text:
The Inn Album/VII

VII

She, face, form, bearing, one Superb composure—

"He has told you all? Yes, he has told you all, your silence says— What gives him, as he thinks the mastery Over my body and my soul!—has told That instance, even, of their servitude He now exacts of me? A silent blush! That's well, though better would white ignorance Beseem your brow, undesecrate before— Ay, when I left you! I too learn at last —Hideously learned as I seemed so late— What sin may swell to. Yes,—I needed learn That, when my prophet's rod became the snake I fled from, it would, one day, swallow up —Incorporate whatever serpentine Falsehood and treason and unmanliness Beslime earth's pavement: such the power of Hell, And so beginning, ends no otherwise The Adversary! I was ignorant, Blameworthy—if you will; but blame I take Nowise upon me as I ask myself —You—how can you, whose soul I seemed to read The limpid eyes through, have declined so deep Even with him for consort? I revolve Much memory, pry into the looks and words Of that day's walk beneath the College wall, And nowhere can distinguish, in what gleams Only pure marble through my dusky past, A dubious cranny where such poison-seed Might harbor, nourish what should yield to-day This dread ingredient for the cup I drink. Do not I recognize and honor truth In seeming?—take your truth and for return, Give you my truth, a no less precious gift? You loved me: I believed you. I replied —How could I other? ' I was not my own,' —No longer had the eyes to see, the ears To hear, the mind to judge, since heart and soul Now were another's. My own right in me, For well or ill, consigned away—my face Fronted the honest path, deflection whence Had shamed me in the furtive backward look At the late bargain—fit such chapman's phrase!— As though—less hasty and more provident— Waiting had brought advantage. Not for me The chapman's chance! Yet while thus much was true, I spared you—as I knew you then—one more Concluding word which, truth no less, seemed best Buried away forever. Take it now Its power to pain is past! Four years—that day— Those lines that make the College avenue! I would that—friend and foe—by miracle, I had, that moment, seen into the heart Of either, as I now am taught to see! I do believe I should have straight assumed My proper function, and sustained a soul, Nor aimed at being just sustained myself By some man's soul—the weaker woman's-want! So had I missed the momentary thrill Of finding me in presence of a god, But gained the god's own feeling when he gives Such thrill to what turns life from death before.  'Gods many and Lords many,' says the Book: You would have yielded up your soul to me —Not to the false god who has burned its clay In his own image. I had shed my love Like Spring dew on the clod all flowery thence, Not sent up a wild vapor to the sun that drinks and then disperses. Both of us Blameworthy,—I first meet my punishment— And not so hard to bear. I breathe again! Forth from those arms' enwinding leprosy At last I struggle—uncontaminate: Why must I leave you pressing to the breast That's all one plague-spot? Did you love me once? Then take love's last and best return! I think, Womanliness means only motherhood; All love begins and ends there,—roams enough, But, having run the circle, rests at home. Why is your expiation yet to make? Pull shame with your own hands from your own head Now,—never wait the slow envelopment Submitted to by unelastic age! One fierce throe frees the sapling: flake on flake Lull till they leave the oak snow-stupefied. Your heart retains its vital warmth—or why That blushing reassurance? Blush, young blood! Break from beneath this icy premature Captivity of wickedness—I warn Back, in God's name! No fresh encroachment here! This May breaks all to bud—No Winter now! Friend, we are both forgiven! Sin no more! I am past sin now, so shall you become! Meanwhile I testify that, lying once, My foe lied ever, most lied last of all. He, waking, whispered to your sense asleep The wicked counsel,—and assent might seem; But, roused, your healthy indignation breaks The idle dream-pact. You would die—not dare Confirm your dream-resolve,—nay, find the word That fits the deed to bear the light of day! Say I have justly judged you! then farewell To blushing—nay, it ends in smiles, not tears! Why tears now? I have justly judged, thank God!"

He does blush boy-like, but the man speaks out, —Makes the due effort to surmount himself.

"I don't know what he wrote—how should I? Nor How he could read my purpose which, it seems, He chose to somehow write—mistakenly Or else for mischief's sake. I scarce believe My purpose put before you fair and plain Would need annoy so much; but there's my luck— From first to last I blunder. Still, one more Turn at the target, try to speak my thought! Since he could guess my purpose, won't you read Right what he set down wrong? He said—let's think! Ay, so!—he did begin by telling heaps Of tales about you. Now, you see—suppose Any one told me—my own mother died Before I knew her—told me—to his cost!— Such tales about my own dead mother: why, You would not wonder surely if I knew, By nothing but my own heart's help, he lied, Would you? No reason's wanted in the case. So with you! In they burnt on me, his tales, Much as when madhouse-inmates crowd around, Make captive any visitor and scream All sorts of stories of their keeper—he's Both dwarf and giant, vulture, wolf, dog, cat, Serpent and scorpion, yet man all the same; Sane people soon see through the gibberish! I just made out, you somehow lived somewhere A life of shame—I can't distinguish more— Married or single—how, don't matter much: Shame which himself had caused—that point was clear, That fact confessed—that thing to hold and keep. Oh, and he added some absurdity —That you were here to make me—ha, ha, ha!— Still love you, still of mind to die for you, Ha, ha—as if that needed mighty pains! Now, foolish as ... but never mind myself —What I am, what I am not, in the eye Of the world, is what I never cared for much. Fool then or no fool, not one single word In the whole string of lies did I believe, But this—this only—if I choke, who cares?— I believe somehow in your purity Perfect as ever! Else what use is God? He is God, and work miracles He can! Then, what shall I do? Quite as clear, my course! They've got a thing they call their Labyrinth I' the garden yonder: and my cousin played A pretty trick once, led and lost me deep Inside the briery maze of hedge round hedge; And there might I be staying now, stock-still, But that I laughing bade eyes follow nose And so straight pushed my path through let and stop And soon was out in the open, face all scratched, But well behind my back the prison-bars In sorry plight enough, I promise you! So here: I won my way to truth through lies— Said, as I saw light,—if her shame be shame I'll rescue and redeem her,—shame's no shame? Then, I'll avenge, protect—redeem myself The stupidest of sinners! Here I stand! Dear,—let me once dare call you so,—you said Thus ought you to have done, four years ago, Such things and such! Ay, dear, and what ought I? You were revealed to me: where's gratitude, Where's memory even, where the gain of you Discernible in my low after-life Of fancied consolation? why, no horse Once fed on corn, will, missing corn, go munch Mere thistles like a donkey! I missed you, And in your place found—him, made him my love, Ay, did I,—by this token, that he taught So much beast-nature that I meant ... God knows Whether I bow me to the dust enough!... To marry—yes, my cousin here! I hope That was a master-stroke! Take heart of hers, And give her hand of mine with no more heart Than now you see upon this brow I strike! What atom of a heart do I retain Not all yours? Dear, you know it! Easily May she accord me pardon when I place My brow beneath her foot, if foot so deign, Since uttermost indignity is spared— Mere marriage and no love! And all this time Not one word to the purpose! Are you free? Only wait! only let me serve—deserve Where you appoint and how you see the good! I have the will—perhaps the power—at least Means that have power against the world. For time— Take my whole life for your experiment! If you are bound—in marriage, say—why, still, Still, sure, there's something for a friend to do, Outside? A mere well-wisher, understand! I'll sit, my life long, at your gate, you know, Swing it wide open to let you and him Pass freely,—and you need not look, much less Fling me a ' Thank you—are you there, old friend?' Don't say that even: I should drop like shot! So I feel now at least: some day, who knows? After no end of weeks and months and years You might smile  'I believe you did your best!' And that shall make my heart leap—leap such leap As lands the feet in Heaven to wait you there! Ah, there's just one thing more! How pale you look! Why? Are you angry? If there's, after all, Worst come to worst—if still there somehow be The shame—I said was no shame,—none! I swear!— In that case, if my hand and what it holds,— My name,—might be your safeguard now—at once— Why, here's the hand—you have the heart! Of course— No cheat, no binding you, because I'm bound, To let me off probation by one day, Week, month, year, lifetime! Prove as you propose! Here's the hand with the name to take or leave! That's all—and no great piece of news, I hope!"

"Give me the hand, then!" she cries hastily. "Quick, now! I hear his footstep!" Hand in hand The couple face him as he enters, stops Short, stands surprised a moment, laughs away Surprise, resumes the much-experienced man.

"So, you accept him?" "Till us death do part!"

"No longer? Come, that's right and rational! I fancied there was power in common sense, But did not know it worked thus promptly. Well— At last each understands the other, then? Each drops disguise, then? So, at supper-time These masquerading people doff their gear, Grand Turk his pompous turban, Quakeress Her stiff-starched bib and tucker,—make-believe That only bothers when, ball-business done, Nature demands champagne and mayonnaise. Just so has each of us sage three abjured His and her moral pet particular Pretension to superiority, And, cheek by jowl, we henceforth munch and joke! Go, happy pair, paternally dismissed To live and die together—for a month, Discretion can award no more! Depart From whatsoe'er the calm sweet solitude Selected—Paris not improbably— At month's end, when the honeycomb's left wax, —You, daughter, with a pocketful of gold Enough to find your village boys and girls In duffel cloaks and hobnailed shoes from May To—what's the phrase?—Christmas-come-never-mas! You, son and heir of mine, shall re-appear Ere Spring-time, that's the ring-time, lose one leaf, And—not without regretful smack of lip The while you wipe it free of honey-smear— Marry the cousin, play the magistrate, Stand for the country, prove perfection's pink— Master of hounds, gay-coated dine—nor die Sooner than needs of gout, obesity, And sons at Christ Church! As for me,—ah me, I abdicate—retire on my success, Four years well occupied in teaching youth —My son and daughter the exemplary! Time for me to retire now, having placed Proud on their pedestal the pair: in turn, Let them do homage to their master! You,— Well, your flushed cheek and flashing eye proclaim Sufficiently your gratitude: you paid The honorarium, the ten thousand pounds To purpose, did you not? I told you so! And you, but, bless me, why so pale—so faint At influx of good fortune? Certainly, No matter how or why or whose the fault, I save your life—save it, nor less nor more! You blindly were resolved to welcome death In that black boor-and-bumpkin-haunted hole Of his, the prig with all the preachments! You Installed as nurse and matron to the crones And wenches, while there lay a world outside Like Paris (which again I recommend) In company and guidance of—first, this, Then—all in good time—some new friend as fit— What if I were to say, some fresh myself, As I once figured? Each dog has his day, And mine's at sunset: what should old dog do But eye young litters' frisky puppyhood? Oh I shall watch this beauty and this youth Frisk it in brilliance! But don't fear! Discreet, I shall pretend to no more recognize My quondam pupils than the doctor nods When certain old acquaintances may cross His path in Park, or sit down prim beside His plate at dinner-table: tip nor wink Scares patients he has put, for reason good, Under restriction,—maybe, talked sometimes Of douche or horsewhip to,—for why? because The gentleman would crazily declare His best friend was—Iago! Ay, and worse— The lady, all at once grown lunatic, In suicidal monomania vowed, To save her soul, she needs must starve herself! They're cured now, both, and I tell nobody. Why don't you speak? Nay, speechless, each of you Can spare,—without unclasping plighted troth,— At least one hand to shake! Left-hands will do— Yours first, my daughter! Ah, it guards—it gripes The precious Album fast—and prudently! As well obliterate the record there On page the last: allow me tear the leaf! Pray, now! And afterward, to make amends, What if all three of us contribute each A line to that prelusive fragment,—help The embarrassed bard who broke out to break down Dumbfoundered at such unforeseen success?  'Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot'  You begin—place aux dames! I'll prompt you then!  'Here do I take the good the gods allot!'  Next you, Sir! What, still sulky? Sing, O Muse!  'Here does my lord in full discharge his shot!'  Now for the crowning flourish! mine shall be...."

"Nothing to match your first effusion, mar What was, is, shall remain your masterpiece! Authorship has the alteration-itch! No, I protest against erasure. Read, My friend!" (she gasps out). "Read and quickly read  'Before us death do part,' what made you mine And made me yours—the marriage-license here! Decide if he is like to mend the same!" And so the lady, white to ghastliness, Manages somehow to display the page With left-hand only, while the right retains The other hand, the young man's,—dreaming-drunk He, with this drench of stupefying stuff, Eyes wide, mouth open,—half the idiot's stare And half the prophet's insight,—holding tight, All the same, by his one fact in the world— The lady's right-hand: he but seems to read— Does not, for certain; yet, how understand Unless he reads?

So, understand he does, For certain. Slowly, word by word, she reads Aloud that license—or that warrant, say.

"'One against two—and two that urge their odds To uttermost—I needs must try resource! Madam, I laid me prostrate, bade you spurn Body and soul: you spurned and safely spurned So you had spared me the superfluous taunt "Prostration means no power to stand erect, Stand, trampling on who trampled—prostrate now!" So, with my other fool-foe: I was fain Let the boy touch me with the buttoned foil, And him the infection gains, he too must needs Catch up the butcher's cleaver. Be it so! Since play turns earnest, here's my serious fence. He loves you; he demands your love: both know What love means in my language. Love him then! Pursuant to a pact, love pays my debt: Therefore, deliver me from him, thereby Likewise delivering from me yourself! For, hesitate—much more, refuse consent— I tell the whole truth to your husband. Flat Cards lie on table, in our gamester-phrase! Consent—you stop my mouth, the only way.'

"I did well, trusting instinct: knew your hand Had never joined with his in fellowship Over this pact of infamy. You known— As he was known through every nerve of me. Therefore I  'stopped his mouth the only way'  But my way! none was left for you, my friend— The loyal—near, the loved one! No—no—no! Threaten? Chastise? The coward would but quail. Conquer who can, the cunning of the snake! Stamp out his slimy strength from tail to head, And still you leave vibration of the tongue. His malice had redoubled—not on me Who, myself, choose my own refining fire— But on poor unsuspicious innocence; And,—victim,—to turn executioner Also—that feat effected, forky tongue Had done indeed its office! One snake's 'mouth' Thus  'open'—how could mortal  'stop it' ?

"So!" A tiger-flash—yell, spring, and scream: halloo! Death's out and on him, has and holds him—ugh! But ne trucidet coram populo Juvenis senem! Right the Horatian rule! There, see how soon a quiet comes to pass!

title: The Inn Album/VII


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 Rh Johnson's monument and as the executor of Reynolds, was one of those responsible for his funeral at St. Paul's and for the sale of his pictures. Dr. Warner was for many years associated with the pleasures as well as with the serious business of George Selwyn and he endeavoured after his friend's death to remove from the public mind the belief that the wit took an inordinate pleasure in witnessing the executions of conspicuous criminals. He was the first to start and the chief person to carry into effect, the proposal, that a statue of Howard, the philanthropist, should be placed in London's cathedral.

The mention of Scrope Davies recalls the life of Byron. They were friends in college days and in the fashionable life of their early manhood. Byron borrowed from him large sums of money, and showed the warmth of his friendship by the efforts which he made to repay them, as well as by the public dedication to Davies of one of his chief poems. Like many another conspicuous gambler during the Regency, the declining days of the life of Davies were passed in banishment from England. "Jack" Taylor knew everyone. With Sheridan and the theatrical circle which surrounded him he was closely intimate. He was the companion of Boswell in his hours of gaiety in the city when his song, repeated over and over again, threw the stiff form of Pitt into convulsions of laughter. In the busy haunt of Fleet Street and amid the jostling of the crowd which thronged that thoroughfare, Boswell submitted to him the proof sheets of the title-page of his immortal volumes and adopted the word which his critical friend suggested. Taylor corresponded with Byron and one of the poet's letters is for the first time given to the world in its entirety in these pages.

Scrope Davies was a student in classical literature until he had earned, when barely out of his teens, the wages sufficient to keep him in idleness for the rest of his existence.

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/


text:
The Inn Album/VIII

VIII

The youth is somehow by the lady's side. His right-hand grasps her right-hand once again. Both gaze on the dead body. Hers the word. "And that was good but useless. Had I lived The danger was to dread: but, dying now— Himself would hardly become talkative, Since talk no more means torture. Fools—what fools These wicked men are! Had I borne four years, Four years of weeks and months and days and nights, Inured me to the consciousness of life Coiled round by his life, with the tongue to ply,— But that I bore about me, for prompt use At urgent need, the thing that  'stops the mouth'  And stays the venom? Since such need was now Or never,—how should use not follow need? Bear witness for me, I withdraw from life By virtue of the license—warrant, say, That blackens yet this Album—white again, Thanks still to my one friend who tears the page! Now, let me write the line of supplement, As counselled by my foe there: ' each a line!'"

And she does falteringly write to end.

"I die now through the villain who lies dead, Righteously slain. He would have outraged me, So, my defender slew him. God protect The right! Where wrong lay, I bear witness now. Let man believe me, whose last breath is spent In blessing my defender from my soul!"

And so ends the Inn Album.

As she dies, Begins outside a voice that sounds like song, And is indeed half song though meant for speech Muttered in time to motion—stir of heart That unsubduably must bubble forth To match the fawn-step as it mounts the stair.

"All's ended and all's over! Verdict found  'Not guilty'—prisoner forthwith set free, Mid cheers the Court pretends to disregard! Now Portia, now for Daniel, late severe, At last appeased, benignant! 'This young man— Hem—has the young man's foibles but no fault. He's virgin soil—a friend must cultivate. I think no plant called "love" grows wild—a friend May introduce, and name the bloom, the fruit!' Here somebody dares wave a handkerchief— She'll want to hide her face with presently! Good-by then!  'Cigno fedel, cigno fedel, Addio!'  Now, was ever such mistake— Ever such foolish ugly omen? Pshaw! Wagner, beside!  'Amo te solo, te Solo amai!'  That's worth fifty such! But, mum, the grave face at the opened door!"

And so the good gay girl, with eyes and cheeks Diamond and damask,—cheeks so white erewhile Because of a vague fancy, idle fear Chased on reflection!—pausing, taps discreet; And then, to give herself a countenance, Before she comes upon the pair inside, Loud—the oft-quoted, long-laughed-over line— " 'Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot!'  Open the door!"

No: let the curtain fall!

title: The Inn Album/VIII


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 MEMOIRS


text: Portal talk:Hebrew language and literature


text:
Author:William Mitchell Ramsay

Works

 * "Antiquities of Southern Phrygia and the Border Lands" in The American Journal of Archaeology and of the History of the Fine Arts, Dec. 1887
 * Romanes Lecture: The imperial peace; an ideal in European history, 1913
 * The Church in the Roman Empire Before A. D. 170, 1893
 * St. Paul the traveller and the Roman citizen

contributions to EB1911

 * (in part)
 * (in part)
 * (in part)
 * (in part)
 * (in part)
 * (in part)

title: Author:William Mitchell Ramsay


text:
Portal talk:British North America Acts

Reclassification
This portal was formerly classified as KDZ, Law of North America. However, the BNA acts are specific to the Dominion of Canada so I have reclassified as KE, Law of Canada. Beleg Tâl (talk) 12:33, 3 October 2017 (UTC)

title: Portal talk:British North America Acts


text: Portal talk:Acts of Parliament of Canada


text:
Page:EB1911 - Volume 21.djvu/467

 PHILOSTRATUS, the name of several, three (or four), Greek sophists of the Roman imperial period—(1) Philostratus "the Athenian" (c. 170–245), (2) his nephew (?) Philostratus "of Lemnos" (born c. 190); (3) a grandson (?) of (2). Of these the most famous is Philostratus "the Athenian," author of the Life of Apollonius Tyana, which he dedicated to Julia Domna, wife of Alexander Severus and mother of Caracalla (see ). He wrote also (Lives of the Sophists), Gymnasticus and Epistolae (mainly of an erotic character). Very little is known of his career. Even his name is doubtful. The Lives of the Sophists gives the praenomen Flavius, which, however, is found elsewhere only in Tzetzes. Eunapius and Synesius call him a Lemnian; Photius a Tyrian; his letters refer to him as an Athenian. It is probable that he was born in Lemnos, studied and taught at Athens, and then settled in Rome (where he would naturally be called atheniensis) as a member of the learned circle with which Julia Domna surrounded herself. He was born probably in 172, and is said by Suïdas to have been living in the reign of Philip (244–249). The fact that the author of Apollonius is also the author of the Lives of the Sophists is confirmed by internal evidence. The latter is dedicated to a consul Antonius Gordianus, perhaps one of the two Gordians who were killed in 238. The work is divided into two parts: the first dealing with the ancient Sophists, e.g. Gorgias, the second with the later school, e.g. Herodes Atticus.

 PHILOXENUS, of Cythera (435–380 ), Greek dithyrambic poet. On the conquest of the island by the Athenians he was taken as a prisoner of war to Athens, where he came into the possession of the dithyrambic poet Melanippides, who educated him and set him free. Philoxenus afterwards resided in Sicily, at the court of Dionysius, tyrant of Syracuse, whose bad verses he declined to praise, and was in consequence sent to work in the quarries. After leaving Sicily he travelled in Greece, Italy and Asia, reciting his poems, and died at Ephesus. According to Suïdas, Philoxenus composed twenty-four dithyrambs and a lyric poem on the genealogy of the Aeacidae. In his hands the dithyramb seems to have been a sort of comic opera, and the music, composed by himself, of a debased character. His masterpiece was the Cyclops, a pastoral burlesque on the love of the Cyclops for the fair Galatea, written to avenge himself upon Dionysius, who was wholly or partially blind of one eye. It was parodied by Aristophanes in the Plutus (290). Another work of Philoxenus (sometimes attributed to Philoxenus of Leucas, a notorious parasite and glutton) is the Δεῖπνον (Dinner), of which considerable fragments have been preserved by Athenaeus. This is an elaborate bill of fare in verse, probably intended as a satire on the luxury of the Sicilian court. The great popularity of Philoxenus is attested by a complimentary resolution passed by the Athenian senate in 393. The comic poet Antiphanes spoke of him as a god among men; Alexander the Great had his poems sent to him in Asia; the Alexandrian grammarians received him into the canon; and down to the time of Polybius his works were regularly learned and annually acted by the Arcadian youth.

 PHILOXENUS (Syriac, Aksēnāyā), of Mabbōg, one of the best of Syriac prose writers, and a vehement champion of Monophysite doctrine in the end of the 5th and beginning of the 6th centuries. He was born, probably in the third quarter of the 5th century, at Tahal, a village in the district of Béth Garmai east of the Tigris. He was thus by birth a subject of Persia, but all his active life of which we have any record was passed in the territory of the Greek Empire. The statements that he had been a slave and was never baptized appear to be malicious inventions of his theological opponents. He was educated at Edessa, perhaps in the famous "school of the Persians," which was afterwards (in 489) expelled from Edessa on account of its connexion with the Nestorian heresy. The years which followed the Council of Chalcedon (451) were a stormy period in the Syrian Church. Philoxenus soon attracted notice by his strenuous advocacy of Monophysite doctrine, and on the expulsion of Calandio (the orthodox patriarch of Antioch) in 485 was ordained bishop of Mabbōg by his Monophysite successor Peter the Fuller (Barhebraeus, Chron. eccl. i. 183). It was probably during the earlier years of his episcopate that Philoxenus composed his thirteen homilies on the Christian life. Later he devoted himself to the revision of the Syriac version of the Bible, and with the help of his chorepiscopus Polycarp produced in 508 the so-called Philoxenian version, which was in some sense the received Bible of the Monophysites during the 6th century. Meantime he continued his ecclesiastical activity, working as a bitter opponent of

title: Page:EB1911 - Volume 21.djvu/467


text: Portal talk:Law of China

title: Portal talk:Law of China


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Philostratus


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Philoxenus of Cythera


text: 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Philoxenus of Mabbōg


text: Portal talk:Legislative documents

title: Portal talk:Legislative documents


text:
Author:Philostratus II

Works

 * Life of Apollonius of Tyana
 * Lives of the Sophists
 * Gymnasticus
 * Epistolae

title: Author:Philostratus II


text:
Author:Philostratus III

Works

 * Heroicus
 * Eikones

title: Author:Philostratus III


text:
Author:Philostratus IV

Works

 * Additional volumes of Eikones, started by Philostratus III

title: Author:Philostratus IV


text:
Author:Philostratus

 * Philostratus I (150–200)
 * Philostratus II (170–247)
 * Philostratus III (190–?)
 * Philostratus IV (220–?)

title: Author:Philostratus


text:
Translation:Shulchan Aruch/Orach Chaim/683

 All eight days of Hanukkah we recite the complete Hallel

כל שמונת ימי חנוכה גומרין את ההלל

Paragraph 1 — All eight days of Hanukkah we recite the complete.
 * Rem"a: And all eight days of Hanukkah we do not say, , or , [and] also on Hanukkah Eve in . And see above Section 131. (Mahari"l and Book of Customs)

סעיף א — כל שמונת ימי חנוכה גומרין את ההלל.
 * הגה: וכל שמונת ימי חנוכה אין אומרים תחנון וצו"ץ ולמנצח וצדוק הדין, גם בערב חנוכה במנחה. ועיין לעיל סימן קל"א. (מהרי"ל ומנהגים).

 * }

שולחן ערוך אורח חיים תרפג


text:
Translation:Shulchan Aruch/Orach Chaim/684

 The Sequence of the Torah Reading on Hanukkah

סדר קריאת התורה בחנוכה

Paragraph 1 — We read from the Princes' Offerings [] that are in the portion of Naso, three [aliyot] every day, and we begin with the [ibid. ].
 * (And some say that we begin from "…the day Moses finished…," [ibid. ] (Arba'ah Turim}Tur) (and so do we have the custom).

And [the Reader] reads [that portion] with a Priest and a Levite, and an [ordinary] Jew reads "…on the first day…." [ibid. ]
 * (And some say that the Priest reads the entire portion until "…on the first day…," and the Levite and the [ordinary] Jew read "…on the first day…," (Book of Customs) (and so we have the custom.)

On the second day the Priest reads "On the second day…" [ibid. ] until "One cow of the cattle…," [ibid. ] and the Levite until "On the third day…," [ibid. ] and the [ordinary] Jew goes back and reads "On the second day….", and in this manner each day.
 * Rem"a: And some say that the [ordinary] Jew reads from the following day, which is "On the third day…," and similarly each day, and so we have the custom. (Hagahot Maimoniot Chapter 18 [13])

On the eighth day we begin "On the eighth day…," [ibid. ] and we complete the entire sequence, and we read the first portion of ,
 * (and we have the custom to conclude ".. so did he make the Menorah.") (Book of Customs)

סעיף א — ,קורין בקרבנות הנשיאים שבפרשת נשא, שלשה בכל יום, ומתחילין בברכת כהנים.
 * (וי"א שמתחילין ביום כלות משה,) (טור) (וכן אנו נוהגין).

וקורא אותו עם כהן ולוי וישראל קורא ביום הראשון.
 * (וי"א שהכהן קורא כל אותה הפרשה עד ביום הראשון, והלוי והישראל קורין ביום הראשון,) (מנהגים) (וכן נוהגין.)

ביום שני קורא כהן ביום השני עד פר אחד בן בקר, ולוי עד ביום השלישי, וישראל חוזר וקורא ביום השני, ועל דרך זה בכל יום.
 * הגה: וי"א שישראל קורא ביום שלאחריו, דהיינו ביום הג', וכן בכל יום, וכן נוהגין. (הגהות מיימוני (פי"ח) [פי"ג])

ביום שמיני מתחילין ביום השמיני, וגומרין כל הסדר, וקורין פרשה ראשונה של בהעלותך,
 * (ונוהגין לסיים כן עשה את המנורה.) (מנהגים)

Paragraph 2 — On the Sabbath which is on Hanukkah we take out two [Torah] scrolls — in one we read the weekly portion, and in the second we read that of Hanukkah, and the is "Sing joyously and rejoice…." [] And if two Sabbaths fall out on [Hanukkah], the haftarah on the second one is in [I] Kings [] in [the portion of] Solomon's lights.
 * Rem"a: And if a wedding falls out that week, we [nonetheless] read the haftarah in that of Hanukkah. (Book of Customs)

סעיף ב — בשבת שבחנוכה מוציאין ב' ספרים — באחד קורא פרשה השבוע, ובשני קורא בשל חנוכה, ומפטיר רני ושמחי. ואם חלו בו ב' שבתות, מפטיר בב' במלכים בנרות דשלמה.
 * הגה: ואם חל חתונה בשבת זו, מפטירין בשל חנוכה. (מנהגים)

Paragraph 3 — If the New Moon of [the month of] falls out on the Sabbath, we take out three [Torah] scrolls, and six [honorees] read from the weekly portion, and in the second [scroll] one [honoree] reads from [the portion of] the New Moon, and he begins from "And on the Sabbath day…," [] and in the third the maftir is read from [the portion of] Hanukkah, and the haftarah is "Sing joyously and rejoice…." And if the New Moon falls out on a weekday, we take out two [Torah] scrolls, and in the first, three [honorees] read from [the portion of] the New Moon, and in the second, one [honoree] reads from [the portion of] Hanukkah, and if the prayer leader made a mistake and had four [honorees] read from [the portion of] the New Moon — if they did not take out a second [Torah] scroll, there is no need to read more, but if they took out a second [Torah] scroll, because of its [potential appearance of] defectiveness, a fifth [honoree] needs to read from [the portion of] Hanukkah.
 * Rem"a: And if he made a mistake and began to read from [the portion of] Hanukkah, he needs to stop and read from [the portion of] the New Moon. (Book of Abudirham Laws of Benedictions) And as to whether one needs to recite the benediction on the reading of the New Moon, see above Section 140.

סעיף ג — אם חל ר"ח טבת בשבת, מוציאין ג' ספרים, וקורין ו' בפרשת השבוע, ובשני קורא אחד בשל ר"ח, ומתחיל וביום השבת, ובשלישי קורא מפטיר בשל חנוכה, ומפטיר רני ושמחי ואם חל ר"ח בחול, מוציאין ב' ספרים, וקורין בא' ג' בשל ר"ח, ובשני קורא א' בשל חנוכה, ואם טעה החזן וקרא ד' בשל ר"ח — אם לא הוציאו ספר ב', א"צ לקרות יותר אבל אם הוציאו ספר ב', משום פגמו, צריך לקרות ה' בשל חנוכה.
 * הגה: ואם טעה והתחיל לקרות בשל חנוכה, צריך להפסיק לקרות בשל ר"ח. (אבודרהם הלכות ברכות) ואם צריך לברך על קריאת ר"ח, עי' לעיל סימן ק"מ.

 * }

שולחן ערוך אורח חיים תרפד


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Aue, Hartmann von

AUE, Hartmann von, German poet: b. 1170; d. about 1215. He was of humble birth, being the vassal of the Lord of Aue, who took him with him in one of the crusades, either in 1189 or 1197. Very little is known of his life. Of his works ‘Erec’ is undoubtedly the best (2d ed. in High German, Halle 1855). In this epic poem, of some 10,000 lines, the Arthurian legends are first introduced into Germany. Next in importance is his ‘Gregorius von Stein,’ the material of which is drawn from French romance (Berlin 1838). His most popular work was ‘Der arme Heinrich,’ his one work which is based on German folk lore (published by the Grimm Brothers, Berlin 1815). Many editions of his works have been published in German. Consult Cassel, ‘Die Symbolik des Blutes und der arme Heinrich des Hartmann von Aue’ (Berlin 1882).


text:
Author:Julia Domna

Works

 * Philostratus II wrote Life of Apollonius for Julia Domna

title: Author:Julia Domna


text:
User talk:Vernon39

— billinghurst  sDrewth  00:46, 26 November 2010 (UTC)

title: User talk:Vernon39


text: Category:Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century templates


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Aue

AUE, Saxony, Germany, city in Zwickau, on the Zwickau-Schwarzenberg Railroad, near the juncture of the Mulde and the Schwarzwasser rivers. It is a busy industrial centre, manufacturing paints, metal ware goods, textiles, furniture, paper, tobacco pipes, etc. It is the seat of the District Court, has five public buildings and its population is about 20,000.

title: The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Aue


text: Category:Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Auenbrugger von Auenbrug, Leopold

AUENBRUGGER VON AUENBRUG, ow'ĕn-brůg'ĕr fŏn ow'ĕn-brůg, Leopold, Austrian physician: b. Gratz 1722; d. Vienna 1809. As early as 1754 he had discovered the method of studying internal diseases (percussion) which made him famous; but not until after seven years of experiments and verification did he publish his treatise, entitled ‘Inventum Novum ex Percussione Thoracis Humani Interni Pectoris Morbos Detegendi’ (1761). The book marks an epoch in the modern history of medicine, but attracted scant attention until it was translated and illustrated by Corvisart in 1808. He also published two treatises on insanity.


text: Page:The Unconquered Air, Coates, 1912.djvu/17


text: Author:Marcus Aurelius Severus Alexander


text: Index:Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire vol 2 (1897).djvu


text: Portal talk:Acts of the Parliament of the United Kingdom


text: Index:Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire vol 3 (1897).djvu


text: Index:Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire vol 4 (1897).djvu


text: Index:Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire vol 5 (1897).djvu


text: Index:Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire vol 6 (1897).djvu


text: Audubon and His Journals/The European Journals


text: Portal talk:Constitution of the United Kingdom


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Auer, Alois

AUER, Alois, , Austrian printer: b. Wels 1813; d. 1869. He was trained as a compositor and in his leisure moments acquired several languages, becoming a professor of Italian in the Gymnasium of Linz. In 1839 he set out on a tour of Germany, Switzerland, France and England, collecting material for his art. From 1841 to 1868 he was at the head of the imperial printing office at Vienna. He made many typographical discoveries and published ‘Die Sprachenhalle oder das Vaterunser in 608 Sprachen’ (1844); and ‘Das Vaterunser in 206 Sprachen’ (1847); ‘Die Buchschriften des Mittelalters’ (1852); ‘Geschichte der K.-K. Hof- und Stadtsdruckerei in Wien’ (1851).


text:
The Inn Album/III

III

Now, as the elder lights the fresh cigar Conducive to resource, and saunteringly Betakes him to the left-hand backward path,— While, much sedate, the younger strides away To right and makes for—islanded in lawn And edged with shrubbery—the brilliant bit Of Barry's building that's the Place,—a pair Of women, at this nick of time, one young, One very young, are ushered with due pomp Into the same Inn-parlour—"disengaged  Entirely now!" the obsequious landlord smiles, "Since the late occupants—whereof but one  Was quite a stranger!"—(smile enforced by bow) "Left, a full two hours since, to catch the train,  Probably for the stranger's sake!" (Bow, smile, And backing out from door soft closed behind.) Woman and girl, the two, alone inside, Begin their talk: the girl, with sparkling eyes— "Oh, I forewent him purposely! but you, Who joined at—journeyed from the Junction here— I wonder how he failed your notice. Few Stop at our station: fellow-passengers Assuredly you were—I saw indeed His servant, therefore he arrived all right. I wanted, you know why, to have you safe Inside here first of all, so dodged about The dark end of the platform; that's his way— To swing from station straight to avenue And stride the half a mile for exercise. I fancied you might notice the huge boy. He soon gets o'er the distance; at the house He'll hear I went to meet him and have missed; He'll wait. No minute of the hour's too much Meantime for our preliminary talk: First word of which must be—O good beyond Expression of all goodness—you to come!"

The elder, the superb one, answers slow.

"There was no helping that. You called for me, Cried, rather: and my old heart answered you. Still, thank me! since the effort breaks a vow— At least, a promise to myself."

"I know! How selfish get you happy folks to be! If I should love my husband, must I needs Sacrifice straightway all the world to him, As you do? Must I never dare leave house On this dread Arctic expedition, out And in again, six mortal hours, though you— You even, my own friend for evermore, Adjure me—fast your friend till rude love pushed Poor friendship from her vantage—just to grant The quarter of a whole day's company And counsel? This makes counsel so much more Need and necessity. For here's my block Of stumbling: in the face of happiness So absolute, fear chills me. If such change In heart be but love's easy consequence, Do I love? If to marry mean—let go All I now live for, should my marriage be?"

The other never once has ceased to gaze On the great elm-tree in the open, posed Placidly full in front, smooth bole, broad branch, And leafage, one green plenitude of May. The gathered thought runs into speech at last.

"O you exceeding beauty, bosomful Of lights and shades, murmurs and silences, Sun-warmth, dew-coolness,—squirrel, bee and bird, High, higher, highest, till the blue proclaims  'Leave earth, there's nothing better till next step  Heavenward!'—so, off flies what has wings to help!"

And henceforth they alternate. Says the girl—

"That's saved then: marriage spares the early taste."

"Four years now, since my eye took note of tree!"

"If I had seen no other tree but this My life-long, while yourself came straight, you said, From tree which overstretched you and was just One fairy tent with pitcher-leaves that held Wine, and a flowery wealth of suns and moons, And magic fruits whereon the angels feed— I looking out of window on a tree Like yonder—otherwise well-known, much-liked, Yet just an English ordinary elm— What marvel if you cured me of conceit My elm's bird bee and squirrel tenantry Was quite the proud possession I supposed? And there is evidence you tell me true, The fairy marriage-tree reports itself Good guardian of the perfect face and form, Fruits of four years' protection! Married friend, You are more beautiful than ever!"

"Yes— I think that likely. I could well dispense With all thought fair in feature, mine or no, Leave but enough of face to know me by— With all found fresh in youth except such strength As lets a life-long labour earn repose Death sells at just that price, they say; and so, Possibly, what I care not for, I keep."

"How you must know he loves you! Chill, before, Fear sinks to freezing. Could I sacrifice— Assured my lover simply loves my soul— One nose-breadth of fair feature? No, indeed! Your own love..."

"The preliminary hour— Don't waste it!"

"But I can't begin at once! The angel's self that comes to hear me speak Drives away all the care about the speech. What an angelic mystery you are— Now—that is certain! when I knew you first, No break of halo and no bud of wing! I thought I knew you, saw you, round and through, Like a glass ball; suddenly, four years since, You vanished, how and whither? Mystery! Wherefore? No mystery at all: you loved, Were loved again, and left the world of course,— Who would not? Lapped four years in fairyland, Out comes, by no less wonderful a chance, The changeling, touched athwart her trellised bliss Of blush-rose bower by just the old friend's voice That's now struck dumb at her own potency. I talk of my small fortunes? Tell me yours— Rather! The fool I ever was—I am, You see that: the true friend you ever had, You have, you also recognize. Perhaps, Giving you all the love of all my heart, Nature, that's niggard in me, has denied The after-birth of love there's someone claims, —This huge boy, swinging up the avenue; And I want counsel—is defect in me, Or him who has no right to raise the love? My cousin asks my hand: he's young enough, Handsome,—my maid thinks,—manly's more the word: He asked my leave to  'drop'  the elm-tree there, Some morning before breaktast. Gentleness Goes with the strength, of course. He's honest too, Limpidly truthful. For ability— All's in the rough yet. His first taste of life Seems to have somehow gone against the tongue: He travelled, tried things—came back, tried still more— He says he's sick of all. He's fond of me After a certain careless-earnest way I like: the iron's crude,—no polished steel Somebody forged before me. I am rich— That's not the reason, he's far richer: no, Nor is it that he thinks me pretty,—frank Undoubtedly on that point! He saw once The pink of face-perfection—oh, not you— Content yourself, my beauty!—for she proved So thoroughly a cheat, his charmer ... nay, He runs into extremes, I'll say at once, Lest you say! Well, I understand he wants. Someone to serve, something to do: and both Requisites so abound in me and mine That here's the obstacle which stops consent— The smoothness is too smooth, and I mistrust The unseen cat beneath the counterpane. Therefore I thought—'Would she but judge for me,  Who, judging for herself, succeeded so!'  Do I love him, does he love me, do both Mistake for knowledge—easy ignorance? Appeal to the proficient in each art! I got rough-smooth through a piano-piece, Rattled away last week till tutor came, Heard me to end, then grunted '''Ach, mein Gott!  Sagen Sie "easy"? Every note is wrong!'' ''All thumped mit wrist: we'll trouble fingers now!  The Fraulein will please roll up Raff again '' And exercise at Czerny for one month!' Am I to roll up cousin, exercise At Trollope's novels for a month? Pronounce!"

"Now, place each in the right position first, Adviser and advised one! I perhaps Am three—nay, four years older; am, beside, A wife: advantages—to balance which, You have a full fresh joyous sense of life That finds you out life's fit food everywhere, Detects enjoyment where I, slow and dull, Fumble at fault. Already, these four years, Your merest glimpses at the world without Have shown you more than ever met my gaze; And now, by joyance you inspire joy,—learn While you profess to teach, and teach, although Avowedly a learner. I am dazed Like any owl by sunshine which just sets The sparrow preening plumage! Here's to spy —Your cousin! You have scanned him all your life, Little or much; I never saw his face. You have determined on a marriage—used Deliberation therefore—I'll believe No otherwise, with opportunity For judgment so abounding! Here stand I— Summoned to give my sentence, for a whim, (Well, at first cloud-fleck thrown athwart your blue) On what is Strangeness' self tome,—say  'Wed!'  Or  'Wed not!'  whom you promise I shall judge Presently, at propitious lunch-time, just While he carves chicken! Sends he leg for wing? That revelation into character And conduct must suffice me! Quite as well Consult with yonder solitary crow That eyes us from your elm-top!"

"Still the same! Do you remember, at the library We saw together somewhere, those two books Somebody said were notice-worthy? One Lay wide on table, sprawled its painted leaves For all the world's inspection; shut on shelf Reclined the other volume, closed, clasped, locked— Clear to be let alone. Which page had we Preferred the turning over of? You were, Are, ever will be the locked lady, hold Inside you secrets written,—soul absorbed, My ink upon your blotting-paper. I— What trace of you have I to show in turn? Delicate secrets! No one juvenile Ever essayed at croquet and performed Superiorly but I confided you The sort of hat he wore and hair it held. While you? One day a calm note comes by post—  'I am just married, you may like to hear.'  Most men would hate you, or they ought; we love What we fear,—I do!  'Cold'  I shall expect My cousin calls you. I—dislike not him, But (if I comprehend what loving means) Love you immeasurably more—more—more Than even he who, loving you his wife, Would turn up nose at me impertinent, Frivolous, forward—loves that excellence Of all the earth he bows in worship to! And who's this paragon of privilege? Simply a country parson: his the charm That worked the miracle! Oh, too absurd— But that you stand before me as you stand! Such beauty does prove something, everything! Beauty's the prize-flower which dispenses eye From peering into what has nourished root— Dew or manure: the plant best knows its place. Enough, from teaching youth and tending age And hearing sermons,—haply writing tracts,— From such strange love-besprinkled compost, lo, Out blows this triumph! Therefore love's the soil Plants find or fail of. You, with wit to find, Exercise wit on the old friend's behalf, Keep me from failure! Scan and scrutinize This cousin! Surely he's as worth your pains To study as my elm-tree, crow and all, You still keep staring at! I read your thoughts!"

"At last?"

"At first! Would, tree, a-top of thee I winged were, like crow perched moveless there, And so could straightway soar, escape this bore, Back to my nest where broods whom I love best— The parson o'er his parish—garish—rarish— Oh I could bring the rhyme in if I tried: The Album here inspires me! Quite apart From lyrical expression, have I read The stare aright, and sings not soul just so? " "Or rather so? Cool comfortable elm That men make coffins out of,—none for me At thy expense, so thou permit I glide Under thy ferny feet, and there sleep, sleep, Nor dread awaking though in heaven itself!"

The younger looks with face struck sudden white. The elder answers its inquiry.

"Dear, You are a guesser, not a  'clairvoyante,'  I'll so far open you the locked and shelved Volume, my soul, that you desire to see, As let you profit by the title-page—"

"Paradise Lost?"

"Inferno!—All which comes Of tempting me to break my vow. Stop here! Friend, whom I love the best in the whole world, Come at your call, be sure that I will do At your requirement—see and say my mind. It may be that by sad apprenticeship I have a keener sense: I'll task the same. Only indulge me—here let sight and speech Happen—this Inn is neutral ground, you know! I cannot visit the old house and home, Encounter the old sociality Abjured for ever. Peril quite enough In even this first—last, I pray it prove— Renunciation of my solitude! Back, you, to house and cousin! Leave me here, Who want no entertainment, carry still My occupation with me. While I watch The shadow inching round those ferny feet, Tell him A school-friend wants a word with me Up at the inn: time, tide and train won't wait: I must go see her—on and off again— You'll keep me company? Ten minutes' talk, With you in presence, ten more afterward With who, alone, convoys me station-bound, And I see clearly—to say honestly To-morrow: pen shall play tongue's part, you know! Go—quick! for I have made our hand-in-hand Return impossible. So scared you look,— If cousin does not greet you with  'What ghost Has crossed your path?' I set him down obtuse."

And after one more look, with face still white, The younger does go, while the elder stands Occupied by the elm at window there.

title: The Inn Album/III


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Auer, Leopold

AUER, Leopold, Hungarian violinist: b. Veszprim, Hungary, 28 May 1845. His first musical training was gained in Pesth; in 1858 he studied in the Vienna Conservatory and later was a pupil of Joachim in Hanover. In 1863 he was concert master in Düsseldorf. In 1868 he was appointed soloist of the imperial orchestra in St. Petersburg, where he was professor in the conservatory. By this time he was becoming known as one of the world's greatest violin soloists. In 1895 he was raised to the rank of a hereditary noble. He is also famous as a teacher, among his pupils being Elman and Zimbalist.


text: Audubon and His Journals/The Labrador Journal


text: Portal talk:Cowboys

title: Portal talk:Cowboys


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Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century/A

 * ../Abercius/
 * ../Abgar/
 * ../Acacius (2), bishop of Caesarea/
 * ../Acacius (4), bishop of Beroea/
 * ../Acacius (7), patriarch of Constantinople/
 * ../Acephali/
 * ../Adamantius (1)/
 * ../Aerius, founder of the heretical sect of the Aerians/
 * ../Aetius/
 * ../Africanus, Julius/
 * ../Agapetus/
 * ../Agatha/
 * ../Agnes/
 * ../Agnoëtae/
 * ../Alaric/
 * ../Albanus/
 * ../Albion/
 * ../Alexander, St., archbishop of Alexandria/
 * ../Alexander, St., bishop of Byzantium/
 * ../Alexander, bishop of Hierapolis Euphratensis/
 * ../Alexander, bishop of Jerusalem/
 * ../Alexander I., bishop of Rome/
 * ../Alogians, or Alogi/
 * ../Ambrosiaster, or Pseudo-Ambrosius/
 * ../Ambrosius (1) of Alexandria/
 * ../Ambrosius (2)/
 * ../Ambrosius, St., bishop of Milan/
 * ../Ammon (or Amon), St./
 * ../Ammonius/
 * ../Ammonius Saccas/
 * ../Amphilochius (1), archbishop of Iconium/
 * ../Amphilochius (2), bishop of Sida/
 * ../Anastasia/
 * ../Anastasius (1), a presbyter of Antioch/
 * ../Anastasius I., bishop of Rome/
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 * ../Anastasius Sinaita/
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 * ../Anatolius, bishop of Laodicea in Syria Prima/
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 * ../Andreas Samosatensis/
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 * ../Apollinaris, St. and martyr/
 * ../Apollinaris the Elder/
 * ../Apollinaris the Younger/
 * ../Apollonius, martyr/
 * ../Apollonius of Ephesus/
 * ../Apollonius of Tyana/
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 * ../Aristion/
 * ../Aristo Pellaeus/
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 * ../Athanasius (1), bishop of Anagastus in Cilicia Secunda/
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 * ../Attila/
 * ../Augustinus, Aurelius/
 * ../Augustinus, St., archbishop of Canterbury/
 * ../Aurelian/
 * ../Aurelius, Marcus/
 * ../Ausonius, Decimus Magnus/
 * ../Avitus, Alcimus Ecdicius, archbishop of Vienne/


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Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century/B

 * ../Babylas (1), bishop of Antioch/
 * ../Bachiarius/
 * ../Bardaisan/
 * ../Barnabas, Epistle of/
 * ../Barsumas (the Eutychian)/
 * ../Barsumas (the Nestorian)/
 * ../Basilides/
 * ../Basiliscus/
 * ../Basilius of Ancyra, also called Basilas/
 * ../Basilius of Ancyra, a presbyter/
 * ../Basilius, called Basil the Great/
 * ../Basilius, friend of Chrysostom/
 * ../Basilius of Cilicia/
 * ../Basilius, bishop of Seleucia/
 * ../Beda, more correctly Baeda, The Venerable/
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 * ../Benedictus I., pope/
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 * ../Blandina/
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 * ../Bonifacius I./
 * ../Bonifacius II./
 * ../Bonosus/
 * ../Bosphorius/
 * ../Brigida (5), abbess of Kildare/


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Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century/C

 * ../Caecilia (1), St./
 * ../Caecilianus (2), archdeacon and bishop of Carthage/
 * ../Caesarius (2), St., of Nazianzus/
 * ../Caesarius (3), St., bishop of Arles/
 * ../Caesarius (7)/
 * ../Cainites/
 * ../Caius (2), ecclesiastical writer/
 * ../Caius (3), pope/
 * ../Calandio or Calendio, bishop of Antioch/
 * ../Calligonus/
 * ../Callistus (1), pope/
 * ../Caprasius (2), St., presbyter at Lérins/
 * ../Capreolus/
 * ../Caracalla/
 * ../Caritas/
 * ../Carpocrates/
 * ../Cassianus (2) Julius/
 * ../Cassianus (6), bishop of Autun/
 * ../Cassianus (11) Johannes/
 * ../Cassiodorus (or rather, Cassiodorius) Magnus Aurelius/
 * ../Catharine (Catharina, Catherine, etc.), St./
 * ../Caulacau/
 * ../Celsus (1)/
 * ../Cerdo (1)/
 * ../Cerinthus/
 * ../Christopher, St./
 * ../Chromatius, bishop of Aquileia/
 * ../Chrysippus/
 * ../Chrysogonus (1), martyr/
 * ../Chrysologus, Petrus/
 * ../Chrysostom, John/
 * ../Claudius (1), emperor/
 * ../Clemens (1), Flavius/
 * ../Clemens Romanus/
 * ../Clement of Alexandria/
 * ../Clementine Literature/
 * ../Cletus or Anacletus/
 * ../Clovis/
 * ../Coelestinus, commonly called Celestine/
 * ../Coelestius/
 * ../Coelicolae/
 * ../Colluthus (2), presbyter and sect founder/
 * ../Collyridians/
 * ../Columba (1) Columcille/
 * ../Columbanus, abbat of Luxeuil and Bobbio/
 * ../Comgall/
 * ../Commodianus/
 * ../Commodus/
 * ../Constans I./
 * ../Constantinus I./
 * ../Constantinus II., eldest son of Constantine the Great/
 * ../Constantius I. Flavius Valerius, surnamed Chlorus/
 * ../Constantius II., son of Constantius the Great/
 * ../Cornelius (2), bishop of Rome/
 * ../Cosmas (1) and Damianus/
 * ../Cosmas (3), surnamed Indicopleustes/
 * ../Cyprianus (1) Thascius Caecilius/
 * ../Cyra/
 * ../Cyriacus (19), patriarch of Constantinople/
 * ../Cyrillus (2), bishop of Jerusalem/
 * ../Cyrillus (7), St., archbishop of Alexandria/
 * ../Cyrillus (13), of Scythopolis/


text:
The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Auerbach, Berthold

AUERBACH, ow'ėr-ba H, Berthold, German novelist: b. Nordstetten, Würtemberg, 28 Feb. 1812; d. Cannes, France, 8 Feb. 1882. He began to write while a student in Heidelberg and under the pseudonym “Theobald Chauber” produced a ‘Biography of Frederick the Great’ (1834-36). He was the founder of the modern German “tendency novel,” in which fiction is used to influence public opinion on social, political and religious questions. Auerbach was an admirer of Spinoza, and the latter's philosophy is evident in his novels. A series of novels from the history of Judaism, under the collective title ‘The Ghetto,’ of which ‘Spinoza’ (1837) and ‘Poet and Merchant’ (1839) were printed in separate editions, was followed by a translation of Spinoza, with a critical biography (1841). ‘Black Forest Village Stories’ (1843), was received with universal favor, translated into nearly all European languages and established his fame. To this class of tales belong also ‘The Professor's Lady’ (1847); ‘Little Barefoot’ (1856); ‘Joseph in the Snow’ (1860); ‘Edelweiss’ (1861); ‘After Thirty Years’ (1876). His first effort in the field of the novel, ‘New Life’ (1851), met with little favor; but ‘On the Heights’ (1865) constituted the crowning success of his literary career. It was followed by ‘The Villa on the Rhine’ (1868); ‘Waldfried, a Family History’ (1874); and ‘The Head Forester’ (1879). His last years were embittered by the growth of anti-Semitism in Germany. His ‘On the Heights’ is still popular. His works appeared in 18 volumes in 1892-95. See. Consult Bettelheim, A., ‘B. Auerbach, der Mann, sein Werk’ (1907); Lasker, E., ‘Berthold Auerbach, ein Gedenkblatt’ (1882), and Zabel, ‘Berthold Auerbach’ (Berlin 1882).


text:
Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century/D

 * ../Dalmatius (4), monk and abbat/
 * ../Damasus, pope/
 * ../Damianus (2), martyr/
 * ../Daniel (9) the Stylite/
 * ../Dativus (3), celebrated senator/
 * ../David (5), St./
 * ../Decius/
 * ../Demetrias/
 * ../Demetrius (2), bishop of Alexandria/
 * ../Demophilus/
 * ../Dianius, bp. of Caesarea/
 * ../Didymus, head of catechetical school/
 * ../Dimoeritae, followers of Apollinarius/
 * ../Dinooth, Dinothus, abbat of Bangor Iscoed/
 * ../Diocletian, emperor/
 * ../Diodorus, presbyter of Antioch/
 * ../Diognetus, Epistle to/
 * ../Dionysia, virgin martyr at Lampsacus/
 * ../Dionysia, martyr at Alexandria/
 * ../Dionysia, martyr in Africa/
 * ../Dionysius, Pseudo-Areopagita/
 * ../Dionysius (2), St., apostle of France/
 * ../Dionysius (3), bp. of Corinth/
 * ../Dionysius of Alexandria/
 * ../Dionysius (7), bp. of Rome/
 * ../Dionysius (19), monk in Western church/
 * ../Dioscorus (1), patriarch of Alexandria/
 * ../Dioscorus, the monk/
 * ../Docetism/
 * ../Domitianus, emperor/
 * ../Domitilla Flavia/
 * ../Domnus I., bp. of Antioch/
 * ../Domnus II., bp. of Antioch/
 * ../Donatus and Donatism/
 * ../Dorothea, virgin martyr/
 * ../Dorotheus (3), presbyter at Antioch/
 * ../Dorotheus (7), bp. of Martianopolis/
 * ../Dorotheus (10), bp. of Thessalonica/
 * ../Dositheus (1), leader of Jewish sect/
 * ../Dubhthach, king's poet/
 * ../Dubricius, Dubric, archbp. of Caerleon/


text:
Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century/E

 * ../Ebionism and Ebionites/
 * ../Edesius/
 * ../Elagabalus, emperor/
 * ../Elesbaan, king, hermit, and saint of Ethiopia/
 * ../Eleusius, bp. of Cyzicus/
 * ../Eleutherus, bp. of Rome/
 * ../Elias I., bp. of Jerusalem/
 * ../Elkesai, Elkesaites/
 * ../Elpidius (8), bp. of Laodicea/
 * ../Emilianus (8), solitary/
 * ../Encratites/
 * ../Ennodius (1) Magnus Felix, bp. of Pavia/
 * ../Ephraim (4) the Syrian/
 * ../Ephraim (6), bp. of Antioch and patriarch/
 * ../Epiphanes, a Gnostic writer/
 * ../Epiphanius, bp. of Salamis/
 * ../Epiphanius, patriarch of Constantinople/
 * ../Epiphanius Scholasticus/
 * ../Eraclius, deacon of the church of Hippo/
 * ../Ethelbert, king of Kent/
 * ../Etheria/
 * ../Eucherius, St., bp. of Lyons/
 * ../Euchites/
 * ../Eudoxius, bishop of Constantinople/
 * ../Eulalius, an antipope/
 * ../Eulogius, bp. of Edessa/
 * ../Eunomius, bp. of Cyzicus/
 * ../Euphemitae, praying people/
 * ../Euphemius, patriarch of Constantinople/
 * ../Euprepius, bp. of Bizya/
 * ../Euric, king of Toulouse/
 * ../Eusebius, bishop of Rome/
 * ../Eusebius of Alexandria, writer of sermons/
 * ../Eusebius of Caesarea/
 * ../Eusebius (24), bp. of Caesarea/
 * ../Eusebius (34), bp. of Dorylaeum/
 * ../Eusebius (35) Emesenus, bp. of Emesa/
 * ../Eusebius (48), bp. of Laodicea/
 * ../Eusebius (60), bp. of Nicomedia/
 * ../Eusebius, bishop of Pelusium/
 * ../Eusebius, bishop of Samosata/
 * ../Eusebius, bp. of Vercellae/
 * ../Eusebius (96), presbyter, confessor at Rome/
 * ../Eusebius (99), presbyter of Cremona/
 * ../Eusebius (126), eunuch under Constantius II/
 * ../Eustathius, bishop of Berrhoea/
 * ../Eustathius, bp. of Sebaste/
 * ../Eustathius (22), bp. of Berytus/
 * ../Eustochium, 3rd daughter of Paula/
 * ../Eustochius (6), patriarch of Jerusalem/
 * ../Euthalius (5), deacon of Alexandria/
 * ../Eutherius (2), bp. of Tyana/
 * ../Euthymius (4), abbat in Palestine/
 * ../Eutyches and Eutychianism/
 * ../Eutychianus, bp. of Rome/
 * ../Eutychius/
 * ../Euzoïus, Arian bp. of Antioch/
 * ../Evagrius, bp. of Antioch/
 * ../Evagrius Ponticus, anchoret and writer/
 * ../Evagrius/
 * ../Evaristus, bp. of Rome/
 * ../Evodius, bp. of Antioch/
 * ../Eznik, Armenian doctor of the church/


text:
Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century/F

 * ../Fabianus, bp. of Rome/
 * ../Fabiola, a noble Roman lady/
 * ../Faustus (11), sometimes called the Breton/
 * ../Felicissimus, deacon of Carthage/
 * ../Felicitas (1), martyr at Rome/
 * ../Felicitas (2), martyr at Carthage/
 * ../Felix (1) I., bp. of Rome/
 * ../Felix II., bp. of Rome/
 * ../Felix III., bishop of Rome/
 * ../Felix (4) IV., bp. of Rome/
 * ../Felix (26) I., bp. of Aptunga/
 * ../Felix (174), bp. of Tubzoca/
 * ../Felix (186) of Nola/
 * ../Felix (212)/
 * ../Firmilianus (1), bp. of Caesarea/
 * ../Flavianus (4) I., bp. of Antioch/
 * ../Flavianus (8), bp. of Constantinople/
 * ../Flavianus (16), bp. of Antioch/
 * ../Florentius, chief minister of state at Constantinople/
 * ../Florinus, presbyter at Rome/
 * ../Fortunatus, bp. of Poictiers/
 * ../Fortunatus (18), bp/
 * ../Forty Martyrs, The/
 * ../Fravitta, bp. of Constantinople/
 * ../Fructuosus (1) M., bp. of Tarragona/
 * ../Frumentius/
 * ../Fulgentius, Fabius Claudius Gordianus, bp. of Ruspe/
 * ../Fulgentius (4) Ferrandus, disciple and companion of Ruspe/
 * ../Fundanus (1) Minueius, proconsul of Asia/


text:
Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century/G

 * ../Galenus, physician/
 * ../Galerius, emperor/
 * ../Galla Placidia, daughter of Theodosius I/
 * ../Gallienus P. Licinius, emperor/
 * ../Gallus, Caesar/
 * ../Gallus (11), abbat and apostle of Switzerland/
 * ../Gaudentius, bp. of Brescia/
 * ../Gaudentius (7), Donatist bp. of Thamugada/
 * ../Gelasius (1) I., bp. of Rome/
 * ../Gelasius (13), author from Cyzicus/
 * ../Gennadius (10), bp. of Constantinople/
 * ../Gennadius (11) Massiliensis, presbyter of Marseilles/
 * ../Genovefa, patron saint of Paris and France/
 * ../Genseric, king of the Vandals/
 * ../Georgius (3), bp. of Laodicea/
 * ../Georgius (4), Arian bp. of Alexandria/
 * ../Georgius (43), patron saint of England/
 * ../Germanus, St., bp. of Auxerre/
 * ../Germanus, bp. of Paris/
 * ../Gervasius/
 * ../Gildas, monk of Bangor/
 * ../Glycerius, deacon in Cappadocia/
 * ../Glycerius, emperor of the West/
 * ../Gnosticism/
 * ../Gordianus, father of Pope Gregory the Great/
 * ../Gratianus, emperor/
 * ../Gregorius Thaumaturgus, bp. of Neocaesarea/
 * ../Gregorius, Saint, the Illuminator/
 * ../Gregorius, the Cappadocian/
 * ../Gregorius Baeticus, St., bp. of Eliberi/
 * ../Gregorius I, bp. of Nazianzus/
 * ../Gregorius Nazianzenus, bp. of Sasima and Constantinople/
 * ../Gregorius Nyssenus, bp. of Nyssa/
 * ../Gregorius, bp. of Merida/
 * ../Gregorius Theopolitanus, bp. of Antioch/
 * ../Gregorius Turonensis, bp. of Tours/
 * ../Gregorius I. (The Great), bp. of Rome/
 * ../Gundobald, king of the Burgundians/
 * ../Guntramnus, king of Burgundy/


text: Audubon and His Journals/The Missouri River Journals


text: Index:History of the Peloponnesian War.pdf


text:
Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century/H

 * ../Habibus, deacon, martyr at Edessa/
 * ../Hadrianus, Publius Aelius, emperor/
 * ../Hecebolius, a rhetor at Constantinople/
 * ../Hedibia, a lady in Gaul/
 * ../Hegesippus, father of church history/
 * ../Hegesippus, author/
 * ../Helena, companion of Simon Magus/
 * ../Helena, St., mother of Constantine the Great/
 * ../Heliodorus, bp. of Altinum/
 * ../Helladius, bp. of Tarsus/
 * ../Helvidius, a Western writer/
 * ../Henoticon, The/
 * ../Heracles, patriarch of Alexandria/
 * ../Heracleon, a Gnostic/
 * ../Heraclides Cyprius, bp. of Ephesus/
 * ../Hermas, known as the Shepherd/
 * ../Hermenigild, a saint/
 * ../Hermes (1) Trismegistus, writings of unknown authorship/
 * ../Hermias (5), a Christian philosopher/
 * ../Hermogenes (1), teacher of heretical doctrine/
 * ../Hesychius (3), Egyptian bp/
 * ../Hesychius (25), presbyter of Jerusalem/
 * ../Hesychius (27) Illustris, a writer/
 * ../Hieracas, an Egyptian teacher/
 * ../Hierocles (1), Neoplatonic philosopher/
 * ../Hierocles of Alexandria, a philosopher/
 * ../Hieronymus, Eusebius (Jerome), saint/
 * ../Hierotheus, a writer/
 * ../Hilarianus (1) Quintus Julius, Latin Chiliast writer/
 * ../Hilarion (1), hermit of Palestine/
 * ../Hilarius (7) Pictaviensis, saint/
 * ../Hilarius Arelatensis, saint, bp. of Arles/
 * ../Hilarius, bp. of Rome/
 * ../Hippolytus Romanus/
 * ../Hippolytus (5), an apocryphal martyr/
 * ../Honorius, Flavius Augustus, emperor/
 * ../Hormisdas, bp. of Rome/
 * ../Hosius (1), a confessor under Maximian/
 * ../Hunneric, king of the VAndals/
 * ../Hyginus, bp. of Rome/
 * ../Hypatia, lady of Alexandria/
 * ../Hypatia, writer/
 * ../Hypatius, presbyter and hegumenus/


text:
Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century/I

 * ../Ibas, bp. of Edessa/
 * ../Idatius (3), author of well-known Chronicle/
 * ../Ignatius, St., bp. of Antioch/
 * ../Innocentius, bp. of Rome/
 * ../Irenaeus, bp. of Lyons/
 * ../Irenaeus, bishop of Tyre/
 * ../Isaacus I, catholicos of Greater Armenia, Saint/
 * ../Isaacus Ninivita, anchorite and bishop/
 * ../Isaacus, Donatist Martyr/
 * ../Isaacus, Egyptian solitary/
 * ../Isaacus Senior, disciple of Ephraim the Syrian/
 * ../Isaacus Antiochenus, priest of Antioch in Syria/
 * ../Ischyras, Egyptian bp/
 * ../Isdigerdes I., king of Persia/
 * ../Isdigerdes II., king of Persia/
 * ../Isidorus, archbp. of Seville/
 * ../Isodorus (Basilides)/
 * ../Isidorus Pelusiota, an eminent ascetic/
 * ../Ivo, St., bp. in Britain/


text:
Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century/J

 * ../Jacobus, bp. of Nisibis/
 * ../Jacobus Sarugensis, bp. of Batnae/
 * ../Jacobus Baradaeus, bp. of Edessa/
 * ../Joannes Talaia, bp. of Nola/
 * ../Joannes, bishop of Antioch/
 * ../Joannes Silentiarius, bp. of Colonia/
 * ../Joannes Cappadox, bp. of Constantinople/
 * ../Joannes Scholasticus, bp. of Constantinople/
 * ../Joannes, the Faster, bp. of Constantinople/
 * ../Joannes, bishop of Ephesus/
 * ../Joannes II, bishop of Jerusalem/
 * ../Joannes III., bishop of Jerusalem/
 * ../Joannes I., bishop of Rome/
 * ../Joannes II. Mercurius, bishop of Rome/
 * ../Joannes III, bishop of Rome/
 * ../Joannes Presbyter/
 * ../Joannes (504), abbat of Mt. Sinai/
 * ../Joannes (507) Saba, orthodox monk of Dilaita/
 * ../Joannes (509), monk/
 * ../Joannes (520), monk and author/
 * ../Joannes Philoponus, a distinguished philosopher/
 * ../Joannes Scythopolita, a scholasticus in Palestine/
 * ../Jordanis, historian of the Goths/
 * ../Josephus, catholicos of Armenia/
 * ../Joshua (1) Stylites, a Syrian monk/
 * ../Jovianus Flavius, Christian emperor/
 * ../Jovinianus, heretic/
 * ../Juliana, mother of the virgin Demetrias/
 * ../Julianus Eclanensis, bp. of Eclana/
 * ../Julianus, bishop of Cos/
 * ../Julianus, bishop of Halicarnassus/
 * ../Julianus, missionary priest to the Nubians/
 * ../Julianus, Flavius Claudius, emperor/
 * ../Julianus Sabas, an anchorite/
 * ../Julius (5), bishop of Rome/
 * ../Julius, bishop of Puteoli/
 * ../Junilius, quaestor of the sacred palace/
 * ../Justina, empress/
 * ../Justinianus I., emperor/
 * ../Justinus Martyr, philosopher/
 * ../Justinus/
 * ../Justinus I/
 * ../Justinus II/
 * ../Juvenalis, bishop of Jerusalem/
 * ../Juvencus, C. Vettius Aquilinus/


text:
Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century/K

 * ../Kentigern/


text:
The Inn Album/IV

IV

Occupied by the elm; and, as its shade Has crept clock-hand-wise till it ticks at fern Five inches further to the South,—the door Opens abruptly, someone enters sharp, The elder man returned to wait the youth— Never observes the room's new occupant, Throws hat on table, stoops quick, elbow-propped Over the Album wide there, bends down brow A cogitative minute, whistles shrill, Then,—with a cheery-hopeless laugh-and-lose Air of defiance to fate visibly Casting the toils about him,—mouths once more "Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot!" Then clasps-to cover, sends book spinning off T'other side table, looks up, starts erect Full-face with her who,—roused from that abstruse Question, "Will next tick tip the fern or no?",— Fronts him as fully.

All her languor breaks, Away withers at once the weariness From the black-blooded brow, anger and hate Convulse. Speech follows slowlier, but at last—

"You here! I felt, I knew it would befall! Knew, by some subtle undivinable Trick of the trickster, I should, silly-sooth, Late of soon, somehow be allured to leave Safe hiding and come take of him arrears, My torment due on four years' respite! Time To pluck the bird's healed breast of down o'er wound! Have your success! Be satisfied this sole Seeing you has undone all heaven could do These four years, puts me back to you and hell! What will next trick be, next success? No doubt When I shall think to glide into the grave, There will you wait disguised as beckoning Death, And catch and capture me for evermore! But, God, though I am nothing, be thou all! Contest him for me! Strive, for he is strong!"

Already his surprise dies palely out In laugh of acquiescing impotence. He neither gasps nor hisses: calm and plain—

"I also felt and knew—but otherwise! You out of hand and sight and care of me These four years, whom I felt, knew, all the while ... Oh, it's no superstition! It's a gift O' the gamester that he snuffs the unseen powers Which help or harm him! Well I knew what lurked, Lay perdue paralysing me,—drugged, drowsed And damnified my soul and body both! Down and down, see where you have dragged me to, You and your malice! I was, four years since, —Well, a poor creature! I become a knave. I squandered my own pence: I plump my purse With other people's pounds. I practised play Because I liked it: play turns labour now Because there's profit also in the sport. I gamed with men of equal age and craft: I steal here with a boy as green as grass Whom I have tightened hold on slow and sure This long while, just to bring about to-day When the boy beats me hollow, buries me In ruin who was sure to beggar him. O time indeed I should look up and laugh  'Surely she closes on me!'  Here you stand!"

And stand she does: while volubility, With him, keeps on the increase, for his tongue After long locking-up is loosed for once.

"Certain the taunt is happy!" he resumes: "So, I it was allured you—only I — I, and none other—to this spectacle— Your triumph, my despair—you woman-fiend That front me! Well, I have my wish, then! See The low wide brow oppressed by sweeps of hair Darker and darker as they coil and swathe The crowned corpse-wanness whence the eyes burn black Not asleep now! not pin-points dwarfed beneath Either great bridging eyebrow—poor blank beads— Babies, I've pleased to pity in my time: How they protrude and glow immense with hate! The long triumphant nose attains—retains Just the perfection; and there's scarlet-skein My ancient enemy, her lip and lip, Sense-free, sense-frighting lips clenched cold and bold Because of chin, that based resolve beneath! Then the columnar neck completes the whole Greek-sculpture-baffling body! Do I see? Can I observe? You wait next word to come? Well, wait and want! since no one blight I bid Consume one least perfection. Each and all, As they are rightly shocking now to me, So may they still continue! Value them? Ay, as the vendor knows the money-worth Of his Greek statue, fools aspire to buy, And he to see the back of! Let us laugh! You have absolved me from my sin at least! You stand stout, strong, in the rude health of hate, No touch of the tame timid nullity My cowardice, forsooth, has practised on! Ay, while you seemed to hint some fine fifth act Of tragedy should freeze blood, end the farce, I never doubted all was joke. I kept, May be, an eye alert on paragraphs, Newspaper-notice,—let no inquest slip, Accident, disappearance: sound and safe Were you, my victim, not of mind to die! So, my worst fancy that could spoil the smooth Of pillow, and arrest descent of sleep Was  'Into what dim hole can she have dived,  She and her wrongs, her woe that's wearing flesh  And blood away?'  Whereas, see, sorrow swells! Or, fattened, fulsome, have you fed on me, Sucked out my substance? How much gloss, I pray, O'erbloomed those hair-swathes when there crept from you To me that craze, else unaccountable, Which urged me to contest our county-seat With whom but my own brother's nominee? Did that mouth's pulp glow ruby from carmine While I misused my moment, pushed,—one word,— One hair's breadth more of gesture,—idiot-like Past passion, floundered on to the grotesque, And lost the heiress in a grin? At least, You made no such mistake! You tickled fish, Landed your prize the true artistic way! How did the smug young curate rise to tune Of 'Friend, a fatal fact divides us! Love Suits me no longer! I have suffered shame, Betrayal: past is past; the future—yours— Shall never be contaminate by mine! I might have spared me this confession, not —O, never by some hideousest of lies, Easy, impenetrable! No! but say, By just the quiet answer—"I am cold." Falsehood avaunt, each shadow of thee, hence! Had happier fortune willed ... but dreams are vain! Now, leave me—yes, for pity's sake!' Aha, Who fails to see the curate as his face Reddened and whitened, wanted handkerchief At wrinkling brow and twinkling eye, until Out burst the proper 'Angel, whom the fiend Has thought to smirch,—thy whiteness, at one wipe Of holy cambric, shall disgrace the swan! Mine be the task' ... and so forth! Fool? not he! Cunning in flavours, rather! What but sour Suspected makes the sweetness doubly sweet? And what stings love from faint to flamboyant But the fear-sprinkle? Even horror helps—  'Love's flame in me by such recited wrong  ''Drenched, quenched, indeed? It burns the fiercelier thence!' '' Why, I have known men never love their wives Till somebody—myself, suppose—had  'drenched  And quenched love,'  so the blockheads whined: as if The fluid fire that lifts the torpid limb Were a wrong done to palsy. But I thrilled No palsied person: half my age, or less The curate was, I'll wager: o'er young blood Your beauty triumphed! Eh, but—was it ''he?  Then, it was'' he, I heard of! None beside! How frank you were about the audacious boy Who fell upon you like a thunderbolt— Passion and protestation! He it was Reserved in petto! Ay, and  'rich'  beside  'Rich'—how supremely did disdain curl nose! All that I heard was—'wedded to a priest;'  Informants sunk youth, riches and the rest. And so my lawless love disparted loves, That loves might come together with a rush! Surely this last achievement sucked me dry: Indeed, that way my wits went! Mistress-queen, Be merciful and let your subject slink Into dark safety! He's a beggar, see— Do not turn back his ship, Australia-bound, And bid her land him right amid some crowd Of creditors, assembled by your curse! Don't cause the very rope to crack (you can!) Whereon he spends his last (friend's) sixpence, just The moment when he hoped to hang himself! Be satisfied you beat him!"

She replies —

"Beat him! I do. To all that you confess Of abject failure, I extend belief. Your very face confirms it: God is just! Let my face—fix your eyes!—in turn confirm What I shall say. All-abject's but half truth; Add to all-abject knave as perfect fool! So is it you probed human nature, so Prognosticated of me? Lay these words To heart then, or where God meant heart should lurk! That moment when you first revealed yourself, My simple impulse prompted—end forthwith The ruin of a life uprooted thus To surely perish! How should such a tree Henceforward baulk the wind of its worst sport, Fail to go falling deeper, falling down

From sin to sin until some depth were reached Doomed to the weakest by the wickedest Of weak and wicked human kind? But when, That self-display made absolute,—behold A new revealment!—round you pleased to veer, Propose me what should prompt annul the past, Make me  'amends by marriage'—in your phrase, Incorporate me henceforth, body and soul, With soul and body which mere brushing past Brought leprosy upon me—'marry'  these! Why, then despair broke, re-assurance dawned, Clear-sighted was I that who hurled contempt As I—thank God!—at the contemptible, Was scarce an utter weakling. Rent away By treason from my rightful pride of place, I was not destined to the shame below. A cleft had caught me: I might perish there, But thence to be dislodged and whirled at last Where the black torrent sweeps the sewage—no!  'Bare breast be on hard rock,'  laughed out my soul In gratitude, 'howe'er rock's grip may grind! The plain, rough, wretched holdfast shall suffice This wreck of me!' The wind,—I broke in bloom At passage of,—which stripped me bole and branch, Twisted me up and tossed me here,—turns back And, playful ever, would replant the spoil? Be satisfied, not one least leaf that's mine Shall henceforth help wind's sport to exercise! Rather I give such remnant to the rock Which never dreamed a straw would settle there. Rock may not thank me, may not feel my breast, Even: enough that I feel, hard and cold, Its safety my salvation. Safe and saved, I lived, live. When the tempter shall persuade His prey to slip down, slide off, trust the wind,— Now that I know if God or Satan be Prince of the Power of the Air,—then, then, indeed, Let my life end and degradation too!"

"Good!" he smiles, "true Lord Byron!  'Tree and rock:'   'Rock'—there's advancement! He's at first a youth, Rich, worthless therefore; next he grows a priest: Youth, riches prove a notable resource, When to leave me for their possessor gluts Malice abundantly; and now, last change, The young rich parson represents a rock —Bloodstone, no doubt. He's Evangelical? Your Ritualists prefer the Church for spouse!"

She speaks.

"I have a story to relate. There was a parish-priest, my father knew, Elderly, poor: I used to pity him Before I learned what woes are pity-worth. Elderly was grown old now, scanty means Were straitening fast to poverty, beside The ailments which await in such a case. Limited every way, a perfect man Within the bounds built up and up since birth Breast-high about him till the outside world Was blank save overhead one blue bit of sky— Faith: he had faith in dogma, small or great, As in the fact that if he clave his skull He'd find a brain there: such a fact who proves No falsehood by experiment at price Of soul and body? The one rule of life Delivered him in childhood was  'Obey!  Labour!'  He had obeyed and laboured—tame, True to the mill-track blinked on from above. Some scholarship he may have gained in youth: Gone—dropt or flung behind. Some blossom-flake, Spring's boon, descends on every vernal head, I used to think; but January joins December, as his year had known no May Trouble its snow-deposit,—cold and old! I heard it was his will to take a wife, A helpmate. Duty bade him tend and teach— How? with experience null, nor sympathy Abundant,—while himself worked dogma dead, Who would play ministrant to sickness, age, Womankind, childhood? These demand a wife. Supply the want, then! theirs the wife; for him— No coarsest sample of the proper sex But would have served his purpose equally With God's own angel,—let but knowledge match Her coarseness: zeal does only half the work. I saw this—knew the purblind honest drudge Was wearing out his simple blameless life, And wanted help beneath a burthen—borne To treasure-house or dust-heap, what cared I? Partner he needed: I proposed myself, Nor much surprised him—duty was so clear! Gratitude? What for? Gain of Paradise— Escape, perhaps, from the dire penalty Of who hides talent in a napkin! No, His scruple was—should I be strong enough —In body? since of weakness in the mind, Weariness in the heart—no fear of these! He took me as these Arctic voyagers Take an aspirant to their toil and pain: Can he endure them?—that's the point, and not —Will he? Who would not, rather! Whereupon, I pleaded far more earnestly for leave To give myself away, than you to gain What you called priceless till you gained the heart And soul and body! which, as beggars serve Extorted alms, you straightway spat upon. Not so my husband,—for I gained my suit, And had my value put at once to proof. Ask him! These four years I have died away In village-life. The village? Ugliness At best and filthiness at worst, inside. Outside, sterility—earth sown with salt Or what keeps even grass from growing fresh. The life? I teach the poor and learn, myself, That commonplace to such stupidity Is all-recondite. Being brutalized Their true need is brute-language, cheery grunts And kindly cluckings, no articulate Nonsense that's elsewhere knowledge. Tend the sick, Sickened myself at pig-perversity, Cat-craft, dog-snarling,—may be, snapping ..."

"Brief: You eat that root of bitterness called Man —Raw: I prefer it cooked, with social sauce! So, he was not the rich youth after all! Well, I mistook. But somewhere needs must be The compensation. If not young nor rich ..."

"You interrupt!"

"Because you've daubed enough Bistre for background. Play the artist now, Produce your figure well-relieved in front! The contrast—do not I anticipate? Though neither rich nor young—what then? 'Tis all Forgotten, all this ignobility, In the dear home, the darling word, the smile, The something sweeter ..."

"Yes, you interrupt. I have my purpose and proceed. Who lives With beasts assumes beast-nature, look and voice, And, much more, thought,—for beasts think. Selfishness In us met selfishness in them, deserved Such answer as it gained. My husband, bent On saving his own soul by saving theirs,— They, bent on being saved if saving soul Included body's getting bread and cheese Somehow in life and somehow after death,— Both parties were alike in the same boat, One danger, therefore one equality. Safety induces culture: culture seeks To institute, extend and multiply The difference between safe man and man, Able to live alone now; progress means What but abandonment of fellowship? We were in common danger, still stuck close. No new books,—were the old ones mastered yet? No pictures and no music: these divert —What from? the staving danger off! You paint The waterspout above, you set to words The roaring of the tempest round you? Thanks! Amusement? Talk at end of the tired day Of the more tiresome morrow! I transcribed The page on page of sermon-scrawlings—stopped My intellectual eye to sense and sound— Vainly: the sound and sense would penetrate To brain and plague there in despite of me Maddened to know more moral good were done Had we two simply sallied forth and preached I' the  'Green'  they call their grimy,—I with twang Of long-disused guitar,—with cut and slash Of much misvalued horsewhip he,—to bid The peaceable come dance, the peace-breaker Pay in his person! Whereas—Heaven and Hell, Excite with that, restrain with this!— so dealt His drugs my husband; as he dosed himself, He drenched his cattle: and, for all my part Was just to dub the mortar, never fear But drugs, hand pestled at, have poisoned nose! Heaven he let pass, left wisely undescribed: As applicable therefore to the sleep I want, that knows no waking—as to what's Conceived of as the proper prize to tempt Souls less world-weary: there, no fault to find! But Hell he made explicit. After death, Life: man created new, ingeniously Perfect for a vindictive purpose now That man, first fashioned in beneficence, Was proved a failure; intellect at length Replacing old obtuseness, memory Made mindful of delinquent's bygone deeds Now that remorse was vain, which life-long lay Dormant when lesson might be laid to heart; New gift of observation up and down And round man's self, new power to apprehend Each necessary consequence of act In man for well or ill—things obsolete— Just granted to supplant the idiocy Man's only guide while act was yet to choose, And ill or well momentously its fruit; A faculty of immense suffering Conferred on mind and body,—mind, erewhile Unvisited by one compunctious dream During sin's drunken slumber, startled up, Stung through and through by sin's significance Now that the holy was abolished—just As body which, alive, broke down beneath Knowledge, lay helpless in the path to good, Failed to accomplish aught legitimate, Achieve aught worthy,—which grew old in youth, And at its longest fell a cut-down flower,— Dying, this too revived by miracle To bear no end of burthen now that back Supported torture to no use at all, And live imperishably potent—since Life's potency was impotent to ward One plague off which made earth a hell before. This doctrine, which one healthy view of things, One sane sight of the general ordinance— Nature,—and its particular object,—man,— Which one mere eye-cast at the character Of Who made these and gave man sense to boot, Had dissipated once and evermore,— This doctrine I have dosed our flock withal. Why? Because none believed it. They desire Such Heaven and dread such Hell, whom everyday The alehouse tempts from one, a dog-fight bids Defy the other? All the harm is done Ourselves—done my poor husband who in youth Perhaps read Dickens, done myself who still Could play both Bach and Brahms. Such life I lead— Thanks to you, knave! You learn its quality— Thanks to me, fool!"

He eyes her earnestly, But she continues.

"—Life which, thanks once more To you, arch-knave as exquisitest fool, I acquiescingly—I gratefully Take back again to heart! and hence this speech Which yesterday had spared you. Four years long Life—I began to find intolerable, Only this moment. Ere your entry just, The leap of heart which answered, spite of me, A friend's first summons, first provocative Authoritative, nay, compulsive call To quit—though for a single day—my house Of bondage—made return seem horrible. I heard again a human lucid laugh All trust, no fear; again saw earth pursue Its narrow busy way amid small cares, Smaller contentments, much weeds, some few flowers,— Never suspicious of a thunderbolt Avenging presently each daisy's death. I recognized the beech-tree, knew the thrush Repeated his old music-phrase,—all right, How wrong was I, then! But your entry broke Illusion, bade me back to bounds at once. I honestly submit my soul: which sprang At love, and losing love lies signed and sealed  'Failure.'  No love more? then, no beauty more Which tends to breed love! Purify my powers, Effortless till some other world procure Some other chance of prize! or, if none be,— Nor second world nor chance,—undesecrate Die then this aftergrowth of heart, surmised Where May's precipitation left June blank! Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed As, God be thanked, I do not! Ugliness Had I called beauty, falsehood—truth, and you My lover! No—this earth's unchanged for me, By his enchantment whom God made the Prince O' the Power o' the Air, into a Heaven: there is Heaven, since there is Heaven's simulation—earth; I sit possessed in patience; prison-roof Shall break one day and Heaven beam overhead!"

His smile is done with; he speaks bitterly.

"Take my congratulations, and permit I wish myself had proved as teachable! —Or, no! until you taught me, could I learn A lesson from experience ne'er till now Conceded? Please you listen while I show How thoroughly you estimate my worth And yours—the immeasurably superior! I Believed at least in one thing, first to last,— Your love to me: I was the vile and you The precious; I abused you, I betrayed, But doubted—never! Why else go my way Judas-like plodding to this Potter's Field Where fate now finds me? What has dinned my ear And dogged my step? The spectre with the shriek  'Such she was, such were you, whose punishment  Is just!'  And such she was not, all the while! She never owned a love to outrage, faith To pay with falsehood! For, myself know this— Love once and you love always. Why, it's down Here in the Album: every lover knows Love may use hate but—turn to hate, itself— Turn even to indifference—no, indeed! Well, I have been spell-bound, deluded like The witless negro by the Obeah-man Who bids him wither: so, his eye grows dim, His arm slack, arrow misses aim and spear Goes wandering wide,—and all the woe because He proved untrue to Fetish, who, he finds, Was just a feather-phantom! I wronged love, Am ruined,—and there was no love to wrong!"

"No love? Ah, dead love! I invoke thy ghost To show the murderer where thy heart poured life At summons of the stroke he doubts was dealt On pasteboard and pretence! Not love, my love! I changed for you the very laws of life: Made you the standard of all right, all fair. No genius but you could have been, no sage, No sufferer—which is grandest—for the truth! My hero—where the heroic only hid To burst from hiding, brighten earth one day! Age and decline were man's maturity; Face, form were nature's type: more grace, more strength, What had they been but just superfluous gauds, Lawless divergence? I have danced through day On tiptoe at the music of a word, Have wondered where was darkness gone as night Burst out in stars at brilliance of a smile! Lonely, I placed the chair to help me seat Your fancied presence; in companionship, I kept my finger constant to your glove Glued to my breast; then—where was all the world? I schemed—not dreamed—how I might die some death Should save your finger aching! Who creates Destroys, he only: I had laughed to scorn Whatever angel tried to shake my faith And make you seem unworthy: you yourself Only could do that! With a touch 'twas done.  'Give me all, trust me wholly!'  At the word, I did give, I did trust—and thereupon The touch did follow. Ah, the quiet smile, The masterfully folded arm in arm, As trick obtained its triumph one time more! In turn, my soul too triumphs in defeat: Treason like faith moves mountains: love is gone!"

He paces to and fro, stops, stands quite close And calls her by her name. Then—

"God forgives: Forgive you, delegate of God, brought near As never priests could bring him to this soul That prays you both—forgive me! I abase— Know myself mad and monstrous utterly In all I did that moment; but as God Gives me this knowledge—heart to feel and tongue To testify—so be you gracious too! Judge no man by the solitary work Of—well, they do say and I can believe— The devil in him: his, the moment,—mine The life—your life!"

He names her name again.

"You were just—merciful as just, you were In giving me no respite: punishment Followed offending. Sane and sound once more, The patient thanks decision, promptitude, Which flung him prone and fastened him from hurt Haply to others, surely to himself. I wake and would not you had spared one pang. All's well that ends well!"

Yet again her name.

"Had you no fault? Why must you change, forsooth, Parts, why reverse positions, spoil the play? Why did your nobleness look up to me, Not down on the ignoble thing confessed? Was it your part to stoop, or lift the low? Wherefore did God exalt you? Who would teach The brute man's tameness and intelligence Must never drop the dominating eye: Wink—and what wonder if the mad fit break, Followed by stripes and fasting? Sound and sane, My life, chastised now, couches at your foot. Accept, redeem me! Do your eyes ask  'How?'  I stand here penniless, a beggar; talk What idle trash I may, this final blow Of fortune fells me. I disburse, indeed, This boy his winnings? when each bubble-scheme That danced athwart my brain, a minute since, The worse the better,—of repairing straight My misadventure by fresh enterprise, Capture of other boys in foolishness His fellows,—when these fancies fade away At first sight of the lost so long, the found So late, the lady of my life, before Whose presence I, the lost, am also found Incapable of one least touch of mean Expedient, I who teemed with plot and wile— That family of snakes your eye bids flee! Listen! Our troublesomest dreams die off In daylight: I awake and dream is—where? I rouse up from the past: one touch dispels England and all here. I secured long since A certain refuge, solitary home To hide in, should the head strike work one day, The hand forget its cunning, or perhaps Society grow savage,—there to end My life's remainder, which, say what fools will, Is or should be the best of life,—its fruit, All tends to, root and stem and leaf and flower. Come with me, love, loved once, loved only, come, Blend loves there! Let this parenthetic doubt Of love, in me, have been the trial test Appointed to all flesh at some one stage Of soul's achievement,—when the strong man doubts His strength, the good man whether goodness be, The artist in the dark seeks, fails to find Vocation, and the saint forswears his shrine. What if the lover may elude, no more Than these, probative dark, must search the sky Vainly for love, his soul's star? But the orb Breaks from eclipse: I breathe again: I love! Tempted, I fell; but fallen—fallen lie Here at your feet, see! Leave this poor pretence Of union with a nature and its needs Repugnant to your needs and nature! Nay, False, beyond falsity you reprehend In me, is such mock marriage with such mere Man-mask as—whom you witless wrong, beside, By that expenditure of heart and brain He recks no more of than would yonder tree If watered with your life-blood: rains and dews Answer its ends sufficiently, while me One drop saves—sends to flower and fruit at last The laggard virtue in the soul wh'ch else Cumbers the ground! Quicken me! Call me yours— Yours and the world's—yours and the world's and God's! Yes, for you can, you only! Think! Confirm Your instinct! Say, a minute since, I seemed The castaway you count me,—all the more Apparent shall the angelic potency Lift me from out perdition's deep of deeps To light and life and love!—that's love for you— Love that already dares match might with yours. You loved one worthy,—in your estimate,— When time was; you descried the unworthy taint, And where was love then? No such test could e'er Try my love: but you hate me and revile; Hatred, revilement—had you these to bear, Would you, as I do, nor revile, nor hate, But simply love on, love the more, perchance? Abide by your own proof!  'Your love was love: Its ghost knows no forgetting!'  Heart of mine, Would that I dared remember! Too unwise Were he who lost a treasure, did himself Enlarge upon the sparkling catalogue Of gems to her his queen who trusted late The keeper of her caskets! Can it be That I, custodian of such relic still As your contempt permits me to retain, All I dare hug to breast is—'How your glove  Burst and displayed the long thin lily-streak!'  What may have followed—that is forfeit now! I hope the proud man has grown humble! True— One grace of humbleness absents itself— Silence! yet love lies deeper than all words, And not the spoken but the speechless love Waits answer ere I rise and go my way."

Whereupon, yet one other time the name.

To end she looks the large deliberate look, Even prolongs it somewhat; then the soul Bursts forth in a clear laugh that lengthens on, On, till—thinned, softened, silvered, one might say The bitter runnel hides itself in sand, Moistens the hard grey grimly comic speech.

"Ay—give the baffled angler even yet His supreme triumph as he hales to shore A second time the fish once 'scaped from hook— So artfully has new bait hidden old Blood-imbrued iron! Ay, no barb's beneath The gilded minnow here! You bid break trust, This time, with who trusts me,—not simply bid Me trust you, me who ruined but myself, In trusting but myself! Since, thanks to you, I know the feel of sin and shame,—be sure, I shall obey you and impose them both On one who happens to be ignorant Although my husband—for the lure is love, Your love! Try other tackle, fisher-friend! Repentance, expiation, hopes and fears, What you had been, may yet be, would I but Prove helpmate to my hero—one and all These silks and worsteds round the hook, seduce Hardly the late torn throat and mangled tongue. Pack up, I pray, the whole assortment prompt! Who wonders at variety of wile In the Arch-cheat? You are the Adversary! Your fate is of your choosing: have your choice! Wander the world,—God has some end to serve, Ere he suppress you! He waits: I endure, But interpose no finger-tip, forsooth, To stop your passage to the pit. Enough That I am stable, uninvolved by you In the rush downwards: free I gaze and fixed; Your smiles, your tears, prayers, curses move alike My crowned contempt. You kneel? Prostrate yourself! To earth, and would the whole world saw you there!"

Whereupon—"All right!" carelessly begins Somebody from outside, who mounts the stair, And sends his voice for herald of approach: Half in half out the doorway as the door Gives way to push.

"Old fellow, all's no good! The train's your portion! Lay the blame on me I'm no diplomatist, and Bismarck's self Had hardly braved the awful Aunt at broach Of proposition—so has world-repute Preceded the illustrious stranger! Ah!—"

Quick the voice changes to astonishment, Then horror, as the youth stops, sees, and knows.

The man who knelt starts up from kneeling, stands Moving no muscle, and confronts the stare.

One great red outbreak—throat and brow— The lady's proud pale queenliness of scorn: Then her great eyes that turned so quick, become Intenser: quail at gaze, not they indeed!

title: The Inn Album/IV