Ultimately, looking at it like any idiot who thinks himself intelligent, one could say: this must be why the Lord created the universe.
0 1962-02-13, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Obviously a great, great deal of stability and inner calm is required. There was a keen sense of the absolute pettiness, stupidity and dullness of all outer circumstances, of this whole bodily life in its external form, and AT THE SAME TIME a great symphony of divine joy. And both states were together like pulsations.
But it makes your head spin. You have to be very careful, it it makes you giddy!
0 1962-02-24, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Well, do it according to your inner moods.
At what time?
0 1962-02-27, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Ultimately, absolute sincerity is the great deciding factor for those who predict or foresee. Unfortunately, because of peoples curiosity, their insistence and the pressure they exert (which very few can resist), an almost involuntary mechanism of inner imagination comes to add just that small missing element to something not seen with precision or exactness. Thats what causes flaws in prediction. Very few have the courage to say, Ah no, I dont know this, I dont see that, this eludes me. They dont even have the courage to say it to themselves! So then, with a tiny drop of imagination, which acts almost subconsciously, the vision or information gets rounded outit can turn out to be anything at all! Very few people can resist this tendency. I have known many, many psychics, many extraordinarily gifted beings, and only a handful were able to stop just at the point where their knowledge stopped. Or else they embellish. Thats what gives these faculties their slightly dubious quality. One would have to be a great saint, a great sage, and completely free from other peoples influences (I dont speak of those who seek fame: they fall into the most flagrant traps); because even goodwillwanting to satisfy people, please them, help themis enough to distort the vision.
(Smiling) Are you satisfied? Have I answered everything?
--
I have had hundreds and hundreds of experiences like thatinformed just at the last moment (not one second too soon)and in very different circumstances. Once in Paris I was crossing the Boulevard Saint Michel (I had resolved to attain union with the psychic presence, the inner Divine, within a certain number of months, and these were the last weeks I was thinking of nothing but that, engrossed in that alone). I lived near the Luxembourg Gardens and was going there for a stroll, to sit in the gardens that eveningstill indrawn. I came to a kind of intersectionnot a very sensible place to cross when youre interiorized! So, in that state, I started to cross when all of a sudden I had a shock, as if something had hit me, and I instinctively jumped back. As I jumped back a streetcar rushed by. I had felt the streetcar at a little more than arms length. It had touched my aura, the protective aura (that aura was very strong at the time I was deep into occultism and knew how to maintain it). My protective aura was touched, and it literally threw me backwards, just like a physical shock. Accompanied by the drivers insults!
I leapt back just in time, and the streetcar passed by.
--
It can happen in different ways. Quite often I was informed by a small entity or some being or other. Sometimes the aura protected meall sorts of things. My life was rarely limited to the physical body. And this is useful, its good. Necessary alsoit enhances your capacities. Thon told me right from the start: You people deprive yourselves of the most useful kind of senses, EVEN FOR ORDINARY LIFE. If you develop your inner senses (he gave them fabulous names), you can. And its true, absolutely true, we can know infinitely more than we normally do, merely by using our own senses. And not only mentally but vitally and even physically as well.
But what is the method?
0 1962-03-06, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Whats annoying, though, is that in order to shake it all up, I have to go through some pretty bad moments physically. So dont worry, I understand how it is for others! I myself never lose either consciousness or contact with not with Knowledge, but with the total EXPERIENCE of identification. Only here in Matter does the work have this particular nature. So l understand how it is for people who live heedlessly from day to day, from minute to minute, for whom its not a constant, permanent work of each second, totally conscious and deliberate. And besides, this body is so willing the poor thing, sometimes I have found it crying like a child, imploring, How do you get out of this mess? Thats exactly why all the people who have achieved the inner realization have called this work impossible. Its their own impossibility! I know its not impossible, I know it will come, but how long will it take? That I dont know.
My feeling is that if you try to hurry, to rush, to speed things up a little, it jams, it becomes like stoneit turns to stone again. It took the stone a long time to become a man. So I dont want that. You cant get too impatientits not even impatience, but pressure. Beyond a certain pressure, it turns to stone. So I understand people who attain realization and, blissfully enjoying it, kick the whole thing out: Fine, Ill do without it!
0 1962-03-11, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Only its perfectly true that to deal with those realms one must either be fully protected by a guru, a real guru, a man with knowledge, or else have purity (not saintliness), an unmixed vital and mental purity. Very, very often, bhaktas [devotees] of Sri Aurobindo or mewhen they are sincere, truly sincere, that is, people of great spiritual purityhave dozens of beings appear to them, saying, I am Sri Aurobindo. It happens all the time, with all the right external appearancesits very easy for such beings to put on a disguise. It takes the inner psychic purity not to be deceivedyou invariably FEEL something that makes it impossible for you to be duped. But otherwise, many, many people are taken in.
I dont like to talk about this because people here have no discrimination; they would be left with nothing but fear and would no longer believe in anything, forever asking me, Oh, isnt this a trick? Which paralyzes everything. Thats why I didnt speak about that in this Talk.
--
No, I prefer not to put these things in the Bulletin; I would rather not speak of occult matters. I understand more and more, now that I am grappling with material difficulties that used to be nonexistent (in the material world, I mean), they didnt exist for me before. The material domain was something happening far below and I didnt bother with it at all. Even when I was practicing occultism in the most material world, I looked on it from above; there was this sort of inner light, this Presence I was born with it, so naturally I had no problems. But now that I am in the thick of this work, I dont want to speak of that, its too dangerous.
That teaching should really be given under the seal of secrecy, and given along with the necessary power and discrimination for going through the experiences without danger. And that means the gurus constant personal care and attention.
0 1962-05-24, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
From my own experience, though, I could say to all those who believe EXCLUSIVELY in the spiritual approach, the approach through inner experience, that thisat least if its exclusiveis equally fatal. For it reveals to them ONE aspect, ONE truth of the Whole but not THE Whole. The other side seems just as indispensable to me, for when I was so utterly in that supreme Realization, this other falsified, outer realization was undeniably just a distortion (and probably accidental) of something EQUALLY TRUE.
This something is what we are seeking. And perhaps not merely seekingwe may be taking part in the MAKING of it.
--
Through yoga I had come to a sort of relationship with the material world based on the notion of the fourth dimension (of the innumerable inner dimensions opened up by yoga) and on the utilization of this attitude and state of consciousness. Using this sense of inner dimensions, and through perfecting the consciousness of the inner dimensions, I used to observe the relation between the material and the spiritual worldsthis was prior to my last experience.
Of course, its been a long time since there has been any question of three dimensionsall that belongs ABSOLUTELY to the world of illusion and falsehood. But now the whole use of the sense of the fourth dimensionalong with all it entailsseems superficial to me! And so much so that I cant recapture it. The other world, the three-dimensional world, is completely unreal; but now that one (what can I say?) seems conventional to me. Like a conventional transcription opening a particular type of approach to you.
0 1962-05-27, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
(The subject here is a letter, no longer extant, in which Satprem expresses his desire to go write his new book1 in the Himalayas, far from present circumstances. These circumstances included poor health, but mainly, lurking behind, was the violent and almost physical inner wound caused by his break with X. The idea was to go away for a change of air.)
(With an ironic smile) On the meandering path of the world, this trip doesnt look too bad! For you personally, its an experience that yes, that would give you a concrete sense of the vanity of a number of things that still. You see, throughout all ones lives and all of lifes circumstances, theres one thing after another, one thing after another, one thing after another (zigzag gesture) to remove the scales from your eyes.
--
Let me put it to you more clearly: your physical body, for example, should have been either stronger or more supple or endowed with certain very strong vital compensations, so that you wouldnt suffer from your working conditions. Of course, for someone following a yogic ascent, whose soul is in the process of formation, the external conditions of life are normally what is best for inner development, whatever that may beeven if, on the surface, those conditions arent good. So the only advice you can give such a person is, Well, either renounce the spiritual life or else putup with it. But thats not your case. There is a Mission, a work, and a kind of gap between a certain physical formation and that Mission. So if you ask me plainly what I see, I can tell you plainly, instead of saying as I would to certain sadhaks or anyone sincerely wanting to do yoga, Take it or leave it; you must learn to transform yourself inwardly to the point where you can master the body and its needs. I cant tell you that, because thats not how it is for you.
I mean it may beit may be that even an inner transformation (a complete conversion of the vital being, for instance) wouldnt necessarily bring an improvement in your health. It is here where. Its not something I see imperatively. And to go back to ordinary life would be the end of everythingof your physical life and your inner life too.
I have absolutely no desire to do that!
0 1962-05-29, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Splendid. I am infinitely grateful to her. My body has never asked for fun or well-being or anything else. Thats life, it said, and you just have to take it as it is. And thats why when I first met someone who told me it could be otherwise (I was already past twenty), I said, Oh, really? Is that so? (Mother laughs) And then when he told me all about Thons teachings and The Cosmic Life and about the inner God and a new world that would be a world of beauty and (at least) of peace and light well, I rushed into it headlong.
But even then I was told: It depends on YOU alone, not on circumstancesabove all, dont blame circumstances; you must find it in yourself, the transformative element is within you. And you can do it wherever you are, even in a cell at the bottom of a hole. The groundwork was already done, you see, since the body never asked for anything.
--
I know what its like in the mountains the body feels fine for a while, but. Z, you know, had the same feeling (she comes from the mountains); she felt that without mountain air she would always be sick. I knew, that wasnt it, that it was certain inner difficulties, but I let her go to the mountains. Her body was exuberant! But she came back sicker than when she left. And yet her body was exuberant. Its very superficial.
No, I dont really feel any need for the mountains. The idea came to me because of this book.
--
It is very interesting, mon petit. As you were telling me about it, I automatically went into that state. And there was a kind ofhow shall I put it? I dont know what to call it. It is a movement akin to will, but it has nothing to do with thought, its a feeling: I wanted to take you into the experience. And it was shown to meliterally shown that your whole relationship with the inner and outer worlds is situated here (gesture above the head); thats why it is so well expressed through intellectual activity. But here (gesture to the solar plexus) theres not much. And I was seeing this, you know, I was touching it. It only comes indirectly, as a consequence. And then down here (gesture lower down): NOTHING. It remains just the way it was formed when you came down to earth!
And here (umbilical region) I was shown that a sort of widening of the being is needed, a widening of the vibrationsa peace, a calm within the immensity. HEREthe prana, that isis where there should be a widening into peace, peace, peace and calm. But within the immensity.
--
And here (umbilical region): something like a quiet ease (theres no equivalent in French). A quiet ease. It has been all cramped up, and now it must widen. The inner life of the prana must be widened (the inner vital, the true vital, the being that has the experiences I told you about the piece of glass, the glimpse of the sea); thats what must widen. And vast, vast. It is all cramped up and it suffers. It has to be relaxed inwardly, by bringing in the Force, the Force of that new experience [April 13]: apply it there. And you simply let yourself go; if you could catch hold of the wave movement, that would be perfect.
Like this: relax, relax, relax. Youre floating on an infinite undulating movementfloating, floating, floating. Shall we try?
0 1962-06-06, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
It doesnt take me any time, the time factor doesnt enter into it at allits a sort of inner resolution: this way or that way (Mother turns the palms of her hands in and out). People say, Oh, youve been waiting! No, I never wait; its either action or a sort of blissful peace (same in and out gesture). And I am talking about the body, not the spirit the spirit is elsewhere. Elsewhere. The BODY feels like that.
And what nights I have! Nights like the one I told you about the other day, with visions and actions; and then I have nights. All night last night, I didnt lose consciousness, I dont feel I slept for a minute; and it was like being in a sort of temporal Infinity (both hands open above the head). From time to time, I look at the clock (all at once I feel something pulling me and I look at the clock): two or two and a half hours have passedlike a second. Did I sleep, you ask? Did the consciousness fall asleep? No, not for a second. But the sense of time completely disappears into into an inner immobility. But an immobility in motion!
If it keeps on like this, they will put me in a padded cell!
0 1962-06-09, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Yes, but when you say that what changes is only the relations between things, its still a matter of subjectivity (I use the word for lack of a better one). But when we come down to the brass tacks of transformationphysical immortality in the body, for instancedoesnt it involve more than a simple inner change of relations? Doesnt MATTER itself have to be transformed? So there has to be a power over matter. Not merely a change of relations no?
No; you cant grasp what I mean by the word relation unless you take it scientifically. Your body, and my body, this table, this carpet, are all made up of atoms; and these atoms are constituted of the SAME thing. The differences we seedifferent bodies, different formsare due to the movements or the interrelations within this same thing.
0 1962-06-12, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
(Unexpectedly, this conversation led into the subject of Satprem's break with X, who had been his guru for the past few years. Here then, briefly, is the story behind the rupture: No sooner had Satprem brought X to the Ashram than a swarm of disciples threw themselves at him. Conspicuous among these were the moneymen, the same wheelerdealers who, eleven years later, after Mother's departure, were to reveal their ambitions in Auroville as well as Pondicherry. Satprem's somewhat straightforward manner soon got in the way of their schemes. He had a deep affection for X and when he repeatedly saw that these peoplespiritual scoundrels is the only word for themwere, in the hope of sowing confusion (for they always prosper best in confusion), bringing false reports to Mother of things X had supposedly said, he tried in all innocence to put X on his guard against the false reports and dishonest people who were wronging him. But instead of listening to Satprem and understanding that he spoke out of love, Xwith all his Tantric power behindflew into a violent rage against him, as if he had been casting a slur on X's prestige. Satprem then broke with X, but not without sorrow.)
Anything new?
--
When I spoke to him, you know, when I went to see him, it was just after my japa and I was in a state of absolute inner calmabsolute, with not a. I simply felt he had to be helped, because he was saying things that were going against him. So I had this feeling, a very strong feeling of affection, but an affection that states things clearly and unemotionally. I was very calm when I said all that. I did get upset afterwards, but I was upset mainly because he immediately had such an incredible reaction! So then I was at a loss. But the way I put things to him. Really, if he had the least. But even a man who has never done any yoga would have felt I was speaking from my heart, candidly. Even a man with no spiritual culture would have felt that. So how could he take it in such a way!
I am not sure he did.
--- Overview of noun inn
The noun inn has 1 sense (first 1 from tagged texts)
1. (3) hostel, hostelry, inn, lodge, auberge ::: (a hotel providing overnight lodging for travelers)
--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun inn
1 sense of inn
Sense 1
hostel, hostelry, inn, lodge, auberge
=> hotel
=> building, edifice
=> structure, construction
=> artifact, artefact
=> whole, unit
=> object, physical object
=> physical entity
=> entity
--- Hyponyms of noun inn
1 sense of inn
Sense 1
hostel, hostelry, inn, lodge, auberge
=> caravansary, caravanserai, khan, caravan inn
=> imaret
=> posthouse, post house
=> roadhouse
--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun inn
1 sense of inn
Sense 1
hostel, hostelry, inn, lodge, auberge
=> hotel
--- Coordinate Terms (sisters) of noun inn
1 sense of inn
Sense 1
hostel, hostelry, inn, lodge, auberge
-> hotel
=> fleabag
=> hostel, hostelry, inn, lodge, auberge
=> motor hotel, motor inn, motor lodge, tourist court, court
=> resort hotel, spa
=> Ritz
=> ski lodge
=> resort, resort hotel, holiday resort
--- Grep of noun inn
caravan inn
djinn
finn
huck finn
huckleberry finn
inn
innards
innate immunity
innate reflex
innateness
inner circle
inner city
inner ear
inner hebrides
inner light
inner mongolia
inner product
inner resource
inner tube
innersole
innervation
inning
innings
innkeeper
innocence
innocency
innocense
innocent
innocent iii
innocent viii
innocent xi
innocent xii
innocents' day
innominate artery
innominate bone
innominate vein
innovation
innovativeness
innovator
innsbruck
innuendo
innumerableness
mickey finn
motor inn
tallinn
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Wikipedia - Arvo Kinnari -- Finnish biathlete
Wikipedia - Arvo Lehesmaa -- Finnish actor
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Wikipedia - Arvo Pohjannoro -- Finnish politician
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Wikipedia - Ashby, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Asia Pacific University College of Technology and Innovation
Wikipedia - A Simple Twist of Fate -- 1994 film by Gillies MacKinnon
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Wikipedia - Ball Bluff Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Baylor Research and Innovation Collaborative
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Wikipedia - Bde Maka Ska -- Lake in Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States of America
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Wikipedia - Beardsley, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bear Head Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in St. Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bear Head Lake State Park -- State park of Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bear River, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Beat Radio -- Former radio station in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Beauford, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Beauford Township, Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Beaulieu, Minnesota -- Census-designated place in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Beaver Bay, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Beaver Creek, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Beaver, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Beaver Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Becker, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Beggars Bush, Dublin -- Southern inner city locality in Dublin city, Ireland
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Wikipedia - Beinn a' ChM-CM-2in -- Mountain in Scotland
Wikipedia - Beinn Airigh Charr -- Mountain in Scotland
Wikipedia - Beinn Bhan (Applecross) -- 896m high mountain in Scotland
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Wikipedia - Beinn Dearg Bheag -- Mountain in Scotland
Wikipedia - Beinn Dearg Mhor (Sligachan) -- Scottish mountain
Wikipedia - Beinn Dronaig -- Mountain in Scotland
Wikipedia - Beinn Eunaich -- Mountain in Scotland
Wikipedia - Beinn nan Eun (Perth and Kinross) -- Hill in Scotland
Wikipedia - Beinn Talaidh -- Mountain on the Isle of Mull, Scotland
Wikipedia - Beinn Tarsuinn (Munro) -- Mountain in Scotland
Wikipedia - Bejou, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Belgrade, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bella Forsgren -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Bellechester, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Belle Creek, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Bellingham, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Belvidere Mills, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Belview, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bemidji, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bemidji Township, Beltrami County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bena, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Benedict, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bengal, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Bengt Holmstrom -- Finnish economist and Nobel laureate (born 1949)
Wikipedia - Bengt Sjostedt -- Finnish hurdler
Wikipedia - Benjamen Chinn -- American photographer from California
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Wikipedia - Benjamin Ellsworth House -- Historic house in Utica, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Benjamin Finnis -- British modern pentathlete
Wikipedia - Bennettville, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Benning, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Benny Hinn -- American-Canadian evangelist
Wikipedia - BenoM-CM-.t Sinner -- French bicycle racer
Wikipedia - Benson, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Benton County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Benton Township, Carver County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Benville Township, Beltrami County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Bergen, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bergville, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Bernard McGinn (theologian)
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Wikipedia - Berndt Lindfors -- Finnish gymnast
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Wikipedia - Bernie McKinnon -- Canadian ice hockey, lacrosse, soccer and tennis coach
Wikipedia - Bernie Omann -- American politician from Minnesota
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Wikipedia - Bertel Broman -- Finnish sailer
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Wikipedia - Bethany, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bethel University (Minnesota) -- Private university in Minnesota
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Wikipedia - B.F. Skinner
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Wikipedia - Big Bend City, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Bigelow, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Big Falls, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bigfin squid -- Genus (Magnapinna) of Cephalopoda
Wikipedia - Bigfork, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Big Fun (Inner City song) -- 1988 single by Inner City
Wikipedia - Big Lake, Carlton County, Minnesota -- Census-designated place in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Big Lake, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Big Stone Colony, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Big Stone Township, Big Stone County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Billy McKinney (politician) -- American politician
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Wikipedia - Binn idir an da Log -- Mountain in Galway, Ireland
Wikipedia - Binnie Barnes -- English actress
Wikipedia - Binnie Roberts -- Fictional character from the BBC soap opera EastEnders
Wikipedia - Binn Mhor -- Mountain in Galway, Ireland
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Wikipedia - Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture -- Clay problem about the set of rational solutions to equations defining an elliptic curve
Wikipedia - Birchdale, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Birch Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in Saint Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Birch Township, Beltrami County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Birchwood Village, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Birger Axel Rasmusson -- Finnish chess player
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Wikipedia - Birger Stenman (gymnast) -- Finnish gymnast
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Wikipedia - Birgit FinnilM-CM-$ -- Swedish singer
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Wikipedia - Birth control movement in the United States -- Social reform campaign beginning in 1914
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Wikipedia - Biwabik, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Black-chinned fruit dove -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Black-chinned hummingbird -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Blackduck, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Black Hammer, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Blackstone's ratio -- Message that government and the courts must err on the side of innocence
Wikipedia - Black tie -- Semi-formal western dress code; dinner suit, tuxedo
Wikipedia - Blade grinder -- Machine with spinning blade, such as a food processor and lawnmower
Wikipedia - Blaine High School (Minnesota) -- Public secondary school in Blaine, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Blinn-Phong shading
Wikipedia - Blodpalt -- Northern Finnish dumplings made with flour and blood
Wikipedia - Blomford, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Blomkest, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Blooming Prairie, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bloomington Ferry Trail Bridge -- Pedestrian and bicycle bridge in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bloomington Kennedy High School -- public high school in Bloomington, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Bloomington, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Blossom's Inn -- Coaching inn and staging post
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Wikipedia - Blue-chinned sapphire -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Blue Eagle, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Blue Earth City Township, Faribault County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Bobbi Johnson -- American engineer and miss USA winner
Wikipedia - Bobby Ginn -- American businessman
Wikipedia - Bob Chinn (restaurateur) -- United States restaurateur
Wikipedia - Bob Kroll (police officer) -- American police officer and head of the Minneapolis police union
Wikipedia - Bock, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bodil Holmstrom -- Finnish orienteering competitor
Wikipedia - Bodum, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Isanti Township, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Bogoliubov inner product -- Special inner product in the space of operators
Wikipedia - Bo Grahn -- Finnish athlete
Wikipedia - Boguslav Kurlovich -- Russian-Finnish scientist (born 1948)
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Wikipedia - Bohumil StinnM-CM-= -- Czech weightlifter
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Wikipedia - Bois Forte Indian Reservation -- Reservation in Minnesota, USA
Wikipedia - Bombay, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bombay Spinning and Weaving Company -- First cotton mill in India
Wikipedia - Bombing of Tallinn in World War II -- Bombing of Tallinn during the Second World War
Wikipedia - Bo McKinnis -- American sports agent
Wikipedia - Bo M-CM-^Edahl -- Finnish diplomat
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Wikipedia - Bonanza Grove, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Bones (Ginny Blackmore song) -- 2013 single by Ginny Blackmore
Wikipedia - Bongards, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Bonnie McKinnon -- Canadian businesswoman and politician
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Wikipedia - Bordertown (Finnish TV series) -- Finnish crime drama television series
Wikipedia - BorgM-CM-% Akilles -- Finnish sports club
Wikipedia - Born Innocent (film) -- 1974 American television movie directed by Donald Wrye
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Wikipedia - Botrychium pinnatum -- Species of fern in the family Ophioglossaceae
Wikipedia - Botvinnik versus Capablanca
Wikipedia - Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness -- Wilderness area in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Bovey, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bowinn Ma -- Canadian politician
Wikipedia - Bowlus, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bowstring Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in Itasca County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bowstring, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - BoybandPH -- All male pop group in the Philippines, winners of the 2016 reality show, Pinoy Boyband Superstar
Wikipedia - Boyd, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Boy River, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bradford, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bradford Township, Isanti County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Braham, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bramble, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brandi Sherwood -- American model and pageant winner
Wikipedia - Brandon, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bratsberg, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brave 1: The Beginning -- Brave Combat Federation MMA event in 2016
Wikipedia - Brazen Abbot -- Finnish rock band
Wikipedia - Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner -- 2019 American documentary television series
Wikipedia - Break My Heart Again -- 2018 single by Finneas
Wikipedia - Breezy Point, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brenda Shinn -- American sport shooter
Wikipedia - Brennyville, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Brent Spence Bridge -- Double decker, bridge that carries Interstates 71 and 75 across the Ohio River between Covington, KY and Cincinnati, OH
Wikipedia - Brevik, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Brewing methods -- Beer production methods innovated in Great Britain
Wikipedia - Brewster, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brian Binnie (curler) -- Scottish male curler and coach
Wikipedia - Brian MacWhinney -- American psychologist and linguist
Wikipedia - Brian Mawhinney -- British politician and life peer
Wikipedia - Brian McGuinness -- British philosopher
Wikipedia - Brian M-CM-^Sge M-CM-^S hUiginn -- Irish poet
Wikipedia - Brian Quinn (businessman) -- Australian businessman and criminal
Wikipedia - Brian Quinn (comedian) -- American comedian
Wikipedia - Bricelyn, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bridge 5757 -- Bridge in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Bridge L6113 -- Bridge in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Bridge L8515 -- Bridge in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Bridgeman, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Brigadoon (film) -- 1954 film by Vincente Minnelli
Wikipedia - Brilliant Orange -- Book by David Winner
Wikipedia - Brinn Bevan -- British artistic gymnast
Wikipedia - Brinno -- 1st century ruler of the Canninefates, a Germanic tribe
Wikipedia - Brita KlemetintytM-CM-$r -- Finnish postmaster
Wikipedia - Brittany Bell -- Guamanian beauty pageant winner
Wikipedia - BrM-CM-$di -- Finnish hip hop artist
Wikipedia - Broadstone, Dublin -- One of three divisions of Phibsboro, inner suburb of Dublin, Ireland
Wikipedia - Broken Tree Inn -- fantasy role-playing game
Wikipedia - Brook Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in Beltrami County, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Brooklyn Center, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brooklyn McLinn -- American actor
Wikipedia - Brook Park, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brooks, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brookston, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brooten, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bror Brenner -- Finnish sailor
Wikipedia - Bror Johansson -- Finnish sailor
Wikipedia - Bror Lillqvist -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Bror Nystrom -- Finnish sports shooter
Wikipedia - Browerville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brown County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Brownie Lake -- Lake in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Brownsdale, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Browns Valley, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Browns Valley Township, Big Stone County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brownsville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brownton, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Bruce Mackinnon
Wikipedia - Bruce Mine Headframe -- Mining relic in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Bruce, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Rock County, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Bruce Park -- A small suburban memorial park within greater Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Bruno Frietsch -- Finnish sports shooter
Wikipedia - Bruno Granholm -- Finnish architect
Wikipedia - Bruno, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brush Creek, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brush Creek Township, Faribault County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Brushvale, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Buckman, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Buffalo Lake, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Buffalo River (Minnesota) -- River in Minnesota, United States of America
Wikipedia - Buhl City Hall (Minnesota) -- Historic municipal building in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Buhl, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Buhl Public Library -- Public library in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Build a better mousetrap, and the world will beat a path to your door -- Phrase about innovation
Wikipedia - Bulletin board -- A board, usually cork, for pinning notices to
Wikipedia - Bull-of-the-Woods Logging Scow -- Shipwreck in northern Minnesota
Wikipedia - Bull's Head Inn, Poole -- Former pub in Poole, Dorset, England
Wikipedia - Bunde, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Bungsberg (ship) -- German cargo ship sunk near Tallinn, Estonia
Wikipedia - Burnett Bergeson -- Minnesota politician and farmer, 1915-2011
Wikipedia - Burnout (vehicle) -- Practice of spinning wheels while keeping vehicle stationary
Wikipedia - Burnstown Township, Brown County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Burnsville High School -- Public high school in Minnesota, USA
Wikipedia - Burnsville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Burntside Lodge -- Resort in northern Minnesota
Wikipedia - Burrhus Frederic Skinner
Wikipedia - Burr, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Burt Glinn -- American photographer
Wikipedia - Burt McKinnie -- American golfer
Wikipedia - Burtrum, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Business route -- Short special route connected to a parent numbered highway at its beginning, then routed through the central business district of a nearby city or town, and finally reconnecting with the same parent numbered highway again at its end
Wikipedia - Butt and Oyster -- An historic inn by the River Orwell in Suffolk
Wikipedia - Butterfield, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Butternut, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Butternut Valley Township, Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Buzzle Township, Beltrami County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - B. Virtanen -- Finnish comic strip written by Ilkka HeilM-CM-$
Wikipedia - Byron David Smith killings -- On Thanksgiving Day of 2012 in Little Falls, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Byron, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - C5-convertase -- Serine protease that plays key role in the innate immunity. It participates in the complement system ending with cell death.
Wikipedia - Cabra, Dublin -- Inner western Northside suburb of Dublin, Ireland
Wikipedia - Cainnech of Aghaboe -- Saint, priest and abbot who preached across Ireland and Scotland
Wikipedia - Cairbre mac Brian M-CM-^S hUiginn -- Irish poet
Wikipedia - Caledonia, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Calhoun Isles, Minneapolis -- community of Minneapolis
Wikipedia - California Innocence Project -- Non-profit organization which provides pro bono legal services
Wikipedia - California's Golden Beginning -- 1948 film
Wikipedia - California Woods Nature Preserve -- Municipal park in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - Callaway, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Calmness -- Mental state of inner peace
Wikipedia - Calostoma cinnabarinum -- Species of fungus in the family Sclerodermataceae from eastern North America, Central America, northeastern South America, and East Asia
Wikipedia - Calton Coffie -- Lead vocalist of Inner Circle (1986-1994)
Wikipedia - Calumet, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Calusa -- Native American people who lived on the coast and along the inner waterways of Florida's southwest coast
Wikipedia - Calvin Skinner -- American politician
Wikipedia - Cambria, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Cambria Township, Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cambridge, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cambridge Township, Isanti County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Camden, Minneapolis -- community of Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Camden Township, Carver County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Camden Town -- Inner city district of London
Wikipedia - Camel's nose -- Metaphor for a situation where the permitting of a small, seemingly innocuous act will open the door for larger, clearly undesirable actions
Wikipedia - Camila Finn -- Brazilian model
Wikipedia - Camilla Cedercreutz -- Finnish sailor
Wikipedia - Camilla Richardsson -- Finnish athlete
Wikipedia - Camillo Innocenti -- Italian painter
Wikipedia - Camp A Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in St. Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Camp Lacupolis, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Canad Inns -- Canadian hotel chain
Wikipedia - Canad Inns Women's Classic -- World Curling Tour event
Wikipedia - Canby, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Candle (Skinny Puppy song) -- Song by Skinny Puppy
Wikipedia - Cannon Falls, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Canterbury Park -- Horse racing facility in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Canton, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Canton of Appenzell Innerrhoden -- Canton of Switzerland
Wikipedia - Can't Wait to Be Dead -- 2020 single by Finneas
Wikipedia - Caoilinn Hughes -- Irish novelist
Wikipedia - Caravanserai -- Type of roadside inn
Wikipedia - Carbon Copy (horse) -- Australian horse winning Comic Court, Foxzami Vagabond and Bernbrook from 1948 to 1949
Wikipedia - Carceri Nuove -- Jail built by Pope Innocent X
Wikipedia - Cardinals created by Innocent III
Wikipedia - Cardinals created by Innocent II
Wikipedia - Cardinals created by Innocent IV
Wikipedia - Cardo (record producer) -- American record producer and rapper from Minnesota
Wikipedia - Caribou, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Caridoid escape reaction -- Innate escape mechanism by crustaceans
Wikipedia - Carita Jussila -- Finnish archer
Wikipedia - Carita Nystrom -- Finnish writer and feminist
Wikipedia - Carl Aejemelaeus -- Finnish modern pentathlete
Wikipedia - Carl August Lundstrom -- Finnish entomologist
Wikipedia - Carl-Erik Creutz -- Finnish radio announcer
Wikipedia - Carleton College -- liberal arts college in Northfield, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Carl Girsen -- Finnish sailor
Wikipedia - Carl Gustaf Emil Mannerheim -- Finnish military leader and statesman (1867-1951)
Wikipedia - Carl Gustaf Ottelin -- Finnish bishop
Wikipedia - Carl Gustaf Wolff -- Finnish businessman
Wikipedia - Carl Haglund -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Carl Linnaeus bibliography -- List of publications by Swedish scientist, Carl Linnaeus
Wikipedia - Carl Linnaeus the Younger -- Swedish naturalist
Wikipedia - Carl Linnaeus -- Swedish botanist, physician, and zoologist
Wikipedia - Carlo Innocenzi -- Italian composer
Wikipedia - Carlos, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Carlston Township, Freeborn County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Carlton County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Carlton, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Carl von Linnaeus
Wikipedia - Carmen Sarmiento -- Award winning Spanish journalist and television presenter
Wikipedia - Carmody, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Carnegie, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Rock County, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Carole Crawford -- Jamaican model and beauty queen, Miss World 1963 winner
Wikipedia - Caroline Winnett -- American entrepreneur and civic activist
Wikipedia - Caroll Spinney -- American puppeteer
Wikipedia - Carolus Linnaeus
Wikipedia - Carriage return -- Control character, or mechanism, used to reset a device's position to the beginning of a line of text
Wikipedia - Carry Me Back to Old Virginny -- Song by James A. Bland
Wikipedia - Carter House Inn -- Hotel in Eureka, California
Wikipedia - Casa Alianza -- International non-profit organization, winner of Olof Palme Prize
Wikipedia - Casino, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Casper Santanen -- Finnish-Norwegian ice hockey defenceman
Wikipedia - Cass County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Castle Danger, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Castle Inn -- Public house in West Lulworth, Dorset, England
Wikipedia - Castle Rock, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Castle Rock Township, Dakota County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Category:20th-century Finnish painters
Wikipedia - Category:20th-century Finnish poets
Wikipedia - Category:20th-century Finnish women artists
Wikipedia - Category:21st century in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Category:Academy Award for Technical Achievement winners
Wikipedia - Category:American people of Finnish descent
Wikipedia - Category:APRA Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Articles containing Finnish-language text
Wikipedia - Category:Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:BAFTA winners (films)
Wikipedia - Category:Best Original Song Genie and Canadian Screen Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Brit Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:British innovators
Wikipedia - Category:Canadian people of Finnish descent
Wikipedia - Category:Canadian Screen Award winning people
Wikipedia - Category:Cardinals created by Pope Innocent III
Wikipedia - Category:Carl Linnaeus
Wikipedia - Category:Computer science award winners
Wikipedia - Category:CS1 Finnish-language sources (fi)
Wikipedia - Category:Discoveries by Claudine Rinner
Wikipedia - Category:Draper Prize winners
Wikipedia - Category:Edgar Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Electronic engineering award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Emmy Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Engineers from Minnesota
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish agnostics
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish atheists
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish bloggers
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish computer programmers
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish emigrants to the United States
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish essayists
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish inventions
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish mythology
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish philosophers
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish Roman Catholics
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish software engineers
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish Theosophists
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish women artists
Wikipedia - Category:Finnish women poets
Wikipedia - Category:Glenn Gould Prize winners
Wikipedia - Category:Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz Prize winners
Wikipedia - Category:Governor General's Award-winning poets
Wikipedia - Category:Governor General's Performing Arts Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Grammy Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Hugo Award-winning writers
Wikipedia - Category:Inner Mongolia University faculty
Wikipedia - Category:Innovation economics
Wikipedia - Category:Innovation
Wikipedia - Category:Innovators
Wikipedia - Category:Jack Richardson Producer of the Year Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Jinn
Wikipedia - Category:John von Neumann Theory Prize winners
Wikipedia - Category:Juno Award for Album of the Year winners
Wikipedia - Category:Juno Award for Artist of the Year winners
Wikipedia - Category:Juno Award for Indigenous Music Album of the Year winners
Wikipedia - Category:Juno Award for Songwriter of the Year winners
Wikipedia - Category:Juno Award for Video of the Year winners
Wikipedia - Category:Lakatos Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Lists of award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Lists of Finnish people by occupation
Wikipedia - Category:Lorentz Medal winners
Wikipedia - Category:Members of Lincoln's Inn
Wikipedia - Category:Members of the Finnish Academy of Science and Letters
Wikipedia - Category:Mensa Select winners
Wikipedia - Category:National Book Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Nautilus Book Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Nevanlinna Prize laureates
Wikipedia - Category:NME Awards winners
Wikipedia - Category:Origins Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:PEN/Nabokov Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:People from Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Category:People from Minnesota
Wikipedia - Category:People from Schinnen
Wikipedia - Category:People from Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Category:Philosophers from Minnesota
Wikipedia - Category:Philosophy award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Pope Innocent III
Wikipedia - Category:Pope Innocent II
Wikipedia - Category:Pope Innocent IV
Wikipedia - Category:Pre-Linnaean botanists
Wikipedia - Category:Premio Cervantes winners
Wikipedia - Category:Prix mondial Cino Del Duca winners
Wikipedia - Category:Pulitzer Prize for General Non-Fiction winners
Wikipedia - Category:Ramon Magsaysay Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Royal Aeronautical Society Gold Medal winners
Wikipedia - Category:Royal Medal winners
Wikipedia - Category:Scientists from Cincinnati
Wikipedia - Category:Scientists from Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Category:Shorty Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:SIGACCESS award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Southwest Minnesota State University faculty
Wikipedia - Category:Spingarn Medal winners
Wikipedia - Category:Stalin Prize winners
Wikipedia - Category:Swedish-speaking Finns
Wikipedia - Category:Taxa named by Carl Linnaeus
Wikipedia - Category:University of Cincinnati alumni
Wikipedia - Category:University of Cincinnati faculty
Wikipedia - Category:University of Minnesota alumni
Wikipedia - Category:University of Minnesota College of Education and Human Development alumni
Wikipedia - Category:University of Minnesota College of Liberal Arts alumni
Wikipedia - Category:University of Minnesota College of Science and Engineering alumni
Wikipedia - Category:University of Minnesota faculty
Wikipedia - Category:University of St. Thomas (Minnesota) alumni
Wikipedia - Category:Webby Award winners
Wikipedia - Category:Winner of Kodansha Manga Award (General)
Wikipedia - Category:Winners of The Economist innovation awards
Wikipedia - Category:Winners of the Heineken Prize
Wikipedia - Category:Winners of the Max Planck Medal
Wikipedia - Category:World Fantasy Award-winning writers
Wikipedia - Category:Writers from Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Category:Writers from Minnesota
Wikipedia - Caterina Chinnici -- Italian magistrate and politician
Wikipedia - Catharine A. MacKinnon -- American feminist and legal activist
Wikipedia - Catharine MacKinnon
Wikipedia - Catherine Lucy Innes -- New Zealand writer
Wikipedia - Catherine McKinnell -- British Labour politician
Wikipedia - Catherine Skinner -- Australian sport shooter
Wikipedia - Cathleen Moore-Linn -- Guamanian windsurfer
Wikipedia - Catocala innubens -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Cazenovia, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Pipestone County, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - CBW (AM) -- CBC Radio One station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CBW-FM -- CBC Music station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CBWFT-DT -- Ici Radio-Canada Tele station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CD8+ cell noncytotoxic anti-HIV response -- Apparent anti-HIV innate immune response
Wikipedia - Cearbhall mac Lochlainn M-CM-^S Dalaigh -- Irish poet
Wikipedia - Cecilia Torn -- Finnish ice dancer
Wikipedia - Cedar Lake East Beach -- natural beach in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Cedar Lake Trail -- shared-use path in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Cedar Mills, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cedar River (Iowa River tributary) -- 338-mile-long (544 km) river in Minnesota and Iowa
Wikipedia - Censor (song) -- Song by Skinny Puppy
Wikipedia - Center City, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Center for Innovative Phage Applications and Therapeutics -- Phage therapy center in San Diego, CA, US
Wikipedia - Center Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Centerville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Centerville, Winona County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Central High School (Minneapolis, Minnesota) -- High school in Minneapolis, Minnesota closed in 1982
Wikipedia - Central, Minneapolis -- community of Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Central, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Centre for International Governance Innovation -- Think tank on global governance
Wikipedia - Century Mill, Farnworth -- Cotton spinning mill in Bolton, Greater Manchester, England
Wikipedia - Ceresco Township, Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cerith Flinn -- Welsh actor
Wikipedia - Cerro Gordo, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cesar Curti -- Brazilian model, Mister International 2011, international male pageant winner
Wikipedia - C'est la Vie (Polara album) -- 1997 album by Minneapolis alternative rock band Polara
Wikipedia - Ceylon, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - CFJL-FM -- Radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CFPG-FM -- Radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CFQX-FM -- Radio station in Selkirk-Winnipeg, Manitoba
Wikipedia - CFRW -- Sports radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CFWM-FM -- Radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Chainsaw (Skinny Puppy song) -- Song by Skinny Puppy
Wikipedia - Chandler, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Charade (1984 film) -- 1984 film directed by Jon Minnis
Wikipedia - Chardonnay -- green-skinned grape variety used in wine production
Wikipedia - Charity Gaye Finnestad -- American author
Wikipedia - Charles A. Finn -- American priest
Wikipedia - Charles Linn -- Finnish-American banker and seacaptain
Wikipedia - Charles Mackinnon Douglas -- Scottish philosopher
Wikipedia - Charles McGinnis -- American pole vaulter
Wikipedia - Charles Stenvig -- American mayor of Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Charlesville, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Charleswood, Winnipeg -- Suburb of Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Charlie Bubbles -- 1967 film by Albert Finney
Wikipedia - Charlie Finn -- American film and television actor
Wikipedia - Charlotta Falkman -- Swedish-Finnish author
Wikipedia - Charlotta Lonnqvist -- Finnish cultural personality
Wikipedia - Charlotte McKinney -- American actress
Wikipedia - Charming Sinners -- 1929 film
Wikipedia - Chatfield, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Chatuphum Chinnawong -- Thai weightlifter
Wikipedia - Checkmate -- Winning game position in chess
Wikipedia - Cheek (rapper) -- Finnish rapper
Wikipedia - Chelsea Quinn Yarbro bibliography -- Wikipedia bibliography
Wikipedia - Chelsea Quinn Yarbro -- American writer
Wikipedia - Chengwatana, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Pine County, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Cherry Grove, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Chester Terrace (Duluth, Minnesota) -- Historic rowhouse in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Chhinnamasta, Saptari -- Former Village Development Committee in Nepal
Wikipedia - Chhinnamasta -- Hindu goddess
Wikipedia - Chhinnapatra -- 1965 Gujarati novel by Suresh Joshi
Wikipedia - Chicago Rockford International Airport -- Airport in Winnebago County, IL, USA
Wikipedia - Chickamaw Beach, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Chicken Curry Law -- 2019 film directed by Shekhar Sirrinn
Wikipedia - Chief innovation officer -- Executive-level position
Wikipedia - Chignon (hairstyle) -- Women's hairstyle with hair pinned in a knot at the nape of the neck or at the back of the head
Wikipedia - Childe Byron -- 1977 play by Romulus Linney
Wikipedia - Children of Israel Cemetery -- Jewish cemetery in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Children's Minnesota -- Children's hospital system
Wikipedia - Childs, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Chinedum Enyinnaya Orji -- Nigerian politician
Wikipedia - Chinna Babu Arigela -- Indian film producer
Wikipedia - Chinna Chinna Kannile -- 2000 film by Ameerjan
Wikipedia - Chinnada Gombe -- 1964 film
Wikipedia - Chinna Gounder -- 1992 film by R. V. Udayakumar
Wikipedia - Chinna Kannamma -- 1993 film by R. Raghu
Wikipedia - Chinna Kuyil Paaduthu -- 1987 film by P. Madhavan
Wikipedia - Chinna Muthu -- 1994 film by Shanmuga Sundaram
Wikipedia - Chinnanchiru Ulagam -- 1966 film by K. S. Gopalakrishnan
Wikipedia - Chinna Pillai
Wikipedia - Chinnari Papalu -- 1968 film directed by Savitri
Wikipedia - Chinna Thambi (TV series) -- Indian television series
Wikipedia - Chinna Vathiyar -- 1995 film by Singeetam Srinivasa Rao
Wikipedia - Chinna Veedu -- 1985 film by K. Bhagyaraj
Wikipedia - Chinnodu -- 2006 film
Wikipedia - Chinnor and Princes Risborough Railway -- English standard gauge heritage railway
Wikipedia - Chionodes hinnella -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Chippewa City, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - CHIQ-FM -- Radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Chisago City, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Chisago Lake Township, Chisago County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Chisholm Commercial Historic District -- Historic downtown of Chisholm, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Chitkul -- village in Kinnaur district, Himachal Pradesh, India
Wikipedia - CHMI-DT -- Citytv station in Portage la Prairie/Winnipeg, Manitoba
Wikipedia - Chokio, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Chris Andrews (politician) -- Irish Sinn Fein politician
Wikipedia - Chris Hazzard -- Northern Irish Sinn Fein politician
Wikipedia - Chris Innis
Wikipedia - Chris Linn -- American magician, comedian, and entertainer
Wikipedia - Chris Pinnock -- Jamaican hurdler
Wikipedia - Chris Shinn -- American singer, songwriter and musician
Wikipedia - Christiaan Hendrik Persoon -- Mycologist who made additions to Linnaeus' mushroom taxonomy (1761-1836)
Wikipedia - Christiane Nusslein-Volhard -- German developmental biologist and 1995 Nobel Prize winner
Wikipedia - Christian Ilmoni -- Finnish sailor
Wikipedia - Christians for Biblical Equality -- Christian egalitarian organization headquartered in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Christian Sundman -- Finnish philatelist
Wikipedia - Christina Gestrin -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Christina Pinnow -- German sailor
Wikipedia - Christina Salmivalli -- Finnish psychologist, professor of psychology
Wikipedia - Christina Warinner -- Archaeological geneticist
Wikipedia - Christmas dinner -- Meal traditionally eaten at Christmas
Wikipedia - Christophe Pinna -- French karateka
Wikipedia - Christopher Blackett -- British colliery and newspaper owner and railway innovator (1751-1829)
Wikipedia - Christopher Innes -- Canadian historian
Wikipedia - Christopher Inn -- Former hotel in Columbus, Ohio
Wikipedia - Christopher Kinney -- American bobsledder
Wikipedia - Christopher McKinney -- Bahamian sailor
Wikipedia - Christopher Robin Milne -- The basis of the character Christopher Robin in Winnie-the-Pooh
Wikipedia - Christopher Wegelius -- Finnish equestrian
Wikipedia - Chromatic Dark -- Finnish heavy metal band
Wikipedia - Chronology of battles and events of the Finnish War -- battles and events war chronology
Wikipedia - Chrysoclista linneella -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Chuhsiungichthys -- Genus of ray-finned fish
Wikipedia - Churchill, Chippewa County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Church of St. John the Baptist (Virginia, Minnesota) -- Former church building in Virginia, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Church of St. Joseph (Elmer, Minnesota) -- Historic church building in Elmer, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Church of the Annunciation (Webster Township, Minnesota) -- Church building in Webster Township, United States of America
Wikipedia - Church of the Holy Family (Eveleth, Minnesota) -- Historic church building in Eveleth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - CHVN-FM -- Christian radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CHWE-FM -- Radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CIIT-DT -- Religious television station in Winnipeg, Manitoba
Wikipedia - Cincinnata -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Airport People Mover -- Automated people mover at Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Art Museum -- Art museum in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Bell -- US communications company
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Center City Development Corporation -- Non-profit real-estate development and finance organization
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Children's Hospital Medical Center
Wikipedia - Cincinnati chili -- Spiced meat sauce used as a topping for spaghetti
Wikipedia - Cincinnatier Freie Presse -- German-language newspaper
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Food + Wine Classic -- Culinary festival
Wikipedia - Cincinnati, Hamilton and Dayton Railway (1846-1917) -- American railway
Wikipedia - Cincinnati, Lebanon and Northern Railway -- Ohio passenger and freight-carrying railroad (1885-1926)
Wikipedia - Cincinnati-Memphis rivalry -- Sports rivalry
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Museum Center -- Museum center in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Musical Center half dollar -- US commemorative 50-cent piece
Wikipedia - Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport -- Airport in Hebron, Kentucky serving Greater Cincinnati in the United States
Wikipedia - Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Opera -- Non-profit organisation in the USA
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Pride -- Festival and celebration in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Red -- American professional wrestler (1974-2015)
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Rivermen -- Professional softball team
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Strangler -- American serial killer
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Suds -- Professional softball team
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Swords -- Former American ice hockey team
Wikipedia - Cincinnati Union Terminal -- Train station in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - Cincinnati
Wikipedia - Cincinnatus Leconte -- President of Haiti (1854-1912)
Wikipedia - Cincinnetina -- Genus of fossil brachiopods
Wikipedia - Cinnabar -- Red mercury sulfide mineral
Wikipedia - Cinnabon -- Chain of American baked goods stores and kiosks
Wikipedia - Cinna Lomnitz -- Mexican researcher
Wikipedia - Cinnamaldehyde
Wikipedia - Cinnamedrine
Wikipedia - Cinnaminson High School -- High school in Burlington County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Cinnaminson Township, New Jersey -- Township in Burlington County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Cinnaminson Township Public Schools -- School district in Burlington County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Cinnamomum aromaticum
Wikipedia - Cinnamomum camphora
Wikipedia - Cinnamomum cassia
Wikipedia - Cinnamomum elegans -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Cinnamomum triplinerve -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Cinnamon basil
Wikipedia - Cinnamon-breasted tit -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Cinnamon (Desktop Environment)
Wikipedia - Cinnamon (desktop environment)
Wikipedia - Cinnamon Girl (Lana Del Rey song) -- 2019 song by Lana Del Rey
Wikipedia - Cinnamon Grand Hotel -- Hotel in Colombo, Sri Lanka
Wikipedia - Cinnamon ground dove -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Cinnamon-headed green pigeon -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Cinnamon hummingbird -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Cinnamon Roll Day -- Annual secular holiday in Sweden and Finland
Wikipedia - Cinnamon roll -- Sweet pastry
Wikipedia - Cinnamon-sided hummingbird -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Cinnamon (software)
Wikipedia - Cinnamon sugar -- A spice mix made up of ground cinnamon and granulated sugar
Wikipedia - Cinnamon teal -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Cinnamon-throated hermit -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Cinnamon Toast Records -- Canadian record label
Wikipedia - Cinnamon (user interface)
Wikipedia - Cinnamon
Wikipedia - Cinnamon woodpecker -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Cinnamoroll -- Japanese media franchise based on manga from Sanrio
Wikipedia - Cinnarizine -- Antihistamine and calcium channel blocker medication
Wikipedia - CINN-FM -- Radio station in Hearst, Ontario
Wikipedia - Cinnoline -- Chemical compound
Wikipedia - Circle Pines, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - CITI-FM -- Radio station in Winnipeg, Manitoba
Wikipedia - City Council of Tampere -- Highest decision-making organ in the Finnish city of Tampere
Wikipedia - CIUR-FM -- Radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Civilian Conservation Corps Camp S-52 -- Historic buildings in Cusson, Minnesota
Wikipedia - CJKR-FM -- Radio station in Winnipeg, Manitoba
Wikipedia - CJNU-FM -- Radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CJOB -- Radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CJUM-FM -- Radio station at the University of Manitoba in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CJWV-FM (Winnipeg) -- Former radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CKCL-FM -- Radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CKIC-FM -- Former radio station at Red River College in Winnipeg, Manitoba
Wikipedia - CKJS -- Multilingual radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CKMM-FM -- Radio station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CKSB-10-FM -- Ici Radio-Canada Premiere station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CKSB-FM -- Ici Musique station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CKUW-FM -- Radio station at the University of Winnipeg in Winnipeg, Manitoba
Wikipedia - CKY-DT -- CTV station in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - CKY-FM -- Radio station in Winnipeg, Canada
Wikipedia - Claire Aho -- Finnish photographer
Wikipedia - Claire Skinner -- English actress
Wikipedia - Clan MacKinnon
Wikipedia - Clara City, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Claremont, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clarence Mill -- Cotton spinning mill in Bollington, Cheshire, England
Wikipedia - Clare Winnicott -- Social worker and psychoanalyst (1906-1984)
Wikipedia - Clarissa, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clarkfield, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clark Pinnock
Wikipedia - Clarks Grove, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clark Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clark Township, Faribault County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clas Thunberg -- Finnish speed skater
Wikipedia - Claudia Linnhoff-Popien -- German computer scientist
Wikipedia - Claudia Suarez -- Venezuelan model and former beauty pageant winner
Wikipedia - Claudine Rinner
Wikipedia - Claybank, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clay County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Clay Pinney -- American special effects artist
Wikipedia - Clayton, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clayton Sinnott Adams -- American general (1881-1965)
Wikipedia - Clearbrook, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clear Creek, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Carlton County, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Clear Grit, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Clear Lake (Brown County, Minnesota) -- Lake in Brown County, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Clear Lake, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clearwater County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Clearwater, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clemens Binninger -- German politician of the CDU
Wikipedia - Clements, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clendinning Range -- Coast Mountains' Pacific Ranges subrange
Wikipedia - Cleveland, Columbus and Cincinnati Railroad -- Railroad in Ohio, United States
Wikipedia - Cleveland, Columbus, Cincinnati and Indianapolis Railway -- Railroad in the United States (1868-1889)
Wikipedia - Cleveland, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cleveland Township, Le Sueur County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - CLG Droim Caorthainn -- Gaelic games club in County Leitrim, Ireland
Wikipedia - Climate of Minnesota -- Climatic conditions of Minnesota
Wikipedia - Clinton, Minnesota -- Village in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clitherall, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clontarf, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clothing technology -- Technology involving the manufacturing and innovation of clothing materials
Wikipedia - Clover Township, Clearwater County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Clussexx Three D Grinchy Glee -- Westminster Best in Show winner 2009
Wikipedia - Clyde De Vinna -- American cinematographer
Wikipedia - Clyde, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - C More Series -- Finnish television channel
Wikipedia - Cnemosioma innominata -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Cnoc an Chuillinn -- Mountain in Kerry, Ireland
Wikipedia - Cnoc na Toinne -- Mountain in Kerry, Ireland
Wikipedia - Coaching inn -- Historical inn serving coach travellers
Wikipedia - Coalition for Epidemic Preparedness Innovations -- Public-private organization for vaccine development
Wikipedia - Coates House (Virginia, Minnesota) -- House in Virginia, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Coates Kinney -- American politician and poet
Wikipedia - Coates, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Coaxial cable -- Electrical cable type with concentric inner conductor, insulator, and conducting shield
Wikipedia - Cobden, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cobi (musician) -- American musician from Minnesota
Wikipedia - Cochlin -- Protein highly abundant in the cochlea and vestibule of the inner ear
Wikipedia - Code of Honor (film) -- 2016 film by Michael Winnick
Wikipedia - Coelacanth -- Order of lobe-finned fishes from the western Indian Ocean
Wikipedia - Coenonympha corinna -- Species of butterfly
Wikipedia - Coffee House Press -- Nonprofit independent press based in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Cohasset, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Coin, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cokato, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cold Big Bang -- A designation of an absolute zero temperature at the beginning of the Universe
Wikipedia - Cold Spring, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Coldwater Spring -- spring and historic site the U.S. state of Minnesota
Wikipedia - Colin McGinn
Wikipedia - Colin R. McInnes -- British engineer
Wikipedia - Collaborative Innovation Networks
Wikipedia - Colleen McGuinness -- American producer and screenwriter
Wikipedia - College of Saint Benedict and Saint John's University -- Private liberal arts colleges in St. Joseph and Collegeville, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Collegeville, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Collegeville Township, Stearns County, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Collette Dinnigan -- Australian based fashion designer
Wikipedia - Collin Peterson -- U.S. Representative from Minnesota
Wikipedia - Coll -- Island and parish in the Inner Hebrides, Scotland
Wikipedia - Cologne, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Colonization of the inner Solar System -- Proposed concepts for the human colonization of the inner Solar System
Wikipedia - Columbus, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Colvill, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Combing -- Method of preparing fiber for spinning
Wikipedia - Come, all ye jolly tinner boys
Wikipedia - Comedy of Innocence -- 2000 film
Wikipedia - Comfrey, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Comhairle Fo-Thuinn -- governing body for recreational diving and underwater hockey in Ireland
Wikipedia - Commemoration of Carl Linnaeus
Wikipedia - Common dace -- Species of ray-finned fish
Wikipedia - Common linnet -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Compass Inn -- United States inn and tavern
Wikipedia - Conainne
Wikipedia - Conasauga Creek -- Stream in Polk, McMinn, and Monroe counties in Tennessee, United States
Wikipedia - Conatus -- Innate inclination of a thing to continue to exist and enhance itself
Wikipedia - Conception, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Concordia College (Minnesota)
Wikipedia - Concordia University (Saint Paul, Minnesota) -- Private Lutheran university in St. Paul, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Concord, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Coney Island, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Conference on Innovative Data Systems Research
Wikipedia - Conger, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Connie Carpenter-Phinney -- American cyclist and speed skater
Wikipedia - Connor Trinneer -- American actor
Wikipedia - Conny Karlsson (shot putter) -- Finnish shot putter
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Wikipedia - Conor Murphy -- Irish republican Sinn Fein politician
Wikipedia - Constance Binney -- American stage and film actress and dancer
Wikipedia - Consumer adoption of technological innovations
Wikipedia - Continuation War -- 1941-1944 Finnish war against USSR
Wikipedia - Conus minnamurra -- Species of sea snail
Wikipedia - Convent of Sinners -- 1986 film by Joe D'Amato
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Wikipedia - Coolkyousinnjya -- Japanese manga artist
Wikipedia - Cooper, Minneapolis -- neighborhood of Longfellow, Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Copley Township, Clearwater County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Corcoran, Minneapolis -- neighborhood of Powderhorn, Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Corcoran, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cordova, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cordova Township, Le Sueur County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Corinna
Wikipedia - Corinna zu Sayn-Wittgenstein-Sayn -- German businesswoman and philanthropist
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Wikipedia - Corinne Bertani -- Monegasque politician
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Wikipedia - Corinne Brinkerhoff -- American television writer and producer
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Wikipedia - Corinne Griffith -- American actress, film producer, author
Wikipedia - Corinne Heline
Wikipedia - Corinne Hofman
Wikipedia - Corinne Jacker -- American screenwriter and author
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Wikipedia - Corinne Lahaye -- French actress
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Wikipedia - Corinne Luchaire -- French actress
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Wikipedia - Corinne McLaughlin
Wikipedia - Corinne Melchers -- American painter, humanitarian, and gardener
Wikipedia - Corinne Narassiguin -- French politician
Wikipedia - Corinne Niogret -- French biathlete
Wikipedia - Corinne Paliard -- French ice dancer
Wikipedia - Corinne Peters -- Canadian curler
Wikipedia - Corinne Ragazzacci -- French gymnast
Wikipedia - Corinne Roosevelt Robinson
Wikipedia - Corinne Schneider -- Swiss heptathlete
Wikipedia - Corinne Serra Tosio -- French sports shooter
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Wikipedia - Cormac Mac Duinnshleibhe -- Irish physician and scribe
Wikipedia - Cormant Township, Beltrami County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cornelia Otis Skinner -- American actress and author
Wikipedia - Corning, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cornish Library -- Public library in Winnipeg, Canada
Wikipedia - Cornish Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Corona, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Correll, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Corrinne Yu -- American game programmer
Wikipedia - Cosmopolitan localism -- Social innovation
Wikipedia - Cosmos, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Costin Village, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cotton-spinning machinery -- Machinery used to spin cotton
Wikipedia - Cottontail on the Trail -- Sculpture in Minneapolis, MN, US
Wikipedia - Cottonwood, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cottonwood River (Minnesota) -- River in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cottonwood Township, Brown County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - County State-Aid Highway 12 (Cook County, Minnesota) -- Highway in Minnesota
Wikipedia - County State-Aid Highway 3 (Pennington County, Minnesota) -- Highway in Minnesota, USA
Wikipedia - Courtland, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Coventry Carol -- Christmas carol about the massacre of the innocents
Wikipedia - COVID-19 pandemic in Inner Mongolia -- Ongoing COVID-19 viral pandemic in Inner Mongolia, China
Wikipedia - COVID-19 pandemic in Minnesota -- Ongoing COVID-19 viral pandemic in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Coya Knutson -- American congresswoman from Minnesota in early 1950s
Wikipedia - C. Peter Magrath -- President of the University of Minnesota (1974-1984)
Wikipedia - Crab Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in St. Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Craig Finn -- American singer-songwriter and musician
Wikipedia - Craigville, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cramer, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cramer Tunnel -- Railroad tunnel in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Creach Bheinn (Loch Creran) -- Mountain in Scotland
Wikipedia - Cretaceous-Paleogene boundary -- Geological signature marking the boundary between the end of the Cretaceous Period and the beginning of the Paleogene Period
Wikipedia - Cretin-Derham Hall High School -- High school in St. Paul, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Critical mass (sociodynamics) -- A sufficient participation, in number of persons (or adopters of an innovation in a social system), that triggs a new behaviour; or where the rate of adoption becomes self-sustaining and creates further growth.
Wikipedia - Croftville, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cromwell, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cromwell Township, Clay County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Crookston, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Crosby Beach, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Crosby, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Crosslake, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Crown, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Crow Wing, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Crow Wing Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Crystal twinning
Wikipedia - C.S. O'Cinneide -- Canadian author
Wikipedia - Cu Chulainn -- Irish mythological hero
Wikipedia - Culver Township, St. Louis County, Minnesota -- Township in Saint Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cummerbund -- Broad waist sash, usually pleated, which is often worn with single-breasted dinner jackets or tuxedos
Wikipedia - Currie, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Curt Andsten -- Finnish sailor
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Wikipedia - Curt Mattson -- Finnish sailor
Wikipedia - Curzon Mill, Ashton-under-Lyne -- Cotton spinning mill in Greater Manchester, England
Wikipedia - Cutler, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Cuyuna, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Cynthia McKinney-Capitol Hill police incident -- 2006 dispute between a member of congress and Capitol police
Wikipedia - Cynthia McKinney -- American politician and activist
Wikipedia - Cyprian Kinner -- German physician and linguist
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Wikipedia - Dagfinn Habberstad -- Norwegian trade unionist and civil servant
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Wikipedia - Dagfinn Hjertenes -- Norwegian politician
Wikipedia - Dagfinn HoybrM-CM-%ten -- Norwegian politician
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Wikipedia - Dahlgren, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Dahlgren Township, Carver County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dairy Hollow House -- Inn in Arkansas
Wikipedia - Dakota County Technical College -- Public two-year technical college in Rosemount, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dakota Curling Club -- Curling club in Lakeville, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Dakota, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dalalif -- 1984 Icelandic film by M-CM-^^rainn Bertelsson
Wikipedia - Dalbo, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dalbo Township, Isanti County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dale, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Highland Grove Township, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Dalia Stasevska -- Finnish conductor
Wikipedia - Dalwhinnie railway station -- Railway station in Highland, Scotland, UK
Wikipedia - Danesville, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dan Fabian -- American politician from Minnesota
Wikipedia - Dan Finnerty -- American actor, comedian and singer
Wikipedia - Dangerous Innocence -- 1925 film
Wikipedia - Daniela Soto-Innes -- American chef
Wikipedia - Daniel Fernandez del CastaM-CM-1o -- Argentine actor, model, and male beauty pageant winner
Wikipedia - Daniel Quinn -- American writer
Wikipedia - Daniel Rinner -- Liechtensteiner bicycle racer
Wikipedia - Danilo Innocenti -- Italian pole vaulter
Wikipedia - Danube, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Danuta Rinn -- Polish singer and actress
Wikipedia - Danvers, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Danville Township, Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dan W. Quinn -- American recording artist
Wikipedia - Darfur, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Darin Binning -- American biathlete
Wikipedia - Dark River, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Saint Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Darwin Abel Finney -- American politician
Wikipedia - Darwin, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dassel, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Datura innoxia -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - David Baltimore -- Nobel Prize winner
Wikipedia - David Binney -- American alto saxophonist and composer
Wikipedia - David Bly -- American politician and member of the Minnesota House of Representatives
Wikipedia - David Cullinane -- Irish Sinn Fein politician
Wikipedia - David H. Shinn -- American diplomat
Wikipedia - David Kinnell -- Scottish professional golfer
Wikipedia - David Lee McInnis -- American actor
Wikipedia - David Lee (physicist) -- Physicist and Nobel Prize winner from the United States
Wikipedia - David Macinnis Gill -- American YA author
Wikipedia - David Skinns -- English golfer
Wikipedia - Davidson, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Aitkin County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - David Teivonen -- Finnish gymnast
Wikipedia - David Tredinnick (politician) -- British Conservative politician
Wikipedia - David Winner (author) -- English author and journalist
Wikipedia - David Winning -- Canadian film maker
Wikipedia - David Zinn -- American costume and scenic designer
Wikipedia - Dawn of Relic -- Finnish black metal band
Wikipedia - Dawson, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dayanara Torres -- Puerto Rican actor, model, and beauty queen, Miss Universe 1993 winner
Wikipedia - Day, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Days Inn -- Economy hotel chain run by Wyndham Hotels & Resorts
Wikipedia - Dayton, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dean Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Crow Wing County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Deathbound -- Finnish death metal band
Wikipedia - Deathchain -- Finnish extreme metal band
Wikipedia - Death Wish (1974 film) -- 1974 film by Michael Winner
Wikipedia - Death Wish 3 -- 1985 film by Michael Winner
Wikipedia - Death Wish II -- 1982 film by Michael Winner
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Wikipedia - Deborah McGuinness -- American computer scientist, professor
Wikipedia - Decinnamoyltaxinine J -- Chemical compound
Wikipedia - Decoria Township, Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Deephaven, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Deer Creek, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Deer Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in Itasca County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Deer River, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Deerwood Auditorium -- community center in Deerwood, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Deerwood, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Deerwood Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Deetjen's Big Sur Inn
Wikipedia - Defense Innovation Unit
Wikipedia - De Graff, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Deirdre Quinn -- American actress
Wikipedia - Delano, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Delavan, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Delavan Township, Faribault County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Delaware Township, Grant County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Delft, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Delhi, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dell, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dellwood, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Delta (orienteering club) -- Finnish sports club
Wikipedia - Deltistes -- Genus of ray-finned fish in North America
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Wikipedia - Democratic Alternative (Finland) -- Finnish political party
Wikipedia - Demographics of Winnipeg -- Overview of the demographics of Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Dendropsophus tintinnabulum -- Species of frog
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Wikipedia - Denia Nixon -- Bahaman beauty pageant winner
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Wikipedia - Dennis Skinner: Nature of the Beast -- 2017 film
Wikipedia - Dennis Skinner -- British politician
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Wikipedia - Department of State Development, Tourism and Innovation -- State government department in Queensland, Australia
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Wikipedia - Detroit (play) -- American award-winning theatre play
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Wikipedia - Dorset, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dotson, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
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Wikipedia - Douglas Township, Dakota County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Dover, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Duelm, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
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Wikipedia - Duluth Armory -- Former armory and event venue in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Duluth Curling Club -- Curling club in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Duluth Heights -- Human settlement area of Duluth, Minnesota
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Wikipedia - Duluth, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dumfries, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dumont, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Dun Beic -- Dun located on the Inner Hebridean island of Coll
Wikipedia - Duncan MacKinnon -- South African judoka (1970-)
Wikipedia - Dundas, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Dunnell, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Durand Township, Beltrami County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Eagan High School -- Public high school in Eagan, Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Earth's inner core -- Innermost part of Earth, a solid ball of iron-nickel alloy
Wikipedia - Earth's magnetic field -- Magnetic field that extends from the EarthM-bM-^@M-^Ys inner core to where it meets the solar wind
Wikipedia - Earth's outer core -- Fluid layer composed of mostly iron and nickel between Earth's solid inner core and its mantle
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Wikipedia - East Cass, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Cass County, Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - East Cook, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Cook County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Eastern Pinnacle Thajwas -- Mountain in India
Wikipedia - East Grand Forks, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - East Gull Lake, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - East Kittson, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Kittson County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - East Koochiching, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Koochiching County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - East Lake, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
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Wikipedia - Ecological thinning
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Wikipedia - Eden Township, Brown County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Edgewood, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Eino MM-CM-$kinen -- Finnish weightlifter
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Wikipedia - Elk River, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Elkton, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Elkton Township, Clay County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Ellsworth, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Elmdale, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Elysian, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Erdahl Township, Grant County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Eryngium pinnatisectum -- Species of flowering plant in the celery family Apiaceae
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Wikipedia - Finn Christensen (artist) -- Norwegian painter and graphic artist
Wikipedia - Finnchu
Wikipedia - Finn Cole -- English actor
Wikipedia - Finndalshorungen -- Mountain in Norway
Wikipedia - Finn Danielsen -- Danish sports shooter
Wikipedia - Finn Devold
Wikipedia - Finneas O'Connell -- American musician and actor
Wikipedia - Finn Eces -- Irish poet
Wikipedia - Finnegans Wake -- 1939 novel by James Joyce
Wikipedia - Finn-Egil Eckblad -- Norwegian mycologist
Wikipedia - Finn E. Kydland
Wikipedia - Finnerty
Wikipedia - Finnesburg Fragment -- Portion of an Old English heroic poem
Wikipedia - Finney's HIT Squad -- Mixed martial arts gym based in Granite City, Illinois
Wikipedia - Finn Ferner -- Norwegian sailor
Wikipedia - Finnfight -- Mixed martial arts promoter based in Turku, Finland
Wikipedia - Finn Gjertsen -- Norwegian artistic gymnast
Wikipedia - Finn Hansen -- Danish equestrian
Wikipedia - Finn Hartstein -- German canoeist
Wikipedia - Finn Hauberg Mortensen -- Danish academic
Wikipedia - Finn Haunstoft -- Danish canoeist
Wikipedia - Finn Helgesen -- Norwegian speed skater
Wikipedia - Finn Henriksen -- Danish film director
Wikipedia - Finn Hiorthoy -- Norwegian judge
Wikipedia - Finn Hodt -- Norwegian speed skater
Wikipedia - Finn Hudson -- Fictional character from the Fox series Glee
Wikipedia - Finnian of Clonard -- Irish saint
Wikipedia - Finnian of Movilla
Wikipedia - Finnian of Moville
Wikipedia - Finnic languages
Wikipedia - Finnic mythologies
Wikipedia - Finningley railway station -- Former railway station in South Yorkshire, England
Wikipedia - Finning techniques
Wikipedia - Finn Isaksen -- Norwegian politician
Wikipedia - Finnish Academy of Science and Letters
Wikipedia - Finnish Air Force -- Aerial warfare branch of Finland's armed forces
Wikipedia - Finnish Americans -- Americans of Finnish birth or descent
Wikipedia - Finnish bread -- Bread of Finland
Wikipedia - Finnish Canadian
Wikipedia - Finnish Champion -- winner of premier sport competition in Finland
Wikipedia - Finnish Civil War -- 1918 civil war in Finland
Wikipedia - Finnish Competition and Consumer Authority -- Finnish consumer rights protection agency
Wikipedia - Finnish cuisine -- Culinary traditions of Finland
Wikipedia - Finnish Defence Intelligence Agency
Wikipedia - Finnish Democratic Republic
Wikipedia - Finnish government
Wikipedia - Finnish grammar
Wikipedia - Finnish Heritage Agency -- Agency to preserve Finland's material cultural heritage
Wikipedia - Finnish heritage disease -- Group of autosomal recessive genetic disorders that affect Finns much more frequently
Wikipedia - Finnish Ice Hockey Association -- governing body of ice hockey in Finland
Wikipedia - Finnish language -- Finno-Ugric language mostly spoken in Finland
Wikipedia - Finnish Maiden
Wikipedia - Finnish maritime cluster -- Cluster of Finnish companies in maritime industries
Wikipedia - Finnish mythology
Wikipedia - Finnish name
Wikipedia - Finnish National Board of Antiquities
Wikipedia - Finnish National Gallery
Wikipedia - Finnish national road 55 -- Road in Uusimaa region, Finland
Wikipedia - Finnish Navy
Wikipedia - Finnish neopaganism -- Contemporary Neopagan revival of the pre-Christian polytheistic ethnic religion of the Finns
Wikipedia - Finnish Nightmares -- 2015 stick figure webcomic
Wikipedia - Finnish-Novgorodian wars
Wikipedia - Finnish Orthodox Church
Wikipedia - Finnish paganism -- Polytheistic religion in Finland, Estonia, and Karelia prior to Christianisation.
Wikipedia - Finnish People's Unity Party -- Former Finnish political party
Wikipedia - Finnish people
Wikipedia - Finnish phonology
Wikipedia - Finnish poetry
Wikipedia - Finnish Refugee Council -- Finish non-governmental organisation that protects the rights of people affected by displacement
Wikipedia - Finnish Relief Fund -- humanitarian aid organization
Wikipedia - Finnish Rural Party -- Former Finnish political party
Wikipedia - Finnish Security Intelligence Service
Wikipedia - Finnish Ski Association -- Skiing governing body in Finland
Wikipedia - Finnish Socialist Workers' Republic
Wikipedia - Finnish submarine Vesikko -- Submarine museum ship
Wikipedia - Finnish-Swedish ice class -- An ice class assigned to a vessel operating in first-year ice in the Baltic Sea
Wikipedia - Finnish tribes
Wikipedia - Finnish verb conjugation
Wikipedia - Finnish war reparations to the Soviet Union -- War reparations
Wikipedia - Finnish War -- 1808-1809 war between Russia and Sweden
Wikipedia - Finnish Wikipedia -- Finnish-language edition of the free encyclopedia anyone can edit
Wikipedia - Finn Johannesson -- Swedish gymnast
Wikipedia - Finn Kelly -- Fictional character from the Australian soap opera Neighbours
Wikipedia - Finnkino -- Finnish film distributor and theater chain
Wikipedia - Finn Knutsen -- Norwegian politician
Wikipedia - Finn Kristen Fostervoll -- Norwegian diplomat
Wikipedia - Finn Kristian Marthinsen -- Norwegian politician
Wikipedia - Finn Lau -- Hong Kong activist
Wikipedia - Finn Lynch -- Irish sailor
Wikipedia - Finnmark University College -- University college with three campuses throughout Finnmark, Norway
Wikipedia - Finnmark -- Former county (fylke) of Norway
Wikipedia - Finn McKenty -- American marketing strategist
Wikipedia - Finn Munster -- Norwegian gymnast
Wikipedia - Finn M. W. Caspersen -- American financier, attorney, philanthropist
Wikipedia - Finn O'Connor (canoeist) -- New Zealand canoeist
Wikipedia - Finno-Ugric languages -- Language family
Wikipedia - Finno-Ugric peoples
Wikipedia - Finno-Ugric
Wikipedia - Finn Ronne
Wikipedia - Finn Salomonsen -- Danish ornithologist
Wikipedia - Finnshalspiggen -- Mountain in Norway
Wikipedia - Finn (Star Wars) -- Star Wars character
Wikipedia - Finn Sture Hultgreen -- Norwegian politician
Wikipedia - Finn's weaver -- A species of weaver bird found in the Ganges and Brahmaputra valleys in India and Nepal
Wikipedia - Finns -- Baltic Finnic ethnic group indigenous to Finland
Wikipedia - Finn Thoresen -- Norwegian politician
Wikipedia - Finn Thunbo Christensen -- Danish sailor
Wikipedia - Finntroll -- Finnish black metal band
Wikipedia - Finnur Ingolfsson -- Icelandic politician
Wikipedia - Finnur Jnsson
Wikipedia - Finn Wagle -- 20th and 21st-century Norwegian bishop
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Wikipedia - Fireball Cinnamon Whisky -- Cinnamon-flavoured whisky-based liqueur
Wikipedia - Fire Escape Collapse -- Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph
Wikipedia - Fire Fighters Museum (Winnipeg, Manitoba) -- Civic museum in Manitoba, Canada
Wikipedia - Firefox (mythology) -- Finnish mythical creature
Wikipedia - Fires of Innocence -- 1922 British silent drama film
Wikipedia - Firevision -- Finnish electropop duo
Wikipedia - First Avenue (nightclub) -- Nightclub and music venue in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - First Battle of St Albans -- 15th-century battle traditionally marking the beginning of the Wars of the Roses
Wikipedia - First Financial Bank (Ohio) -- Regional bank headquartered in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - First Turkic Khaganate -- Khaganate of the Gokturks Ashina clan in medieval Inner Asia
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Wikipedia - Fish Lake Township, Chisago County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Fiskars -- Finnish consumer goods company
Wikipedia - Fiske & Meginnis -- American architecture firm
Wikipedia - Fitra -- The state of purity and innocence, Muslims believe all humans to be born with
Wikipedia - Fixing Dinner -- Canadian reality television series
Wikipedia - Fjalar FinnM-CM-$s -- Finnish professor
Wikipedia - F. John Clendinnen
Wikipedia - Flag of Cincinnati -- Municipal banner of the city of Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - Flaminio Innocenzo Minozzi -- Italian painter
Wikipedia - Fleet Farm -- A retail chain of 47 stores in Minnesota, Iowa, Wisconsin, and North Dakota.
Wikipedia - Flensburg, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Float railway station -- Former station on the Inny Junction to Cavan branch of the Midland Great Western Railway, Ireland
Wikipedia - Floodwood, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Florence Blenkiron -- British medal-winning motorcyclist and explorer
Wikipedia - Florence, Goodhue County, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Florence, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Florence Scovel Shinn
Wikipedia - Flowers Studio -- Minneapolis recording studio founded by Ed Ackerson
Wikipedia - Flowing Township, Clay County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Floyd B. Olson -- 22nd governor of Minnesota (1891-1936)
Wikipedia - Floyd Cardoz -- Chef and winner of Top Chef Masters
Wikipedia - Fluffy, Fluffy Cinnamoroll -- Manga series for children
Wikipedia - Flux pinning
Wikipedia - Flying Finn -- Group of humans
Wikipedia - Foley, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Fond du Lac Indian Reservation -- Indian reservation in northern Minnesota
Wikipedia - Food court -- Indoor plaza or common area within a facility that provides a common area for self-serve dinner
Wikipedia - Forada, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Forest Fair Village -- Shopping mall near Cincinnati, Ohio, US
Wikipedia - Forest Finns
Wikipedia - Forest Grove, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Forest Mills, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Foreston, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Forest Township, Winnebago County, Iowa -- Township in Winnebago County, Iowa
Wikipedia - Forestville, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Forestville Mystery Cave State Park -- State park in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Formless/Functional -- 1998 album by Minneapolis alternative rock band Polara
Wikipedia - Fort Finney (Ohio) -- 1786 treaty between the United States and Shawnee leaders
Wikipedia - Fort Garry Hotel -- Downtown Winnipeg historic hotel
Wikipedia - Fort Garry, Winnipeg -- Suburb of Winnipeg, Canada
Wikipedia - Fort Kinnaird -- Retail park in south-east Edinburgh, Scotland
Wikipedia - Fort Ripley (Minnesota fort) -- 19th-century U.S. army fort
Wikipedia - Fort Ripley, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Fort Ripley Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Fort Snelling unorganized territory -- Unorganized territory in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Fort Washington (Ohio) -- 18th c. fort in present-day Cincinnati, Ohio, United States
Wikipedia - Foster, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Foster Township, Big Stone County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Foster Township, Faribault County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Fountain, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Fourteen Points of Jinnah
Wikipedia - Fourth & Walnut Center -- Historic building in Cincinnati, Ohio, U.S.
Wikipedia - Fourth German Inner Africa Research Expedition -- Expedition to Nigeria and Cameroon between 1910 and 1912
Wikipedia - Fox (Finnish TV channel) -- Finnish TV channel
Wikipedia - Fox Sports North -- Regional sports network in the Upper Midwest and Minnesota
Wikipedia - Frances Kinne -- American author
Wikipedia - Francinne (singer) -- Brazilian singer
Wikipedia - Francis E. Spinner -- American politician
Wikipedia - Francis Skinner
Wikipedia - Franconia Township, Chisago County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Frank Finn
Wikipedia - Frank Ginn -- American politician
Wikipedia - Frank Inn -- American animal trainer
Wikipedia - Franklin, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Frank Quinn (mathematician) -- American mathematician
Wikipedia - Frank Skinner's Opinionated -- British television comedy talk show
Wikipedia - Frank TerM-CM-$skari -- Finnish weightlifter
Wikipedia - Frank Tinney -- Comedian and film actor
Wikipedia - Frank Zoko Ble -- Finnish karateka
Wikipedia - Frans Ahlroos -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Frans Eemil SillanpM-CM-$M-CM-$ -- Finnish writer
Wikipedia - Frans Hanhisalo -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Frans Lehtonen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Frans NM-CM-$ssling -- Finnish sports shooter
Wikipedia - Frans Oskar Lilius -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Franz Frederik Wathen -- Finnish speed skater
Wikipedia - Franz Zinner -- German weightlifter
Wikipedia - Frazee, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Freddy Ehrstrom -- Finnish sailor
Wikipedia - Frederick Grinnell (biologist) -- American biologist
Wikipedia - Fredrik Ahlstedt -- Finnish painter
Wikipedia - Fredrik Eklof -- Finnish sailor
Wikipedia - Fredrik Elfving -- Finnish botanist
Wikipedia - Fred Rinne -- American visual and performance artist
Wikipedia - Fred Zinnemann -- Austrian-American film director
Wikipedia - Freeborn, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Freeborn Township, Freeborn County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Freeburg, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Freeman (singer) -- Finnish singer
Wikipedia - Freeman Township, Freeborn County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Freeport, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Fremont, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - French Lake, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - French language in Minnesota -- Language
Wikipedia - Freysteinn Thorbergsson -- Icelandic chess player
Wikipedia - Frida Winnerstrand -- Swedish actress
Wikipedia - Fridley, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Fridolf Heck -- Finnish mariner
Wikipedia - Friedrich August Theodor Winnecke
Wikipedia - Friedrich Rinne
Wikipedia - Friends & Brgrs -- Finnish fast food restaurant chain
Wikipedia - Frigg (band) -- Finnish folk band
Wikipedia - Fritz Schaudinn -- German zoologist
Wikipedia - FrM-CM-$ulein Else (1929 film) -- 1929 film by Paul Czinner
Wikipedia - Frognerkilen -- Bay in the inner Oslofjord of Norway
Wikipedia - Frog Service -- Dinner service by Wedgwood
Wikipedia - From Beginning to End -- 2009 film directed by Aluizio Abranches
Wikipedia - From the Beginning (Small Faces album) -- compilation album
Wikipedia - Frontenac, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Frontier, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Frost, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Frugal innovation -- process of reducing the complexity and cost of a good and its production
Wikipedia - Fruitville, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - F-Secure -- Finnish cyber security company
Wikipedia - Fulda, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Fun Mom Dinner -- 2017 film by Alethea Jones
Wikipedia - Future for Finnmark -- Defunct political party in Norway
Wikipedia - Futuremark -- Defunct Finnish software company
Wikipedia - Fyrir Ofan Himininn -- album by Sign
Wikipedia - Gabriela, Clove and Cinnamon -- novel by Brazilian writer Jorge Amado
Wikipedia - Gabriel Luukkonen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Gae Bulg -- Spear of Cuchulainn in the Ulster Cycle of Irish mythology
Wikipedia - Gael Linn Cup 1966 -- 1966 Camogie competition
Wikipedia - Gael Linn Cup -- Biennial inter-provincial camogie competition in Ireland
Wikipedia - Gael Linn -- Irish cultural promotion organisation, with record label
Wikipedia - Gail Chang Bohr -- Jamaica-born American judge from Minnesota
Wikipedia - Galaxy formation and evolution -- Processes that formed a heterogeneous universe from a homogeneous beginning, the formation of the first galaxies, the way galaxies change over time
Wikipedia - Galdhopiggen -- Mountain in Lom, Innlandet, Norway
Wikipedia - Galeria Inno -- Belgian department store chain
Wikipedia - Galway Kinnell
Wikipedia - Ganesha -- Hindu god of new beginnings, success, and wisdom
Wikipedia - Gangs of the Dead -- 2006 film directed by Duanne Stinnett
Wikipedia - Garbhagriha -- Innermost sanctum of a Hindu and Jain temples
Wikipedia - Garbh Bheinn (Ardgour) -- Mountain in Scotland
Wikipedia - Garden City Shopping Centre (Winnipeg) -- Regional shopping centre in West Kildonan (Winnipeg), Manitoba
Wikipedia - Garden City, Winnipeg -- Neighbourhood of West Kildonan (Winnipeg)
Wikipedia - Gardens, Cape Town -- Inner-city suburb of Cape Town in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Gardner Pinnacles -- Two barren rock outcrops surrounded by a reef in the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands
Wikipedia - Garen, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gar O'Quinn -- American gymnast
Wikipedia - Garvin, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gary Drinnon -- American weightlifter
Wikipedia - Gary McKinnon -- British suspected hacker
Wikipedia - Gary Muhrcke -- Inaugural New York City Marathon winner
Wikipedia - Gateway District (Minneapolis) -- Human settlement in Minneapolis, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Gavin McInnes -- Canadian writer and political commentator
Wikipedia - Gaylord, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gbenga Akinnagbe -- American actor and writer
Wikipedia - Gem Lake, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gemmell, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - General classification in the Tour de France -- Classification that determines the winner of the Tour de France
Wikipedia - General Wayne Inn -- historic former tavern in Merion, Pennsylvania
Wikipedia - Geneva, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Geneva Township, Freeborn County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Genevieve Blinn -- Canadian actress
Wikipedia - Genola, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Geography of Minnesota -- Overview of the geography of Minnesota
Wikipedia - Geology of Minnesota -- Overview of the geology of the U.S. state of Minnesota
Wikipedia - Georg August Zinn -- German politician
Wikipedia - George Baillie-Hamilton, Lord Binning -- British Army general
Wikipedia - George Bird Grinnell -- American anthropologist
Wikipedia - George DiCaprio -- American writer, publisher and former performance artist. Father of Academy Award winner and activist Leonardo DiCaprio.
Wikipedia - George Finn -- Georgian-American actor
Wikipedia - George Floyd memorial site -- location of the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - George Floyd protests in Minneapolis-Saint Paul -- local civil unrest over death of unarmed black man
Wikipedia - George Floyd protests in Minnesota -- local civil unrest over death of unarmed black man
Wikipedia - George Floyd -- Man killed during Minneapolis police arrest in 2020
Wikipedia - George Granfelt -- Finnish lawyer and politician
Wikipedia - George Hatch -- 1860s mayor of Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - George Inness -- 19th-century American landscape painter
Wikipedia - George Innes -- English actor
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Wikipedia - George McKinnon -- American coach of college athletics
Wikipedia - George Minne -- Belgian artist and sculptor
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Wikipedia - George Swinnock -- 17th-century English clergyman
Wikipedia - Georgetown Township, Clay County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Georg Nordblad -- Finnish sport shooter
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Wikipedia - Gerald Loeb Award winners for Spot News -- Category of the Gerald Loeb Award
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Wikipedia - Gerd Binnig
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Wikipedia - German Inner Africa Research Expeditions -- Series of 14 expeditions to Africa carried out between 1904 and 1955
Wikipedia - Gerry Cinnamon -- Scottish singer-songwriter and acoustic guitarist
Wikipedia - Gerry MacLochlainn -- Irish republican, political activist, councillor
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Wikipedia - Gertrude Kinnaird -- English philanthropist
Wikipedia - Gertrude Winnige-Barosch -- Austrian gymnast
Wikipedia - Gesellius, Lindgren, Saarinen -- Finnish architectural firm, 1896 - 1905
Wikipedia - GFW Schools -- School district in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - GG Caravan -- Finnish rap group
Wikipedia - Gheen, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of St. Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Ghent, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence -- 2004 film by Mamoru Oshii
Wikipedia - Gibbon, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Giese, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Gigi (1958 film) -- 1958 film by Vincente Minnelli
Wikipedia - Gilbert Mitchell-Innes -- Scottish golfer
Wikipedia - Gilligan's Wake -- |A 2003 novel by Tom Carson combining elements of James Joyce's "Finnegans Wake" and 1960s sitcom "Gilligan's Island"
Wikipedia - Gilman, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gilmanton Township, Benton County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gina Linn Finegold -- Belgian-American chess player
Wikipedia - Ginger and Cinnamon -- 2002 film by Daniele Luchetti
Wikipedia - Ginneken en Bavel -- Place in the Netherlands
Wikipedia - Ginnie Cooper -- American librarian
Wikipedia - Ginnie Crawford -- American track and field athlete
Wikipedia - Ginnie Springs -- Spring in Florida used for water sports
Wikipedia - Ginnifer Goodwin -- American actress
Wikipedia - Ginni Rometty -- American business executive
Wikipedia - Ginnungagap -- Vast, primordial void that existed prior to the creation of the manifest universe
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Wikipedia - Giuseppe Vatinno
Wikipedia - Glas Bheinn (Assynt) -- Mountain in Scotland
Wikipedia - Glencoe, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Glendorado, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Glendorado Township, Benton County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Glenfinnan Viaduct -- Railway viaduct in Highland, Scotland, UK
Wikipedia - Glen McKinnon -- Canadian politician
Wikipedia - Glen, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Glen Tavern Inn -- Hotel in Santa Paula, Ventura County, California listed on the National Register of Historic Places
Wikipedia - Glen Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Glenville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Glenwood, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Glenwood, Winnipeg -- Neighbourhood in St. Vital (Winnipeg), Manitoba
Wikipedia - Glenys Kinnock, Baroness Kinnock of Holyhead -- British politician
Wikipedia - Gl'innamorati -- Play by Carlo Goldoni
Wikipedia - Global Health Innovative Technology Fund -- Nonprofit organization in Tokyo, Japan
Wikipedia - Gloria Guinness -- Mexican socialite
Wikipedia - Glorious Times at the Spessart Inn -- 1967 film
Wikipedia - Glory, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Gluek, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Glyndon Township, Clay County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Godahl, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Gokturks -- Turkic people organized as a state in medieval Inner Asia
Wikipedia - Golden Age of Television (2000s-present) -- Period beginning in the late 1990s or early 2000s, seeing a large number of internationally-acclaimed television programs, particularly from the United States
Wikipedia - Golden Valley, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gold Medal Park -- park in Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - GoldschlM-CM-$ger -- Swiss cinnamon schnapps
Wikipedia - Gonvick, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Goodbye Charlie -- 1964 film by Vincente Minnelli
Wikipedia - Goodhue County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Goodhue, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Goodland, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Good Life (Inner City song) -- 1988 single by Inner City
Wikipedia - Goodridge, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Good Thunder, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Goodview, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Good works -- Person's (exterior) actions or deeds, in contrast to inner qualities such as grace or faith
Wikipedia - Goose Prairie Township, Clay County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gopher (Winnie-the-Pooh) -- Fictional gopher from Disney's Winnie-the-Pooh stories
Wikipedia - Goran Hongell -- Finnish designer
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Wikipedia - Gordon Moore (judge) -- American judge;Associate Justice of the Minnesota Supreme Court
Wikipedia - Gordon Quinn -- American film producer
Wikipedia - Gordonsville, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gorton Township, Grant County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gosta M-CM-^Egren -- Finnish author
Wikipedia - Gotha, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Go-To card -- Public transit ticketing system in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Governor of Minnesota -- head of state and of government of the U.S. state of Minnesota
Wikipedia - Gowtam Tinnanuri -- Indian film director
Wikipedia - Gracelock, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Graceville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Graceville Township, Big Stone County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Graciella Carvalho -- Brazilian beauty contest winner
Wikipedia - Graeme Macrae Burnet -- Scottish author and Booker Prize winner
Wikipedia - Graff, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
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Wikipedia - Graham Township, Benton County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Grainne -- Figure in Irish mythology
Wikipedia - Gramian matrix -- Matrix of inner products of a set of vectors
Wikipedia - Granada, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grand Falls, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grand Marais, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grand Meadow, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grand Portage (community), Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grand Portage, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Cook County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grand Rounds National Scenic Byway -- parkway system in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Grandy, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grangegorman -- Inner northern suburb of Dublin, Ireland
Wikipedia - Granger, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Granite Curling Club (Winnipeg) -- Premier curling rink in Winnipeg, Canada
Wikipedia - Granite Ledge Township, Benton County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grant Creek -- River in Beltrami County, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Grant, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grant Park Shopping Centre -- Shopping center in Winnipeg, Manitoba
Wikipedia - Grant Park, Winnipeg -- Neighborhood in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada
Wikipedia - Grass Lake, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grasston, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grattan, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gray's Inn -- One of the four Inns of Court in London, England
Wikipedia - Great Lakes Aquarium -- Public aquarium in Duluth, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Great River Shakespeare Festival -- professional equity theatre company in Winona, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Greenbush, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Greenfield, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Green Isle, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Green Lake (Chisago City, Minnesota) -- Lake of the United States of America
Wikipedia - Greenland, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Greenleafton, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Green Party of Minnesota -- Minnesota affiliate of the Green Party
Wikipedia - Green Roof Innovation Testing Laboratory -- University of Toronto research facility
Wikipedia - Greenvale Township, Dakota County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Greenwald, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Greenwood, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Greenwood Township, Clearwater County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Greg Ginn -- American musician
Wikipedia - Gregory Finnegan -- British actor
Wikipedia - Greta Gronholm -- Finnish canoeist
Wikipedia - Greta M. Ljung -- Finnish-born American statistician
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Wikipedia - Gretchen am Spinnrade -- Song composed by Franz Schubert
Wikipedia - Gretchen Quie -- American artist and First Lady of Minnesota (1927-2015)
Wikipedia - Grevillea bipinnatifida -- Species of shrub in the family Proteaceae endemic to Western Australia
Wikipedia - Grevillea concinna -- Species of shrub in the family Proteaceae endemic to Western Australia
Wikipedia - Grey-chinned hermit -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Grey Eagle, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grinnell College -- Liberal arts college in Grinnell, Iowa, United States
Wikipedia - Grinnell, Iowa -- City in Iowa, United States
Wikipedia - Grinnell Mutual -- Mutual insurance company
Wikipedia - Grinning Guns -- 1927 film
Wikipedia - Groa -- Legendary Finnish princess
Wikipedia - Grogan, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gronau (Sinn) -- River in Germany
Wikipedia - Grove City, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Grover, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Winona County, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Grumbach (Innerste) -- River in Germany
Wikipedia - Guckeen, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Gudrun Sinnhuber -- Austrian sports shooter
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Wikipedia - Guinness Book of Records
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Wikipedia - Guinness -- Irish brand of beer
Wikipedia - Guinness World Records Gamer's Edition
Wikipedia - Guinness World Records -- Reference book listing world records
Wikipedia - Guinness World Record
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Wikipedia - Guinn Smith -- American pole vaulter
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Wikipedia - Kasota Township, Le Sueur County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - KAWE -- PBS member station in Bemidji, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KBHW -- Christian radio station in International Falls, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KBMW-FM -- Radio station in Breckenridge, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KBMX -- Radio station in Proctor-Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KBSB -- Radio station at Bemidji State University in Bemidji, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KBVB -- Country music radio station in Barnesville, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - KCFB -- Christian radio station in St. Cloud, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KCML -- Adult contemporary radio station in St. Joseph, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KDIC -- Radio station at Grinnell College in Grinnell, Iowa
Wikipedia - KDJS (AM) -- Radio station in Willmar, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KDJS-FM -- Radio station in Willmar, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KDLH -- CW affiliate in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KDNI -- Faith Radio station in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KDNW -- Contemporary Christian music radio station in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KDOG -- Radio station in North Mankato, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KDUZ -- Radio station in Hutchinson, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KDWB-FM -- Contemporary hit radio station in Richfield, Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - KFAN (AM) -- Sports radio station in Rochester, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KFIL-FM -- Radio station in Chatfield, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KFNL-FM -- Classic hits radio station in Spring Valley-Rochester, Minnesota
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Wikipedia - KJGT -- Christian radio station in Waconia, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KJLY -- Christian radio station in Blue Earth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KKDQ -- Country music radio station in Thief River Falls, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KKOK-FM -- Radio station in Morris, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KKTW-LD -- Television station in St. Cloud, Minnesota
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Wikipedia - Klaus Suomela -- Finnish artistic gymnast and writer
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Wikipedia - KLOH -- Radio station in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Klondyke, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - KLQL -- Radio station in Luverne, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KLTA-FM -- Radio station in Moorhead, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KM-CM-$rpM-CM-$t Naiset -- Finnish women's ice hockey team
Wikipedia - KMFX-FM -- Country music radio station in Lake City, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KMGK -- Radio station in Glenwood, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KMGM -- American radio station in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - KMHL -- Radio station in Marshall, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KMNF-LD -- NBC/CW affiliate in Mankato, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KMNV -- Regional Mexican radio station in the Minneapolis-St. Paul metropolitan area
Wikipedia - KMSE -- The Current public radio station in Rochester, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - KMSP Tower -- Broadcasting tower in Shoreview, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - KMSP-TV -- Fox TV station in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Knapp, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Knife River (Minnesota-Ontario) -- River in Canada and US
Wikipedia - Knights of the Dinner Table -- Comic strip
Wikipedia - Knockout -- Fight-ending, winning criterion in certain full-contact combat sports
Wikipedia - KNSI -- Radio station in St. Cloud, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KNXR -- Classic hits radio station in Rochester, Minnesota
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Wikipedia - KPMI-FM -- Radio station in Baudette, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KPNP -- Multicultural radio station in Watertown, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - KPRW -- Radio station in Perham-Fergus Falls, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KPXM-TV -- Ion Television station in St. Cloud, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KQAL -- Radio station at Winona State University in Winona, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KQAQ -- Radio station in Austin, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KQDS-FM -- Radio station in Duluth, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - KQDS-TV -- Fox affiliate in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KQEG-CD -- Class A TV station in La Crescent, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KQPR -- Radio station in Albert Lea, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KQRS-FM -- Classic rock radio station in Golden Valley, Minnesota
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Wikipedia - Kragnes, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Kragnes Township, Clay County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Kratka, Minnesota -- Former community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Kreetta Onkeli -- Finnish writer
Wikipedia - KRFF-LP -- Community radio station in Moorhead, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KRFG (FM) -- Christian radio station in Nashwauk, Minnesota
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Wikipedia - Kroschel, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - KRVY-FM -- Radio station in Alexandria, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KSJR-FM -- Classical Minnesota Public Radio station in Collegeville, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - KSJU -- Former college radio station in Collegeville, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KSLC -- Classical radio station in McMinnville, Oregon
Wikipedia - KSMQ-TV -- PBS member station in Austin, Minnesota
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Wikipedia - KSTP (AM) -- Clear-channel ESPN Radio affiliate in the Minneapolis-St. Paul metropolitan area
Wikipedia - KSTP-FM -- Radio station in the Twin Cities region of Minnesota
Wikipedia - KSTP-TV -- ABC affiliate in Saint Paul, Minnesota
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Wikipedia - KTCJ-LD -- Low-power TV station in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KTIG -- Christian radio station in Pequot Lakes, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KTIS (AM) -- Christian radio station in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KTIS-FM -- Christian radio station in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KTLK (AM) -- News/talk radio station in the Minneapolis-St. Paul metropolitan area
Wikipedia - KTMY -- Talk radio station in Coon Rapids, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KTTC -- NBC/CW affiliate in Rochester, Minnesota
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Wikipedia - Kullervo Leskinen -- Finnish sports shooter
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Wikipedia - KUOM -- College radio station of the University of Minnesota Twin Cities
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Wikipedia - Kven language -- Finnic language
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Wikipedia - KVOX-FM -- Country music radio station in Moorhead, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - KVSC -- Radio station at St. Cloud State University in St. Cloud, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KWAD -- Classic country radio station in Wadena, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - KWCM-TV -- PBS member station in Appleton, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KXBR -- Radio station in International Falls, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KXLT-TV -- Fox affiliate in Rochester, Minnesota
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Wikipedia - KZJZ (FM) -- Radio station in Babbitt-Ely, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KZLT-FM -- Adult contemporary radio station in East Grand Forks, Minnesota, serving Grand Forks, North Dakota
Wikipedia - KZPK-HD3 -- American radio station in St. Cloud, Minnesota
Wikipedia - KZPK -- Radio station in Paynesville-St. Cloud, Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - La Crescent, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Lafayette, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lagoona Beach, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
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Wikipedia - Lake Benton, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake Bronson, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake City, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Lake Crystal (Blue Earth County, Minnesota) -- Lake in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake Crystal, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake Edward Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake Elmo, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lakefield, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake George, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Lake Hanska Township, Brown County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake Henry, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake Hubert, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake Itasca -- Lake in Clearwater County, northern Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake KivijM-CM-$rvi (Central Finland) -- Lake in Kannonkoski, KivijM-CM-$rvi and Kinnula, Central Finland, Finland
Wikipedia - Lakeland, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lakeland Shores, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake Lillian, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake May (Minnesota) -- Lake in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake No. 1, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Lake County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake No. 2, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Lake County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake of the Woods County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Lake Park, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake Shore, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lakeside Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake St. Croix Beach, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Laketown Township, Carver County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lakeview Square -- Mixed use development in Winnipeg, Canada
Wikipedia - Lake Washington (Le Sueur and Blue Earth counties, Minnesota) -- Lake in Le Sueur and Blue Earth counties, Minnesota, United States of America
Wikipedia - Lake Wilson, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lake Winnipeg -- Large glacial lake in Manitoba, Canada
Wikipedia - Lake Winnipesaukee -- Lake in New Hampshire, U.S.
Wikipedia - Lalli -- 12th-century apocryphal Finnish person
Wikipedia - Lambda Literary Award for Children's and Young Adult Literature -- List of Lambda Literary Award winners and nominees for Children's and Young Adult Literature
Wikipedia - Lamberton, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lamoille, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Landfall, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Landmark Inn -- Historic hotel in Marquette, Michigan, United States
Wikipedia - Land O'Lakes -- Agricultural cooperative based in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Land Township, Grant County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lanesboro, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lanesburgh Township, Le Sueur County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Langdon Winner
Wikipedia - Langola Township, Benton County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lanre Buraimoh -- Nigerian-born award-winning artist
Wikipedia - Laporte, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - La Prairie, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - La Prairie Township, Clearwater County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Large razorbelly minnow -- Species of fish
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Wikipedia - La Salle, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Lasse M-CM-^DikM-CM-$s -- Finnish politician
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Wikipedia - Lauri MarjamM-CM-$ki -- Finnish ice hockey coach
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Wikipedia - Lauri Yrjo-Koskinen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Lawler, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Lawndale, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lawrence, Minnesota -- Ghost town in St. Lawrence Township, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Lawrence Township, Grant County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lax Lake, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Leader, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Leaf River, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lea MM-CM-$kipM-CM-$M-CM-$ -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Leander Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in St. Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Leavenworth, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Leavenworth Township, Brown County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lecithocera cinnamomea -- Species of moth in genus Lecithocera
Wikipedia - Lecithocera concinna -- Species of moth in genus Lecithocera
Wikipedia - Lecithocera innotatella -- Species of moth in genus Lecithocera
Wikipedia - Leech Lake Indian Reservation -- Indian reservation located in north-central Minnesota
Wikipedia - Leech Lake, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Leena Ala-Kokko -- Finnish professor
Wikipedia - Leena HM-CM-$kinen -- Finnish actress
Wikipedia - Leena HM-CM-$met-Ahti -- Finnish botanist (1931-)
Wikipedia - Leena Krohn -- Finnish author
Wikipedia - Leena Luhtanen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Leena Meri -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Leena Peltonen-Palotie -- Finnish geneticist
Wikipedia - Leena PietilM-CM-$ -- Finnish figure skater
Wikipedia - Leena Rauhala -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Leena Uotila -- Finnish actress
Wikipedia - Lee Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Leevi Kuuranne -- Finnish actor
Wikipedia - Legionville, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - LeHillier, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Leif Blomqvist -- Finnish diplomat and lawyer
Wikipedia - Leif Sevon -- Finnish jurist and judge
Wikipedia - Leila McKinnon -- Australian journalist
Wikipedia - Lemmikki KekomM-CM-$ki -- Finnish jurist
Wikipedia - Lenita Toivakka -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Lennart Byman -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Lennart Hannelius -- Finnish sport shooter
Wikipedia - Lennart Heljas -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Lenora, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lent Township, Chisago County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Leo Ehrnrooth -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Leo HildM-CM-)n -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Leo HM-CM-$ppolM-CM-$ -- Finnish farmer and politician.
Wikipedia - Leo Jupiter -- Finnish record producer, DJ and video artist
Wikipedia - Leo LastumM-CM-$ki -- Finnish actor
Wikipedia - Leo Linkovesi -- Finnish speed skater
Wikipedia - Leo MM-CM-$kelM-CM-$ -- Finnish curler
Wikipedia - Leo Nagornoff -- Finnish sailor
Wikipedia - Leonard Borgzinner
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Wikipedia - Leon Finney Jr. -- American minister
Wikipedia - Leonidas, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Leon Township, Clearwater County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Leo-Pekka TM-CM-$hti -- Finnish Paralympic athlete
Wikipedia - Leo Pusa -- Finnish athlete
Wikipedia - Leo Ravilo -- Finnish sports shooter
Wikipedia - Leo Skurnik -- Finnish physician
Wikipedia - Leo Suni -- Finnish diver
Wikipedia - Leota, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Leo Tuominen -- Finnish diplomat
Wikipedia - Leo Tynkkynen -- Finnish speed skater
Wikipedia - Leptolalax fritinniens -- Species of frog
Wikipedia - Le Ray Township, Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Le Roy, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Leslie Winner -- American politician
Wikipedia - Les Nessman -- Character on the television situation comedy WKRP in Cincinnati
Wikipedia - Lester Prairie, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Let's Fall in Love for the Night -- 2018 single by Finneas
Wikipedia - Letter from Gyk Khan to Pope Innocent IV
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Wikipedia - LeVake v. Independent School District 656 -- Court case in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Levi Jern -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Lewis Lake, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lewiston, Dakota County, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lewiston, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lewisville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lexikon verfolgter Musiker und Musikerinnen der NS-Zeit -- German musical encyclopedia
Wikipedia - Lexington, Le Sueur County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Lexington, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lexington Township, Le Sueur County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Liam Finn -- New Zealand musician
Wikipedia - Li Andersson -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Libby, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Libby Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Liberty Township, Itasca County, Minnesota -- Unorganized Territory in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lieblingminne und Freundesliebe in der Weltliteratur -- German anthology of poetry about homosexuality
Wikipedia - Lien Township, Grant County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lihapiirakka -- Deep-fried Finnish meat pie
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Wikipedia - Liisa HyssM-CM-$lM-CM-$ -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Liisa Jaakonsaari -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Liisamaija Laaksonen -- Finnish actress
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Wikipedia - Liisa Veijalainen -- Finnish orienteering competitor
Wikipedia - Liisi Oterma -- Finnish astronomer
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Wikipedia - Lilli Paasikivi -- Finnish mezzo-soprano
Wikipedia - Lilydale, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lime Township, Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lincoln Park (Cincinnati) -- Public park in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - Lincoln's Inn -- One of the four Inns of Court in London, England
Wikipedia - Lincoln Township, Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Linda Liukas -- Finnish programming instructor and children's writer
Wikipedia - Linden, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Linden Township, Brown County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lindford, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lindsey House, Lincoln's Inn Fields -- Building in Lincoln's Inn Fields, London
Wikipedia - Lindstrom, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Linear model of innovation
Wikipedia - Linfield University -- Private university in McMinnville, Oregon, United States
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Wikipedia - Linnaea chinensis -- species of plant in the family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Linnaea floribunda -- species of plant in the family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Linnaean Garden
Wikipedia - Linnaean taxonomy -- A rank based classification system for organisms
Wikipedia - Linnaea
Wikipedia - Linnaeite
Wikipedia - Linnaemya comta -- Species of insect
Wikipedia - Linnaemya -- Genus of insects
Wikipedia - Linnaemyini
Wikipedia - Linnaeus Arboretum -- Botanic garden in United States
Wikipedia - Linnaeus's Hammarby
Wikipedia - Linnaeus University
Wikipedia - Linnahall -- Multi-purpose venue in Tallinn, Estonia
Wikipedia - Linn Ahlborg -- Swedish blogger and YouTube personality
Wikipedia - Linna, Ida-Viru County -- Village in Estonia
Wikipedia - Linnar Viik
Wikipedia - Linn-Benton Community College -- Public community college in Linn County, Oregon, United States
Wikipedia - Linn Berggren -- Swedish singer-songwriter
Wikipedia - Linn Boyd -- American politician
Wikipedia - Linnda R. Caporael -- Professor
Wikipedia - Linnea Berthelsen -- Danish actress
Wikipedia - Linnea Ceder -- Finnish figure skater
Wikipedia - Linnea Dale -- Norwegian singer
Wikipedia - Linnea Deb -- Swedish actor and songwriter
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Wikipedia - Linnea Mellgren -- Swedish figure skater
Wikipedia - Linnean classification
Wikipedia - Linnean Medal
Wikipedia - Linnean Society of London
Wikipedia - Linnean Society of New South Wales
Wikipedia - Linnean Tercentenary Medal
Wikipedia - Linnea Sodahl -- Swedish singer and songwriter
Wikipedia - Linnea Stensils -- Swedish canoeist
Wikipedia - Linnea Strom -- Swedish professional golfer
Wikipedia - Linnei railway station -- Railway station located in Yunlin, Taiwan.
Wikipedia - Linnenbeeke -- River in Germany
Wikipedia - Linnepe -- River in Germany
Wikipedia - Linner hue index -- Index of hues of caramel coloring
Wikipedia - Linneus, Maine
Wikipedia - Linneus, Missouri
Wikipedia - Linn Githmark -- Norwegian curler
Wikipedia - Linn Grant -- Swedish golfer
Wikipedia - Linn Haug -- Norwegian snowboarder
Wikipedia - Linnicher Muhlenteich -- River in Germany
Wikipedia - Linnie Marsh Wolfe -- American librarian
Wikipedia - Linnik's theorem
Wikipedia - Linn Laupsa -- Norwegian politician
Wikipedia - Linn LM-1 -- Drum machine
Wikipedia - LinnM-CM-)a Darell -- Swedish politician
Wikipedia - LinnM-CM-)a Hillberg -- Swedish actress
Wikipedia - Linn Oeymo -- Norwegian-Filipina model/actress
Wikipedia - Linnorm
Wikipedia - Linn Park, Glasgow -- 200 acre park in Glasgow, Scotland
Wikipedia - Linn Persson -- Swedish biathlete
Wikipedia - Linn Products
Wikipedia - Linn Thomas -- American erotic model
Wikipedia - Linwood Lake, St. Louis County, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of St. Louis County, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Linwood, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Linwood Township, Anoka County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lisa Ajax -- Swedish singer, and winner of Idol 2014
Wikipedia - Lisa Bender -- American politician and city planner in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Lisa Corinne Davis -- American visual artist
Wikipedia - Lisa Hanna -- Jamaican politician and beauty queen, Miss World 1993 winner
Wikipedia - Lisa Rinna -- American actress
Wikipedia - Lisa Skinner -- Australian artistic gymnast
Wikipedia - Lismore, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - List of 1896 Summer Olympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2000 Summer Olympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2001 World Games medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2002 Winter Olympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2004 Summer Olympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2005 World Games medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2006 Winter Olympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2006 Winter Paralympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2008 Summer Olympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2008 Summer Paralympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2009 World Games medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2010 Summer Youth Olympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2010 Winter Olympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2010 Winter Paralympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2012 Summer Olympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2012 Summer Paralympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2013 Games of the Small States of Europe medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2013 World Games medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2014 Winter Olympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2014 Winter Paralympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2015 European Games medal winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2016 Summer Olympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2017 World Games medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2018 Winter Olympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 2018 Winter Paralympics medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 24 Hours of Le Mans winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 48 Hour Film Project award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of 500cc/MotoGP race winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Academy Award for Best Actor winners by age -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Academy Award for Best Actress winners by age -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Academy Award for Best Director winners by age -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor winners by age -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress winners by age -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Academy Award winners and nominees for Best International Feature Film -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Academy Award winners and nominees of Asian descent -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Academy Award-winning families -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Academy Award-winning films -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Academy Award-winning foreign-language films -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of accolades received by Baahubali: The Beginning -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of active Finnish Navy ships -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of actors who have appeared in multiple Best Picture Academy Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Adelaide United FC club award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of administrative divisions of Inner Mongolia -- Administrative divisions of Inner Mongolio, an autonomous region of the People's Republic of China
Wikipedia - List of AFL Women's best and fairest winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of African Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of African-American newspapers in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of African Cup Winners' Cup finals -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Airport Service Quality Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of airports in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of airports in the Winnipeg area -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Algerian Cup winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Algerian Ligue Professionnelle 1 winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of AL Gold Glove Winners at Catcher
Wikipedia - List of AL Gold Glove Winners at First Base
Wikipedia - List of AL Gold Glove Winners at Outfield
Wikipedia - List of AL Gold Glove Winners at Pitcher
Wikipedia - List of AL Gold Glove Winners at Second Base
Wikipedia - List of AL Gold Glove Winners at Shortstop
Wikipedia - List of AL Gold Glove Winners at Third Base
Wikipedia - List of All Stars Awards winners (hurling) -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Amanda Award winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of American Grammy Award winners and nominees
Wikipedia - List of American League pennant winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of amphibians of Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of ants of Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Archibald Prize winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Argentine Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Argentine Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Arizona Coyotes award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Armenian SSR State Prize winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ashden Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Asian Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Atlanta Thrashers/Winnipeg Jets general managers -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Australian Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Austrian Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Austrian Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of award-winning graphic novels -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of award-winning pubs in London -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Belgian Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Belgian Cup winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Best in Show winners of Crufts -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Best in Show winners of the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Big Five Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of birds of Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of black Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Boston Bruins award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Boston Red Sox award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Brazilian Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Brazilian Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Breadwinners episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of breweries in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of bridges on the National Register of Historic Places in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of British Academy Award nominees and winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of British Grammy winners and nominees
Wikipedia - List of British innovations and discoveries -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Brownlow Medal winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Buffalo Sabres award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of BWF Super Series winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Calgary Flames award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Campeonato Brasileiro SM-CM-)rie A winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Canadian Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Carnegie libraries in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Carolina Hurricanes award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of casinos in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of census-designated places in Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Chicago Bears award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Chicago Blackhawks award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Chicago White Sox award winners and league leaders -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Chicago Wolves award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Chief Justices of Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Chilean Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Bengals broadcasters -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Bengals first-round draft picks -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Bengals head coaches -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Bengals seasons -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Bengals starting quarterbacks -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Celts players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Local Historic Landmarks -- Local list of historic sites in the Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati neighborhoods -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Reds broadcasters -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Reds first-round draft picks -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Reds managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Reds minor league affiliates -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Reds no-hitters -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Reds Opening Day starting pitchers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Reds owners and executives -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Reds seasons -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Reds team records -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cincinnati Stingers players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of cities in Minnesota -- List of cities in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - List of city nicknames in Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of college athletic programs in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of colleges and universities in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Colombian Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Colorado Avalanche award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Columbus Blue Jackets award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of companies based in Minneapolis-Saint Paul -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of companies based in Tallinn -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of companies in Greater Cincinnati -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of compositions by Michael Finnissy -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Copa do Brasil winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Copa Libertadores winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Corinnidae species -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of corporations based in Winnipeg -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of counties in Minnesota -- List of counties in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - List of county and regional parks in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county courthouses in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of County Governors of Finnmark -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of County Governors of Innlandet -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of County Governors of Troms og Finnmark -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Anoka County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Cass County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Chisago County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Dakota County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Fillmore County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Goodhue County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Isanti County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Kanabec County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Lake County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Le Sueur County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in McLeod County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Nicollet County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Pine County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Ramsey County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Renville County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Roseau County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Stearns County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in St. Louis County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Washington County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county roads in Wright County, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of covered bridges in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cox Plate winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of cricketers who have scored centuries in both innings of a Test match -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of crossings of the Minnesota River -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cuban Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of current Sinn FM-CM-)in elected representatives -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Czech Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Dallas Stars award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Dally M Awards winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of dams and reservoirs in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Daytona 500 pole position winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Daytona 500 winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of decommissioned ships of the Finnish Navy -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Detroit Red Wings award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of DFB-Pokal winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Dinner: Impossible episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Dinnerladies episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of dinner theaters -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Dove Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Dud Perkins Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Dutch inventions and innovations -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Eagle Award nominees and winners -- Comics award-related list
Wikipedia - List of ecoregions in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Edinburgh Comedy Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Edmonton Oilers award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Eisner Award winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of English words of Finnish origin -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of eponymous roads in Winnipeg -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of EuroLeague Women winning players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of European Academy Award Winners and Nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of European Cup and EHF Champions League winning players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of European Cup and UEFA Champions League winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of European Cup and UEFA Champions League winning players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of European Cup, Euroleague and LEN Champions League winning players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Eurovision Song Contest winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of FA Cup winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of female Academy Award winners and nominees for non-gendered categories -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of FESPACO award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of festivals in Winnipeg -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of fictional astronauts (exploration of inner Solar System) -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Fields Medal winners by university affiliation -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Filipino beauty pageant winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnair destinations -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish Americans -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish composers -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish consorts -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish corps in the Continuation War -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish corps in the Winter War -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish divisions in the Continuation War -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish divisions in the Winter War -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish films before 1917 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish films of 1917-39 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish films of 2014 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish films of the 1940s -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish films of the 1950s -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish films of the 1960s -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish films of the 1970s -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish films of the 1980s -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish films of the 1990s -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish films of the 2000s -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish films of the 2010s -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish gliders -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish government enterprises -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish lawyers -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish locomotives -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish magazines -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish Members of Parliament -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish modern frigates -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish MPs imprisoned in Russia -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish municipalities -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish municipalities without scheduled railway services -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish noble families -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish philosophers -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish poets -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish politicians -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish records in athletics -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish records in speed skating -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish records in swimming -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish regions by GDP -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish regions by Human Development Index -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish sportspeople -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish submissions for the Academy Award for Best International Feature Film -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish supercentenarians -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish television series -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish women artists -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish women in North American collegiate ice hockey -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish women writers -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finnish writers -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finns by net worth -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Finns -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of first minority male lawyers and judges in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of first women lawyers and judges in Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of fishes of Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Florida Panthers award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of former lakes of Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Formula One Promotional Trophy winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of France stage winners on July 14th "Bastille Day" -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of fraternities and sororities at the University of Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Fred and Anne Jarvis Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of French Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of French Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Friday Night Dinner episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of geological features on Jupiter's inner moons
Wikipedia - List of George Polk Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gerald Loeb Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gerald Loeb Business Book Award winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of German Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Giro d'Italia classification winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Giro d'Italia general classification winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Glascock Prize winners and participants -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Golden Globe Award winning films -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Golden Globe winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Golden Martin Fierro Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gold Glove Award winners at catcher -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gold Glove Award winners at first base -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gold Glove Award winners at outfield -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gold Glove Award winners at pitcher -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gold Glove Award winners at second base -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gold Glove Award winners at shortstop -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gold Glove Award winners at third base -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of governors of Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of GP2 Series race winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Grammy Award winners and nominees by country -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Grand Tour general classification winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Grand Tour mountains classification winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Grand Tour points classification winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Greek Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Grey Cup-winning head coaches -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Grinnell College alumni -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Harvey Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Hazfi Cup winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Heisman Trophy winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Hennepin County Library branches -- List of libraries in Hennepin County in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - List of Hermann Trophy men's winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of high schools in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of high schools in the Cincinnati metropolitan area -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of hiking trails in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Hispanic Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of hospitals in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ian Charleson Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ig Nobel Prize winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Indian Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Indianapolis 500 winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Indian Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of indigenous Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Inkigayo Chart winners (2015) -- List of Inkigayo Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of Inkigayo Chart winners (2016) -- List of Inkigayo Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of Inkigayo Chart winners (2017) -- List of Inkigayo Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of Inkigayo Chart winners (2018) -- List of Inkigayo Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of Inkigayo Chart winners (2019) -- List of Inkigayo Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of Inkigayo Chart winners (2020) -- List of Inkigayo Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of inner suburbs in the United States -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Intercontinental Cup winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Inter-County Highways in Minnesota -- County highway list article
Wikipedia - List of International Bible Contest Winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of international cricket centuries at the M. Chinnaswamy Stadium -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of international cricket five-wicket hauls at M. Chinnaswamy Stadium -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of international winning SV Dynamo sports club athletes -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Interstate Highways in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of inventions and innovations of indigenous Americans
Wikipedia - List of Iranian Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Irish Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Irish Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Irish Poker Open winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Israeli Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Israel State Cup winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Italian Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Italian Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of ITTF World Tour winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Japanese Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Jewish Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of justices of the Minnesota Supreme Court -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Kerrang! Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Kinnikuman episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Kinnikuman films -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Kyoto Prize winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of lakes of Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of lakes of Ontario: B -- List of lakes of Ontario beginning with the letter B
Wikipedia - List of La Liga winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Lambda Literary Awards winners and nominees for science fiction, fantasy and horror -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Latin American Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of law enforcement agencies in Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Let's Eat Dinner Together episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of LGBTQ Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of lieutenant governors of Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of lighthouses in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ligue 1 winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Livingston Award winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of major power stations in Inner Mongolia -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Makdougall Brisbane Prize winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Malian Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of mammals of Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of marine Perciform fishes of South Africa -- A sub-list of the List of marine spiny-finned fishes of South Africa for perch-like fishes
Wikipedia - List of marine spiny-finned fishes of South Africa -- Sub-list of the List of marine bony fishes of South Africa
Wikipedia - List of massacres in the Finnish Civil War -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of M Countdown Chart winners (2012) -- List of M Countdown Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of M Countdown Chart winners (2013) -- List of M Countdown Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of M Countdown Chart winners (2014) -- List of M Countdown Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of M Countdown Chart winners (2015) -- List of M Countdown Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of M Countdown Chart winners (2016) -- List of M Countdown Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of M Countdown Chart winners (2017) -- List of M Countdown Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of M Countdown Chart winners (2018) -- List of M Countdown Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of M Countdown Chart winners (2019) -- List of M Countdown Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of Melodifestivalen winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Metro (Minnesota) light rail stations -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Mexican Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Mexican Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Milwaukee Brewers award winners and All-Stars -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota aquatic plants -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota area codes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Civil War units -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota companies -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Fighting Saints players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Fringe Festivals -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Golden Gophers bowl games -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota grasses, sedges, and rushes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota North Stars/Dallas Stars general managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota North Stars draft picks -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota North Stars head coaches -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota North Stars players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota North Stars seasons -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Public Radio affiliates -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota railroads -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota state forests -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota state highways serving state institutions -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota state parks -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota state symbols -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Timberwolves broadcasters -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Timberwolves head coaches -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Timberwolves seasons -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota trees by family -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota trees by scientific name -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Twins broadcasters -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Twins first-round draft picks -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Twins managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Twins minor league affiliates -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Twins no-hitters -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Twins Opening Day starting pitchers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Twins owners and executives -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Twins seasons -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Twins team records -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota United FC players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Vikings broadcasters -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Vikings first-round draft picks -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Vikings head coaches -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Vikings players -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Vikings seasons -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Vikings starting quarterbacks -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota weather records -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Wild award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Wild broadcasters -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Wild draft picks -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota wildflowers -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Wild general managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Wild head coaches -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Wild players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Wild records -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minnesota Wild seasons -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Minority Leaders of the Minnesota Senate -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Miss International titleholders -- List of Miss International titleholders, Miss International winners
Wikipedia - List of Miss Universe titleholders -- Miss Universe Titleholders list by year, number of wins, and winners' gallery
Wikipedia - List of MLS Cup winning head coaches -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Montreal Canadiens award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of most expensive Finnish films -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of multiple winners at the Holmenkollen Ski Festival -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of municipalities of Finland in which Finnish is not the sole official language -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of museums in Cincinnati -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of museums in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Music Bank Chart Winners (2020) -- List of Music Bank Chart Winners
Wikipedia - List of Muslim Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Nashville Predators award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of National Historic Landmarks in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of National Hurling League winning teams -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of National League pennant winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of National Natural Landmarks in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of NATSIAA award winners -- List of winners of the annual National Aboriginal & Torres Strait Islander Art Awards, since 1984
Wikipedia - List of nature centers in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of New Jersey Devils award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of newspapers in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of New York Islanders award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of New York Rangers award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of New Zealand Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of New Zealand Grammy Award winners and nominees -- wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Nigerian Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of NL Gold Glove Winners at Catcher
Wikipedia - List of NL Gold Glove Winners at First Base
Wikipedia - List of NL Gold Glove Winners at Outfield
Wikipedia - List of NL Gold Glove Winners at Pitcher
Wikipedia - List of NL Gold Glove Winners at Second Base
Wikipedia - List of NL Gold Glove Winners at Shortstop
Wikipedia - List of NL Gold Glove Winners at Third Base
Wikipedia - List of NME Award winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Nobel laureates affiliated with Harvard University -- List of Nobel prize winners connected to Harvard University
Wikipedia - List of Nordic Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of oldest and youngest Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of oldest and youngest TVB Anniversary Award winners and nominees -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of oldest living Academy Award winners and nominees -- Academy Awards-related list
Wikipedia - List of Olympic winners of the Stadion race -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of operas by NiccolM-CM-2 Piccinni -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ottawa Senators award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Padma Bhushan award recipients (2020-2029) -- winners of Padma Bhushan award
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "A" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "B" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "C" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "D" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "E" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "F" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "G" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "H" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "I" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "J" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "K" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "L" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "M" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "N" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "O" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "P" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "Q" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "R" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "S" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "T" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "U" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "V" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "W" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "X" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "Y" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of painters by name beginning with "Z" -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Pakistani Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of parks in Cincinnati -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Peabody Award winners (2010-2019) -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of people from Cincinnati -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of people from Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of people from Winnipeg -- List of people from Winnipeg
Wikipedia - List of people with tinnitus -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Phi Delta Phi inns -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Philadelphia Flyers award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Philadelphia Phillies award winners and league leaders -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of pinnipeds -- Species in mammal infraorder Pinnipedia
Wikipedia - List of Pittsburgh Penguins award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of PMPC Star Awards for TV's Multi-Award Winning Performers & Personalities -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Polish Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Polish Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of political parties in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of posthumous Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of power stations in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of pre-Columbian inventions and innovations of indigenous Americans -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Primetime Emmy Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of PrM-CM-*mio Angelo Agostini winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Puerto Rican Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of radio stations in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of rail trails in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ramon Magsaysay Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Recopa Sudamericana winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Reel Affirmations award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Rehab People of the Year Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of reptiles of Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of rivers of Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Sahitya Akademi Award winners for Meitei -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Saltus Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of San Diego International Film Festival award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of San Jose Sharks award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of school districts in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of schools of Winnipeg -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Scottish Cup winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Scottish League Cup winning managers -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Scripps National Spelling Bee champions -- US spelling competition winners
Wikipedia - List of Segunda Division winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Senegalese Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Senior CLASS Award ice hockey winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Senior CLASS Award men's lacrosse winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Senior CLASS Award men's soccer winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Senior CLASS Award softball winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Senior CLASS Award women's soccer winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Serie A winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of shared-use paths in Minneapolis -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Show! Music Core Chart winners (2020) -- List of Show! Music Core Chart winners
Wikipedia - List of Show! Music Core Chart winners (2021) -- Winners of South Korean music program Show! Music Core
Wikipedia - List of Shuriken Sentai Ninninger episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Sidewalk Film Festival Award Winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Silver Slugger Award winners at catcher -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Silver Slugger Award winners at designated hitter -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Silver Slugger Award winners at first base -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Silver Slugger Award winners at outfield -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Silver Slugger Award winners at pitcher -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Silver Slugger Award winners at second base -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Silver Slugger Award winners at shortstop -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Silver Slugger Award winners at third base -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Sinn FM-CM-)in MPs -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of ski areas in Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Skinny Puppy side projects -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of South African Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Soviet European Film Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Spanish Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Spanish Grammy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Speakers of the Minnesota House of Representatives -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Stanley Cup Finals overtime series winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of state dinners in the United States -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of state highways in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of St. Louis Blues award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Stranger Genius Awards winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of students of Linnaeus -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Sundance Film Festival award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Superfund sites in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of superlative Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Supertaca CM-CM-"ndido de Oliveira winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Swedish-speaking Finns -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Swiss Academy Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Taca da Liga winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Taca de Portugal winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of tallest buildings in Cincinnati -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of tallest buildings in Minneapolis -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of tallest buildings in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of tallest buildings in Rochester, Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Tampa Bay Lightning award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of television stations in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of TG4 Composers Award recipients -- List of award winning Composers
Wikipedia - List of TG4 Singer of the Year Award recipients -- List of award winning singers
Wikipedia - List of TG4 Traditional Musician of the Year recipients -- List of award winning musicians
Wikipedia - List of TG4 Young Traditional Musician of the Year recipients -- List of award winning Musicians
Wikipedia - List of theaters in Minnesota -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of The New WKRP in Cincinnati episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of things named after Muhammad Ali Jinnah -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Tony Award- and Olivier Award-winning plays -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Toronto Maple Leafs award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Total Theatre Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Tougeki winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Tour de France general classification winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Tour de France secondary classification winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of towns and cities with 100,000 or more inhabitants/cityname: Y -- Towns and cities in the world with 100,000 or more inhabitants with name beginning with letter Y
Wikipedia - List of townships in Minnesota -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of transit routes in Minneapolis-Saint Paul -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of TrofM-CM-)u HQ Mix winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of TV and films shot in Winnipeg -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of UEFA Champions League and Copa Libertadores winning players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of UEFA club competition winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of UEFA club competition winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of UEFA Cup and Europa League winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of UEFA Cup and Europa League winning players -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of UEFA Cup Winners' Cup finals -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of UEFA Cup Winners' Cup top scorers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of UEFA Cup Winners' Cup winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of UEFA Intertoto Cup winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of UEFA Intertoto Cup winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of UEFA Super Cup winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of UEFA Women's Cup and Women's Champions League winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ukrainian European Film Award winners and nominees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of United States senators from Minnesota
Wikipedia - List of universities and colleges in Inner Mongolia -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of University of Cincinnati people -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of University of Minnesota Duluth people -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of University of Minnesota people -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Urawa Red Diamonds individual award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Vancouver Canucks award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Vancouver International Film Festival award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Vegas Golden Knights award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Vuelta a EspaM-CM-1a classification winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Vuelta a EspaM-CM-1a general classification winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Wanderers F.C. FA Cup-winning players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Washington Capitals award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of WBC Muaythai female international challenge winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of WBC Muaythai international challenge winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Webby Award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Welsh towns twinned with a Breton town -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winners & Losers episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners and nominees of Hungarian comic awards -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners and shortlisted authors of the Booker Prize for Fiction
Wikipedia - List of winners and shortlisted authors of the Booker Prize -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of Best Actor AACTA Award -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of J2 League and predecessors -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of J3 League and predecessors -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of Premios Oye! -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Amsterdam Marathon -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Aurora Award for Best Visual Presentation -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Boston Marathon -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Chicago Marathon -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the EFL League One and predecessors -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the EFL League Two and predecessors -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Gerald Loeb Award for Small and Medium Newspapers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Gerald Loeb Newspaper Award -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Harold Morton Landon Translation Award -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the London Marathon -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the New York City Marathon -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Raiziss/de Palchi Translation Awards -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Rotterdam Marathon -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Scottish League One and predecessors -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Scottish League Two and predecessors -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of winners of the Walt Whitman Award
Wikipedia - List of winners of the William E. Harmon Foundation Award for Distinguished Achievement Among Negroes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnie-the-Pooh characters -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Blue Bombers head coaches -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Blue Bombers seasons -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Blue Bombers starting quarterbacks -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg bus routes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg City Routes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Jets (1972-1996)/Arizona Coyotes general managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Jets (1972-1996) draft picks -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Jets (1972-1996) head coaches -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Jets (1979-1996) players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Jets award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Jets broadcasters -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Jets draft picks -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Jets head coaches -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Jets players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Jets seasons -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Winnipeg Jets (WHA) players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of WKRP in Cincinnati episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of women innovators and inventors by country -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Woodward High School (Cincinnati, Ohio) people -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of World Architecture Festival winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of World Branding Awards winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Xeric grant winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of years in Finnish music -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Yugoslav Cup winning managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Yuva Puraskar winners for Assamese -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Yuva Puraskar winners for Bengali -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Yuva Puraskar winners for Bodo -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Yuva Puraskar winners for Gujarati -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Yuva Puraskar winners for Manipuri -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Yuva Puraskar winners for Tamil -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Lists of Finnish films -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Lists of Hispanic Academy Award winners and nominees by country -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Lists of Minnesota trees -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Litchfield, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lithosphere-asthenosphere boundary -- A level representing a mechanical difference between layers in EarthM-bM-^@M-^Ys inner structure
Wikipedia - Little Canada, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Little Cannon River (Sabre Lake) -- River in Le Sueur County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Little Earth Trail -- shared-use path in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Little Earth -- residential area Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Littlefork, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Little Marais, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Little Pine, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Little Pine Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Little Rock, Beltrami County, Minnesota -- Census-designated place in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Little Sand Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of St. Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Little Six Casino -- Casino in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Liubov Efimenko -- Finnish figure skater
Wikipedia - Livia VM-CM-$resmaa -- Finnish sailor
Wikipedia - Living Prairie Museum -- Tall grass prairie preserve in Assiniboia (Winnipeg), Manitoba
Wikipedia - Liza Minnelli discography -- Discography of American singer Liza Minnelli
Wikipedia - Liza Minnelli -- American actress and singer
Wikipedia - Liz McInnes -- British Labour politician
Wikipedia - Lizzo -- American singer, rapper, and songwriter from Minnesota
Wikipedia - Lloyd Herbert Shinners -- Canadian-American botanist (1918-1971)
Wikipedia - Lloyd Library and Museum -- Private research library in Cincinnati, Ohio, U.S.
Wikipedia - LM-CM-$rarinna pM-CM-% vift -- 1941 film
Wikipedia - LM-CM-$skisoosi -- Traditional Finnish stew made with pork chops
Wikipedia - Lochlainn O'Raifeartaigh -- Irish physicist
Wikipedia - Loch of Kinnordy -- Loch in Angus, Scotland
Wikipedia - Lochwinnoch (loop) railway station -- Defunct railway station in Renfrewshire, Scotland
Wikipedia - Loerch, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Logan Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Logan Township, Grant County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Loggulif -- 1985 Icelandic film by M-CM-^^rainn Bertelsson
Wikipedia - Lois Curfman McInnes -- American mathematician
Wikipedia - Loman, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Lombardy Apartment Building -- historic apartment building in downtown Cincinnati, Ohio, United States
Wikipedia - LoM-CM-/c Hennekinne -- French diplomat
Wikipedia - London Inner Ring Road -- Major roads that encircle the centremost part of London
Wikipedia - London, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - London Township, Freeborn County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Long Beach, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Long draw -- Drafting technique used with short-staple yarns in hand spinning
Wikipedia - Longfellow House -- Historic home in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Longfellow, Minneapolis -- community of Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Longfellow (neighborhood), Minneapolis -- neighborhood of Longfellow community in Minneapolis
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Wikipedia - Long Lake Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Meet Me in St. Louis -- 1944 American musical film by Vincente Minnelli
Wikipedia - Megachile cinnamomea -- Species of leafcutter bee (Megachile)
Wikipedia - Megachile concinna -- Species of leafcutter bee (Megachile)
Wikipedia - Megachile innupta -- Species of leafcutter bee (Megachile)
Wikipedia - Megachile parancinnula -- Species of leafcutter bee (Megachile)
Wikipedia - Megan Fearon -- Irish Sinn FM-CM-)in politician
Wikipedia - Megan McGinnis -- American stage actress
Wikipedia - Meginnis and Schaumberg -- Architectural firm in Lincoln, Nebraska USA
Wikipedia - Mehrra Minne Kipefa -- Papua New Guinean politician
Wikipedia - Meik Kevin Minnerop -- German motorcycle racer
Wikipedia - Meire Grove, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Melamine resin -- Hard, thermosetting plastic material often used in dinnerware
Wikipedia - Melby, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Melinda Kinnaman -- Swedish-American actress
Wikipedia - Melinno
Wikipedia - Melissa Marty -- Puerto Rican beauty pageant winner
Wikipedia - Melissa Sneekes -- Dutch beauty pageant winner
Wikipedia - Mel McInnes -- Australian cricket umpire
Wikipedia - Melrose, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Melvin Carter (politician) -- American politician, mayor of Saint Paul, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Menahga, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mendota Heights, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mendota, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Menstruation -- Regular discharge of blood and tissue from the inner lining of the uterus through the vagina
Wikipedia - Mercury (planet) -- Smallest and innermost planet from the Sun in the Solar System
Wikipedia - Merika Enne -- Finnish snowboarder
Wikipedia - Meritas (law) -- Alliance of business law firms, based in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Merja Kyllonen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Merja Larivaara -- Finnish actress
Wikipedia - Merja MM-CM-$kisalo-Ropponen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Merja Rantanen -- Finnish orienteering competitor
Wikipedia - Merriam, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Merrifieldia innae -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Merrifield, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Metalampra cinnamomea -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Metro Orange Line (Minnesota) -- Minnesota bus line
Wikipedia - Metropolitan Corporation of Greater Winnipeg -- Former second tier municipal government
Wikipedia - Metropolitan Routes in Cape Town -- Major inntra-city road routes
Wikipedia - Metropolitan State University -- Public university in Minneapolis-Saint Paul, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Metro Transit (Minnesota) -- Public transit operator in the Twin Cities region of Minnesota
Wikipedia - M Health Fairview University of Minnesota Medical Center -- Hospital in Minneapolis, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - M-HM-^^ -- Letter used in Lakota and Finnish Kalo
Wikipedia - Mhorkya -- National Award winning Children's Marathi film
Wikipedia - Mia Laiho -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mia Pojatina -- Croatian beauty pageant winner
Wikipedia - Michael Chabon -- American author and Pulitzer Prize winner
Wikipedia - Michael C. Linn -- American attorney and businessman
Wikipedia - Michael DeBakey -- American cardiac and vascular surgeon and innovator
Wikipedia - Michael Dinner -- American television director, producer and writer
Wikipedia - Michael Finnegan (Belizean politician) -- Belizean politician
Wikipedia - Michael Finnell -- American film producer
Wikipedia - Michael McKinnell -- American architect
Wikipedia - Michael Quinn (judge) -- Irish solicitor, High Court judge since 2018
Wikipedia - Michael Quinn (Paralympian) -- Australian Paralympic athlete
Wikipedia - Michael Widenius -- Finnish software programmer
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Wikipedia - Michael Zinni -- American golf coach
Wikipedia - Michel Ekman -- Swedish-speaking Finnish literary critic
Wikipedia - Michelle Benson -- American accountant and politician, Republican member of the Minnesota State Senate
Wikipedia - Michelle O'Neill -- Deputy First Minister of Northern Ireland, Vice President of Sinn FM-CM-)in
Wikipedia - Michelle Rogan-Finnemore -- American geologist
Wikipedia - Microtel Inn and Suites -- Chain of hotels
Wikipedia - Middle ear -- Portion of the ear internal to the eardrum, and external to the oval window of the inner ear
Wikipedia - Middle Temple -- One of the four Inns of Court in London, England
Wikipedia - Midtown Greenway -- historic place and shared-use path in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Midway, Becker County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Midway, Mahnomen County, Minnesota -- Census-designated place in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Mieskuoro Huutajat -- Finnish male choir
Wikipedia - Miesville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Miia Kivipelto -- Finnish neurologist (born 1973)
Wikipedia - Miia Nuutila -- Finnish actress
Wikipedia - Miika Antti-Roiko -- Finnish weightlifter
Wikipedia - Miika Aulio -- Finnish archer
Wikipedia - Miika Kirmula -- Finnish orienteering competitor
Wikipedia - Miina M-CM-^DkkijyrkkM-CM-$ -- Finnish artist
Wikipedia - Miina Turunen -- Finnish actress
Wikipedia - Mika Aarnikka -- Finnish sailor
Wikipedia - Mika Ahola -- Finnish motorcycle racer
Wikipedia - Mikaela Fabricius-Bjerre -- Finnish equestrian
Wikipedia - Mikael Agopov -- Finnish-Armenian chess player
Wikipedia - Mikael Agricola -- 16th-century Finnish clergyman and de facto founder of literary Finnish
Wikipedia - Mikael Bostrom -- Finnish orienteering competitor
Wikipedia - Mikael Ylostalo -- Finnish hurdler
Wikipedia - Mika Halvari -- Finnish shot putter
Wikipedia - Mika HokajM-CM-$rvi -- Finnish canoeist
Wikipedia - Mika Immonen -- Finnish pool player
Wikipedia - Mika JM-CM-$rvinen (musician) -- Finnish musician and writer
Wikipedia - Mika Kallio -- Finnish motorcycle racer
Wikipedia - Mika Kari -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mika KaurismM-CM-$ki -- Finnish film director
Wikipedia - Mika Kohonen -- Finnish floorball player
Wikipedia - Mika Kononen -- Finnish ice hockey forward
Wikipedia - Mika Kuisma -- Finnish orienteer
Wikipedia - Mika LintilM-CM-$ -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mika-Matti HyvM-CM-$rinen -- Finnish ice hockey left winger
Wikipedia - Mika McKinnon -- Canadian geophysicist
Wikipedia - Mika MM-CM-$kelM-CM-$ -- Finnish judoka
Wikipedia - Mika Pieniniemi -- Finnish ice hockey coach
Wikipedia - Mika Poutala -- Finnish speed skater
Wikipedia - Mika Raatikainen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mika Savilahti -- Finnish canoeist
Wikipedia - Mika Vainio -- Finnish electronic musician
Wikipedia - Mika VM-CM-$yrynen (musician) -- Finnish musician
Wikipedia - Mike Finneran -- American diver
Wikipedia - Mike Goggin -- American politician from Minnesota
Wikipedia - Mike Pohjola -- Finnish writer and game designer
Wikipedia - Mike Skinner (musician) -- English rapper
Wikipedia - Mike Vaskivuo -- Finnish-American ice hockey left winger
Wikipedia - Mikhail Botvinnik -- Soviet chess player
Wikipedia - Mikhail Fyodorovich Ganskau -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mikhail Innokentyevich Semyonov -- Russian politician
Wikipedia - Mikko Aarni -- Finnish former bandy forward
Wikipedia - Mikko Alakare -- Finnish referee and attorney
Wikipedia - Mikko Alatalo -- Finnish musician and politician
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Wikipedia - Mikko Brummer -- Finnish sailor
Wikipedia - Mikko Haaparanta -- Finnish ice hockey forward
Wikipedia - Mikko Hakkarainen -- Finnish ice hockey centre
Wikipedia - Mikko Halvari -- Finnish decathlete
Wikipedia - Mikko Helisten -- Finnish ice hockey centre
Wikipedia - Mikko HM-CM-$mM-CM-$lM-CM-$inen -- Finnish gymnast
Wikipedia - Mikko Hokka -- Finnish weightlifter
Wikipedia - Mikko Hult -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mikko HyvM-CM-$rinen -- Finnish artistic gymnast
Wikipedia - Mikko Ilonen -- Finnish professional golfer
Wikipedia - Mikko Jaskari -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mikko Juusola -- Finnish ice hockey winger
Wikipedia - Mikko Kinnunen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mikko KM-CM-$rnM-CM-$ -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mikko Kolehmainen -- Finnish canoeist
Wikipedia - Mikko Korhonen -- Finnish professional golfer
Wikipedia - Mikko Kuustonen -- Finnish singer-songwriter
Wikipedia - Mikko Latvala -- Finnish pole vaulter
Wikipedia - Mikko LundM-CM-)n -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mikko Mattila -- Finnish sports shooter
Wikipedia - Mikko Minkkinen -- Finnish figure skater
Wikipedia - Mikko Niskanen -- Finnish film director
Wikipedia - Mikko Nousiainen -- Finnish actor
Wikipedia - Mikko Ollikainen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mikko PesM-CM-$lM-CM-$ -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mikko Piitulainen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mikko Savola -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mikko Sipponen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Milaca, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mila Kajas -- Finnish figure skater
Wikipedia - Milan, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mildred, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Milford Township, Brown County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Milja Hellsten -- Finnish curler
Wikipedia - Milka Reponen -- Finnish ski orienteering competitor
Wikipedia - Milko Tokola -- Finnish weightlifter
Wikipedia - Mill District, Minneapolis -- neighborhood in Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe -- Federally recognized American Indian tribe located in east-central Minnesota
Wikipedia - Mille Lacs County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Mille Lacs Indian Reservation -- Land-base for the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe in Central Minnesota
Wikipedia - Millennials -- Generation of people who came of age in the beginning of the third millennium
Wikipedia - Millennium Library (Winnipeg) -- Winnipeg's Downtown public library
Wikipedia - Millennium Technology Prize -- Finnish technology prize
Wikipedia - Millerville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Millie Innes -- Scottish actress
Wikipedia - Millville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Millward Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Miloma, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Milroy, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Miltona, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Milton S. Eisenhower Foundation -- US foundation supporting efforts to reduce inner city violence
Wikipedia - Mimmi Kanervo -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mina Mojtahedi -- Finnish female wheelchair curler and Paralympian
Wikipedia - Minden Township, Benton County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mineral Center, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minerva Township, Clearwater County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Min Hi Line -- proposed linear park and shared-use path in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Mining Innovation Rehabilitation and Applied Research Corporation -- Canadian research firm
Wikipedia - Minister for Research, Science and Innovation -- New Zealand minister of the Crown
Wikipedia - Minister of Higher Education, Research and Innovation (France) -- Government ministry of France
Wikipedia - Minister of Innovation, Energy and Mines (Manitoba) -- Former cabinet ministry in Manitoba, Canada
Wikipedia - Ministry of Science, Technology and Innovation (Brazil) -- Brazilian Science and technology Ministry
Wikipedia - Minna Aaltonen -- Finnish actress
Wikipedia - Minna Aalto -- Finnish windsurfer
Wikipedia - Minna Agechau -- 1985 series and film
Wikipedia - Minna Antrim -- American writer
Wikipedia - Minna B. Hall -- American socialite, environmentalist
Wikipedia - Minna Bluml -- German luger
Wikipedia - Minna Bollmann -- German politician
Wikipedia - Minna Cauer -- German journalist, editor
Wikipedia - Minna Cowan -- Cowan, Minna Galbraith (1878-1951), social worker and educational administrator
Wikipedia - Minna Craucher -- Finnish socialite and spy
Wikipedia - Minna Fernald -- American artist and botanical illustrator
Wikipedia - Minna Gale -- American actress
Wikipedia - Minna Gombell -- American actress
Wikipedia - Minna Grusander -- Finnish mixed martial artist
Wikipedia - Minna HaapkylM-CM-$ -- Finnish actress
Wikipedia - Minna Hesso -- Finnish snowboarder
Wikipedia - Minna Jorgensen -- Danish actress
Wikipedia - Minna Kauppi -- Finnish orienteer
Wikipedia - Minnale -- 2001 film by Gautham Menon
Wikipedia - Minna Lewinson -- American Pulitzer Prize winner
Wikipedia - Minnalkodi -- 1937 film directed by K. Amarnath
Wikipedia - Minnal Veeran -- 1959 film by Jampana
Wikipedia - Minna Nikkanen -- Finnish pole vaulter
Wikipedia - Minna no Ie -- 2001 film by KM-EM-^Mki Mitani
Wikipedia - Minna Nystedt -- Norwegian speed skater
Wikipedia - Minna Planer
Wikipedia - Minnaram -- 1994 film by Priyadarshan
Wikipedia - Minna Reijonen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Minna Telde -- Swedish horse rider
Wikipedia - Minna Turunen -- Finnish actress
Wikipedia - Minneapolis City Council -- City council; lawmaking body of the City of Minneapolis, MN, USA
Wikipedia - Minneapolis false rumors riot -- unrest after a suicide incident
Wikipedia - Minneapolis firm shooting -- In Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minneapolis Grain Exchange -- Commodities and futures exchange located in Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minneapolis hardcore -- Form of hardcore punk
Wikipedia - Minneapolis Institute of Arts
Wikipedia - Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minneapolism -- 2001 live album by Babes in Toyland
Wikipedia - Minneapolis Police Department -- Minnesota, United States law enforcement agency
Wikipedia - Minneapolis Public Library -- Library
Wikipedia - Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport -- International airport serving Minneapolis and St. Paul, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Film Festival -- Film festival
Wikipedia - Minneapolis Scottish Rite Temple -- Historic building in Minneapolis, USA
Wikipedia - Minneapolis sound
Wikipedia - Minneapolis-St. Paul Stock Exchange -- Regional stock exchange in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Minneapolis wireless internet network
Wikipedia - Minne di Sant'Agata
Wikipedia - Minnehaha Falls Lower Glen Trail -- hiking area in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Minnehaha, Minneapolis -- neighborhood of Nokomis, Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Minnehaha Trail -- shared-use path in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Minnehaha -- Fictional Native American woman documented Longfellow's poem The Song of Hiawatha
Wikipedia - Minneiska, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minneke De Ridder -- Belgian politician
Wikipedia - Minnenooka, Western Australia
Wikipedia - Minneola Ingersoll -- American labor activist
Wikipedia - Minneota, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minnesang
Wikipedia - Minnesinger
Wikipedia - Minnesota Amendment 2 -- Proposed amendment to the Minnesota state constitution
Wikipedia - Minnesota Boxing Hall of Fame -- Commemorative organization
Wikipedia - Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension -- US state criminal investigative bureau
Wikipedia - Minnesota Center for Twin and Family Research -- Twin study conducted at the University of Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota Chippewa Tribe -- Governmental authority for six Ojibwe or Anishinaabe bands in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Minnesota City, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minnesota Clay -- 1964 film directed by Sergio Corbucci
Wikipedia - Minnesota Correctional Facility - Oak Park Heights -- Maximum security prison in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minnesota Court of Appeals -- Intermediate appellate court of Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota Democratic-Farmer-Labor Party -- Political party in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minnesota Department of Natural Resources -- State government agency in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minnesota Duluth Bulldogs women's ice hockey -- American collegiate women's ice hockey program
Wikipedia - Minnesota Educational Computing Consortium
Wikipedia - Minnesota Fighting Saints -- World Hockey Association ice hockey team
Wikipedia - Minnesota Fringe Festival -- Performing arts festival in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota functionals -- DFT methods developed by Donald Truhlar's research group
Wikipedia - Minnesota Glacier -- Glacier in Antarctica
Wikipedia - Minnesota History (journal) -- American journal of history
Wikipedia - Minnesota Internet Users Essential Tool
Wikipedia - Minnesota Iron Rangers -- American junior ice hockey team
Wikipedia - Minnesota Lake Township, Faribault County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minnesota Library Association -- Professional Association for librarians in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota March -- March composed by John Philip Sousa
Wikipedia - Minnesota Martial Arts Academy -- Mixed martial arts training organization in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota Military Museum -- Military history museum in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minnesota Monarchs -- Major League Volleyball franchise
Wikipedia - Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory
Wikipedia - Minnesota nice -- Cultural stereotype applied to Minnesotans.
Wikipedia - Minnesota Norsemen -- Professional softball team
Wikipedia - Minnesota Owls -- Junior ice hockey team
Wikipedia - Minnesota Public Interest Research Group -- Organization
Wikipedia - Minnesota Public Radio -- public radio network in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota Renaissance Festival -- A Renaissance fair
Wikipedia - Minnesota River -- River in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minnesota's 6th congressional district -- U.S. House district in central Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota's 7th congressional district -- U.S. House district in western Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Academies -- Residential schools for disabled children
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Fair -- State fair of the U.S. state of Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota State High School League -- High school activities governing organization
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Highway 120 -- Highway in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Highway 194 -- Highway in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Highway 218 -- Highway in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Highway 244 -- Highway in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Highway 287 -- Highway in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Highway 36 -- Highway in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Highway 51 -- State highway in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Highway 5 -- Highway in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Highway 6 -- Highway in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Lottery -- government agency
Wikipedia - Minnesota State Mavericks -- Intercollegiate sports teams of Minnesota State University
Wikipedia - Minnesota State University, Mankato -- Public comprehensive university in Mankato, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota State University Moorhead
Wikipedia - Minnesota Statutes -- Set of laws
Wikipedia - Minnesota Study of Identical Twins Reared Apart
Wikipedia - Minnesota Supreme Court -- The highest court in the U.S. state of Minnesota
Wikipedia - Minnesota Transracial Adoption Study
Wikipedia - Minnesota Twins
Wikipedia - Minnesota United FC (2010-2016) -- American soccer team (2010-16)
Wikipedia - Minnesota Valley National Wildlife Refuge -- United States protected natural area near Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Minnesota Valley State Recreation Area -- protected area in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minnesota Valley State Trail -- multi-use recreation pathway along the Minnesota River
Wikipedia - Minnesota Valley Transit Authority -- public transportation agency
Wikipedia - Minnesota Valley Wetland Management District -- Conservation management unit of local government in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minnesota Vikings
Wikipedia - Minnesota -- State of the United States of America
Wikipedia - Minnesota-Wisconsin price -- Component of the basic formula price for farm milk formerly used in federal milk marketing orders until 1995
Wikipedia - Minnesota Woman -- 8,000 year old skeleton found in Minnesota, USA
Wikipedia - Minnetler, SavaM-EM-^_tepe -- Village in Turkey
Wikipedia - Minnetonka Beach, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minnetonka, Winnipeg -- Neighbourhood in St. Vital (Winnipeg), Canada
Wikipedia - Minnetrista, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Minnette Barrett -- American actress
Wikipedia - Minnewawa, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Minnie Abercrombie -- British zoologist
Wikipedia - Minnie Anderson Hale -- American lawyer
Wikipedia - Minnie C. T. Love -- American physician, suffragist (b. 1855, d. 1942)
Wikipedia - Minnie Devereaux -- American actress
Wikipedia - Minnie Driver -- British-American actress and singer-songwriter (born 1970)
Wikipedia - Minnie Earl Sears -- American librarian
Wikipedia - Minnie Evans (Potawatomi leader)
Wikipedia - Minnie (film) -- 1922 film by Marshall Neilan
Wikipedia - Minnie Gonzalez -- Puerto Rican-American politician
Wikipedia - Minnie Lansbury -- British politician
Wikipedia - Minnie Love -- Actress, producer, comedienne and singer.
Wikipedia - Minnie M. Argetsinger -- Baptist missionary
Wikipedia - Minnie Marx -- Mother and manager of the Marx Brothers
Wikipedia - Minnie M. Cox -- African-American teacher and postmaster
Wikipedia - Minnie Minnich -- American politician
Wikipedia - Minnie Mouse -- Disney cartoon character
Wikipedia - Minnie Pearl -- American comedian and country singer
Wikipedia - Minnie Pit Disaster -- Coal mining disaster
Wikipedia - Minnie Pwerle -- Indigenous Australian artist from Utopia, Northern Territory (c1915 - March 2006)
Wikipedia - Minnie Riperton -- American singer-songwriter
Wikipedia - Minnie Sarwal -- Adult and pediatric nephrologist
Wikipedia - Minnie (singer) -- Thai singer
Wikipedia - Minnie Steckel -- American educator, psychologist and activist
Wikipedia - Minnie Steppler -- American film editor
Wikipedia - Minnie Tate -- Member of the Fisk Jubilee Singers
Wikipedia - Minnie the Moocher (film) -- 1932 film
Wikipedia - Minnie the Moocher -- 1931 song by Cab Calloway
Wikipedia - Minnie Tittell Brune -- Actress (1875-1974)
Wikipedia - Minnie Vautrin -- Missionary in China
Wikipedia - Minnie West -- Mexican actress
Wikipedia - Minnie White -- American brothel owner
Wikipedia - Minnow on the Say (novel) -- Children's novel by Philippa Pearce
Wikipedia - Minnow -- Common name for a number of species of small freshwater fish
Wikipedia - MinnPost -- Non-profit organisation in the USA
Wikipedia - MintPress News -- Minnesota-based news website
Wikipedia - Minttu Mustakallio -- Finnish actress
Wikipedia - Mira Huhta -- Finnish ice hockey defender
Wikipedia - Mira Kaskinen -- Finnish ski orienteering competitor
Wikipedia - Mira Kunnasluoto -- Finnish singer
Wikipedia - Mira Suhonen -- Finnish sport shooter
Wikipedia - Mirja JM-CM-$mes -- Finnish hurdler
Wikipedia - Mirja Mane -- Finnish actress
Wikipedia - Mirjami Heikkinen -- Finnish voice actress
Wikipedia - Mirjami Kuosmanen -- Finnish actress
Wikipedia - Mirjam Novero -- Finnish actress
Wikipedia - Mirjam Tuokkola -- Finnish archer
Wikipedia - Mirja Ojanen -- Finnish ski-orienteering competitor
Wikipedia - Mirja VehkaperM-CM-$ -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Mirka Soinikoski -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Miro Aaltonen -- Finnish professional ice hockey forward
Wikipedia - Misko Iho -- Finnish film director
Wikipedia - Missing in Action 2: The Beginning -- 1985 film directed by Lance Hool
Wikipedia - Miss Innocence -- 1918 film
Wikipedia - Mission Innovation
Wikipedia - Mission, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mission Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mississippi Gorge Regional Park -- park areas in the U.S. state of Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Miyako Miyazaki -- Japanese fashion model and beauty pageant winner
Wikipedia - Mizpah, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - MM-CM-$k GM-CM-$lis -- Finnish rapper
Wikipedia - MM-CM-)niere's disease -- Disorder of the inner ear
Wikipedia - MM-CM-%ns Groundstroem -- Finnish musician
Wikipedia - MM-CM-$rta Tikkanen -- Finnish writer
Wikipedia - Mnogovershinny -- Urban locality in Khabarovsk Krai, Russia
Wikipedia - Mohamad Ali Jinnah (Chittagong politician) -- Bangladeshi politician
Wikipedia - Mohiuddinnagar railway station -- Railway station in Bihar
Wikipedia - Moland Township, Clay County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mollycuddle -- Alternative rock band from Minneapolis, active 1994-2000
Wikipedia - Money Creek, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Monica Aspelund -- Finnish singer
Wikipedia - Monica Lindfors -- Finnish figure skater
Wikipedia - Monica Sileoni -- Finnish artistic gymnast
Wikipedia - Monica Swinn -- Belgian actress
Wikipedia - Moninne
Wikipedia - Montevideo, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Montgomery Township, Le Sueur County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Monticello, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Monton Mill, Eccles -- Cotton spinning mill in Eccles, Greater Manchester, UK
Wikipedia - Montrose, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Monty Finniston -- British metallurgist
Wikipedia - Monument to innocent murdered -- Russian memorial in Rostov Oblast
Wikipedia - Moomins on the Riviera -- 2014 Finnish-French animated family comedy film directed by Xavier Picard
Wikipedia - Moominvalley (TV series) -- 2019 Finnish-British TV drama series
Wikipedia - Moonshine Township, Big Stone County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Moorhead Township, Clay County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Moose Creek Township, Clearwater County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Moose Lake, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mopti -- town in the Inner Niger Delta region of Mali
Wikipedia - Mora, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Morgan, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Morken Township, Clay County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Morkinskinna
Wikipedia - Morris, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Morris Municipal Airport -- Airport in Stevens County, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Morrison Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Morris Park, Minneapolis -- neighborhood of Nokomis, Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Morristown, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mors Principium Est -- Finnish melodic death metal band
Wikipedia - Morton, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Moscow, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Moscow Township, Freeborn County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Moses H. Grinnell (pilot boat) -- Sandy Hook Pilot boat
Wikipedia - Moss Side -- inner-city area of Manchester, England
Wikipedia - Motley, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Motor unit -- Combination of a motor neuron and all muscle fibers it innervates
Wikipedia - Mound Creek -- River in Minnesota, U.S.
Wikipedia - Mounds View, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mountain Iron, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mountain Lake, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mount Kinney -- Mountain in British Columbia, Canada
Wikipedia - Movement of Spiritual Inner Awareness -- 501(c)(3) non-profit religious corporation
Wikipedia - Moving Day (Quebec) -- Traditional beginning and end of leases in Quebec, Canada
Wikipedia - Mower County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - MSC Seashore -- Cruise ship to operate for MSC Cruises beginning in 2021
Wikipedia - MSC World Europa -- Cruise ship to operate for MSC Cruises beginning in 2022
Wikipedia - MS Parma -- Finnish orientering club
Wikipedia - MSV Fennica -- Finnish icebreaker
Wikipedia - MTV3 -- Finnish commercial television station
Wikipedia - MTV (Finnish TV channel) -- Finnish music television channel
Wikipedia - MTV Sarja -- Finnish television channel
Wikipedia - MTV Video Music Award for Best Group Video -- List of MTV group music video award winners
Wikipedia - Mud Hen Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of St. Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mud Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mudnakudu Chinnaswamy -- Indian Kannada poet
Wikipedia - Muhammad Ali Jinnah -- Founder and 1st Governor General of Pakistan
Wikipedia - Muiris mac Donnchadh Ulltach M-CM-^S DuinnshlM-CM-)ibhe -- Irish cleric
Wikipedia - Mule spinners' cancer
Wikipedia - Mulligan Township, Brown County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Municipal Inn -- Historic structure in Davenport, Iowa
Wikipedia - MunsterstraM-CM-^_e (street in Dortmund) -- Street in Dortmund Innenstadt-Nord (district), Germany
Wikipedia - Murdock, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Murphy City, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Murray County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Murray Kinnell -- British actor
Wikipedia - Muscle spindle -- Innervated muscle structure involved in reflex actions and proprioception
Wikipedia - Museum of Textiles and Industry of Busto Arsizio -- Spinning and weaving museum in Busto Arsizio, Italy
Wikipedia - Muskoda, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Hawley Township, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - MV China Star -- Finnish ship
Wikipedia - Myat Thuya Lwin -- Burmese model, actor from Myanmar, Mister Global 2014, international male pageant winner
Wikipedia - My Cousin Vinny -- 1992 film directed by Jonathan Lynn
Wikipedia - My Dinner with Andre -- 1981 film by Louis Malle
Wikipedia - My Dinner with Jimi -- 2003 film by Bill Fishman
Wikipedia - MyKayla Skinner -- American artistic gymnast
Wikipedia - My Pillow -- Pillow manufacturing company based in Minnesota, U.S.
Wikipedia - Myriophyllum pinnatum -- Species of flowering plant in the family Haloragaceae
Wikipedia - Myrtle, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Mystic Lake Casino Hotel -- Casino hotel in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Nadanthathu Enna? Kutramum Pinnaniyum -- 2016 Indian television series
Wikipedia - Nadia Murad -- Yazidi human rights activist from Iraq and winner of the 2018 Nobel Peace Prize
Wikipedia - Nadinne I. Cruz -- American educationist
Wikipedia - Naisasialiitto Unioni -- Finnish women's organization
Wikipedia - Nalle Hukkataival -- Finnish rock climber
Wikipedia - Nancy E. Gwinn -- American librarian and administrator
Wikipedia - Nanodobenus -- Extinct genus of pinniped
Wikipedia - Naomi Quinn -- American anthropologist
Wikipedia - Napco Four Wheel Drive Vehicles -- Defunct automobile parts manufacturer in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Nashwauk, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Nassau, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Nassau Street (Winnipeg) -- Street in Manitoba
Wikipedia - Natalia Krachinnekova -- Soviet rhythmic gymnast
Wikipedia - Natalie Finnemore -- Visual artist
Wikipedia - Nathaniel Mary Quinn -- American artist
Wikipedia - National Center for Technology Innovation -- Educational organizations based in the United States
Wikipedia - National Charkha Museum -- Spinning wheel museum in Connaught Place, New Delhi, India
Wikipedia - National Kinney Corporation -- Real estate development company
Wikipedia - National Medal of Technology and Innovation
Wikipedia - National Popular Vote Interstate Compact -- U.S. interstate compact to allocate presidential electors to the winner of the national popular vote
Wikipedia - National Register of Historic Places listings in Cincinnati -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - National Underground Railroad Freedom Center -- museum in Cincinnati, Ohio, U.S.
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Wikipedia - Renville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Republican Party of Minnesota -- Minnesota affiliate of the Republican Party
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Wikipedia - Rescinnamine
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Wikipedia - Riceford, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Rice Lake (ghost town), Minnesota -- Ghost town in Dodge and Steele counties, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Rice Lake, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Rochert, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
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Wikipedia - Rochester Travelers Hotel -- building in Rochester, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Rock Creek, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Rockford, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Rockville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Roderick MacKinnon
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Wikipedia - Roosevelt Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Rosby, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Roscoe, Goodhue County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Roscoe, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Rose Creek, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Roseland, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Rosemarie Rowley -- Rish award-winning poet and ecofeminist
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Wikipedia - Rossburg, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
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Wikipedia - Ross Lake Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Rost, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Rott (Inn, Rott am Inn) -- River in Germany
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Wikipedia - Round Lake, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Roy Kinnear -- English actor
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Wikipedia - Roy Pinney
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Wikipedia - Roy Wilkins Auditorium -- Multi-purpose arena in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - RTFM -- English phrase initials used to answer questions from beginners
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Wikipedia - Rudolf NM-CM-$rjM-CM-$nen -- Finnish canoeist
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Wikipedia - Rurouni Kenshin: The Beginning -- Japanese film
Wikipedia - Rush City, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Rushford, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Rushford Village, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Rushmore, Minnesota -- Town in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Rush Point, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Russell Ginns -- American author and game designer
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Wikipedia - Ruthton, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Sailing at the 1956 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 1960 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 1964 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 1968 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 1972 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 1976 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 1980 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 1984 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 1988 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 1992 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 1996 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 2000 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 2004 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
Wikipedia - Sailing at the 2008 Summer Olympics - Finn -- Sailing at the Olympics
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Wikipedia - San Francisco Township, Carver County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Scanlon, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Schinnen
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Wikipedia - Schistura sikmaiensis -- Species of ray-finned fish
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Wikipedia - Schroeder, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Schweinnaab -- River in Germany
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Wikipedia - Scopula concinnaria -- Species of geometer moth in subfamily Sterrhinae
Wikipedia - Scopula innocens -- Species of geometer moth in subfamily Sterrhinae
Wikipedia - Scopula innominata -- Species of geometer moth in subfamily Sterrhinae
Wikipedia - Scopula sinnaria -- Species of geometer moth in subfamily Sterrhinae
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Wikipedia - Scott Swinney -- American sports shooter
Wikipedia - Scream for Help -- 1984 film by Michael Winner
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Wikipedia - Seavey Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Seppo Simola -- Finnish shot putter
Wikipedia - Seppo Suhonen -- Finnish biathlete
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Wikipedia - Seppo Toiviainen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Septentrinna bicalcarata -- Species of spider
Wikipedia - Serafia Fredrika Schaeffer -- Finnish healer and herbalist
Wikipedia - Sergei Ovchinnikov (volleyball) -- Russian volleyball coach
Wikipedia - Service Union United -- Finnish trade union
Wikipedia - Seth HeikkilM-CM-$ -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Seven Sinners (1925 film) -- 1925 film by Lewis Milestone
Wikipedia - Seven Sinners (1940 film) -- 1940 film
Wikipedia - Seventh German Inner Africa Research Expedition -- German espionage mission to Ethiopia, 1915
Wikipedia - Seward, Minneapolis -- neighborhood of Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Se Wsi Testamenti -- First translation of the New Testament to Finnish; translated by Mikael Agricola
Wikipedia - S Group -- Finnish retailing cooperative organisation
Wikipedia - Sgurr na Coinnich -- Highest peak on the Sleat peninsula at the east end of the Isle of Skye
Wikipedia - Shadows over Innistrad
Wikipedia - Shafer, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Shafer Township, Chisago County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Shahenshah (1988 film) -- 1988 Indian Hindi film by Tinnu Anand
Wikipedia - Shakespeare Inn, Bristol -- Historic public house on Victoria Street, Bristol, England
Wikipedia - Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community -- Indian tribe community in Scott County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Shakopee, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Shamika Cotton -- American actress from Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - Shamrock Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Shane (British TV series) -- ITV sitcom written by and starring Frank Skinner
Wikipedia - Shannon Birchard -- Canadian curler from Winnipeg, Manitoba
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Wikipedia - Shariful Islam Jinnah -- Bangladeshi Politician
Wikipedia - Shark finning -- Removal and retention of shark fins while the remainder of the living shark is discarded in the ocean
Wikipedia - Sharon Shinn -- American science fiction writer
Wikipedia - Sharon Township, Le Sueur County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Sharp-shinned hawk -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Shawn Quinn -- American bridge player
Wikipedia - Shazam!: The New Beginning -- 1987 comic book
Wikipedia - Sheep Heid Inn -- Public house in Duddingston, Edinburgh, Scotland.
Wikipedia - Sheikki Laakso -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Sheila Tinney -- Irish mathematical physicist (1918-2010)
Wikipedia - Shelby Township, Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Sheldon, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Shell City, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Wadena County, United States
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Wikipedia - Shelter (Finneas song) -- 2019 single by Finneas
Wikipedia - Shephard, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Sherburn, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Sherene Pinnock -- Jamaican hurdler
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Wikipedia - Sheryl James -- Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and author
Wikipedia - Sheshebee, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
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Wikipedia - Shevlin Township, Clearwater County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Shikoh Gitau -- Kenyan computer scientist and technology innovator
Wikipedia - Shilpa Singh -- Indian beauty pageant winner
Wikipedia - Shinnan-yM-EM-^M Station -- Railway station in ShM-EM-+nan, Yamaguchi Prefecture, Japan
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Wikipedia - Shinnosuke Oka -- Japanese artistic gymnast
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Wikipedia - Shinnyo-en -- A Japanese Buddhist order
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Wikipedia - Shirley Finn -- Australian brothel madam and murder victim
Wikipedia - Shonnie Finnegan -- American archivist
Wikipedia - Shooks, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Shooting of Cannon Hinnant -- Fatal shooting in North Carolina, United States
Wikipedia - Shooting of Jamar Clark -- 2015 police killing of a black man in Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Shooting of Justine Damond -- 2017 police killing in Minneapolis, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Shooting of Philando Castile -- 2016 police killing of a black man in Falcon Heights, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Shorewood, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Short draw -- Drafting technique used with long-staple fibers in hand spinning
Wikipedia - Shotley Brook, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in Beltrami County, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Shouting Secrets -- 2011 film by Korinna Sehringer
Wikipedia - Shovel Lake, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Shree Bose -- Google Science Fair grand prize winner
Wikipedia - Shudufhadzo Musida -- South African beauty queen, Miss South Africa 2020 winner
Wikipedia - Shuofang Commandery -- Ancient Chinese commandery that situated in Hetao, modern-day Inner Mongolia
Wikipedia - Sibley East Public Schools -- School district in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Sibley Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Former Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Sid O'Linn -- South African sportsman
Wikipedia - Siebens Building -- Building in Rochester, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Sigel Township, Brown County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - SIGMOD Edgar F. Codd Innovations Award
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Wikipedia - Sigrid LehrbM-CM-$ck -- Finnish painter
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Wikipedia - Silja Kanerva -- Finnish sailor
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Wikipedia - Silphium pinnatifidum -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Silver Bay, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Silver Corners, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Silver Creek, Lake County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Silver Creek, Wright County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
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Wikipedia - Simo Aalto -- Finnish magician
Wikipedia - Simo Akrenius -- Finnish judoka
Wikipedia - Simo Halonen -- Finnish biathlete
Wikipedia - Simo HM-CM-$yhM-CM-$ -- Finnish military sniper
Wikipedia - Simo Kuismanen -- Finnish canoeist
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Wikipedia - Sinclair Township, Clearwater County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Singasteinn
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Wikipedia - Sing You Sinners (film) -- 1938 film by Claude Binyon, Wesley Ruggles
Wikipedia - Sinikka Antila -- Finnish lawyer and diplomat
Wikipedia - Sinikka Kukkonen -- Finnish orienteering competitor
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Wikipedia - Sinnamary Airport -- Airport in French Guiana, South America
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Wikipedia - Sinndoor Tere Naam Ka -- Indian television series
Wikipedia - Sinne Eeg -- Danish jazz vocalist and composer
Wikipedia - Sinner Man -- African American traditional spiritual song
Wikipedia - Sinner or Saint (film) -- 1923 silent film
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Wikipedia - Sinners (1920 film) -- 1920 film by Kenneth Webb
Wikipedia - Sinners' Holiday -- 1930 film
Wikipedia - Sinners in Heaven -- 1924 film by Alan Crosland
Wikipedia - Sinners in Love -- 1928 film by George Melford
Wikipedia - Sinners in Paradise -- 1938 film by James Whale
Wikipedia - Sinners in Silk -- 1924 film by Hobart Henley
Wikipedia - Sinners in Summertime -- 1934 film
Wikipedia - Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God
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Wikipedia - Sinner Take All -- 1936 film by Errol Taggart
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Wikipedia - Sioux Valley, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Sir James Balfour, 1st Baronet, of Denmilne and Kinnaird -- Scottish baronet, historian and Lyons king-of-arms
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Wikipedia - Sirkka Sokka-Matikainen -- Finnish archer
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Wikipedia - Sirpa PietikM-CM-$inen -- Finnish politician
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Wikipedia - Sisters of Charity of Cincinnati
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Wikipedia - Skinner's Big Idea -- 1928 film
Wikipedia - Skinner's Dress Suit (1917 film) -- 1917 silent film
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Wikipedia - Skinner Steps Out -- 1929 film
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Wikipedia - Skinny Bitch -- Diet book advocating veganism for weight loss
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Wikipedia - Skinny (rapper) -- Recording artist, record producer
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Wikipedia - SK PohjantM-CM-$hti -- Finnish orienteering club
Wikipedia - Skree Township, Clay County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Skyberg, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Slant (fanzine) -- Irish fanzine, winner of a 1954 Retrospective Hugo Award
Wikipedia - Sleater-Kinney discography -- Cataloging of published recordings by Sleater-Kinney
Wikipedia - Sleater-Kinney -- American rock band
Wikipedia - Sleepy Eye Lake (Brown County, Minnesota) -- Lake in Brown County, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Sleepy Eye, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Slim Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in St. Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Small Business Innovation Research -- U.S. research grant program
Wikipedia - Small Business Innovative Research
Wikipedia - Small Town Sinners -- 1927 film
Wikipedia - SM-CM-$ckilot -- Finnish island
Wikipedia - Smithfield, Dublin -- Northern inner city area of Dublin, Ireland
Wikipedia - Smith Lake, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Smith of Minnesota -- 1942 film by Lew Landers
Wikipedia - Smiths Mill, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Smoke Lake (Minnesota) -- Lake in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Snellman, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Snoopy loop -- Rubber band made from inner tube
Wikipedia - Snoozer Quinn -- American musician
Wikipedia - Snorri Thorfinnsson -- 11th-century Icelandic explorer
Wikipedia - Snowball, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Society of the Cincinnati -- Exclusive society whose members are limited to one descendant per each officer of the Continental Army
Wikipedia - Sofia Haajanen -- Finnish orienteering competitor
Wikipedia - Sofia Hagman -- Finnish educator
Wikipedia - Sofia HjulgrM-CM-)n -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Sofia Vikman -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Sofia Virta -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Sogn, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Soini Helle -- Finnish chess player
Wikipedia - Sokos Hotel Viru -- Hotel in Tallinn, Estonia
Wikipedia - Solanum linnaeanum -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Solar panels on spacecraft -- Photovoltaic solar panels on spacecraft operating in the inner solar system
Wikipedia - Solar power in Minnesota -- Overview of solar power in the U.S. state of Minnesota
Wikipedia - Sonata Arctica -- Finnish power metal band
Wikipedia - Songs of Innocence and of Experience
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Wikipedia - Sonny Skinner -- American golfer
Wikipedia - Sonoma Mission Inn -- Historic resort hotel in Sonoma, California
Wikipedia - Sophie Cabot Black -- American prize-winning poet
Wikipedia - Sophie McKinna -- British shot putter
Wikipedia - Sorca Clarke -- Irish Sinn FM-CM-)in politician
Wikipedia - Sorkjosen Airport -- Airport in Nordreisa Municipality in Troms og Finnmark county, Norway
Wikipedia - Soudan, Minnesota -- Census-designated place in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Sound 80 -- Recording studio in Minneapolis, founded 1969
Wikipedia - Sourdough Inn -- historic building in Fort Yukon, Alaska
Wikipedia - South Bend Township, Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - South Branch, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - South Clearwater, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Clearwater County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Southdale Center -- Regional mall in Edina, Minnesota, U.S.
Wikipedia - Southdale Library -- Public library in Edina, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Southeast Roseau, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in Roseau County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Southeast Steam Plant -- Heat and power plant in Minnesota
Wikipedia - South End, Minnesota -- Census-designated place in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - South High School (Minnesota) -- High school in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - South Koochiching, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Koochiching County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - South Ridge, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Southtown Center -- Shopping center in Bloomington, Minnesota, U.S.
Wikipedia - Southwest High School (Minnesota) -- High school in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Southwest LRT Trail -- shared-use path in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Southwest, Minneapolis -- community of Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Southwest Minnesota State University
Wikipedia - Space Aliens Grill & Bar -- Chain of restaurants in North Dakota and Minnesota, USA.
Wikipedia - Spafford, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spalding Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spasmolytic (song) -- Song by Skinny Puppy
Wikipedia - Speculum feathers -- Patch on inner bird wings
Wikipedia - Spencer Brook, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spencer Brook Township, Isanti County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spencer Mawhinney -- Canadian curler
Wikipedia - Spencer Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spicara smaris -- Species of ray-finned fish
Wikipedia - Spina, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spindle (textiles) -- Spike used for spinning fibers into yarn
Wikipedia - Spinnaker Tower -- Sightseeing Tower
Wikipedia - SpiNNaker
Wikipedia - Spinnaker -- Sail designed for sailing off the wind
Wikipedia - Spinnenkop Openluchtmuseum, Arnhem -- Dutch windmill
Wikipedia - Spinner (Blade Runner)
Wikipedia - Spinner (computing)
Wikipedia - Spinneret -- External body part of a spider
Wikipedia - Spinner's weasel -- Device for measuring a length of yarn
Wikipedia - Spinner (website)
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Wikipedia - Spinning band distillation -- Technique used to separate liquid mixtures with similar boiling points
Wikipedia - Spinning (cycling) -- US brand of indoor bicycles
Wikipedia - Spinning frame -- Industrial Revolution invention for spinning thread in a mechanized way
Wikipedia - Spinning jenny -- Multi-spool spinning frame
Wikipedia - Spinning (motorsport) -- South African motorsport
Wikipedia - Spinning mule -- Machine used to spin cotton and other fibres
Wikipedia - Spinning Out -- 2020 American drama streaming television series
Wikipedia - Spinning Silver -- 2018 novel by Naomi Novik
Wikipedia - Spinning Spur Wind Ranch -- Wind farm in Texas, USA
Wikipedia - Spinning (textiles) -- Method of turning fiber into yarn or thread
Wikipedia - Spinning the Wheel -- 1996 single by George Michael
Wikipedia - Spinning wheel -- Device for spinning thread, yarn, or silk from natural or synthetic fibers
Wikipedia - Spinnin' Records -- Dutch record label based in Hilversum
Wikipedia - Spin tensor -- Tensor quantity for describing spinning motion in special relativity and general relativity
Wikipedia - Splitrock, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spoonbridge and Cherry -- Sculpture in Minneapolis, MN, US
Wikipedia - Spreckels Organ -- Pipe organ designed by Ernest M. Skinner
Wikipedia - Springbrook Nature Center -- Park and nature reserve located in Fridley, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Spring Creek, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spring Lake, Isanti County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spring Lake, Itasca County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spring Prairie Township, Clay County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Springvale, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Springvale Township, Isanti County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spring Valley Caverns -- Cave system in Minnesota
Wikipedia - Spring Valley, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spruce Center, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Spy Games -- 1999 Finnish espionage film by Ilkka JM-CM-$rvi-Laturi
Wikipedia - Spyridon Galinos -- Greek Politician, Winner of Olof Palme Prize
Wikipedia - SS Binnendijk -- Dutch steel cargo ship lost off Portland Bill in the English Channel
Wikipedia - SS Minnesotan -- 1912 cargo ship
Wikipedia - SS Minnewaska (1908) -- British ocean liner, sunk 1916
Wikipedia - Stadin Gimmat -- Finnish women's ice hockey team
Wikipedia - Stairs and Flowers -- Song by Skinny Puppy
Wikipedia - Stamped from the Beginning -- Book by Ibram X. Kendi
Wikipedia - Stanchfield Corner, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Stanchfield, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Stanchfield Township, Isanti County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Standish, Minneapolis -- neighborhood of Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Stand Up! Records -- American comedy record label based in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - Stanford Township, Isanti County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Stanley, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - St. Anthony, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Stanton, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Staraoke -- Finnish children's television game show
Wikipedia - Stark, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Stark Township, Brown County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Star Tribune -- Minneapolis, Minnesota, US newspaper
Wikipedia - Start Together -- 2014 compilation box set by Sleater-Kinney
Wikipedia - Star Wars Battlefront II: Inferno Squad -- Inferno Squad's beginning
Wikipedia - Stately Township, Brown County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - State Opening of Parliament -- Ceremonial event marking the beginning of a session of the UK Parliament
Wikipedia - State Technical College of Missouri -- Public technical school in Linn, Missouri, U.S.
Wikipedia - Statue of Charles Linn -- Statue in Birmingham, Alabama
Wikipedia - Statue of Eugene Skinner -- Outdoor bronze sculpture in Eugene, Oregon,
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Wikipedia - St. Catherine's Monastery, Tallinn
Wikipedia - St. Cloud, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Stefan Fonselius -- Finnish ice hockey linesman
Wikipedia - Stefan Wallin -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Stella Hagelstam -- Finnish dressage rider
Wikipedia - Stepan Krasheninnikov
Wikipedia - Stepan Sarpaneva -- Finnish watchmaker
Wikipedia - Stephen Colbert at the 2006 White House Correspondents' Dinner -- 2006 satirical speech
Wikipedia - Stephen Hunter -- American novelist, essayist, and Pulitzer Prize-winning film critic
Wikipedia - Stephen Juba Park -- Urban park in Winnipeg, Canada
Wikipedia - Stephen Skinner (author)
Wikipedia - Stephen Skinner (lexicographer)
Wikipedia - Sterling Center, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Sterling Township, Blue Earth County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Steve McKinnon -- Australian martial artist
Wikipedia - Steve Minnikin -- Australian politician
Wikipedia - Steve 'N' Seagulls -- Finnish bluegrass rock band
Wikipedia - Steve Smith (Minnesota politician) -- Minnesota politician and a member of the Minnesota House of Representatives
Wikipedia - Steve Wenzel -- American politician from Minnesota
Wikipedia - Stewart Binns -- British author and filmmaker
Wikipedia - Stewart Creek Bridge -- Bridge in Duluth, Minnesota
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Wikipedia - Stewart, Lake County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - St. George Township, Benton County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - St. Henry, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - St. Ignatius School -- Catholic school in Winnipeg, Canada
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Wikipedia - Stina Ekblad -- Finnish-Swedish actress
Wikipedia - Stinna Kaastrup -- Danish para-equestrian
Wikipedia - St. James, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - St. James Street (Winnipeg) -- Street in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada
Wikipedia - St. John's Mine -- Former cinnabar mine near Vallejo, California, United States
Wikipedia - St. Louis County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - St. Louis Park, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - St. Mary, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - St. Mathias, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - St. Mathias Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - St. Norbert, Winnipeg -- Suburb of Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Stockholm, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Stolen Innocence -- 2008 book by Lisa Pulitzer
Wikipedia - Stonewall Inn -- Gay tavern and historical monument in New York City
Wikipedia - Stoneybatter -- Neighbourhood in northern inner city Dublin, Ireland
Wikipedia - Stony Brook Township, Grant County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - St. Paul Civic Center -- An indoor arena in Saint Paul, Minnesota demolished in 1998
Wikipedia - St Paul, Minnesota
Wikipedia - St. Paul, Minnesota
Wikipedia - St. Paul Pioneer Press -- Newspaper based in St. Paul, Minnesota
Wikipedia - St. Paul's High School (Winnipeg) -- Private school in Manitoba
Wikipedia - St. Philomena's Church (Cincinnati, Ohio)
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Wikipedia - Stratford Press (Cincinnati) -- Former American printing house
Wikipedia - Stratovarius -- Finnish power metal band
Wikipedia - Strike! (musical) -- Musical depicting the 1919 Winnipeg General Strike in Canada
Wikipedia - Strunius -- Extinct genus of lobe finned fish from the late Devonian of Germany
Wikipedia - St. Thomas (Minnesota) Tommies -- Varsity athletic teams of the University of Saint Thomas, in St. Paul, Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - St. Thomas, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - St Trinnean's School -- progressive girls' school
Wikipedia - Stuart Tinney -- Australian equestrian
Wikipedia - Sturgeon River, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in St. Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - St. Vital Park -- Regional park in St. Vital (Winnipeg), Canada
Wikipedia - St. Vital, Winnipeg -- A suburban community in Winnipeg, Manitoba
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Wikipedia - Sufi whirling -- Physically active Sufi meditation, practiced by Dervish orders, involving spinning in circles to music
Wikipedia - Sujeonggwa -- Korean cinnamon punch
Wikipedia - Sulo Aittoniemi -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Sulo BM-CM-$rlund -- Finnish shot putter
Wikipedia - Sulo Cederstrom -- Finnish sports shooter
Wikipedia - Sulo Salmi -- Finnish artistic gymnast
Wikipedia - Sulo Suorttanen -- Finnish politician
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Wikipedia - Sumble (Finnish king) -- Legendary king of the Finns
Wikipedia - Summit Inn -- historic U.S. Route 66 roadside diner
Wikipedia - Suna KymM-CM-$lM-CM-$inen -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Sunday Lake, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory in St. Louis County, Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Sune Eriksson -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Sun goddess of Arinna -- Chief goddess and wife of the weather god TarM-aM-8M-+unna in Hittite mythology
Wikipedia - Sun Is Up -- 2010 single by Inna
Wikipedia - Sunrise, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Sunrise Township, Chisago County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Suomenlinna -- Sea fortress by Helsinki, Finland
Wikipedia - Suomen Naisyhdistys -- Finnish women's rights organisation
Wikipedia - Suomen Poikien ja Tyttojen Keskus -- Finnish Evangelical Lutheran youth service organization
Wikipedia - Suomi, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Suontaka sword -- 10th-century Finnish sword
Wikipedia - Superman (Atari 2600) -- Innovative 1979 action adventure Atari video game
Wikipedia - Superman/Batman -- American comics by Jeph Loeb and Ed McGuinness
Wikipedia - Surgical Innovation -- medical journal
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Wikipedia - Susan Broman -- Finnish figure skater
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Wikipedia - Susanna Huovinen -- Finnish politician
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Wikipedia - Susanna Majuri -- Finnish photographer
Wikipedia - Susanna Potka -- Finnish speed skater
Wikipedia - Susanna Poykio -- Finnish figure skater
Wikipedia - Susanna RajamM-CM-$ki -- Finnish heptathlete
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Wikipedia - Susanna Tapani -- Finnish ice hockey and ringette player
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Wikipedia - Susann Sundkvist -- Finnish athlete
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Wikipedia - Sustainable Agriculture Innovation Network -- Sustainable agriculture Network launched in 2008 to provide a framework for collaboration on agriculture and climate change between the UK and China
Wikipedia - Sustainable Development Goal 9 -- Industry, Innovation and Infrastructure
Wikipedia - Suvi-Anne Siimes -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Suvi LindM-CM-)n -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Suvi Mikkonen -- Finnish taekwondo practitioner
Wikipedia - Suvi Minkkinen -- Finnish biathlete
Wikipedia - Suvi TerM-CM-$sniska -- Finnish singer
Wikipedia - Suzanne Rogers -- Emmy Award-winning TV actress
Wikipedia - Suzuki A100 -- Japanese motorcycle made beginning 1966
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Wikipedia - Sveadahl, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Washington Township, Le Sueur County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Waterford Township, Dakota County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Watertown, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Watertown Township, Carver County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Waterville, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Waterville Township, Le Sueur County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Watkins, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Watson, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Waubun, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Waukenabo, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Waukenabo Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Waverly, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wawina, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wayzata, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - W. Bailey House -- house in Eveleth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - W. B. Yeats -- Irish poet and playwright, Nobel Prize winner
Wikipedia - WCCO-TV -- CBS-owned television station in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - WCET (TV) -- PBS member station in Cincinnati
Wikipedia - WCPO-TV -- ABC affiliate in Cincinnati
Wikipedia - WDBZ -- Radio station in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - WDIO-DT -- ABC affiliate in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - WDJO -- Radio station in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - WDSE -- PBS member station in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Wealthwood, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Wealthwood Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Weaver, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Weber, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Welch, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Wendell, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - West Albion, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - West Cook, Minnesota -- Unorganized territory of Cook County, Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - West High School (Minneapolis, Minnesota) -- High school in Minneapolis, Minnesota closed in 1982
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Wikipedia - West Newton, Wabasha County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - West Point, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Westport, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - West Roy Lake, Minnesota -- Census-designated place in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - West Union, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - WGRR -- Radio station in Hamilton-Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - WGUC -- Public radio station in Cincinnati
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Wikipedia - White-chinned swift -- Species of bird
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Wikipedia - White Earth, Minnesota -- Census-designated place in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Williams Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - William Watts Folwell -- American historian and president of the University of Minnesota, 1833-1929
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Wikipedia - Willow Creek, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
Wikipedia - Willow River, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Wilmington, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Wilno, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wilson, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Wilton, Waseca County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, US
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Wikipedia - Wind power in Minnesota -- Electricity from wind in one U.S. state
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Wikipedia - Winner, Minnesota -- Former community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Winners (American TV series) -- Television series
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Wikipedia - Winners & Losers (season 2) -- season of television series
Wikipedia - Winners & Losers (season 3) -- season of television series
Wikipedia - Winners & Losers (season 4) -- season of television series
Wikipedia - Winners & Losers (season 5) -- season of television series
Wikipedia - Winners & Losers -- Australian television series
Wikipedia - Winners (Australian TV series) -- Australian children's television anthology series
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Wikipedia - Winners of the West (1921 serial) -- 1921 film
Wikipedia - Winners of the West (1940 serial) -- 1940 film by Ford Beebe, Ray Taylor
Wikipedia - Winners of the Wilderness -- 1927 film
Wikipedia - Winners Take All: The Elite Charade of Changing the World -- is a 2018 non-fiction book by Anand Giridharadas on philanthropy and economic inequality
Wikipedia - Winners -- chain of discount Canadian department stores
Wikipedia - Winner Take All (1924 film) -- 1924 film
Wikipedia - Winner Take All (1932 film) -- 1932 film by Roy Del Ruth
Wikipedia - Winnertzia solidaginis -- Species of fly
Wikipedia - Winnertzia -- Genus of flies
Wikipedia - Winnertziinae -- Subfamily of flies
Wikipedia - Winnetou and Old Firehand -- 1966 film
Wikipedia - Winnetou and the Crossbreed -- 1966 film
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Wikipedia - Winnie (feline) -- Supposed big cat sighted in the Veluwe region of the Netherlands
Wikipedia - Winnie Forster -- German journalist
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Wikipedia - Winnie the Pooh (2011 film) -- 2011 American animated film
Wikipedia - Winnie the Pooh and a Day for Eeyore -- 1983 animated short film directed by Rick Reinert
Wikipedia - Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day -- 1968 short film directed by Wolfgang Reitherman
Wikipedia - Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree -- 1966 film directed by Wolfgang Reitherman
Wikipedia - Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Too -- 1974 film directed by John Lounsbery
Wikipedia - Winnie-the-Pooh (book) -- Book by A. A. Milne
Wikipedia - Winnie the Pooh (franchise) -- Disney media franchise about the stuffed animals from A. A. Milne's books
Wikipedia - Winnie the Pooh's Home Run Derby -- 2008 video game
Wikipedia - Winnie the Pooh (song) -- 1966 song composed by Sherman Brothers with lyrics by Sherman Brothers performed by Thurl Ravenscroft
Wikipedia - Winnie-the-Pooh: The Best Bear in All the World -- Children's book
Wikipedia - Winnie the Pooh
Wikipedia - Winnie-the-Pooh -- Fictional character
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Wikipedia - Winnie Yu (nurse) -- Hong Kong nurse and activist
Wikipedia - Winnifred Fallers Sullivan -- American author and university professor
Wikipedia - Winnifred Harper Cooley -- American author and lecturer
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Wikipedia - Winnifred Train -- New Zealand nurse
Wikipedia - Winning a Woman -- 1925 film
Wikipedia - Winning Colors (horse) -- American race horse
Wikipedia - Winninger -- Surname list
Wikipedia - Winning Fair Juvenile Hurdle -- Hurdle horse race in Ireland
Wikipedia - Winning (film) -- 1969 film by James Goldstone
Wikipedia - Winning Hearts -- 1998 album by The Inbreds
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Wikipedia - Winning of the West -- 1953 film
Wikipedia - Winning percentage -- Sports statistic
Wikipedia - Winning Run -- 1988 video game
Wikipedia - Winning strategy
Wikipedia - Winning the Futurity -- 1926 film
Wikipedia - Winning Ways for your Mathematical Plays
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Wikipedia - Winnipeg Area Transportation Study -- 1960s era transportation plan
Wikipedia - Winnipeg Arena -- Arena located in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Winnipeg Bus Terminal -- Former intercity bus terminal in Winnipeg, Canada
Wikipedia - Winnipeger -- Former passenger rail service
Wikipedia - Winnipeg Film Group -- Cultural organization in Winnipeg, Canada
Wikipedia - Winnipeg Hydro -- Former hydro generation and distribution company in Winnipeg, Canada
Wikipedia - Winnipeg Ice -- Canadian major junior ice hockey team in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Winnipeg Junction, Minnesota -- Ghost town in Minnesota, United States
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Wikipedia - Winnipeg Limited -- Former overnight passenger train between St. Paul and WInnipeg
Wikipedia - Winnipeg, Manitoba
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Wikipedia - Winnipeg Public Library -- Public library system in Manitoba
Wikipedia - Winnipeg Route 155 -- City route in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Winnipeg Route 25 -- City route in Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Winnipeg Square -- Mixed-use complex in Manitoba
Wikipedia - Winnipeg Sun -- Daily newspaper in Winnipeg, Canada
Wikipedia - Winnipeg Telegram -- Former newspaper in Manitoba
Wikipedia - Winnipeg
Wikipedia - Winnisook Lake -- Source of Esopus Creek in New York's Catskill Mountains
Wikipedia - Winnoc -- Breton saint
Wikipedia - Winnow (algorithm)
Wikipedia - Winnowing -- Method of separating grain from chaff
Wikipedia - WinnowTag
Wikipedia - WinNuke
Wikipedia - Winny de Jong -- Dutch politician
Wikipedia - Winny
Wikipedia - Winona County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Winona, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Winona Municipal Airport -- Airport in Winona County, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Winsome Pinnock -- British writer
Wikipedia - Winsor Township, Clearwater County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Winsted, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Winthrop, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Winton, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wirt, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wisden Trophy -- Trophy for winners of test cricket series between England and West Indies
Wikipedia - Wisdom tradition -- Idea that there is a mystic inner core to all religious or spiritual traditions
Wikipedia - Wislawa Szymborska -- Polish poet, Nobel Prize winner
Wikipedia - Witoka, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - WIZF -- Radio station in Erlanger, Kentucky, serving Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - WJON -- News/talk radio station in St. Cloud, Minnesota
Wikipedia - WJRF -- Christian radio station in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - WJVS -- Former radio station in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - WKBH-FM -- Radio station in La Crescent, Minnesota
Wikipedia - WKLK (AM) -- Radio station in Cloquet, Minnesota
Wikipedia - WKLK-FM -- Radio station in Cloquet, Minnesota
Wikipedia - WKRC (AM) -- Talk radio station in Cincinnati
Wikipedia - WKRC-TV -- CBS/CW affiliate in Cincinnati
Wikipedia - WKRP in Cincinnati -- American television series 1978-1982
Wikipedia - WKRQ -- Contemporary hit radio station in Cincinnati
Wikipedia - WLWT -- NBC affiliate in Cincinnati
Wikipedia - WLW -- Clear-channel news/talk radio station in Cincinnati
Wikipedia - WM-CM-$ino Aaltonen -- Finnish artist and sculptor
Wikipedia - WM-CM-$ino Wuolijoki -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - WM-CM-$rtsilM-CM-$-Sulzer RTA96-C -- Finnish marine diesel engine
Wikipedia - WM-EM-^Mdejebato -- guyot in the Marshall Islands northwest of the smaller Pikinni Atoll
Wikipedia - WMH (1921-23) -- Former radio station in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - WMIN -- Radio station in Sauk Rapids, Minnesota
Wikipedia - WMOZ -- Radio station in Moose Lake, Minnesota
Wikipedia - WMWX -- Radio station in Miamitown-Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - WNNF -- Country music radio station in Cincinnati
Wikipedia - WNSD -- Former high school radio station in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - Woldemar von Daehn -- Finnish politician
Wikipedia - Wolf Lake, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wolford, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wolford Township, Crow Wing County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wonderland Amusement Park (Minneapolis) -- Closed amusement park in Minneapolis, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Woodbury, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wood Lake, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Woodland, Kanabec County, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Woodland, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Woodrow, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Woodstock, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wool top -- Scoured, combed and sorted raw wool, produced for hand spinning
Wikipedia - Word-initial ff -- Origin and use of double "f" at the beginning of a word
Wikipedia - Workman Township, Aitkin County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - World Series of Poker multiple bracelet winners -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - Worlock -- Song by Skinny Puppy
Wikipedia - Worshipful Company of Innholders -- Livery company of the City of London
Wikipedia - Worshipful Company of Skinners -- Livery company of the City of London
Wikipedia - Worthington, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - WOSL -- Radio station in Norwood-Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - Woyh! -- Finnish rock duo
Wikipedia - Wrenshall, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wright County, Minnesota -- County in the United States
Wikipedia - Wright, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - WSAI -- Radio station in Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - WSCD-FM -- Radio station in Duluth, Minnesota
Wikipedia - WSCH -- Radio station in Aurora, Indiana, serving Cincinnati, Ohio
Wikipedia - WSCN -- Minnesota Public Radio station in Cloquet, Minnesota
Wikipedia - WSTR-TV -- MyNetworkTV affiliate in Cincinnati
Wikipedia - W.T. Bailey House -- house in Virginia, Minnesota
Wikipedia - WUBE-FM -- Country music radio station in Cincinnati
Wikipedia - WUCW -- CW affiliate in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - WUMN-LD -- Univision affiliate in Minneapolis
Wikipedia - WVXU -- Public radio station in Cincinnati
Wikipedia - Wyanett, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wyanett Township, Isanti County, Minnesota -- Township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wyattville, Minnesota -- Unincorporated community in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - WYGS -- Southern Gospel radio station serving Cincinnati area
Wikipedia - Wykoff, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wyoming, Minnesota -- City in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Wyoming Township, Chisago County, Minnesota -- Former township in Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - WZFJ -- Contemporary Christian music radio station in Breezy Point-Brainerd, Minnesota
Wikipedia - Xavier Hennekinne -- French-Australian writer
Wikipedia - X Games Minneapolis 2018 -- Action sporting event (July 19-22, 2018)
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